> Futile Devices
>  by themoontonite
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> Futile Devices
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stars, how long have we known each other? Since we were fillies at least. I’m surprised we didn't come out of the same womb, legs tangled together, taking in the new world.
You were almost two years older than me. Getting held back was rough, I know. You were different then in a lot of little ways and a couple big ones. Your smile never changed though, that's one thing I can say.
I showed up at your door, soaking wet from an unexpected summer storm. You didn't care about your freshly-swept parlor or the pile of towels you'd have to wash later. You fretted over storm damage, worried sick about a clip on my shoulder. It’s fine, Fluttershy. It’s fine.
You light up a fire in the hearth and close the cast iron door. From the couch I’m nesting on the heat is just right to soothe my cold and aching bones. I can hear the storm raging outside. From what I saw before I came in it's a doozy but here? Here I'm safe. No matter what happens outside I’m safe.
You bring me a cup of tea, something you say would help with a cramped wing. A blanket too; one of the ones you crocheted. Beautiful colors, like a setting sun cutting across clear skies. The tea does exactly what you said it would and before long I’m fast asleep.

I love you. I love the way you apologized for not being able to stay up later, for not being able to help massage my wing, for not helping me preen the charred feathers out of my coat. I love you so much it hurts more than any lightning bolt or marathon flight ever could

I can't sleep. Of course I can’t sleep, seeing you almost cry like that. It rips me apart some days. I know you're strong. I’ve seen it with my own eyes time and time again! I still want to protect you, plant sweet kisses at the corner of those teary eyes.
Ugh, what was I thinking? I screwed my eyes shut and focus on the rain, the arrhythmic pattering on the single pane of glass lulling me to sleep.
In the morning you make pancakes and country hash. There's plenty of fruit in the pancakes and plenty of spice in the hash. I end up with a dollop of whipped cream on my snout and you giggle as a wayward kitten licks it clean. You don't eat much generally speaking but you always go out of your way to cook for me. You package up the leftovers in some earthenware, tie it up with a nice paisley cloth. Why? What have I done for you to make you act like this?
You say I seem distracted. You’re right and I say as much. You leave the room, ask me to sit on the couch. I clean the table before obliging. Have to do something around here or I start to get antsy. You wait patiently, guitar cradled in one of your wings. I sit down on one end and you sit down on the other and you just… play. Your wingtips dance across the coiled metal. Beautiful music hangs in the air like the towels out on the line and for a wonderful couple of minutes my tinnitus subsides.
I try to find an excuse to leave. Really, I do! I know you have better things to do than babysit me on top of every other animal here but… I can’t bring myself to take off. I offer to help and you accept readily. I always forget how much work it is to be you. The fact that you wake up and do this every day for weeks on end is seriously blowing my mind.
It’s nice, just spending time with you. That's a dramatic understatement by the way but I’m trying to avoid getting carried away. We hustle and bustle through the day, cleaning this and moving that and feeding this. By the time the day is done were both covered in dirt and fur and grime, manes a frizzy mess and coats all tangled.
How do you keep yours so soft? How much time does it take to comb your mane? You let me use the shower first which is a blessing. I take a little longer than usual, allowing myself some time to really appreciate the simple things in life. Like hot water and this lavender oatmeal soap you have. Good stuff.
When we pass each other in the hall outside of the bathroom you smile something soft, something full of a deep inexpressible love. It's the same smile you've given me since we first met and I almost break down and cry. We're both clean, both dry, both smelling of lavender. It suits you better but you won't hear me complain. I lean against you, head resting against your shoulder. I can feel the muscles in your forelegs flex and contract as you crochet.
The only things I could hear were the click of the needle, your light humming, and the hammer of my heart in my chest. Seeing the needle move is so mesmerizing… I could (and fully intend to) lay here for hours watching the hook dance in your hooves. You notice me staring and smile again. I tell you I'm proud of you and you giggle out a thank you.
The time has come for me to leave. It's funny really, the way I get when I know I have to go home. Like I'll never see you again. Like this was my last chance to tell you I love you. There will be other days, other missed opportunities, heart stuck in my throat as the wind rustles the soft pink waves of your mane.
The breeze through my feathers does wonders to help clear my head and straighten out my thoughts. The longer I spend inside the more jumbled the noise gets and being around you only seems to make things worse. I set my mind to wander as I glide over the meadows of Ponyville. I think about the way we fit together, your legs around mine and your muzzle nestled in between my shoulder blades. I think about our heartbeats in sync, the smell of sweat and lavender lulling me to sleep.

I love you. I’ve always loved you in one way or another but… saying it out loud is hard. I can do the impossible but sometimes hard is worse than even I can take. So I won’t say it at all. Not tonight and probably not any time soon. One day I’ll look back at this and smile because you were the life I needed all along. To tell the truth I think of you as a sister of sorts although it sounds dumb when I say it. Words are...