A flash of light, a burning beacon, and then the darkness of unyielding shadows. The dream formed in seconds, flashing briefly before settling into its decided state.
Apatite blinked again, her eyes adjusting to the bright light of an autumn day. A cool but gentle breeze nipped at her cheeks, foretelling the coming winter without betraying the summer’s heat. It was with some reluctance she rose from her resting place at the base of a withered apple tree, yawning. A nap was more befitting the weather than the work awaiting her. Doubly so considering the lazy afternoon sun. She glanced around, brushing a turquoise lock behind her ear.
A meandering dirt road led to the entrance of a walled town, perhaps just over a thousand haunches away. The walls and many of the visible structures were built from a pale-rose rock, likely sandstone from some nearby quarry, which cast long shadows in the morning sun. The odd plume of smoke rose from chimneys here and there, each gently tousled by the wind into intriguing shapes before fading.
Readjusting her gaze along the edge of the path, she looked over other ponies coming and going; some tugging carts, others herding livestock. It was nothing more than another beautifully tranquil day in a simple town.
“Morning there,” an approaching grey stallion called out, tugging a small cart behind him. He was a middling build, but trended slightly towards sturdy. To combat the slight morning chill, he wore a brown vest and a dark green wool cap snugly over his brown mane. His cutie mark: a brass sextant. “Would you know where I could find a vendor selling scarves? I am looking to purchase one for winter.”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” she answered, grinning. “My father’s shop sold out a fortnight ago.”
“A terrible shame, I was hoping on trading some lovely peaches for one,” he replied, finishing the challenge.
“Piccolo,” Apatite offered crisply, bobbing her head in greeting.
Piccolo eyed his companion for a moment, then chuckled. “You really do have the worst sense of fashion. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen anypony wear a travel saddle when they didn’t even have a cart.”
Looking back over herself, Apatite examined the top of the worn cloth covering her baby-blue coat, half hidden by a set of wings. On her hindquarters was her own cutie mark of a silver feather. “Oh please, if I recall correctly, I was supposed to be the one pulling the cart.”
“Just because you can’t think of something inconspicuous to wear doesn’t entitle you to the cart. Anyway...” He gestured to the town, “Shall we?”
“Hmm — Give me a second.” Stepping around to the back of the cart, Apatite found a comfortable spot on top of the cargo, settling down expectantly. “Shall we?”
Chuckling softly, Piccolo obliged her, setting off at a steady pace down the path. “Envelope is under the fishing rod.”
“I know,” she replied. “I already have it.”
A cool wind gently swept across the landscape, rustling the golden fields of wheat which surrounded the walled town. A few lines of trees stood here and there, acting as windbreakers to protect the crops. In the fields, ponies were already out and tending to the crops alongside the scarecrows. Most were focused intently on their work, but a few looked up and waved as the pair passed.
Apatite finished reading the contents of the envelope just as Piccolo pulled the cart through the gates, nodding to the few guards standing watch. Their equipment appeared relatively new, or at least unused, but poorly maintained. The guards were nothing more than a trained militia, something that would pose little trouble if things went south.
Apatite snuck a glance at a group of ponies walking past them“Dear, can we go somewhere private? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Would an inn work, honey?” Piccolo responded, falling into character. He pushed against the harness as one of the cart’s wheels dipped into a pothole.
She nodded. “Yes, that should be okay.”
“An inn it is then.” Piccolo veered towards a building of white plaster and stained wood. A young stallion hung by the door, clearly part of the inn’s hired help by the logo stitched onto the breast of his vest. Unhitching himself, Piccolo reached into a pouch and tugged loose a few bits. “Mind watching our cart for us?” he asked the young stallion. “There is a bit now and another later in it for you.”
“Certainly sir.”
Piccolo tossed the coin over. “Glad to hear it.” The stallion fumbled with it for a moment, before placing it in his pocket. Piccolo held the door open for Apatite. “Come now, dear, we mustn’t dally.”
“I’ll get us a room.”
→ ↔ ←
“Care to tell me what was in that envelope now?” Piccolo asked, sliding the door bolt shut solidly.
Using her wings, Apatite tugged loose the papers she’d been carrying, splaying them out across the bed. Blurry pictures and lines of text occupied the pages, each with something different to say. Apatite brushed apart two pages sticking together. “Tangled seems to have given us all the information this time. Apparently Princess Luna almost missed this dream. She mentioned that the intrusion is so carefully constructed that the dreamers appear almost conjoined, hence the difficulties in locating it. Princess Luna tried to simply shunt the intruder from the dream, but there were no flaws in the spell matrix she could exploit. That means one of two things: either the dreamer knows and wanted them to enter or–”
“Or we are dealing with somepony who knows what they’re doing.” Piccolo frowned and furrowed his brows in thought. “Damn, that’s not good.”
Apatite picked up one of the pages and passed it to Piccolo. “Frankly, I doubt that is the case. Tangled’s briefing also mentions that there was an absence of anything suggesting negative emotion. Whoever is dreaming must be aware of the situation, and happy because of it, or they could be oblivious to the whole thing.”
“You’re forgetting the other option: the intruder could be skilled enough to avoid alerting the dreamer.” Piccolo scanned the information again. “You think it could be them?”
She shrugged. “Frankly I have no idea. Wisp keeps insisting that we have to play it safe, but I’m beginning to think we’ve seen the last of them for a while. I mean, after we found and arrested the last one, we haven’t heard a peep.”
“Yeah, perhaps.” He was silent for a few seconds. “Alright, I’m good,” he said, turning away from the bed.
Apatite gathered up the papers and tossed them into the fireplace, watching them slowly curl as they blackened and turned to ash. It was a somewhat unnecessary precaution, but a precaution nonetheless.
“What’s the plan this time?” Piccolo asked suddenly.
She glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me?”
The bedpost creaked alarmingly as Piccolo leaned against it, chuckling. “Well, you didn’t like mine last time.”
“Trace the dreamer’s projections back to the dreamer passively, and expand the search from there. If they have made contact, seperate them and interrogate the intrude. If they have not, interrogate and expel the intruder. Any idea where to begin?”
Silent for a minute, Piccolo muttered to himself, going over everything he had experienced so far. “When we were coming into the city, didn’t you notice the fields? Half them are already cut, or at least in the process of being cut. The amount of ponies on the road seems unusual for a town this size. Coupled with the weather, chances are this dream is centered around a harvest festival. The dreamer is most likely at the market. Given the layout of the city so far, it’s probably to the south of the town square.”
“We’ll start there then.”
→ ↔ ←
What in theory could be summed up in a few words, was in actuality far more complex. Following the dreamer’s projections, apparitions of other ponies and animals, was, at best, like trying to follow a mountain stream to its source, and, at worst, like trying to use a puddle of rainwater to find the same mountain reservoir a continent away. Every dream, regardless of how it came into being, was centered around the dreamer. Worlds would rise and fall in an instant, but no matter where the dreamer moved about, they would remain at the center of their subconscious. It took a well trained eye to notice the pattern, and even then it wasn’t all that easy.
When the magic known as dreamwalking was in its infancy, a pony had entered a dream and simply asked the apparitions where the dreamer was. It hadn’t ended well for him. Apparitions, while seemingly their own beings, were all controlled by the subconscious. Just like white blood cells, the subconscious rejected anything it realized was a threat, or was foreign, by any means possible. Often, pinpointing the dreamer would turn into a game of cat and mouse, or cloak and dagger.
Piccolo paid for two chocolate croissants at a street vendor and offered one to Apatite before wandering on to the next part of the market. Occasionally they would spot a pony or two who might be their targets: a rock in the stream, though the indications were never the same. A dreamer never meshed perfectly with their subconscious, and though they would always be the center of the dream, they would still stand out. A poorly worded question – one which could be excused as slip of the tongue – was what they used when their suspicions became more concrete. They would attempt to bait the pony into answering something relevant only outside the dream. A favourite of theirs was mentioning that the sunset had been beautiful that night, and if the pony looked confused, they would apologize, correcting “tonight” to “last night”. It was crude but, as such things were, it was enormously effective at confirming the identity of the dreamer.
Tracing their path back through the market, Apatite spotted something from the corner of her eye which gave her pause: a mare leaning on a stallion. Something about them was different. Where everyone was celebrating the festival, they seemed to be celebrating being together. He was a light green unicorn with an rough-cut grey mane. He was a smidge shorter than his companion. She was a pale-lilac earth pony with a few white freckles dappling her face. Her pink mane was straight, mid-length and held in check by a bow of rose coloured ribbon. Apatite flicked Piccolo’s side with her tail.
“Five o’clock, the couple by the fountain,” she muttered from the corner of her mouth, looking over a case of jewelry for sale. “I’ll bet you tonight’s drinks it’s them.”
Piccolo stole a glance and scoffed. “I’ll take that bet.”
Neither of the couple, the stallion or the mare, noticed Piccolo approaching them till he cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he began. “My wife and I are not from around here. Would you know where we might find the town hall?”
“Sorry,” the stallion answered, “we aren’t from around here either.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, we both live in Manehatten.”
“Well, sorry to bother you. Oh, before we go, did you see the moon tonight? It was awfully beautiful.”
“Yeah, quite something, wasn’t it,” he replied without thinking.
“It must have been quite the sight between the skyscrapers and towers.”
He nodded. “It really is beautiful, that’s for sure.”
Piccolo twitched his tail in annoyance, the only sign of his disappointment he let show. It looked like he would be buying the drinks after all. Unexpectedly, however the mare with the stallion noticed it as well.
“Maple Leaf...” she hissed, a cautionary look in her eyes.
“What?” he replied.
“Think about what they just asked you.”
It took a few moments but the stallion’s eyes widened in realization. “What...?”
Apatite tapped her hoof against Piccolo’s twice. Around them, the apparitions had begun to notice them, staring at them as they walked past. However, the subconscious had not decided whether they were a threat yet. Things could still be turned.
“Would you mind coming with us?” Apatite asked. “I assure you, we’re not here to cause trouble.”
The mare glanced back and forth between them. The air around them grew tangibly heavy and oppressive.“Who are you?”
“I am Apatite and my partner is Piccolo. We’re both members of the Royal Guard. We are here under the orders of Princess Luna.”
As if a switch had been thrown, suddenly the apparitions no longer found them interesting. Their intentions and words had been accepted as truth.“Are we in trouble?”
Piccolo shook his head. “No, we were sent here to investigate.”
Maple Leaf took half a step back. “Investigate what?”
He gestured towards a building at the corner of the street. “Can we go somewhere private before we continue this conversation?”
“I suppose.”
→ ↔ ←
The rooftop patio was a rather simple, but pleasant venue to continue their discussion. Besides the waiter returning to the kitchen below, it was just the four of them atop the two-story building. The patio offered a brilliant view of the market below, and just came ever so shy of peaking over the town walls. A couple of shrubs and flower pots added to the lovely atmosphere of the quaint restaurant. Piccolo and Apatite sipped at glasses of water, while across from them, Maple Leaf and the mare, who had introduced herself as Lily, sat in an uncomfortable silence.
“Whose dream is this?” Piccolo asked once the door to the roof had swung shut.
“Mine,” Lily replied.
He turned to Maple Leaf. “So you’re not supposed to be here.”
“I guess not.” He hesitated. “Sorry, but you never said why you were here?” Maple Leaf hestitated, then shook his head. “No, that’s not right. You said you were investigating, but what are you looking for?”
“We told you we were investigating,” Apatite replied, “but that is only half correct. Entering another’s dream is an extremely complex and dangerous form of magic commonly classified as dreamwalking. When poorly performed, it poses just as much of a threat to the dreamer as the one who cast the magic.”
The chair squeaked against the tile as Maple Leaf leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“Do you know where we are right now?” Piccolo asked, gesturing to the vibrant world around them. Almost as if bidden, a pair of chickadees flittered by.
“A dream?” Lily guessed.
“You’re partly correct, partly. This is just as much of a dream as it is a gateway to the subconscious. Everything you see here is constructed by it and other parts of your mind beyond your control. It is because of this that dreams are not just simple images or experiences, but an actual tangible world which we can control. If any of us were to stray somewhere we were not supposed to, we could wind up changing your personality or how you perceive the world, even if we didn’t have the intent. What’s worse is that you wouldn’t even realize the changes. For instance, take this restaurant. I’m sure you like just about everything on this menu and it also likely represents your tastes. If we destroy this building, or alter what was on this menu, we could change what you enjoy to eat.” Lily visibly paled several shades as her mouth fell open in shock.
“It’s not just you at risk either,” Apatite added to the Lily’s growing horror. “Maple Leaf is actually in far more danger than you. You see all those ponies down there?” she asked, pointing towards the market below. As Lily’s gaze followed the hoof, all eyes below paused and glanced up at her, if only for a fraction of a second. “Those are creations of your mind. We refer to them as apparitions. Just because the mind is so vulnerable in a dream doesn’t mean it can’t protect itself. These apparitions, and certain other things, act as a layer of protection which works to forcibly eject anything which is overly foreign or hostile.”
“Then why haven’t they noticed me?” Maple Leaf questioned. He reached across the table and gave Lily’s hoof a comforting squeeze, receiving a strained, but small smile in return.
“They have,” Apatite clarified, “they are just choosing to leave you alone for the time being. You haven’t strayed anywhere vital or done anything with foul intent, and Lily’s permission and desire for you to be here does count for something. You planned this, correct?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“A date?”
Maple nodded and managed to blush almost imperceptibly.
“Let’s say for a moment that the apparitions took an objection to you. They would force you from her mind, and shove your conscious self back into your body in an utter mess. What you once did to move your leg, could be what you would do to turn your neck. What you once did to call upon a memory, could be what you would do to scream.” Maple Leaf was now paler than Lily. “I’ve seen three cases where a pony like you was ejected from a dream in that fashion. One of them has spent three years trying to reclaim his body, though blessedly he can still remember and understand who he is. However, he has yet to speak and has to be fed through a tube. You would spend the rest of your life learning how to live again, and by the end of it, you would not be the same pony. You would never be even if you had an eternity. The reason Princess Luna sent us here was to protect you and to inform you of the dangers.” It was technically true, but she omitted the part Maple Leaf and Lily did not need to hear. “There are, however, precautions you can take to safeguard Lily’s mind and protect your own.”
“Can you–” Lily and Maple Leaf blurted at the same moment. They cut off as they realized they had spoken atop one another.
“Can you teach us how?” Lily tried again.
“No.” The answer left no room for argument or debate. “First off, as this is a dream, you wouldn’t remember enough of it to safely make use of it, but more importantly, because you should not be doing this.”
“What do you mean?”
Piccolo cleared his throat, drawing their attention to himself. With a quick movement he balanced his empty glass on a single point of the rim, seemingly having achieved perfect equilibrium at such an angle with barely an effort. The others’ eyes widened in amazement. Apatite gave a little chuckle; the trick never got old. A moment later Piccolo returned the empty cup to its normal position.
“In our field, there is a saying: ‘Perfection is anything but.’” Piccolo explained. “What it means is that while everything in a dream seems perfect, it couldn’t be further from the truth. Part of it is that the flaws of life are what make life worth living, while perfection is just a goal. If everything could be achieved so easily, then why bother trying?”
Apatite picked up where he had left off. “The other problem is that dreams are addictive. If you kept returning to a dream, you would find real life is nothing compared to this. Eventually, all you would do is live to dream, and it would inevitably become your life. Why bother with trying to learn to play the trumpet when you can be a master of it in a dream without any practice? You might even lose the ability to separate dreams from reality if you went on long enough.”
The couple fell into a guilty silence. “Alright, I guess I see your point,” Maple Leaf conceded, “but what now?”
“When you wake up, chances are you will remember little of this. The royal guard will find you in Manehatten and take you back to Canterlot. Princess Luna will explain all this to you again, and question you about the spells you used, as well as your reasons for using them. In the meantime, though, we are going to get you out of this dream.”
Standing up, Piccolo wandered over to the edge of the roof behind the young couple. Apatite reached underneath the table as she continued to speak. “I’m going to help you get back, so I need you to follow my instructions,” she told Maple Leaf. Standing up and keeping a hoof underneath the table, she moved until they were eye to eye. “I am going to count to three, and I need you to keep your eyes on mine.”
“Alright.”
“One... Two...”
Suddenly, all Maple could hear was a high pitched ringing. He tried to ask why, but instead of words, nothing came out, save a whimper and the rasp of his next breath. A dull throb emanated from the center of his chest and Maple Leaf looked down to see Apatite’s hoof wrapped firmly around the handle of a knife. A second later he lifelessly slumped forward.
Lily opened her mouth to scream, but her jaw was fixed shut as a hoof wrapped around her throat, grabbing hold of her chin, and another was placed alongside her head. With a sharp twist of his hooves, Piccolo snapped her neck. The audible crack echoed across the rooftop. Before her body hit the ground the world began to shake and the walls around them began to crumble. Apatite and Piccolo returned to their seats, sipped their drinks, and waited for the end.
→ ↔ ←
Apatite yawned as she awoke, stretching her forelegs as she rose from the bed. Across from her, Piccolo mimicked her actions, disconnecting the diodes from his chest.
“Everything went well?” an off-yellow unicorn questioned. True to her namesake, Tangled Braid wore her carrot orange mane in a loose braid, barely contained by a fuchsia elastic. Just like her mane, her body seemed completely at odds with itself. Lanky, yet squat, she managed to be an entirely average height.
“Yeah,” Piccolo answered. “Just a pair of lovers having a good time.”
“Oh?” Tangled asked with mock innocence.
Piccolo rolled his eyes, wrapping the wires around his hoof. “No, not like the other time. Your information was good this time.”
Tangled bobbed her head appreciatively. “I thought I did well. Princess Luna rushed the briefing as it was. Barely had time to put the normal safeguards in place for you two either.” Turning about, she started for the door before remembering something. “Oh yeah. Wisp wanted to see you two as well before you got off for the night.”
Apatite paused from straightening her bed. “That it? Well, beside the usual.”
She nodded again. “Yeah, that’s all.”
“Coming for drinks tonight?” Piccolo asked. “I’m buying... Unfortunately.”
“Can’t. I have a date planned in the morning and I want to catch a quick nap.”
“A morning date, really?”
Tangled shrugged, reaching up to idly play with her mane. “Well, it’s not like we have a decent schedule. ‘Sides, he’s sort of a morning guy.”
Apatite uttered a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. “Tangled, please tell me you at least have a plan this time. Something more than, well...”
“You know, I probably should be a little offended by that comment.”
Apatite rolled her eyes. “If... If, it wasn’t true.”
“Yeah, if it wasn’t true,” Tangled agreed. “But what’s the point if you don’t take the time to live a little? It’ll be fine either way.” She headed for the door. “I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow, alright?”
“Alright. See you.”
The mare waved a hoof over her shoulder as she left the room.
Turning back to her bed, Apatite flipped off the heart rate monitor noiselessly flatlining by her bed. “So, what are you having tonight?”
“What are you talking about?” Piccolo asked.
Apatite gave his shoulder a friendly knock. “Don’t give me that, you oaf. You’re just trying to get out of paying for the drinks, aren’t you..”
He chuckled. “Guilty as charged. But, if you must know, just the usual.”
Leaving the room, the two trotted down the hallway towards the captain’s office. Unlike the rest of the castle, Dreamscape was not built from the gleaming white marble customary to Canterlot. Instead, the floors were polished grey slate, and the walls were painted over with a semi-glossy white paint. It gave Dreamscape a very practical look, without appearing cheap or dingy. The door at the end of the hall marked the entrance to Wisp’s office. Apatite knocked twice.
“Enter!” came the reply.
The interior of the office was an interesting affair. Odd pieces of art, foreign in nature, adorned the cabinets around the room. A copper sculpture of a tree, which looked like it was made from circulating molten metal, sat atop a stack of papers. A crystal sphere, which encased a small green flame with no fuel, was tucked away behind a picture frame. Many of the exotic pieces would have fetched a fortune if put up for auction, yet they were little more than baubles for the owner.
Despite the clutter enveloping the rest of the room, the desk at it’s center was immaculate. It was stained a deep chestnut, engraved with winding script, and belonged to the changeling sitting behind it. She glanced up from the papers on her desk, evaluating the two of them before returning to her writing. Wisp was a half-head shorter than either Piccolo or Apatite, but held herself with fierce determination, her baby-blue eyes barely containing her spirit.
Perhaps it might be peculiar to see a changeling in Canterlot, let alone a changeling who was the captain of a guard division. When Princess Luna created Dreamscape and appointed Wisp captain, she was met with a torrent of protests and complaints. It was a move that had flummoxed even the highest ranking Lunar Guard, for nothing was known about Wisp or where she had come from. The objections were offered no ground however, as Luna refused to budge from her position. She insisted that Wisp’s natural talents made her the natural choice, the perfect choice even, and assured her loyalty. In the face of such adamant resistance, the concerns of many ponies faded, though they still smoldered.
“I take it everything went well?” she asked, signing off on another form. She spoke with a slight accent, emphasizing consonants, sometimes harshly.
“Yes ma’am,” Piccolo answered, straightening his posture.
“What was it this time?”
“Just a young couple experimenting. They were on a date of sorts.”
Wisp scribbled a note into the margin of a page. “I want the retrieval information on my desk before either of you leave for the night. I want the two of them in Canterlot by sunset tomorrow at the latest.”
Piccolo raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to wait a day? It’ll give us some time to do a background check.”
She snorted and laid down her quill, raising her eyes from her desk. “We all know you don’t find the spells just lying around in books, unless you are very lucky. Someone taught them about the spells, and I want to know who, sooner than later. This is the first real lead we have had in weeks, and I’d rather not start by playing catch up with criminals who have a day’s head start. Hell, if it turns out I’m wrong, and they’re nothing of the sort, I’ll happily let the Solar Guard send me the bill.
“Well, I’ll have it for you in a couple hours then.”
“Was there another reason you wanted to see us?” Apatite cut in.
Wisp nodded, and began fishing around the drawers of her desk. “Luna came to me with a request earlier. She has an assignment which will require an additional member, preferably our best. Piccolo, you have the job. Briefing will be tomorrow when the Princess finds time from her duties. You are not to discuss it with anyone else outside of myself or Dust Step. As for you, Apatite, for the time being, you are to be reassigned.”
The mare stiffened. “What to?”
“Training.”
The order took a moment to sink in. “What!” Apatite exclaimed furiously. “You’re booting me down to–”
Wisp tapped her hoof against the desk. “Enough. It’s a move that’s been long overdue given your recent history in the field.” She waved a hoof, cutting Apatite off before she could begin. “Yes, I do know about that.” Her expression soured as Apatite tried to speak again. “Enough!”
“I thought I told you–”
“Say one more word, and I’ll have you tried for insubordination,” Wisp starred Apatite down till she averted her gaze. “You are dismissed. You have your orders.”
Bitterly, Apatite snapped off a salute. “Yes ma’am.”
The captain passed Piccolo a folder. “Here is what Luna has informed me of so far. In addition, I’ll be needing you to complete a full psych evaluation.”
“Does Tangled know about this?” he asked. Normally, assignments came through their support, normally a unicorn or magic user, who held together the failsafes and placed them into dreams.
“No, it is strictly for you alone. This supersedes anything else you might have planned. Understood?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good, now get out. I have work to do.”
→ ↔ ←
Apatite slammed her mug down on the counter. “Can you believe her!”
Piccolo winced, reaching for her mug. “Easy on the drinks. I don’t want to have to cart you home to Silver.”
The two sat at the bar of Dreamscape. Normally, a guard division didn't get watering holes at their workplace, but Luna had personally arranged for this bar to be built. Therefore, no questions had been asked. Save for the gryphon cleaning out back, the two were alone.
Apatite slapped away his hoof and snorted in amusement. “Why? For me or your wallet?”
“Both, actually,” he clarified.
She cast him a sidelong glance, gesturing to his glass. “Well maybe if you stopped drinking those prissy little drinks, you wouldn’t have to worry about that.”
He chuckled, and took another sip of his drink. “Not everypony likes five-bit ales. Some of us have taste.”
“It isn’t like gin and tonic is an aged wine.” She gave her mug a little shake. “But this stuff...” She paused to take a gulp of her drink, and wiped away the foam on her muzzle with the back of her foreleg. “So what’s the assignment Wisp gave you?”
Piccolo gave Apatite a disbelieving look. “You really expect me to tell you?”
“Of course! I’m your partner after all.”
Piccolo shook his head firmly. “She was pretty clear on the matter.”
“Oh come on. Please?”
“No dice. I’d rather not risk her finding out I’ve told you.”
“Spoilsport,” she muttered, slumping, and returning her attention to her drink. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet. Tolorus, the dark-grey gryphon who managed the bar and acted as the janitor for the entire facility, continued to clean behind the counter, fishing through cabinets. She sighed. “Another day, another dream. Right Piccolo?”
“I guess.” Piccolo took a sip of the drink, mulling over how to break it to Apatite. He knew she wouldn’t think much of his opinion. “Apatite... Perhaps it’s for the best she reassigned you to training. You could use this as a chance to relax and unwind, enjoy some easier work for once.”
“I hardly need to unwind,” she muttered.
“Not even going to justify that with a response.” He swirled the contents of his glass, then sighed. “Apatite, I actually think Wisp might not have gone far enough.”
Her face twisted into a scowl as she jerked around to face him. “You what!”
“Well, it was a step in the right direction either way. Honestly, Apatite, you need a break. You’re getting sloppy, and I can’t even remember the last time you took a day off. What was it... three years, since you took a vacation? And wasn’t that only because you had fractured your leg sparring?”
“I like my work,” Apatite lamely offered. “Why is it such a big deal I don’t take a break?”
Piccolo stared at a her for a moment before snorting, taking a sip of his gin and tonic. “You’re right. You don’t need a break; you need to see a shrink.”
“Excuse me!” she snarled.
He slammed his empty glass down on the counter. “Dammit Apatite, you’re obsessed with this! Just for once, can you let it go? Please?”
Apatite whacked away the hoof he gently placed on her shoulder. “Bug off!”
“Perhaps it’s time you actually faced your problems.” She turned her back slightly to him. Sighing heavily, Piccolo downed the rest of his drink and slapped a few coins on the counter. “You’re buying the rest,” he stated, leaving her sitting alone. Before the night would end, another three mugs would join the first two, arrayed around the lonely mare slumped over the counter.
→ ↔ ←
Apatite groaned, as someone gently shook her shoulder, waking her to a pounding headache. Even though the light was dim, the lantern's glow felt as though it was drilling holes through her eyes. She rolled over, ignoring the world in favour of returning to sleep. However, whoever had woken her had other ideas. Once again, something grasped her shoulder, shaking her gently. She flipped over, swinging her hoof at whoever had gotten the bright idea to bother her. A talon-tipped hand caught her hoof, not budging an inch. Tolorus met her sheepish gaze, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, relaxing her foreleg.
Tolorus let go to retrieve something from the other side of the room, setting the lantern down on the counter. He held out a glass of amber liquid, offering his hangover remedy to Apatite wordlessly, which she greedily consumed.
She blinked as she noticed the room for the first time. “Tolorus, did I pass out on the bar?”
A nod.
Apatite groaned. “I’m sorry, I guess I just lost track of things.”
Another nod.
She passed back the glass and shifted from under the covers. “How long was I out for?”
He held up three claws, emphasising the motion three times before setting his hand down.
“Nine hours, sheesh,” she muttered, rubbing at her temples.
The mute gryphon nodded, passing Apatite a page. She read it over while he collected a few things from the room. It was the official order dictating her reassignment to the training of potential recruits. Dreamwalking was not something everyone could grasp, so it was not the simple task of looking at a file and picking the best recruit. They had to be put through testing to see if they could even handle the job. Tolorus tapped the floor, gaining her attention. The aging gryphon raised a foreleg, pointing to a clock hanging by the door. It read six o’clock in the evening. He pointed the page again. Following the line, she read the time she was supposed to report.
“Horseapples!” Apatite nearly fell over as she bolted from the room. She was already late for duty.
Tolorus wordlessly sighed in her wake, beginning to clean the mess she had made.
