Blade

In the Everwhite, there were all kinds of variation in the flora. The bastard bushes and flowers, though strange at first sight, harmonized radiantly. Lily noticed as she walked down the quiet forest road and feigned boredom with it, masking her feelings of jealousy for such natural beauty. The farm had nothing so nice.

She wouldn’t admit it ever, of course. She was much too proud of her accomplishments since her succession from her father that she refused to criticize the farm at all, despite it being a spiraling vortex of misery. Even now as a successful young adult, the farm drained her soul of all its emotional capacity.

She quickly became impatient while following the trail and even considered turning back, but just then she saw a petite cottage at the top of a hill no more than another minute or so away.

“Oh, finally.” She groaned to herself. “Though I’m not surprised by how far away she is from everypony.”

Lily approached the cottage, gussied herself up at the door, making sure her appearance was better than her sister’s surely would be, and knocked.

Pinkamena had woken up smiling for the first time in nearly thirteen years. Scootaloo was still asleep, breathing silently into her side, tickling her just so. Before getting up, she stared at the child for a little while. She was so quiet and looked so peaceful, despite the cuts and bruises that littered her body and face. For some reason, the sight kept the grin from leaving her face as she got up and headed down to the kitchen to make breakfast.

As she made the toast and poured the juice, she found herself very light on her feet, almost dancing. The past few mornings had been nicer than usual, but this particular morning was something magical, and she didn’t even know why.

She had melted all of the bodies in her basement and dumped the rotten slush into the river out back over the last couple of days, making her basement once again empty except for the table and its other original furniture and decorations. The smell was the only thing that still remained of her karmatic duties, and it was putrid. She had tried pouring an entire bottle of cheap perfume on the floor to cover it up, but it disappeared into a drain in the center of the room that she had never noticed before. The little bit that stained into the concrete was nowhere near enough to mask the odor of her righteous deeds.

Despite this, Pinkamena hadn’t gone anywhere near her basement for the entire week. Maybe it was due to The Voice not having talked to her at all in that time. Coincidentally, The Voice had stopped around the time that Scootaloo had started sleeping next to her. At first, it was so that they could team up against their nightmares and be there for each other when awoken from them. But even after the nightmares stopped the little foal still climbed into that bed and snuggled herself tightly against Pinkamena’s side every night.

Scootaloo’s nightmares had certainly ended, since she was obviously dreaming about her parents most nights, as evidenced by her sleep-talking about mothers and what not.

Pinkamena had also stopped having nightmares. Her father was entirely absent from her unconscious mind in the night now, and she instead dreamed about meadows and rivers with bright and cloudless skies overhead as she frolicked about with a friendly figure she could never remember in her waking hours.

But she did have one dream that happened more than once. Reoccurring night terrors were common for her, but not so much dreams. And in it, she is at a table, talking, laughing, and monkeying around with five other ponies. Most of them she has never met before, but she does remember two of them looking familiar, at least knowing that they were real. All she remembers when she wakes are two of each kind. Two Pegasi, two Unicorns, and an Earth Pony just like her. They all harmonize like they know each other in this nightly vision, but she can’t recall meeting any of them, let alone know their names.

Her train of though was interrupted however by the sound of a chair scooting across the floor. Pinkamena turned to see that Scootaloo had woken up and come down without making any other sounds. She finished scooting the chair from under the door to the table and quietly sat down, waiting for breakfast.

Pinkamena grinned at the child. “I ever tell you that you’re really super sneaky?”

Scootaloo returned the smile. “Morning, Miss Pie. I’m only quiet because I don’t want to bother you. I guess it’s an old habit.”

Pinkamena pulled the crispy waffles from their iron and put the two of them on separate plates. As she placed one of the plates in front of Scootaloo, she tussled her mane.

“I don’t think you can ever bother me, kiddo.”

Scootaloo giggled a little bit and began to eat.

As Pinkamena went back to get her own plate, she heard something she never had before in that house; someone was knocking at the door.

Scootaloo looked at the door, confused. She knew that her pink friend had no friends except herself, but she would never say that out loud. So she looked at Pinkamena with her head tilted just slightly and her eyebrows curving upward toward each other.

Pinkamena cautiously went to the door, just as confused and opened it.

Dashclad walked into the room and saw many things, but what stood out to her the most was Cherry. He clearly hadn’t slept for however long he’d been there, if he even left since she last visited. He also looked weak and Dashclad could guess that meant he hadn’t eaten much either.

When he saw her, Cherry faintly smiled.

“Hi, Dash. Come on in.” He ushered.

“Cherry, you look awful.” She said, concerned.

“She’s getting better, Dash.” He ignored. “T-they say that she might even walk on that leg again!” He said as joyously as he could.

Dashclad saw her grey and blonde friend turn over in her bed, not looking much better than her husband. In spite of this, she still smiled better than him and even waved lightly.

“H-h-he-y, D-da-a-s-sh” She managed.

Dashclad forced herself to smile back at such an awful sight. She did that. She hurt her friends like this.

“Hey, Derpy.”

There was a pause as she frantically tried to think of a follow up.

“Do you feel any better?” She ended up with.

Derpy frowned. “W-well… I d-don’t f-f-ff-eel too good. But the doc-t-tor said that the bullet didn’t d-d-d…” She struggled badly. “-diii-s-s-aable anything. So I’ll walk ag-gain if I work hard.”

A flash of despair filled Cherry’s face but he repressed whatever it was when Dashclad looked back to him.

“Sadly though, she’s gonna need a crutch for the rest of her life.” He said. “But hey, what’d you expect, considering her cerebral palsy.” He choked out the fakest chuckle ever.

“I-it’s okay though. The only real th-thing t-that does is p-p-ut me out of the p-p-ostal serv—vice.”

Dashclad knew that she couldn’t afford to find a different job. She had put two-and-two together when she saw their house. By the end of her treatment, they would probably be homeless.

She did it.

She did it.

SHE DID IT.

“Sorry, guys!” She burst out. “I only came in for a really quick visit, cause I have to go somewhere.” She lied.

They both looked so understanding at this. They smiled real smiles and nodded. Like they didn’t matter at all and were hindering her life’s progress by taking her precious time away.

“T-that’s okay, Dash. T-t-th-anks for stopping by!” She replied.

“Yes. Thank you so much, Dash.” Cherry also said.

Dashclad left the room as fast as she could without looking suspicious. The guilt was consuming her in that room. It was a cancer that spread and spread at lightning speed. And she knew that she could run, but she couldn’t hide.

Melvin cleaned his entire inventory of glasses and mugs. He didn’t have anything else to do. Nobody was coming in that late. Lyra and Bonbon were having a romantic dinner somewhere and he knew where Rarity was. Boy, did he know.

Melvin knew a lot of stuff. He was sure of what he felt and what he wanted.

Melvin knew that Lyra was right. She always was. But he didn’t like it. He didn’t want change. Change was scary. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were. But they weren’t going to. Not no way, not no how. He knew all of that for certain.

“Ughhhhh…” His only present customer mumbled.

“Shut up, Berry.” He firmly insisted.

“N-nooo…”

“Ain’t you got a little girl to take care of?” He asked, annoyed. “Where the fuck is baby Ruby?”

“Don’t you talk about my beautiful princess, you sweater…wearing…Mel…” She slurred.

“You’re here twenty-four-fucking-seven. How do you even have the time to sober up and go home?”

“Cheerilee is watching her, for your F-Y-I.”

Though he fought it at first, Mel couldn’t help but laugh at little bit at this one. “For my, for my information?” He chuckled.

Berry returned his chuckle even though she didn’t know what there was to be laughing about.

At this, the saloon doors burst open, and Melvin saw six ponies pour into his business and take seats next to each other at the bar.

The one in the middle had a hood up and he couldn’t see their face. They looked a very odd bunch.

“You know, you think I’d expect more customers at this time of night, but I don’t very often.” He said to them.

“Welcome to Melvin’s Saloon. What can I get ya?” He greeted properly.

“Milk, please.” Said an older mare with complex cherry-red hair.

“Milk?”

“Yes, please.”

“All by itself? No White Equestrian or anything?”

“Yes, dear. Milk. Thank you.” She assured.

The mare’s voice was very motherly and pleasant, but also very direct and business-like.

“I’ll have a apple juice please.” Said a very plump, stubby stallion.

“Fuck, what are you guys, religious or something?” Mel joked lightly as he readied the two drinks.

The hooded one look up at him and he could see her eye glow a very eerie yellow. Melvin froze and stared at her eye. He nearly dropped the drinks just staring into the eye like a deer in headlights.

Melvin knew a lot of stuff. And he knew straight away that the eye was pure evil.

The hooded mare snickered.

“I guess you could say that. Yes…” Trixie said.