Emotional Tension

Emotional Tension

“What do you mean we can’t go?!” Spitfire yells, slamming her forehooves on the desk in front of her. “I haven’t been on vacation in two years, boss!” She slides her hooves across the desk, leaning closer towards the desk.

“I’m sorry, Spitfire,” a more masculine voice apologizes. “But, we can’t have our team captain gone at this very moment.”

“Why, sir?” Fleetfoot says, interjecting for Spitfire.

“Because, Soarin is missing,” the stallion says as if the statement was a matter of fact.

“WHAT?” the two mares exclaim.

“You can’t be serious,” Spitfire says with a venomous tone. “That stallion…”

“What, Spitfire?” The boss begins, leaning forward in his chair, laying his two silver colored forehooves on his desk. “Do you have an idea on where this stallion is?”

Spitfire shakes her head. “No…” she says with an unsure tone. “All I know is that he left my apartment after he cheated on me.”

The silver forehooves slink back into the darkness. “He cheated on you again?” The boss questions, the noise of a chair creaking is all to be heard.

“Yes,” Spitfire says, her voice trailing off. She looks away from the desk and lands on all fours on the floor. “I am not accepting him back as my partner…”

Spitfire looks over at Fleetfoot, who is still standing behind her, her flight suit on. Apparently, it is required for those who want to talk to the boss to wear their flight suit. That is, unless you’re Spitfire.

Fleetfoot looks at Spitfire and sighs. Fleetfoot averts her gaze from Spitfire to her boss and sighs. “He’s hurt Spitfire twice now and she just wants to be away from that stallion at all costs.” She says. “Besides, he cheated on me too.”

The sudden movement of the boss’s seat causes the two to jump, the seat colliding with the metal cabinets behind him. The stallion gets up and steps out of the darkness.  His coat is like his hooves: silver. His mane, however, is slightly different, the shades of grey contrasts one another, clashing in ways nopony has ever seen before.

As he approaches the two Wonderbolts, Spitfire begins to hear her head speak volumes.

What is he doing?

Why is he coming this way?

This has never happened before!

He stops right in front of Spitfire and brings his head down due to the great height difference. “How long has this gone on for?” He says, his facial expression unreadable.

Spitfire opens her mouth to answer the question, but gets beaten by Fleetfoot to the plate. “Our relationship was for three months, sir.”

In seconds, the boss snaps to her gaze and stands before her. “And why was I notified of this at the last minute?” He says with an irritated tone.

“Becaus-”

“Who said you could talk out of turn, Captain?” He questions loudly, his emotions beginning to affect his being. “I…” he says, before groaning in despair. “Just leave my office, you two are on a two month leave.”

“Vacation leave?” Fleetfoot asks giddily.

The boss returns to his desk, the darkness taking him in once again. “No, I want to see if you can find him in Ponyville.” He slams his hooves on his desk, causing the two mares to jump. “Think of it as…” One hoof retracts into the darkness. “As a vacation with a mission…”

“Why do you think he’s in Ponyville, sir?” Spitfire asks.

The boss sighs. “I have a feeling he’d want to be as far away from Cloudsdale as possible.”

Fleetfoot steps up to the plate, standing right in front of Spitfire. “So you think Ponyville would be a good target?”

“Well, where else do you think he’d be?” The boss says in annoyance. “After all, he really loved the pie from that one pony from Ponyville.” The boss sits in his chair, the sound of creaking signifying that. “He would always try to find comfort in what he likes to eat.”

“True,” Fleetfoot says, backing away from the desk.

The two mares sigh simultaneously. The tension in the room is so thick, anypony could walk into the room with a knife, and the knife would snap into two.

“Alright, let’s go, Fleetfoot,” Spitfire says calmly. “Thank you, sir.”

With that, Spitfire and Fleetfoot leave the office, shutting the door politely.

Spitfire looks over at Fleetfoot and says, “That went well, didn’t it?”

Fleetfoot giggles. “Yeah, two whole months of vacation!” She grins at the notion. “Do you know how long that is?”

Spitfire grins back. “Yeah, one of our longest vacations in a while…”

The two walk in silence, returning to their respective rooms without muttering another peep.

This is going to be one hell of a vacation…

___________________________

Warmth.

Apprehension.

Irritation.

Want.

This is all the emotions to create a perfect rendition of Spitfire, who is feeling all of these at once. At the moment, Spitfire and her glorious friend Fleetfoot are riding on a train to Ponyville. After packing for the trip and leaving their apartments, the two set off to find transportation to Ponyville. This involved asking directions from several of the locals, who apparently were too busy fanboying and fangirling over them to even give them proper directions. As a result, they had to wander around the city, carrying their luggage on their backs.

It was the same old, same old.

After two hours of wandering, they ended up at the train station. After they walked up to the ticket window and bought their tickets to Ponyville, they had to wait for another twenty minutes for the train to arrive.

Those were the most grueling twenty minutes Spitfire had ever had to witness.

During those twenty minutes, she couldn’t get her mind off Soarin.

It was like every good memory of Soarin decided to enter her vicinity at once.

It was so bad for her, that she began tearing up. Fleetfoot saw her tear up and asked her what was wrong.

All Spitfire could do was mutter his name, before looking straight back at the tiled floor of the station.

Once the train was announced, they entered it, threw their things in, and took their seats. They sat next to each other in a booth. Spitfire had slid next to the window, staring out into the vast landscape ahead of them.

And this is where they are at present time.

Spitfire is still looking out, her facial expression depressed as anypony would be if they lost someone close to them.

Fleetfoot has had enough of it.

“Spitfire,” she addressed, her Captain snapping her attention to her. “Look, you can’t be so depressed right now, we have vacation ahead of us.”

Spitfire sighs. “Am I that easy to read?”

Fleetfoot giggles. “At some points, you’re easier to read than a picture book.”

“Shut up,” Spitfire says, folding her forehooves against her chest, her muzzle scrunching up.

Fleetfoot laughs loudly at Spitfire. “Spitfire, that face you just made!”

Spitfire sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”

Fleetfoot looks over and wiggles her eyebrows, much to the chagrin of Spitfire. “You could do a lot with me…”

Spitfire just groans in response.

“What? You don’t want to talk to me?”

“Hide me,” Spitfire mutters, her cheeks tinted as red as a rose.

“Oh, Spitfire,” Fleetfoot says. “I’m so hurt by your lack of acknowledgement!”

Spitfire giggles. “Okay, okay!” she says while putting her hooves out in front of her. “I give, I give!”

Fleetfoot smiles. “That’s more like it.”

Spitfire sighs. “Alright, I’m just upset about Soarin…”

“What about Soarin,” Fleetfoot begins, putting her hooves on top of the table in front of them. “Is bothering you?”

“Everything!” Spitfire snaps, the tears finally coming out. “First the groupie and now this!” Spitfire puts her hooves to her face. “Why did that stallion just leave without notifying HQ? Without notifying anyone on the team!” She sighs and grits her teeth, grinding them together out of frustration. “Knowing him, he’s probably drinking it away someplace!” Spitfire says.

She sighs and turns away from Fleetfoot’s gaze, looking down at the carpet in the middle aisle. “I just…” she begins to say, having trouble completing her thought.

“Just what, Spitfire?” Fleetfoot asks, her voice beginning to waver.

Spitfire shakily sighs. “I just... wouldn’t be able to bear it if he...he…” She says, her voice trailing off after realizing the worst possible outcome.

He could be dead.

He could be dead…

“Spitfire!”

“Huh?” Spitfire says, snapping out of her depressive phase.

She looks in front of her to see Fleetfoot no longer there. She panics and turns to her left to see Fleetfoot hugging her, her hooves wrapped around her midsection. “Spitfire, don’t think like that!” she cries, snuggling into her shoulder. “That big old dolt wouldn’t even have the balls to do that!”

She looks down at Fleetfoot and snuggles with her, wrapping her own hooves around Fleetfoot. “I know, it was just my brain thinking aga-”

“Snap out of it!” Fleetfoot says, hugging Spitfire tighter to her. “Soarin is stronger than that! He wouldn’t do it!”

“Fleetfoot…” Spitfire says, hugging her just as tight. “It’s okay, I know he wouldn’t do that…”

Fleetfoot looks up at Spitfire, the tears still in her eyes. “Why did you…”

“It’s okay…” Spitfire says, bringing a hoof to Fleetfoot’s mane. Spitfire begins to pet her friend’s mane, causing Fleetfoot to sigh and snuggle closer. “Don’t worry. Soarin is just trying to get away…” She says as she averts her gaze to the rest of the train car. The rest of the occupants, who have been watching the whole ordeal from afar, tear their gazes away and start their own conversations. Spitfire blushes, realizing that this little affair has roused the entire train car.

One of the train's managers comes from the car in front of theirs and approaches the two. “You ladies alright?” The stallion asks.

“Yes, we’re okay,” Spitfire responds while still holding Fleetfoot in her hooves. She averts her attention to the mare. “We’re just having a moment.”

The stallion nods. “Alright, just keep it down. We don’t want to have guests complaining,” He says, before turning around to head back to his car.

The two mares, who are the best of friends, now lie in shambles. Only remedy for their sadness is each other, the closeness keeping them together.

“Spitfire?”

“Hm?”

Fleetfoot gently nuzzles Spitfire’s neck. “Thank you…”

Spitfire smiles and returns the friendly nuzzle. “No, Fleetfoot,” Spitfire says, giving Fleetfoot a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”

With that, Spitfire and Fleetfoot lie together as they watch the landscape pass by, their destination rapidly approaching...