Manehattan House of Refugees

Thespian stepped out of the shower, barely keeping his fragile balance on the slick tile. Not caring about what he got wet, he shook himself wildly after bracing a hoof on a nearby metal bar. Smiling to himself, he trotted to the mirror like he was on a runway, completely ignoring a slight ungraceful stagger he still possessed from his hangover. Coming up to the water-splattered pane of reflective glass, Thespian gave his best marekiller grin and studied his own features like an approving hawk. His red eyes shone with a light he declared to be distilled charm iconic to the bat pony race. Combined with his dark-gray fur, wild black mane and winning smile, he was sure he had it all.

His smile slightly faltered when he remembered the slight hitch. Turning his body, he looked at the reflection of his well-toned flank, and a small bob of hair that stemmed from his hips. Giving his rear a small and completely masculine shake, he felt a pang of sadness as the bob just... moved. It did sway, jump, or otherwise flow in its usual beauty. It just stayed rigid, in all honesty not even covering his... anatomy.

He really didn't want to think about that part.

While it was true he didn't... care if ponies--especially mares--checked him out, it was still unfortunate that it was so easy to see now. But, he didn't care! He just... Well, ever hear about wanting what you can't have? Well, he lost that now, that's all. He was on display for everyone now. But really, he didn't care about his... parts being so easy to see. There was nothing wrong with that.

Sometimes, he saw ponies with their tails tied up, or cut in such a way that it produced a similar effect. He admitted, it drew some attention, but it was always seen as a bit promiscuous. Definitely not something you would want when trying to look professional, that's for sure.

Thespian groaned as he locked eyes with his reflection. He forcibly took the reins of his thoughts and drew up as much resolve as he could manage. Practically glaring at his reflection, he adopted his same ladykiller smirk as before, only dialed up to max effect.

After taking a moment to take another good look at what was left of his tail, he reared up and placed his hooves on the front of the mirror in front of his double.

"I don't even care," Thespian stated to his reflection confidently. "I'll make it sexy, dang it!"

Turning around again--and averting his eyes from what was still a little too visible for his liking--he eyed the bob with a smile. "I'll make this work magnificently. Mares can't resist a stallion with confidence!"

Striking another pose, he flexed his foreleg and admired his reflection further. "And I have that in aces. What's more confident than a roughishly good looking bat stallion with a short cut?"

This time, he got down and mimicked a crouching tiger. "They can't run, they can't hide, because I'm a beast when I want to be. They'll practically be swarming to this piece of tail when I flaunt what I have."

Flaring his wings, he stood tall and puffed his chest proudly. "I am a stallion, dang it! Hear me--!"

"GET THE BUCK OUT OF THERE ALREADY!" A loud, angry voice called from the other side of the bathroom door.

Thespian groaned in annoyance. He trotted over to the door, making sure his hooves hit the ground with extra, unneeded emphasize to show his displeasure and being so rudely interrupted. Unlatching the door, he was fully prepared to chew out whoever was on the other side.

"What the heck, man? I wasn't even in here that long!" he said as he swung the door open.

"It's been over an hour. Some of us have to use the shower too," the pony, a young earth pony mare with a blue pelt returned with a huff.

Noticing for the first time that he was in fact receiving a death glare from a very attractive specimen of the opposite sex, Thespian adopted his signature winning smile and leaned nonchalantly against the door frame--almost sliding to the floor from his still impaired sense of balance, but managing to avoid breaking his cool image.

"Hey babe, no need to get so stressed," he said, having forgot he was still fairly impaired. "So, do you come here oft-"

"Leave now before I break your leg," she deadpanned before shoving him off the doorframe and closing the door behind her. From the heap he laid in, Thespian heard the latch of the door reengage from the other side.

Rage splayed himself out on the floor with his forehooves firmly wrapped around an open magazine. While not... overly graphic, more than half the images on printed on the pages would make a normal pony blush. For Raging Spear, it simply caused him to grin like a schoolcolt getting out for the summer. As he flipped to the next page, his eyes hungrily took in the curves of one 'Radiance,' bathing in a hot spring and showing just enough of her flank as to make for a knockout pose, without crossing the line into obscene. He had to pause to swallow the spittle building in his mouth. The next page or so held similar pictures printed on them in their full glory. Many from the same pony, but with a few lesser known models mixed in as well.

Having finished the final page, Rage threw the magazine to the side. Looking around, he contemplated his next query. Mentally sorting through his collection of materials, his mind happened across a special spring issue that he had stashed under his bed. His grin widened as he remembered some of the pictures were of a famous pony lookalike, mirroring the element of kindness herself, following her brief stint as a fashion model. While the new model did not capture the original's nature impeccably well, she was still quite popular among certain circles, even if her mane always looked a touch too short in every shot.

Reaching underneath his bedframe and towards where he remembered stashing his prize, his hoof instead collided with something metallic. Pulling it out, he saw that it was an old guard's helmet. The blue plume was fairly dirty and not fully intact anymore, and the gilded head plate showed some minor damage, but even so it caught the light in his room beautifully. It was no wonder the guards and soldiers were a symbol of Equestrian strength, as well as security. His thoughts of mares forgotten, he attempted to adjust the plume and straighten some of the blue strands so they fell back into place. However, he only succeeded in making it slightly worse than before. Slowly, he put the helmet down and simply studied it, his rising nostalgia getting the better of him.

He remembered having his mane shaved during basic. When he made it through, the hair they took that day would by dyed and attached to his helmet. It was said to be symbolic, that they paid their price upon entry, then earned it back with interest upon completion. If you quit, you not only went home a disgrace, but they kept your mane. If you proved yourself worthy, your armor would always be your own so long as you served. The enchantment in his chest plate would change his natural coloration, of course, as the Equestrian Guardianship was big on seamless fronts of harmonious unity. But, on some level, his plume, and by extension his armor would always be a part of him, unique despite how it appeared to be a carbon copy of every other modern set.

Often, ponies saw the plume as just a formality... but it still meant something for those who would embrace it. The sentiment was there, and they were free to make what they wanted of it.

Pushing the helmet back under his bed, Raging Spear averted his gaze. The helmet was the only part they would let them keep. It meant little without its matching chest plate and greaves, but it served as a reminder of service for any former guard or soldier, discharged honorably, or for bad conduct alike.

Moving his hoof to the side absently, it collided with something paper. Looking down, he saw one of the magazines he threw to the side earlier. After thinking for a moment, he picked it up in his mouth and jumped onto his bed, opening it up to the first page as soon as he settled in. His eyes studied the curves of the mare posing on the beach, her eyes half closed and somehow striking a modest, yet flirtatious pose as the waves lapped at her prone form. His smile returned, but this time, it was a touch less sincere.

Ghost laid down on his bed, not even bothering to get under the covers just yet. Silently, he stared up at the ceiling and looked for patterns and images in the wooden planks. Today had been a quiet day, and while he preferred it that way, it was also unnerving. Immensely unnerving. Though, he couldn't explain exactly why.

This morning, he had shown up a good bit, though he wasn't nearly so bad this time. After he disappeared just before lunch... Ghost hadn't seen anything of him since. Usually he would see him in the distance, or watching him, but he was simply... gone.

Ghost shivered, grabbing hold of his pillow and clutching it to his chest.

He didn't want to see him. And so long as he kept his mind blank, perhaps he wouldn't.

Looking at the window from where he lay, he saw the distant stars. Suspended in their small pane of black abyss, they shone magnificently. Small points of light, never changing, always there yet not always seen.

And yet, he hated the night.

It reminded him of things he didn't want to be reminded of. To think of things he didn't want to think. The darkness conceals so much, allowing the mind to fill in the gaps with the worst it can come up with. It turns even the benign into the malignant, the innocent to the shadowed.

As much as he disliked how hot the summer sun was, he preferred the harsh, revealing sunlight over its opposite.

Looking up at the still-lit ceiling lamp, he sighed to himself. He had no intention of leaving it off. He rarely ever did when he was in the room. It didn't matter if it was night. It would stay lit.

After laying still for some time, Ghost eventually rolled over and pulled the covers off his bed and rolled himself up in them. They were soft, slightly worn, but smelled of his shampoo, with the faintest hint of lavender. It mixed strangely well with strawberry, given that they would likely never be paired together normally.

Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift off. He thought of sunlight fields, of waving oceans of grass, of rolling hills stretching into the distance under an azure sky. He pictured himself in the middle of it all, a soft breeze wafting around him and rippling his fur with a cool touch. It brought with it a scent of sweet earth that helped softened his nerves and set him at total ease.

He imagined taking the first step forward. He could practically feel the grass fronds bend underneath his hoof and gracefully stroke its smooth surface. Another step followed, producing the same tactile response. A small smile graced his face. Another few steps brought him closer to the horizon, towards some unknown landscape.

And so off he drifted. His breathing slowed, and his mind gave way to its own unconscious musings until the dawn.