Manehattan House of Refugees

by SFyr

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Slice of Life
Length: 5158

Shorter drabs over a mess of misfit ponies making ends meet in the distant city of Manehattan, far from any world-changed events, yet suckered into their own trials of life.

With social classes dividing many ponies in a city as large as Manehattan, some have taken it upon themselves to create a shelter for some of the greater misfits of the city. Here, they can have a safe haven and supportive community to recover in, or a selective domicile to keep them away from the functioning members of pony society, the wording of which depending on which side of the fence you stand. Regardless, each has their own life to live, and each has something holding them back from being able to stand on their own.

((Shorter, less serious collection of slice of life bits over various ponies tied together by the House of Refugees in Manehattan. Basically, I haven't been able to write something more serious, so I'm attempting something more broken and easy to work with to see if I can get some gears turning.))
((Basically, this is an extended writing exercise.))

//Cover art to be replaced later on

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-14 20:52:57 UTC

Going to Lunch

"Not now," Ghost asserted, his voice barely above a whisper. ”Leave me alone."

Let’s play.

"No," Ghost pressed on, "I don't want to play."

But I want to play.

Ghost stopped trotting to cover his forehead with a hoof. The white of his foreleg consumed his vision as he shut out the harsh summer sunlight.

"Is something wrong?" Amethyst turned around to ask. "Why are you covering your head?"

"It's nothing." Ghost sighed. Taking a tired look around, he saw no trace of his follower. Instead, he saw only the hustle and bustle of the Manehattan market district, filled with ponies loaded down with bags and dressed in immaculately kept couture. The various storefronts all came together to form a mess of words and images, each competing for another second of the observer's strained attention span, and more strained wallet. However, his gaze was quickly drawn back to the mare practically trotting in place ahead of him.

"Come on, the Seabreeze Café is just ahead!" Amethyst said with a smile, her amber eyes shining.

Nodding slightly, Ghost resumed his walk, all the while trying to keep his mind absent of any unnecessary thought. Amethyst chatted to him the whole while but he honestly didn't hear much of it. For a time, he simply studied the ponies around him. Many were clearly of a social class well above his own, or at least outwardly that would appear to be the case. However, they were balanced by an equal number of lower class ponies, if not straight vagrants down on their luck milling about the many shops and storefronts. What was more interesting, were the subtle interactions, fluid barriers and gestures that separated groups of ponies like oil from water. The turned heads, the looks that lasted a moment too long or a glance that came far too quickly... They painted a picture many would miss, a caricature of social values few were bold enough to comment on, but many still felt quite clearly.

The slight pang of sickness did well to distract him from his previous thoughts, though it took a sharp bump to the hip for him to refocus on his companion. He glanced over to see Amethyst staring at him with a look of playful annoyance, her pout barely covering for the edge of amusement gracing her face.

"Really, Ghostly, I'm not that boring, thank you."

"I just... I just got distracted is all," Ghost declared penitently. "You're not boring, I promise!"

"How would you know that if you haven't been listening to methis entire time?"

"Well… uh..."

Ghost found himself hip-checked once again, almost having his tail planted in the road from the sudden assault on his balance.

"I'm just messing with you. We're here!" Amethyst waved him over with an ever-widening grin. "Let's eat!"

Before them a small cafe sat overlooking the bay two stories down from the roadway. The pair quickly went inside through the double doors, each wooden panel looking ragged and worn as if carved from driftwood. Inside, the sea motif quickly became apparent. As the two cantered up to the reception desk--also looking to be carved of driftwood--Ghost couldn't help but let his eyes wander over the small restaurant. The pastel blues of the walls harmonized well with the earthy wooden accents. What looked to be real nautilus shells marked the far wall, where many other smaller shells and sea-colored stones created a widespread mural of color. A slight drone of quiet conversation gave the place life, stemming from many of the happy-looking patrons seated at circular tables and familiar-looking booths.

After only a minute or so, a stallion wearing a white collar and blue tie approached the reception desk.

"Hello, and welcome to the Seabreeze Café, would you like a table for two?" He asked with a slight bow.

"Yes please," Amethyst answered with a winning smile, "we would also like a booth if possible."

"Certainly ma’am. Right this way."

Ghost and Amethyst followed the stallion as he wound around the short aisles of tables. Soon, the pair found themselves let to a small booth underneath the mural. The stiff yet soft booth seats proved awkward at first to climb up on, especially given the rounded table and like-wise rounded seating, but soon the two were settled in. A server came by with two menus in her mouth immediately after, which were left in exchange for their order of drinks. Amethyst ordered a blended fruit cocktail--nonalcoholic, as was for the best--while Ghost instead ordered an orange tea. Both were swiftly left on the table by the kind mare in uniform.

"As I said before, this is my treat, so don't dare go with something lame," Amethyst commented, a mischievous smirk on her face as she sipped from her glass.

"I still don't feel right about that. You know that I--"

"I don't want to hear it," She cut him off, her smirk widening to a confident grin. "Today is my treat. You deserve it, and I don't care if you could pay for it yourself. I'm not letting you."

In a softer tone, she added, "You work really hard, Ghost. Sometimes ponies just want to do something for you. You're my friend, and I owe you that much."

Ghost's ears drooped slightly, before a smile parted his lips. "Fine... But I'll remember this."

Her mischievous look came back in full force. "Oh, I will make sure that you do."

She laughed. Only a second later, Ghost found himself joining in.

"So, how are things down at the shop?" he asked.

"Busy as usual," she said with a slightly fake smile, "nobles and business ponies all looking for the best for the least. Everything has to be just so or else they throw a fit."

Her body slumped a bit as she laid her chin down on the edge of the table.

"There was a nice young stallion looking for a wedding ring, but that has been the highlight of the whole week." Her eyes grew distant, and an honest smile spread back over her face as she visibly relaxed an iota. "He looked so happy picking out the perfect ring. He looked at it like he was looking at his dreams. To have a hoof in such a major step almost makes up for the... less pleasant ponies that have come in as of late."

"At least no one is threatening to blacklist you again, eh?"

She covered her head with her hooves, completely hiding her face by pressing it firmly into the table.

"That was a nightmare. If Ivory hadn't been there, or her extended family weren’t who they were… I just want to forget about that whole mess."

"Helps to have friends in high places, eh?" Ghost commented jokingly.

"Please," Amethyst said, picking up her head to give him an eye roll. "She and her family practically made those high places you speak of." She gave him a smirk. "Well... maybe not really, but dang."

"Dang indeed." Ghost mimicked, even throwing in a sage node for effect. He had only met Ivory a few times, and spoke very little with her at the time, but the mare was elegant and dainty almost to the point of making one feel dirty in her presence. From what he heard from Amethyst, her family was also one of the richest families in Manehattan, having a hoof in everything from real estate to banking. Ivory herself was still young however, and put her talent and poise to good use dealing with the finest jewelry peddled to the arguably finest of tastes of Manehattan. She technically worked under Amythyst, but Ivory’s family could probably buy her out if they felt the need, not that they seemed the type to.

"So what about you?"

Ghost coughed, not having caught the question immediately. After mumbling a small smattering of noise that came out as nothing more than a rough 'huh?', Amethyst went on to elaborate.

"Well? How are things going down at the house?"

Ghost rubbed his foreleg absently.

"They're going well. Ponies have been staying out of trouble, mostly. We haven't had any new refugees coming or going in awhile, not since Ember left for Canterlot..."

"That's good to hear," Amethyst said with a small, genuine smile. "I'm glad he finally joined the guard. I think it will do wonders for him."

"Yeah, so do I." Ghost nodded.

"And Velvet?"

Ghost's expression dropped just a touch. "She's doing about as well as ever..."

Amethyst coughed, a rare look of awkwardness crossing her usually confident face. "I've seen her all of once, but she seemed like a good pony."

"She is." Ghost nodded. "I just wish I could do more for her sometimes."

"I still think she should see somepony for help--"

"She wouldn't take it." Ghost interrupted with a smile. "And from what ponies I've talked to about her, I think it's best that we just give her the time she needs to recover and come to terms with everything. We can be there for her, but she has to accept that help.” Ghost swallowed, his throat tightening around his next sentence. “Sometimes ponies just...can't share what bothers them most, not until they learn to deal with it themselves first."

Another awkward moment passed as the two were at a loss for words.

"Well, what about Thespian? I'm sure he's always good for a laugh."

Ghost's expression switched over to complete and utter deadpan in less than a second. "I don't want to talk about it."

"...What did he do this time?" The look on Amethyst’s face was practically predatory in its amusement.

"…He may have snuck into the guard's barracks a night or two ago,” Ghost offered hesitantly.

"Oh?"

"...And he may have gotten so drunk off of the soldiers’ stashed whiskey that he paraded around the building singing 'cops'."

"Wow, so what--"

"--In a female guard's armor."

Ghost's forehoof was now firmly pressed over his forehead. He contemplated to moving it over one of his ears as they were suddenly assaulted by laughter.

"Wow... Oh, wow. I-I think that's a new new height for him," Amethyst commented, her laughter dying to a deep chuckle. "So did he spend the night in jail?"

"Well, after kicking his tail across the barracks, shaving said tail down to a stump in retribution, and putting him in the hospital for about an hour or so to make sure he wasn't hurt too badly, they just sent him on his way. He came parading back into the house dressed like a cross-dressing guard with an icepack on his head."

"Wait, he... what?" Amethyst blinked. “He was still wearing--”

"They let him keep it!" Ghost wailed pitifully.

"You think that guardmare would want her armor back after some stallion's junk--"

"Don't say it!" Ghost complained.

Thankfully, at that very moment, the waiter came back with their food. With a skillful twist of the neck, he had moved two large platters from his back to the booth's table, laying a tropical salad in front of Ghost and a seaweed and pasta dish in front of Amethyst. After laying down some utensils and napkins, he went on his way with a polite bow. Amethyst had already started digging into her food with abandon by the time Ghost had plucked a chunk of pineapple and placed it into his mouth.

"Ever think about eating in the same place as before?" Ghost mumbled through his piece of fruit. "I lost track of how many places you've taken me to on the spur of the moment."

"I do eat in the same places, sometimes," she huffed in return, "…when I can't find anywhere new. As big as Manehattan is, it does happen. Still, little places like this crop up now and then, thankfully," she said with a wide smile. "Besides, how else am I to get to know the city?"

"Do you really have to know every nook and cranny?" Ghost asked humorlessly.

"It helps. Besides, Manehattan is my home." After a moment's pause, she added, "and it's yours too. You may not have come here by choice, but even I can tell it's growing on you."

"...It's not really the place, so much as the ponies." Ghost admitted. "I know I'm only here because my family made me take over the refugee house here in Manehattan, but..."

Ghost shrugged.

"I honestly used to hate it, but even after just a few nights here, I've grown to like what I do. Even if I'm not the best at it, and the ponies there are largely accountable for themselves... I just can't think of anything else I'd rather do right now."

Amethyst smiled. "Yeah, but I bet it sucks to be filthy rich, and not able to touch any of it."

"You have no idea," Ghost said with a sigh.

Playing Cards

"Shut it and pass the bottle," Thespian groaned from where he sat on the floor. It being a good bit past sunset, the small living room was completely empty barring the three ponies currently playing cards on the floor. While no food was brought, they still snatched a bottle from the kitchen on their way through the hall.

Ghost frowned before taking said bottle into his hoof and passing it toward the hungover batpony. "You say that like its alcoho--"

"I said shut it, Ghostie." Thespian groaned again before sliding a card over to Rage. "Hit me."

"Wish I could," Ghost joked, giving him a conspiratory smirk. "But it’s poor form to kick a pony while they're down."

Thespian muttered something inaudible before throwing in a plastic chip. Looking down at his pair of 2's and 4's, Ghost couldn't help but feel an edge of confidence. He decided to carry through, and tossing in a twenty-point chip to match it. Rage followed after him. With the unsteady flourish of a drunken undead, Thespian threw his cards in the center of the floor, showing off three princes and two 7's.

"Even half dead, I still kick both your flanks at poker," Thespian stated while taking a swig of fruit juice.

"Well, it's hard to read your face through all that humiliation."

"Shut it." Thespian laid his head on his forehooves, looking like he was ready to sink into unconsciousness. "By Sunbutt's glorious flank, that was some hard stuff."

"She does have a rather nice flank," Rage added with a slightly-too-wide smile.

"I still find it hard to believe you made it past basic," Thespian commented offhandedly. "I just wish I could remember what was on the label of those bottles."

"To stay away from future cross-dressing experiences?" Ghost prodded.

"Buck no. I want seconds."

Ghost took a second to process that. Trying not to think on it any further, he took the now-shuffled deck from Rage and dealt out the cards, five to each pony. That complete, he put the cards aside and looked at his hand. Sadly, none matched, and his highest card was a princess. Still, he would see what came of his trade-in.

"So what did you do with the armor?" Rage asked. "Did you get a good look at the mare you... borrowed it from?"

"It's not borrowing if it's mine to keep, and yes." Thespian responded tiredly while rearranging his cards. "Larger build. Blue. Eyes of fury. Bristling mane."

Rage whistled. "When you say large..."

"Curves." Thespian deadpanned. "I'll let you think they were flattering and leave it there."

"So umm... the armor..."

Ghost and Thespian paused to stare at Rage.

"--Nevermind."

Ghost shrugged before swapping out cards from everypony; two for Thespian, three for himself, and one for Rage. He couldn't help but notice Rage had his face a little too close in his cards. Thespian, meanwhile, was still looking out of it and completely miserable, though it was a familiar sight Ghost admitted. Looking down at his own hoof of cards, he saw he had a pair of 6's.

"I fold," Thespian said.

"I fold too," Ghost added, throwing his cards on the table.

"Buck," Rage grunted, putting his cards down as well.

Ghost gathered all the loose cards together and began shuffling them again between his hooves. Once done, he passed them over to Thespian, who was emptying the last of the bottled juice.

"So what are you planning on doing with the armor?"

"Keep it, pawn it, parade around in it on Nightmare Night. I don't know." Thespian admitted while dealing out the next round of cards. "It doesn't fit right either way. Large mare or not, that plate mail isn't made for stallions."

"I would think not. I'm surprised it even fit," Ghost said.

"To be honest, it arguably didn't." Thespian nodded.

After a round of light betting--Ghost having a pair of 3's right off the bat--the group swapped cards and continued their game in a silence that lasted until Thespian once again beat out both Ghost and Rage. Ghost may have gotten three 3's in the end, but he still lost to Thespian's four 9’s.

"Sometimes, I swear you cheat," Ghost commented grudgingly.

"Yeah," Rage added, "you beat us almost every hand."

"I don't," Thespian added tiredly, "when I'm likely to lose, I just fold."

"But you still seem to know," Rage continued, his eyes going wide. "It’s like you have some seventh sense, or the ability to read our minds. It’s creepy man! To know exactly how the cards are gonna be dealt…"

"...Or my cutie mark happens to be a royal flush, and my talent happens to be card games." Thespian frowned. “Seriously, dude. You’ve even won a hand or two already.”

“Yeah, but against Ghost, only after you folded,” Rage muttered quietly, looking at Ghost who was sporting a growing smile.

"I thought your talent was getting black-out drunk and stumbling home reeking of debauchery and shame," Ghost said with his eyes locked on the bat pony.

Thespian glared at Ghost with a look that would peel wallpaper. His bared teeth and low growl completed the look of wrath quite well. Ghost simply returned it in his own way, his eyes drilling coldly into Thespian's red slits.

"I outta rip off your tail, Pale."

"You've proven that tail is the last thing you can get a hold of."

The two continued to glare at each other, Rage just awkwardly sitting off the side and well out of business, before both feuding ponies burst out laughing.

"Anyone other than you would catch heck for that, Ghostie," Thespian chuckled, his fangs still left in plain sight.

"It's just a shame they really did take scissors to your backside," Ghost said offhandedly. “That’s an attractive look for a stallion.”

Thespians smile immediately fell from his face. He whipped his head around and stared wide-eyed at the small bob of hair that was one his tail. Severe headache aside, this was essentially the first time he had been sober since last night. The simple fact that he was missing his tail sunk in only then, and when it hit, it hit him right the ego.

"OH BUCK!"

Winding Down

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.