Chapters Fifty years since the reappearance of the Crystal Empire. Fifty years and all is well. Technology and magic advanced to become practically interchangeable. A stranger on the street confused by the whisking of screens, letters, and numbers. He wonders what the stallion could be doing there on the bench, alone, muted and contemplated. The old train station he stands in now a museum of what once was. An echo of simpler times when the skyline was always clear. The stranger moved along, idly tending to his cleaning duties for the night. The stallion hurriedly walking out the door, as if he were late, but not for something entirely immediate.
The stallion talked to a screen, translucent and in light blue glow. He spoke to a mare of the crystal breed. Only her portrait was visible to him, they talked of meeting for dinner. Before long, their chat ended and generously, the stallion quickly helped another pony with a leg problem. The pony's hind leg burdened with a birth defect, but managed by the wonders of innovation. Onward the now enabled pony went on with little effort. Entire limbs once disabled, now enabled thanks to the wonders of science. Understandings of complex anatomy down to the cells that drove every movement is now only a matter of quick research and personal will.
A gathering of citizens interrupted the stallion's route. They crowded around a storefront selling fresh, last minute wares for the upcoming parade. A tradition in the Crystal Empire founded a year after its first Equestria Games. The stallion politely shoved his way through, apologizing along the way. Crossing through narrow street after narrow street and the smell of the air changing after every other bakery and restaurant. From chocolate and coconut to orange and apple. Ignoring his glutton stomach, he carried on to his home beside a small lake east of the empire's castle.
He loved it there, at the shore of Three Stones Lake. A serene place with it's shallow, rocky bed full of stones that never eroded. The tides still no matter how full the moon is. For whatever reason, it has denied civilization its secret and remained quiet for as long as time could imagine. There is no legend to match its mysterious nature. Only the clear water to peer into and wonder about the world or the decisions one can make. As if the stones empowered thought and meditation.
The stallion stopped at the single bench facing the fogging lake, recalling a short memory with his once loving wife, then leaving to go into the coffee shop nearby. He greeted his daughter by the entrance, the same mare he'd been talking to before. The physical presence of the two before the front doors of the coffee house was like saying farewell to an old, trusty friend. One that always gives and never expects a return. Passing through lives as if it were a wanderer making lasting impacts with only a smidgen of words and at times, a hushed breath.
With a burdened look the stallion waited until his daughter finished some papers before closing. There, locking the doors for the night, they exchanged a final conversation about nothings and a light joke to lift the solemn mood that had set in the stallion's heart. Storing his key away in a digital compartment, he and his daughter headed home. It was only a stone's throw away if you were any good.
Along the way, a familiar figure passed by the two of them. Another stallion, not much older than the father, quietly waved as they crossed paths. The older stallion's home wasn't much further. However, this older stallion was relatively new to the area. Having only moved to his northern home. A small lakeside cottage with room for three. He lived alone there, quite content with it, in fact. Even if the recent blizzard made the wind bitter and harsh and the temperatures drop like an anchor overboard.
Unlike the younger stallion, he didn't fancy many of the newer gadgets. The most he had was a small implant in a foreleg. Other things were forgetful, but still had their use with the smaller tasks. Fishing and splitting wood, reading and writing. He approached the front door, pressing a small set of buttons in a specific order. Not minding the snow and ice that quickly numbed his hoof. The door unlatched with a notable click and he slowly shoved it open. The creaking of the hinges a refreshing sound compared to the wind.
Hanging up his coat and sparking the fire. He fetched his writing tool of choice and flipped through an unfinished book of sorts. He stared and read the last words over and over again, trying to finish what remained in his mind before writing it down. As the fire dimmed he fetched a short glass of whiskey from a bottle whose label had been peeled away. He lit a candle and took a drink, followed by a sigh. Blankly staring out the window, the full moon dulled by a single then sheet of clouds. A halo of color surrounding kept his gaze for a moment.
Turning back to his book, he pressed a button on his hoof and out came a stream of magic that encapsulated his favorite quill. A tip fine-tuned to his liking with a small white feather sun-stained. A couple strokes marked the start of a letter just before a desperate, heavy knocking heaved at his door. Surprised, he waited a moment, the rasp came again, only lighter than before. Pushing himself away from his work he meandered over to the door and peered through the peep-hole. A cloaked figure, lied on his porch. He opened the door, the cold wind battering his face. A quick glance around proved that the stranger was on their own.
He pulled the stranger inside and grabbed a few blankets from his back closet at the end of the hallway. Threw more wood into the fire and stripped the stranger of her cloak. He looked her over before covering her up. A half-blooded unicorn; hooves and snout crystal, the rest of her bearing normal fur. Set her bags and bracelet aside too. Finely crafted down to the microscopic lines that funneled information and the metal used. The bags were the same, fine stitches with no signs of slacking or breaking anytime soon. However, the latch that kept the bag closed looked like something had been burned off of it. The smell of scrubbed metal wasn't unfamiliar to the stallion. He wondered but quickly shook the thought.
He watched over her for the rest of the night, keeping a single cup of coffee warmed. He hoped the smell might wake her. Part of him hoped that she'd head back home, wherever she came from. The other part hoped that she didn't die. She wasn't in the cold for long, but some ailment could be afflicting her as well. If there is, hooves crossed that it wasn't contagious. What would bring a mare this young to seek shelter from the cold this far out?
He sipped his whiskey, thought upwards of twenty-odd things, he counted, or more on what to do with her. Then he recalled a memory, a conversation worth noting about one of the princesses of the Crystal Empire. One was a shut-in, keeping to books and studies. Hiding in public with plain-clothes to avoid royal duties and nagging from her family. A little peace and quiet to help her study. He shuffled his thoughts for awhile, trying to get back to his writing. The mare drawing him away with every shift of the blankets. Drove him close to madness, the urge to shake her awake or strap her down just to keep her still ran rampant.
In one of his small annoyed fits, he gazed outside. The bay window becoming blinded by increasing snowfall. He let out a chilled breath and drew himself toward the fireplace. His mood leveled and he looked to the mare one more time and glanced at the cup he'd left on the table, moved and half-empty. He smiled, almost unwillingly, relieved that she had waken up and at silently thanked his kindness. His eyes suddenly felt heavier then too with some worry over the mare gone, she was alive, at least. Slowly and surely, his mind drifted off into a world not unlike his written work. A strange world that gave him either nightmares or pleasures alike. A place of rational thought and dumbfounded wonderment. Most importantly, a source of inspiration.
Then a loud crack snapped him awake, with the bright winter sun pouring light through all the road-facing windows. Last night's memories quickly came back and a glance around showed that the mare had stayed, reading through an oddly familiar book. She glanced up at him, quietly and apologized. He told her it was okay and made a simple breakfast for the both of them.
He bit into his toast, remembering the same conversation, and this time, a name. “So... Princess Kyanite, correct?”
She stopped the fork before her mouth, perturbed. “I made sure that no one knew... how?”
“Rumors, dear.” his graveled voice forever parched by whiskey. “Folks love gossip, more so if it's a pony of your status. I hear you don't like running about the castle.”
“That's true and don't call me dear, you are not my mother. I suppose you want a reason?” He nodded. “I'm tired of that life.” She had a faint power in her voice, not quite commanding, not yet.
“So you ran off in the dead of night... I reckon you don't want to go back.” She nodded. “I've got an old thing for ya then. I'll get it after breakfast here. I'll talk something over with a friend of mine too. I'd rather not have you laze around all day.”
“I understand but please... don't tell anyone.”
“That'd defeat purpose of me tellin' ya what I just said, ya goof. Once you're done eatin', wait in the living room. I'll be in there in a moment.”
Kyanite had looked into his history: nearly a year of residency, regular customer of the nearby coffee shop, an author with waning popularity, and best of all, the crowds would be gone. Rumors, he said, while slightly accurate, she never imagined what others thought of her reclusive personality. She wondered how rumors from the castle could reach their way out here. Lost in her thought, she wandered into the living room, sat down and stared mindlessly into the dim fire. A source of heat hardly anyone relied on these days. A stallion who preferred hard work and the methods of old? Sure he was a unicorn but he use of magic seemed... minimal.
A door swung open, her absentmindedness snatched away. The stallion came out from the hall that held the living room and dining room together. He produced a small piece of jewelry from a hard, cushioned boxed. Blue with white ribbons forming diamonds held down by short flat-headed pins of the same color. He opened the box to reveal a white chained necklace. A blue opal stone set in a centerpiece resembling a dragon's claws standing on top of the stone. An aggressive and lonesome thing.
He frowned as if the sight of the thing bothered him. He flipped the centerpiece around and turned a minuscule dial, rotating the clawed stone around. Looking more like a flower whose petals haven't grown apart yet. “Simple thing, really. Works like a glamor spell. Only effects the wearer. Used it a lot back when I lived in Manehatten. So hard to move around there without some attention. Got tired of using that and that's why I moved north here.”
“Exactly what will this necklace do?”
“Change yer coat, adjusts the irises, hoof color, mane and tail, what have you. Only catch is no species changin' and it can drain your magic a bit. It does need a power source of some sort.”
“Hrm... is it completely random or can I choose?” She eyed the stone closely.
He scratched his head and grumbled a few words incoherently before speaking clearly. “There's a mirror in my room I had made to work with it thanks to an old friend. Good guy, he was. Anyways...” he got up from the chair and stretched his forelegs. “follow me.”
“This... isn't a trap, is it?”
He sighed, “Kyanite, if I had wanted anything from you, the first thing I would've done is tie you up. ” He continued on without glancing back, making his way up the stairs. She cautiously followed behind, preparing a small spell should he betray what small trust she had with him. His bedroom door creaked open.
Everything in the house worked that way. Made of older stuff, raw materials instead of forged metals out of a factory. However, like the mirror, the house had little hidden gems stashed away in specific spots. Hard to see unless you knew what to look for. The stallion had collected them throughout his years. For a princess, such simple materials only half a mystery and half a wonder. Her home was nothing but crystal and stone-work. Furniture was made of incredibly light-weight steel or carbon-based material.
Before her mind wandered on more comparisons, she was before the mirror. A silver slate framed by dark red wood. Full-sized and alone, propped from the back on two sets of legs and feet. Its angel adjusted by a long rod spanning the mirror's width. The stallion sat on his hind and held the necklace out toward her. Grabbing it with her magic, she hesitated and gave him a a short glare. He raised an eyebrow. She took a breath and put it on as the mirror sprung to life and a flash of light took her over.
The stallion smiled. Her blue coat turned to a dark green, white crystal hooves to a crackled brown, ice blue eyes into bright green, and her beautiful long flowing mane of the deepest blue with a single white stripe changed to a dirty blond. Her tail took the same route. Shortened both parts as well, but her bangs still hung in front of her eyes where little brown freckles crossed between them.
The magic fizzled off the tip of her new tail. Kyanite spun around, looking over it once, then again through the mirror. A faint hum came from the thing, waiting to be used. To the stallion, the mirror begged and he instantly knew she'd do nothing. Her reaction and long pause told him that much.
“This... is good enough. I'm surprised. I thank you for your hospitality, mister Deckle but I'll take my leave now.”
“No, you won't. The necklace only gives you a costume, you'll need a new way of speaking. An accent, changing mannerisms, and your walk. You also have nowhere to go. As it stands you'd likely freeze to death in this weather. Plus ya likely don't know how to live in the wild. You have yer books with you as it is.”
He was right. “I yield, Deckle. What should I do, then?”
“Work. Panna owns the Three Stones Coffee House nearby. I don't doubt you've done yer research already, have ya?”
“Just you.”
“Ah. Well then. I'll call 'em up and ask. I'm sure he can take another employee this time of year.”
“That so?”
“I wouldn't've mentioned it otherwise.” Deckle quipped.
Deckle crossed passed the single bedroom window closed by thick, dark purple curtains and to the old fashioned phone that sat on the nightstand next to the bed. One-by-one he pressed the buttons in sequence, varying pitched pings with each until he held the corded receiver to his ear. An awkward silence filled the room, weighted and stiff.
“Hey, Panna, it's Deckle. Listen, a kid came into my house last night. Bit lost from the looks of things. Was wondering if you had a position open.” A quiet jab came through the speaker. “Yea, she is. Unicorn too, so that should help.” Another pause and smile. “She's a little roughed up. Think she escaped some bandits or something.” A short belated babble. “That sounds good. Tomorrow it is, see you then.”
A solid click followed the last word. “Bandits! Are you out of your mind!?” Kyanite yelled. “How would that even pass as a solid story?”
“First, relax. You know I'm a writer of the very fictional and fairly realistic type. Question is, can you act the part?”
“The part of what?”
“I don't know yet, honestly.” Deckle humored. “We'll figure it out.”
“For your sake, I hope so.”
“Nay, know, not hope.”
Not hope. The princess vaguely understood what Deckle was saying by that. Some ponies didn't need hope. She's seen it before, in her father and grandfather, King Nephrite and Shining Armor. They've been through a lot: small skirmishes with bandits, invaders wanting to expand their empire, and assassination attempts thwarted by the expertise of Shining's Mystic Outriders. He always kept at least two of them by his side. They all knew hope was a fickle thing, too fragile to touch. Knowing, was confidence and knowing gave little way for failures.
Kyanite, in contrast, knew little in those regards. Reading hundreds upon hundreds of books and all she knew were the words and the mathematics. Teachings and study she could never put into practice simply because she didn't know how. The only things she could apply now was her magic to the Bits that customers gave her and the cups she filled so carefully. Con Panna watched her from a distant, chatting with a few of the regular customers and going into the back office when he needed to.
Just beside the wiry stainless steel rotating rack of cards, sat Deckle in a soft orange chair. A compliment to his dull indigo coat and tanned mane like aged paper with eyes the same. A rather uninteresting looking earth pony at first glance. Writing on scraps or whole pieces of paper, sipping his coffee and staring wistfully out the window to his left where the snow blinded the sight of the inner city. Leaving only traces of the brightest lights and the single war, pink glow from the Crystal Heart that was now imprisoned higher up in the central tower of the castle. Even with the research that Kyanite had done, it did not prepare her for his personality. A mind like his, to her, felt dangerous. What could one simple pony like him prove to be?
Kyanite's lost train of thought was crushed by the feeling of scalding hot coffee spilling over and onto her hoof. She made to swear and curse, but held her tongue. The first day of work isn't one to be filled with profuse swearing. A mannerism she remembered from her maids, reinforced by Deckle. Con Panna helped clean up the mess. The friendly stallion joked about she needed it with all the cold weather they've been having. Then recalled the first time he met Deckle. “Coming in like it was one of those Apple Loosa films where the lone hero comes swaying in through the front doors of a saloon. Asked if I had any alcohol. That gave me a right good laugh.” She glanced over to Deckle who let out a hushed breath and a slight smile.
Interesting crew the Three Stones Coffee House had. A dishwasher whose last name no one could pronounce correctly, MishMash Slamagundi. Everyone always called him Mishy or Salmon to poke fun at him. Brightly colored fellow with purple coat, orange spots, blue hair and yellow eyes. Pure hues that made him easy to spot with a toothpick perched between his teeth. An old habit thathe couldn't remember starting. His flirting tongue never rested whenever Kyanite or another mare met his wistful gaze. Thankfully, his air-headed enabled him to handle rejection rather well. There was one mare, however, that he hid from. Kyanite took notice of that after her first few days of work.
The manager is a kind one. Cracking jokes harmlessly but not nearly as talkative as Mishmash. Always held a cheery, cheeky smile that never quite goes away. Creamy brown coat, dull orange hair and mustard yellow eyes. He's glad that Deckle brought her in. It lessens the load that he and his daughter have had to work with. MishMash only came to the front when he didn't have prep-work or cleaning up to do. While Con Panna is a nice fellow, he was always firm with his daughter's behavior, teaching her and sometimes he had to give Mishy a quick tap on the head so he'd mind his manners.
Their interactions gave some entertainment other than the music that played through the old crackling speakers in the tiled ceiling. The televisions were mostly on mute or low volume, but always had their captions on so what was being said could be read. A system that Kyanite never quite saw in action as she always used a compact personal computer to access the news. A precious belonging she had abandoned when she left the castle. The local news popped up, cutting off a commercial halfway through the punchline. The lovely, almost robotic, news anchor moved her lips and the captions, white text on black walls, “Today, the king and queen of the Crystal Empire have launched a search for their missing daughter, Princess Kyanite. They're unsure of where she went to but admit that she has had outbursts and was prone to disappearing from the castle for hours on end.” Some murmuring shot up between a few of the patrons. The TV displayed a portrait of her when she was younger before the anchor continued. “They wish for her safe return home. Meanwhile, the authorities are not disclosing any information on what they know but are beginning their search from the outermost points of the Empire.”
“Ain't that something? Like a fairy tale.” Mishmash huffed.
“Can't say I haven't heard the rumors. They're around like wildfire.” Con added. “I wonder how long it took for them to notice?”
Kyanite pulled her eyes away from the screen, and continued her work at the register. She was expecting them not to notice for much longer. A week at least, not three days. She was sure she had set up a diversion, however, she wasn't sure it would work, she only hoped. The thoughts were nerve wracking. So much so that Con had to let her go for the remainder of the night, forcing Deckle to leave earlier than usual.
Deckle was fine with it. Before heading home, however, Deckle took Kyanite to connected deck which reached out painfully toward the three stones in the middle of the lake. Deckle sat down, not minding the cold, half-frozen planks against his hindquarters. He told Kyanite the legend of the lake, how magic and the moon's tidal effects were unable to move its surface. How fog would roll off it every morning, despite contrary weather conditions. He leaned over the fence that kept patrons from falling into the lake. “I vacationed here a long time ago, always wanted to come back. Those three stones, their conical formations, makes me think of a stabilizer or a focus deal.” He huffed and closed his eyes, “It'd be funny if it were right. ”
“You could be, but if you are, it'd bring a lot of tourism to this area and I'm sure you wouldn't appreciate the noise.” She joked lightly.
“That I wouldn't. It's... nice every once in awhile but not all day, ya know?”
She smiled and started off back to his house, barely remembering the path now. Deckle followed behind with the lamps that dimly lit the way. Nothing more than a gravel road here, specked with dirt. It ended at Deckle's house at one end, the edge of the walls at the other. A solid gate, poorly guarded and left open. All of it covered in snow. Deckle trotted along, mindlessly bearing the cold wind that made Kyanite freeze. It was thanks to an old coat of his that kept her from being an icicle.
“Say, Deckle...” he turned to her, some distance between them now, “...if I want to go back, would you let me?”
“I ain't gonna stop ya. You can keep the necklace if you like, but my mirror is the only thing that can adjust the output. You'd have to sneak out everyday and I know that can be stressful. Sometimes, it's not worth it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Old stories.” Deckle squinted at something behind her, away and past the coffee house they had left behind. “Who's...” he cautiously walked past Kyanite, gazing at a shadowy figure in the distance. “The stride, the hat... A-ha! Kyanite, stay here a moment.” Kyanite thought it astounding he'd be able to recognize another stallion by their stride and a simple piece of attire. He proceeded to help the older stallion, who was in a visible limp. “Hum Bug, meet Berberis; Berberis, Hum Bug He runs a floral shop nearby.”
“Oh?” Hum coughed. “I can see why why that's her name.” The old stallion grinned as Deckle took his bags. “When'd you have a kid?”
Deckle laughed, “She's not mine... Let's get you home first. Old stallion like you doesn't need to be out in this cold.”
A short trip down a branching road toward Deckle's home lead them to a small house connected to a large greenhouse all closed up from the cold. Not even a shield to protect it. When they entered Hum Bug shed his thick black jacket and brown bucket hat. Adjusted his thick glasses to see more clearly and shuffled over to the dining table, taking a seat. “Deckle, could you start the fire for me?” he heaved out the words as if they were his last.
“Sure thing, Bug. Berberis, take a seat.” Kyanite reacted slowly to his command, still growing used to the new name he had given her. It felt wrong, changing her name, and it angered her. Yet, she couldn't quite understand why. She quietly took a seat as Deckle went back outside, bearing the cold without any form of protection.
The old stallion flicked a switch on his table lamp. Strikingly odd thing to do considering the chandelier above, until he said that the power was out. Still odd, since electricity was a free resource to the citizens of the Crystal Empire. Along with other, undeniable resources such as food, education, and water. When the laws were enacted 20 years ago, it set a precedence for the other parts of the Celestial Lunar Alliance. How power had not been restored to this area was beyond her comprehension. She had no idea how the city services worked. It was a subject she always skipped over, finding it boring and arduous reading that was nothing more than statistics and random numbers.
“Wondering why it's not back on yet?” Kyanite blinked a moment as the old words pried in. She nodded when the words finally made sense in her head. “It's cause I simply leave it off for the winter. My bones may be old, but they still got some heft to 'em.” He laughed lowly, half wheezing.
Deckle came in, carrying a load of firewood on his back. Then proceeded to toss a few pieces of kindling into the fireplace. Setting the bigger logs on the mantle, off to the side. A safe precaution against some wayward spark that might set it alight. He grabbed a bit of paper, scraped some old contraption of steel and stone together to create a spark. The paper caught and cast a small, steady flame that was promptly placed under the kindling. A few more sheets of paper and a small ball of wool and more fire spewed upward into the brick and mortar chimney. Soon after, the kindling caught and a small smile ran across Deckle's face. He tossed in a log and sat on the couch, admiring, with a squint, at his small success.
Never had Kyanite seen a fire lit by some primitive means. Was it really primitive, though, if it could still be used to achieve the same goal that her butlers and maids accomplished with a switch and dial? Her books and teacher told her that sometimes, given the circumstances, that we must resort to older methods. The methods that have helped us survive and prosper. Methods that brings a philosophical question that asks: “does it need to be improved?” Her mind broke down the process that Deckle used. She compared it to the more complex methods she was taught. “Why..” she thought aloud, confounded and forgetting that Hum Bug was even there.
“'Why' what?” Hum Bug quipped, his dull red-orange coat lit by the firelight. His Faded yellow eyes washed away so that only his pupils remained. Aged and wiry, short red hair streaked with a muddied gray. A short beard lined his jawline and made a thin bridge above his upper lip. “Hrm?”
“N...Nothing. Just thinking out loud, is all.”
“Say, Berberis, where'd you come from, anyways? You look much to stiff in the chair to be a normal pony.”
“Am I?” She questioned.
“She's a little shaken up still.” Deckle chimed in, unmoving. “She was just doing some traveling, bandits targeted her wagon, and she wound up here. Almost froze to death on my doorstep. Hasn't told me how she escaped or anything about her family.”
“Ah, that's unfortunate. Must've been some rough bunch, bearing this winter.” Hum huffed. “Rather old way of doing things, ain't it? I reckon you got some magic in ya ta fight 'em off, then- or run.”
“Yea.” Kyanite mumbled.
“Hmph. Well, just be sure ta talk ta someone about it then.” Hum suggested, almost jokingly. “Like me and Deckle. Speaking of which... Deckle thank you starting the fire and before you leave, I've got something for you-”
“But first, some warm tea?”
The old stallion laughed and pointed, “You know me that well, huh?”
“Every time, Hum Bug.”
Deckle joined them at the table. Hum Bug left the table, grabbed the kettle that sat atop the stove. Gingerly carried himself and the kettle to the fire place and set it on the mantle. Checked the kettle for water and closed it back up. Wandering back into the kitchen, he perused his cabinets and found teabags and daintily set three of them inside the mugs. Kyanite stared at the bag, curiously, recalling a small chapter she'd read about tea. Imported from Chinei to Euroof, then Equestria over the course of a hundred years. In that time it spread to other parts of the world. Coffee had a similar story, but the locations reversed.
While the history lesson drifted away, she listened to Hum Bug and Deckle talk about ideas for flower arrangements for the festival in two days: The Crystal Return Celebration. Deckle drew in his head, thoughts rummaged for matches and ideas. Hum Bug supplied the reference material from a book with sealed samples of the flowers tacked to the pages. As soon as they agreed on what should be in the first wreath, the kettle whistled like a tiny locomotive ready to depart. Deckle took care of it, bringing the steaming kettle over and pouring roughly the same amount in each mug. A swirl of fog lifted from tea's surface as Kyanite stared in childlike wonder. Deckle and Hum let their mugs sit and discussed another wreath.
Kyanite lifted the mug and sipped her tea. The steam warmed her numbed faced but the unready mix of mint and water scalded her tongue and throat. She yelped and forced the mug to the table. Deckle didn't flinch and Hum Bug let out a roaring laugh, followed by light wheezing. “Ya grow up with a real lovely butler?” She moved her tongue awkwardly, unable to speak, she nodded instead. Her embarrassment already flaring her face up. “You have to let it sit for a moment.” He cooed. She nodded again.
Deckle glanced over a few more samples and proposed the matching breeds to Hum Bug. Who agreed with great delight. Kyanite remained quiet and carefully drank the rest of her tea. Deckle, on the other hand, gulped it down, not minding the scalding liquid. When it cooled, he added more water. Hum Bug didn't mind the beverage getting cold. Saying that his old bones are used to it.
After the fire began to die, Deckle fetched more wood and Hum got comfortable on the couch. A thing of soft cotton and suede. Covered himself in an afghan of white and blue. Even sat an old alarm clock on the coffee table. One that rattled its bells after it was wound accordingly.
Deckle lead the way out the door, bearing the wicked wind that stung the eyes. Kyanite closed the door behind them. “Wind's picked up a bit! 'Nother storm headed this way, ya?”
“There could be.” Kyanite lisped loudly.
“Blizzard's really picked up this year. Wonder if those windigos are all uptight about somethin'.” He looked back to her from the end of the stoop. “Let's get goin'. I don't wantcha freezing up again.”
Even in the cold wind, his heart was warm. Kyanite wondered if had ever had kids of his own. He was old enough, certainly, but why would he isolate himself? Deckle tapped the stoop with a hoof, and looked her with urgent eyes, almost playfully. She snapped to and followed beside him as they wandered back to her new home.
The sun, blinded, set without notice and the blizzard picked up just as soon as they Kyanite shut the door. The urge to ask Deckle if he had ever had kids was sitting there, on the tip of her tongue like a predator about to leap unto its prey. She swallowed the question, afraid to intrude on something that could prove too personal.
He flicked a switch on his coffee table, the half-burned logs caught aflame and quickly warmed the room. Deckle got up and found his way over to his work desk next to the bay window, curtained with brown silk. He flipped on the small, portable radio the sat there beside his collection of novels and other works. Tuned into a news station after drudging through a mound of white noise.
“In other news, Princess Twilight Sparkle has officially announced that she would be passing on the Element of Friendship.” Kyanite's ears perked. She knew that name all too well. Her great aunt Twilight Sparkle, praised by Queen Celestia to be her best student and one of the brightest minds in existence. “Her reasoning is all too agreeable.”
An audible switch between the tapes made it obvious that the station was fairly old. Twilight's voice shined through, loud and clear. “Citizens of Equestria, I am announcing today, that I shall be passing my title as the Element of Friendship to someone new. This pony will have certain traits which I've disclosed with two envoys whose names will not be given at this current time. I no longer have the time to bear the Element and as a result, the two envoys will be searching the allied empires and acting accordingly. I will not be taking any questions at this time, that is all.”
The tape switched off and a 'pop' clicked, “Well, that's certainly some news. Former Element bearers Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie have already passed on their titles to their friends grandchildren, Fleet Forth and Pumice. The other four Elements have been passed on in a similar manner. Friendship is the remainder. This marks a precedence for an entirely new generation of Element bearers who will play an important role in all of our futures. The question is: who is our next representative for the Element of Friendship and how long will we have to wait?”
The radio cut to a commercial about a phone system. Deckle eased back in his chair, “Ain't that somethin'. Lot of ponies in CLA. Lots of other species as well. Lot of ground too.”
“Maybe she invented something, Celestia always praised her intelligence.”
“Maybe. She probably doesn't want to cause a headache for everyone. I'm sure Shining's Outriders have their hooves full already. Mysterious bunch, them.”
“Indeed.”
As the silence grew, the howling wind crept through the walls. Kyanite took to the couch and covered up. Deckle continued to write in his book of things. A novel with a story about a dragon who had raised an earth pony in the ruins of a civilization the dragon once called home. The dragon falls to hunters seeking out a lost prince. In the wake of death, the dragon reveals a book of spells and the cause behind his lonesomeness. A tragic beginning with an ending yet to be determined. Every now and then, Deckle stared blankly out the large windows, looking for the answers to the next part of the story. Only once did he glance over to Kyanite, who lied asleep on the couch. Perhaps he could include a love interest. While typical, it made for good drama.
A small alarm tripped as he began to plan out the different scenarios. Deckle shushed it and climbed the stairs to his room. Gazed at the mirror a moment, recalling all the times he had to use it to hide from paparazzi and sometimes, obsessive fans. Yawning and covering himself in his beds heavy covers, he drifted off to the wonder that were dreams and at other times, nightmares both odd and terrifying. This night however, his mind was at a wonderful ease and no haunting could shake him from it.
Chapter 03: Precaution
“Kyanite, wake-y wake-y. You're going to be late.” Deckle said, nudging her gently with his muzzle.
Kyanite grumbled. “...but Dad...”
“Guess I'll have to resort to the other method...” he sighed as he walked away from the couch. Using the magic of the small implant in his lower leg, he pull a small ball of red hot coals from the ashes. Still brimming with heat from the fire he had tended to throughout the night. He returned to the couch and held the coals close to her nose. “Kyanite,” He spoke more sternly. “wake up.”
She sniffed and took a breath, then immediately began to cough. Deckle threw the hot ash back into the fireplace. Croaking, “Deckle, that is a terrible thing to do!” She was a mix of tired and infuriated but all the same knew that she was in the wrong. She coughed again, regaining her composure. “You should be apologizing to me right this instant!” Her dry voice failed to give her hounding a proper impact.
Deckle laughed as she pouted from the covers draped over her. “Well, if you'd get up when you're supposed to...” He trailed off, knowing her mind would finish the sentence for him. “Anyways, you've about fifteen minutes to get ready. I've already cooked breakfast and the guard are stepping up their search.”
“Figures.” she yawned, sauntering over to the kitchen table. She eyed the pancakes and began digging in. “Might as well leave the thing on at this point. I'm honestly still getting used to it.”
“It takes time. It's worse when you have to constantly come up with new personalities and looks that aren't incredibly obvious nor an eyesore. Even staying aware from attractive looks was a hassle.”
“You have a pen name, don't you? All my research has told me is that you're just a lonesome writer with local friends.”
“I have one, yes. Just don't freak out if you're a fan of my work. Fickle Quill. I've nearly retired the name at this point. All my works have allowed for it, but not as a rich stallion with a hundred lands of his own.” He turned his gaze to the front door, as if he had heard a knock. “I prefer this, though. It's not bad, but the winter is a bit harder than what I would've liked.” He chuckled.
“Why didn't you move further in?”
“Noise.”
She recalled a few days back at the castle when a few days of her oldest brother getting married created nothing but that. Another incident with a maids baby running and crying down the halls. The echo only served to make it worse. The last thing that was likely the most pestering, were the days when her grandfather was out training more of the guard. A force that hasn't been used in decades. “I can understand that. I guess it's one of the reasons why I ran away. I do miss my sister, however.”
An odd and heavy silence fell between the two of them as she finished her breakfast. He prepared their coats and starting putting on his own while she put the glamor device on once again. A faint flash of light and she had become Berberis for the umpteenth time. Then their legs carried the two of them forward, out the door and into the bright, glittering white of another fresh snow fall. It was fluffy, unlike the night she had first came out here.
When they reached the coffee shop, Deckle let Kyanite take the lead so she wouldn't have to wait for him to open the doors, as polite as it was. Greeted by the smell of slowly burned cedar and the warmth of radiated heat from an old copper pipes, the two took to their usual spots. Deckle to one of many small coffee tables in the shop and Kyanite behind the counter, tapping the screen to clock in and begin the day once more.
A slow morning. Only a few of the regulars showed up, with the festival on its way, folks are a lot busier than normal. Although it's a parade, Nearly the entire downtown area is involved with it. Streets have to be fenced off, stores compensated for potential profit losses, and hardworking crafters spend weeks beforehand designing and painstakingly pouring their hearts and minds into their floats. The reason for this, to celebrate the expelling of Sombra, is to represent the events that occurred. Spike,who caught the Crystal Heart and then Cadence and Shining who reinvigorated it with their love. It is a reminder of those events and here there is a descendant of the two who took over the kingdom after Sombra was finally expelled.
Kyanite explained further that without the parade and the immense feasts and joy and love for all things, the heart would corrupt and another Sombra may appear again. The teachers in the Crystal Empire are instructed to recite it in their history lessons. They'd have to find another source of magic just as strong if the two's magic isn't strong enough anymore. Like what Twilight is trying to do with her title.
Deckled listened To Kyanite's rant on the matter, how the perpetual lesson annoyed her and the minor semantics that followed it. She didn't see the point to the parades, as nice as some of the floats were. Even contests were held. Kyanite preferred reading about the incident, the festivities never excited her. Deckle saw her point and offered the counterpoint of that the showcasing of arts through the floats can reveal the different cultures in the main city as a whole. Kyanite was dumbfounded and then questioned why the teachers never pointed the fact out.
The quiet conversation carried on until a guard came through the door. Silence struck them all like lightning weaving through a cloud. A guard in a coffee shop is an unusual sight, especially in their full attire. Varnished gold plates that overlapped one another but moved as well as water down a stream. It was a call to the older armor styles, which lacked a fair amount of protection and was more for mobility and escorts. The use of heavier armor was rare, as magic could easily take care of it. Now not so much, as the new full-body equipment was lighter and far better. “Citizens, I have a report that there was a sighting of the Miss Princess Kyanite in the area. I am here to investigate these claims.”
And so he did. Each customer, each employee, until he got to Deckle who politely moved his work to one side to avoid distraction. The guard hunched his back, obviously tired of asking around. “I hope you can give some information, sir.”
“I cannot.” Deckle told him with the easiest set of eyes. A lie so convincing, it convinced Kyanite for a moment. “I haven't seen the gal before 'cept in the news. She ran off, right?”
“Correct.” the guard answered.
“I'm sure she has her reasons, I imagine stress is a big one.”
The guard rested his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. “Thank you.” He tapped a few parts on his bracer and waited for a response. “Captain Bulks Worth?”
“Private Fletcher.” the voice was nearly garbled noise.
“Only confirmation I have is seeing a cloaked figure running towards the woods east of here. Same night Kyanite ran off.”
Bulks grumbled loudly, “It's a start. Good job private, make your way there in ten. Warm up a bit.”
“Thank you, sir.” Fletcher tapped his bracer again and placed his hoof on the table. “So, you're a writer?”
“Of sorts. I like to travel and document.” Deckle answered, hiding the fact that he was growing annoyed by the guards presence.
“Where have you gone?”
“Manehatten, Chineigh, Ponyville, Canterlot. Bunch of places, really.” Deckle took his pen away from his work and focused on Fletcher.
“I don't mean to distract you, sir. However, I can't help but feel you know more than what you've told me.”
“I know a lot of things, sir. Just not about the Princess. I'm only guessing at behavior and what's common in these scenarios. Do you ever read?”
“I do!” Fletcher scoffed, lurching forward “Just not as much as I used to...” He retreated. “Maybe I should read a book once in a while.”
“You should. I recommend 'A Manor of Dreams' by Haybrush Ashings, if mystery is your thing.” Deckle implored.
The guard immediately took to looking up the author and his book. After a few small woes, he found it. Fletcher whistled after reading the synopsis and then closed the program. He glanced at the clock and read the clock and recalled the time in which his earlier call had ended. Pushing himself off the table, he gave a sigh and thanked Deckle. The bell's signature falsetto ringing ended the awkward silence the polluted the air in the shop.
Deckle let out a slow breath, eyes closed until he inhaled. Kyanite spoke up, “Are you okay?” Deckle nodded and got back to his work. Kyanite did the same, minus the nodding.
A few moments later, a small party of troops were going down the road at marching speed. Cloaked in their armor, they appeared as clones with subtle differences in color, rank, and scrapes from older times or duels. A treaded vehicle followed behind them, carrying more. It's shape took form of several boxes slapped together. Steel and magic infused armor protecting every asset on board. The design had earned it the title of “Storm Turtle”.
When the rumbling had carried on elsewhere, the TV became audible again. They already began reporting the information that Fletcher had passed on to his captain. There was an addendum to it, however. One, the search in the nearby mountains and forest would go on throughout the week, ending after a week. Two, searches of homes may become necessary. Three, no volunteers for the search. Deckle muttered a swear behind his teeth. Kyanite could see the thoughts begin to roam through his eyes. His focus on writing decayed and new plans festered.
He began to pack up. “Berberis, I'll come and pick you up when your shift is over. I've got a few things at the house I need to sort out. I know Mishmash over there might give you a little trouble, but he's harmless. Just work like you normally do, alright dear?”
“Got it Deckle.”
“Good.” Deckle slowly charged his way out the two doors the led in. Stood a moment outside to take in the cold air, then walked off.
Deckle made his way home, the guards nowhere in sight. The treetops were visible from his home, as were the mountains beyond. Unlocking the door, he found the fire sparking slowly. He fetched wood, tossed it in and continued on. To start, the mirror for the glamor pendent. The guards have been using tracing equipment of sorts to search for Kyanite. Deckle knew that the glamor couldn't hide a scent perfectly.
He moved to a set of shelves on the far side of the living room, pulled on a few books and after a pause, the wall behind it gave way, sucking the shelf in and sliding it into a crevice that concealed it. Almost in whole. Behind the shelves, a stairway leading down into a separate basement. In there was an old library. Books that had beheld light for the first time in years. Dust an inch thick covered the few that had remained stacked after some research. Deckle carried the mirror to the far side and stood it against the wall. The cold cement under his hooves made them slightly numb, forcing him to consider every step.
He kept moving, up and down the stairs, taking everything that Kyanite had brought with her. Bags, books, and jewelry, all into containers, labeled and set aside. Then a distraction struck him. A piece of paper, fluttering from the old desk and onto the floor. He picked it up and examined it, an old character sheet. Reference for an old story he wrote. The plot rolled forward in his mind: a runaway princess finds a mentor in the darkest of forests, and there she discovers her talent. She roams the world for decades before returning home, a welcome that put her in the midsts of controversy. One solved by a small scar she'd received as a foal and an heirloom she did well to hide.
Deckle tucked the paper back under the open book of notes, a corner folded to remind him to get back to it. Huffed at the likeness of his situation and recalled that he'd never finished the story. Writer's block had gotten the better of him and when he began another story, he'd forgotten it. It left off in a city, if he remembered correctly.
A loud knocking shattered his nostalgic remembrance. He rushed up the stairs, closed the hidden passage way and peeked out the window. Kyanite had returned, slightly disheveled. The wind had blown her scarf off center and snow built up on the fringes of her coat. Her teeth chattered as she eagerly waited for Deckle to open the door.
The familiar creaking poured out from the hinges as he did, “Berberis, come on in.”
“Thank you.” She answered. “The temperature dropped, it feels like.” Wandering in as if it were second nature, she hung up her cloak, hat, and scarf on the coat rack.
Deckle closed the door behind her. “It can do that.” When a clack of the lock, he moved over to the large paned window and peeked out, suspecting a follower. With a light sigh he drew the curtains closed and turned to Kyanite, “Berberis, keep the pendent on, even when you're sleeping. I've-”
“Where are my belongings!?” She roared, steaming towards him. Butting her nose against his, eyes narrowed and wild.
“I've hidden them.” Deckle stated slowly. “They're bound to have tracking gear. Did you not do homework on the guard while you were couped up in the castle?”
“No! What use was it to me? Sure my siblings studied it far more than I, my grandfather and mother more so. They participated in those acts, Celestia knows how many they've killed or injured. I've always refused to hear his stories because I wanted no part.” What began as a scorn, delved into a hard choke, “I-I hated it. An era of peace and I have to study war?” She lowered her head and sobbed.
Quietly, Deckle let her head fall onto his shoulder as he placed one leg around her collar. He pulled her to the couch and had her sit down. “Berberis, you've taken to the library, correct?”
She wiped an eye and cleared her throat, “Yes... wait, do you...?”
Deckle smiled and walked over to the shelves, pulled the proper books once more. Again the passage way opened and again the stairway revealed. She stared like it was a dream. “What, no hidden passages in your castle?” He scoffed.
“Not that I'm aware of.” She approached the stairs, anxious, thoughts brewing with what kind of books he had. History texts, encyclopedias, alternate universe studies, astronomy, physics, mythological research. The list went on in her mind.
The warm, stuffy air brought a front to her nostrils as she descended down the stairs. Wary of spiders and her step. Deckle followed her down once she began perusing the bookshelves. She spotted one and mouthed the title, then looked to Deckle for his permission, which he kindly gave. With a swift movement, she removed the book , dusted off the binding and the pages. She opened the book and fired through the pages, then closed it and held it to her chest, “Thank you.”
“Your belongings are to your left, next to the mirror. You're welcome to come down here as often as you like. Not when guests are around, however.”
“Why is that?”
“Because... I have an order to it, I prefer it not to be disrupted. It may not be library standard but it's worked for me.”
“I understand, Deckle. Again, thank you. I'm sure you're just as fond of books as I am.” She smiled.
Deckle smiled back, “Perhaps, but I make them, too. You know that much.”
“Yes, I did some research before my shift ended.” She spoke with glee. “Pen name: Fickle Quill. Books include The Messenger, A Queen's Gambit, Almighty: The Pebble and the Mountain, and Iron Runner. All good books that I-” She stopped, realizing that she was spilling out her more admiring side. She was a fan of Deckle, she hid it well. “I apologize, Deckle. That was unbecoming and I will not speak of it again.”
“It's alright. I'm quite used to it. Most folks who've read my books will recognize me. I had the glamor pendent to shield me from the paparazzi, really. There was some rumor that I was bedding a local celebrity, no idea how it started. Some folks think I ran off because of it. I moved because of the stones in the lake.
“I see. Sounds rough.”
“It was.” The topic ended there with a light silence. “You hear anything about the two seekers sent out by Princess Twilight?”
Kyanite looked over some of the other books, “They're in Appleloosa, apparently. Culinary capital of Equestria. It seems that none of the news crews are interviewing them, though. I find that rather strange. Figure they'd be confronted by them at every corner.”
“Maybe they've got a glamor of some sort as well.”
“I don't doubt it.”
The smell of chocolate, smoked by hickory, and bits of orange in each bite floated about the hotel room. Pumice quietly enjoyed her morning bar of bold sweetness while Fleet tiredly ate away at his breakfast. The television whispered its news of the morning and the rising sun was shielded away by a thick blanket of clouds. An overcast the could very well make the rest of the day moody and depressing. Rain was foretold, light and lingering.
The two fixed their beds and went through their belongings, gathering what they need for the day. Fleet grabbed the device, which he aptly named “Syncer”. In a way, it was a pun and perfectly described its function. Pumice looked through the list again and noted which ponies they'd look for. A repeat of what they had before. The unsettling weight of how long the day would become weighed down on the both of them. Their responsibility was large, if they couldn't find a match among the list, the title would remain in Twilight's possession until her research was complete again. She stated that it had already taken her more than five years to gather the first list. Who knows how long it'd take for her to create the next one.
The first stop of many, was the head chef of the most popular restaurant in the city. His name, Cali Mari. A pony of good stature that had made a name for himself with an excellent reputation and launching the ratings of the establishment soar through the roof. Some thought it suspicious, but that was quelled when they tried the food firsthand. Fortunately, the stop wasn't that far away. A hop across the street and two blocks east was all it'd take.
Pumice went through more miscellaneous information as the two of them rode down in the elevator. It's bland surfaces reminding them of cubicles in an office complex. How monotonous this task may become. All they had to do was get close, maybe engage in polite conversation, and hopefully not somehow manage to screw something up. Then, an all too familiar ding sounded, the doors opened to the ground floor and out the two went.
The weather was accurate, usually was. This day and age they've nearly nailed down the prediction of what kind of clouds will be there, and where. Today, a gray stratus cloud lingered over like a quilt. Cold from northern Equestria seemed to have found its way here, as if by road or train. Traffic was still as the wind and the path opened up on its own. The light shined for them to cross and they did. Other ponies drifted aside mindlessly to let them by. A chill ran down both their spines as a foreboding feeling of uncomfortable dread emerged.
Pumice and Fleet came upon the diner, Sacata Seafood Grill. It's namesake answered for the food it served. The exterior resembled the cabin of a large fishing boat. One that'd be used in the oceans where the weather could be harsh or gentle but the waves large and unforgiving. The inside was more like a cruise liner, red and gold furnishings throughout. Bronze colored wood and wire-wrapped glass between every booth. Chandeliers, small and crystalline, dotted the ceiling. A bar sat at the opposite end, close to a secondary exit leading into the adjacent hall of a hotel.
Pumice and Fleet took a booth and waited for a server to come along and take their order. Fleet remained silent, scanning over the options while Pumice spoke outright, “I'll take a Basking Salmon, rice and rock rye toast.”
“Miss, have you been here before?”
“No, just looked up the menu on the website, is all.”
Internet, another relatively new invention thanks to the genius of Twilight's students. A collective group worked together and compounded a system that could store and share information at a moment's notice. With virtually nothing to impede the speed and space, it was nearly limitless. It wasn't without its problems though, many users professed their opinions blindly without proper research and harassment of others. Those who set out to use the service for more undesirable means, weren't hard to find. The brighter side shined through the dirt and grit, exploring endless creativity and wonders, bringing otherworldly places straight to their doorstep, in a sense. Creating a boost in tourism and culture throughout.
“Right... I don't use that service that much. Anyways, are you ready to order, sir?”
“I'll take a Peach Peak Perch with fries and a water.” The waitress jotted down the last of the order and wandered over to a register, punching in the items. “So, how are we going to talk to a chef who works in the back, anyways?”
“Simple, order something he likes to make in front of the guests. More soon busier days. Cali likes to show off his skill. Not exactly a trait in line with Twilight's personality, but it points to closer to a match.”
“You've really studied those assessments huh?”
“Certainly did. It's important that we do as there's the chance for the Syncer to fail. Twilight's inventions have never been fault-proof the first time around. Our history books documented several of the incidents well.”
“Yea... I remember the one that artificially created magic. Thing blew quite the hole in the her castle. Barely even notice the scar from that now.”
“That's right. Artificial magic is a very difficult matter. While we're naturally attuned in one way or another, we are never really creating more. The theory stands that there is a defined limit on how much magic can be in a certain place and time. When someone, like Twilight, ascends to the alicorn species, more magic is drawn from the earth. That's why some folks have called for her to step down. Trouble is, we don't know the limit that can be reached.”
“Sounds rough. You spend all day reading up on this?”
Pumice nodded, smiling away, “Yes, and I've taken an interest in it for my future classes in Canterlot University.”
“It was always the brains with you.”
“And you were always the faithful support, oftentimes the brawn.”
They both had a short laugh about that before a metal kart irked forward, it's small casters squeaking to a stop. Stainless steel top dotted with black, cast iron cookware. “Well, looks like we've got ourselves two lovely ponies on a date!” Cali boasted. Fleet glanced over to Pumice, whose eyes told him to play along. “I'll make the meals a bit tastier than normal. A little more crisp and rhyme never hurts.” The stallion had a natural handsomeness that took little effort to maintain. Short hair all around kept it out of the food and small stubbles dotted his face. A small nick in his jawline showed a slight carelessness in his habit. His colors were simple enough, brown hair, white and orange painted fur, green eyes.
“Ah, thank you kindly.” Pumice said, quickly darting her eyes to Fleet, then to back to the chef.
Fleet caught the look and dug his hoof through his bag and pulled the device out just enough to keep it in his sight, but not theirs. Like a child peeking out from around a corner, scared. The more the chef used his magic, the Syncer glowed in response. Pulsating in its light until the chef was finished. Surprisingly, Cali didn't even notice, showing off his skill by closing his eyes and knowing when, down to the second, the fish needed to flipped and when the rice needed to be stirred. He did all this with a smile and opened his eyes only after he plated the food.
“You two enjoy!” He exclaimed. He then moved merrily back to the kitchen, the kart in tow.
Pumice managed a thanks before he left the table's side. Fleet, just a nod. “So?”
“No good, it seems. Results that my Personal Assistant is coming up with says that his magic isn't strong enough. Nor can he handle more of it. His personality traits are pretty close: confident, strong-willed, and smart. However, he's stubborn and lazy when it comes to anything outside of work. Spat out a bunch of numbers too, not really sure what that's about.”
“I think Twilight said that those were more of a compass. She also said that that feature wasn't completely functional yet either.”
“Right... I guess we'll eat and move on then.” Fleet rasped. “This looks delicious, after all. Who's our next point of interest?”
“Let's discuss that it after we're done. We can't parade around this information, you know.”
“Right.”
So they ate and enjoyed. The chef came back before they left, gladly paying for the meal. Not minding the cost. Thanks were given and a happy leave was had. Unfortunately, light rain and a chilling wind dampened the mood. The forecast remained unchanged, however.
Unlike the morning, the traffic failed to halt and the crowded sidewalk flowed like a wild river, meandering around rocks and boulders. Pumice wanted to leap from the ground and carry Fleet with her. However, flying was only permitted to those who had a license to in the city. A safety precaution as wires stretched from one building to another. Employees in the postal and shipping services were all required to get one, whether they were a pegasus or not.
Instead, Pumice and Fleet headed to the nearest alleyway and teleported back to their hotel room. “And that is one reason I don't like big cities.” Pumice announced, checking her ruffled feathers.
“I see what you mean.” Fleet said, the last bits of his magic flickering away from his horn. “Let's get these numbers ran through, I guess.”
“You mean let me run them through...” Pumice stated sarcastically.
“Yup.”
Pumice grabbed the numbers from Fleet's P.A and sent them to Twilight, who quickly sent the results back. Barely enough time for the first portion of a show to run before commercials. She was always quick in her work with barely a mistake. Oftentimes, it was strangely robotic or mechanical. Pumice read through the results, carefully. Her grandmother's faded oval red glasses aiding her eyesight. After a sigh, she spoke up, “No good. First few numbers are a hit, but later three parts are completely off.”
Fleet listened, but kept his eyes glued to the television which was airing a documentary about antennas and their contribution to the industry. “Crazy idea, could we hook that thing up to one of those and use Sync to just read the whole city?”
“It'd overload. Unless we can get it nailed down to the specific citizens that are here, then we meet them face to face. Besides, they'll have the roof blocked off.”
“I suppose you're right. I'm guessing that using the power grid or Internet wouldn't work, either.” Fleet spouted, discouraged.
“Until Twilight finds a better way to pinpoint a match, we don't have any other options. We have to at least be near the subject.”
Fleet agreed with a nod and they headed down to the streets once more. This time, their list lead them to another unicorn at the edge of the city. Where skyscrapers ceased and small office buildings lined the streets. Restaurants breaking up the bland tans and gray brick by using a myriad of color schemes suited to their own themes. Flower shops were few and far between, electronic stores more so.
This particular unicorn managed one of the electronic stores. The plan, developed before their leave, simply act like customers and see if they could fix a broken P.A.D. Fleet volunteered his, said he always had problems with it. The cracks and stripes in the screen never helped, either.
Upon entering the store, whose bland exterior was only spruced up by the sign and its logo, they were merrily greeted by a sales pony. Pumice asked if they did repairs and the green spotted earth pony went off to the back to fetch the manager. Some time pass as Fleet browsed through some wares as Pumice patiently stayed put. While Fleet tried out a pair of headphones, the manager and their pony of interest came out from the office looking. After a short conversation, he took Fleet's P.A.D from Pumice and set it on an in-store repair counter and quickly got to work. Sync quietly flared up and quickly calmed down. Pumice paid the stallion for his work and thanked him before turning to leave.
Fleet followed Pumice out the door and the two knew the result without even glancing at the result - incompatible. Not a leader, just someone who likes to fix things on the side while running a business. The mere tone of voice, while friendly, hid easy aggravation and a short temper. Not to mention he was rude, asking Pumice for a date in an awful way. She politely declined. They both wondered how he wound up on the list, perhaps by error.
The next pony of interest took them to the northern most end of the city, where a majority of apartment complexes resided. One of the landlords, known to be rather friendly with all of her tenants, regardless of their species and complexion. Her kind treatment earned her a lot of respect amongst her peers, especially when a fire took out a quarter of one complex. She paid for most of the damages herself, even the items that her tenants lost. The description gave the both of them the feeling that she was more for the Element of Generosity than Friendship. Still, it was worth checking out.
Pumice knocked on the landlord's door and waited. Fleet stretched his legs and back, conveniently, the landlord answered the door as soon as he had his nose to the foot of the door. He shot up, embarrassed. Then familiarity struck, “Zabella, what are you doing here?”
“Shush, Fleet.” She muted him with a spell and invited the both of them inside. Fleet was mildly upset and Pumice had yet to figure out why. Then they took a seat at her rather small dining table with folding ends. The hinges squeaked when they budged. “Here, I am known as Hospi. I'm sure Twilight provided that information, at least.”
“How did you know?” Pumice questioned curiously.
Zabella poured some tea she had brewed for the occasion. Chai tea, their favorite. “My grandmother is Rarity, after all. After our dear Princess Twilight made that announcement, Rarity thought that my talents were suited for the Element. Which completely disregards the fact I already hold the Element of Generosity.”
The mare took a lot of traits from her grandmother's side of the family. Especially the curling, ribbon-like hair. However, she had taken the rose pink of Sweetie Belle's mane as her own. On the other side, she'd taken the eyes of her father, sparkling ice blue opals with a dull outer ring of brown. Her cutie mark a small house with a single lit window, like foals would draw in school or at home.
“So, dears, where do you go next?”
“We haven't decided yet. I believe there's another pony that we need to at least talk to before we head elsewhere.”
“Is that so? I do hope you find them soon. It'd be a shame to have to wind up travelling the world for a title so grand. I do wonder why she didn't bother sending out invitations to the ponies of interest.” She served the tea in little glass cups which were painted with floral themes, then returned the kettle to the stove to.
“Busy with her work, really.” Pumice shot a glance at Fleet, staring into his cup of tea. “Could you unmute him and maybe even explain why you did that?”
She thought about the prospect and lightly sighed, “I suppose. It's been long enough.” She closed her eyes and released the spell. Fleet lips barely moved before she cut him off, “But, you speak ill of me right now and it'll as it was.” Fleet clamped his mouth shut.
“We dated for a while.” Zabella continued. “Well before we had received our titles. We went through a rough patch where we blamed each other for nearly everything measly mistake. Somehow, the two of us managed to get our heads cleared up enough decided to break up. It was hard on both of us, we loved each other so well too in the beginning. What put us in that rough spot, we've agreed not to share with anyone else. Not until we could discuss it again, without yelling and shouting.” Zabella gave a pained smile. “Neither of us wanted that any more...” Fleet looked as if he had emptied his mind, his eyes gazing back to their unpleasant history.
“I understand.” Pumice spoke. “I will not inquire any further. Fleet, Syncer. We'll do a quick scan and be on our way then.” The scan, proved the incompatible magic yet again. “No match, Thank you for your time, Zabella. We shouldn't overstay our welcome.”
“Farewell, dears.” She gave the two of them a hug before they departed. Zabella held Fleet almost like a mother would and said, “Be careful out there, hun.”
“I'll be fine. We're not going through Everfree anymore.”
Zabella chuckled and silently sent them on their way. She cleaned the teacups she'd given, except for her own. She sat and daydreamed of distant memories. Her eyes began to well and she stiffly sobbed. Clearing the tears after the feeling settled, she sigh and continued on with her work with a heartfelt smile. The air felt lighter now than ever. She'd been waiting to hear that and she was glad that he'd found his own way now.
“Everfree?” Pumice asked Fleet after they got back to the hotel room.
“It was a sort of... a password for us.” Fleet answered, staring out the window as the fading sunset lit the streets below. “We should get some sleep soon, kind of tired.”
Pumice yawned, “I suppose we should. All this walking isn't something I'm particularly fond of, especially here.”
After a short time of watching the news which consisted of another report of the north, where Kyanite had vanished, a success story, and an interview, the two slept. Tomorrow they would head out yet again, trying to find a match within the city. The day after, another city in the west, Las Pegasus. Then up the coast to Vanhoover. After that, Baltimare to Manehatten. Lastly, the Crystal Empire. The both of them hoped that the ventures wouldn't take long. Maybe Fleet's crazy idea could work at some point. Maybe the candidates would come to them merely by accident. This scavenger hunt could take years to accomplish at this rate.
Chapter 05: Dreams and Memory
“Good afternoon, Deckle. I hope you slept well.” Kyanite said as Deckle groaned himself awake. Yawning and scratching his head, he glanced around, then locked his eyes to Kyanite. “You slept in. A fair amount too, I might add.” She joshed.
He looked at the clock and shrugged, then down at the book he'd fallen asleep on. He sighed, creasing his brows together, “I just bought this book.” The damp pages drank his drool like a hippo at a river. “Nothing a little care and rebinding won't fix...” In the midst of his late night reading, he'd fallen asleep at his work desk that sat in the bay window.
“You know how to do that?”
“Learned it before there were plants that could pump them out en masse. At the time, it was requirement too.”
“Where'd you go?”
“Baltimare...” Deckle sniffed at the air. “I hope you're not burning what ever you're cooking.”
Kyanite hurried back to the fireplace and checked on her apple pie. “It's fine!” she called out. Deckle rose from his chair, collecting the dampened book and bringing to the mantle “That's one of the most prestigious colleges in Equestria, how did you wind up there?”
“Full ride scholarship. Creative writing.” He yawned again. “No work today?”
“Nope.” She pulled the pie out from the flames and set it on mantle, by the book. “Did you graduate?”
“Yea, didn't walk though. Big crowds and a lot of noise are bothersome for me.”
She giggled heartedly, “I understand that. How was it there.”
“Pretty good. Met a lot of artists and history nuts, though. Never quite stayed in contact. I blame my being an unsocial fellow.”
“Unsocial? You're not unsociable at all!” She boasted.
Deckle's thin lips cracked a dim smile. “Maybe.”
Kyanite shoved him over as he took the lid off the pie, just to take a peek. “Don't give me that!”
Bewildered, Deckle found his hooves and stood up again, ready to shove her back, when a knock came to the door. “Who could that be?”
“There was someone who wanted to talk to you yesterday, but you weren't at the shop, so I kind of...”
“...Gave them my address.” Deckle picked up. “Put on the glamor and make sure the sparks don't catch the book.” She nodded and fetched the pendent from her room.
Deckle approached the front door with a mind of extreme caution. Not often he answers a door, especially his own. He peered through the peephole and saw a figure of rather royal colors. “The hay?” Before he could reach the handle, a whir of magic cranked open the locks and the door eased open. “Ma'am, you're a long way from home. What brings you this far out?”
“Business.” She answered. “You're still using that old code, huh?”
“Old habits. Come on in, Berberis just finished cooking some pie. Pipin' hot, though.” He closed the door after looking for her assistant. “No assistant?” The mare gave him a short but very informative stare. “Oh, right.”
“Berberis?” She said, taking a seat on the couch.
“An orphan, or runaway, came to my door about a week ago. Lot like you, actually.” He grinned. Almost as if the younger mare was his own child.
“Is that so? Anyways, I've come to ask you for a favor.” The grin vanished and his face was now a plate of intrigued. “Will you write Cadance's biography?”
Deckle grabbed the book, now dry, and set it on the coffee table. “That's a hefty question, Ma'am. Specially for someone of your status.” He pondered, eyes shifting from one corner to the other. “Can't say right now. We'd have to schedule meetings and the like here- unless you've a preference.”
“I do. Nowhere public, I assure you. If you're quite ready, I'll gladly give time as I always have.” The old mare casually spoke, no hint of anger or impatience.
“The usual spot?” She answered with a nod. “Same days?” Another nod. “Don't get out of your usual, huh?”
“It's been pretty concrete ever since Cadance stepped down.” She shrugged. “Shame about her illness. She's got an aching feeling in her mind. Strange dreams, too. She hasn't told anyone what they were. We've grown worried and I came here to request of you to write about those.”
“I thought you wanted a biography?” Deckle recalled.
“Under the guise of a biography. She may have quite a few already, but those haven't covered her later years or her personal life. Majority of them are her accomplishments.”
Deckle softly threw his back to the chair and mused a thought, staring at the ceiling. “I suppose you're right. I'll write you when I'm ready to start. Meeting place, then to Cadance, right?” A final nod affirmed the plan. “Very well. Just have a schedule set. I'll inform my guest and let them know.” Deckle paused, “What purpose will this be for, may I ask?”
“Luna has failed in her attempts to know the cause. The dreams scramble to force her out, effecting her sanity and worrying Celestia as result. Cadence has trouble describing them clearly and I sought you for help. The few scribes we have fail to keep up out of mere frustration. They also have other, more important matters to attend to. Her memories of the nightmares both speed and impede her speech. Sometimes they've blurred together, becoming indiscernible from one another.”
“I've no idea how to interpret dreams. I hope you have someone in mind who can help.”
“Aside from Luna, we do. I think you may already know her. She wants to keep it a surprise, however.”
Deckle rolled his eyes, already making a good assumption as to whom. “Very well. I'll not pester.”
“Good. I greatly dislike it when you do.” She jeered. “With that out of the way, I came here to ask another favor.” Deckle's ears and eyes perked, questioning her motive. “Would you happen to have any black currant? I've been craving some lately.”
Deckle pondered a bit, “Maybe.” Pushing himself off the couch, he made his way to the kitchen cabinet. He had one specifically for odd sweets. Chocolate bars with black currant were once his favorite. Now the taste has dulled but the glowing mare's tongue seemed insatiable for the same. Luckily, he still had an entire bar left. “My last one, Sprig.”, he muttered.
Closing the cabinet door, he turned and saw that Kyanite had finally came back from down from her room, the pendant tied to a clip in her hair. The two of them making eye contact and the warm glow of the fire reminded him of a distant memory. When his mother and sister sat together with their own cups of hot chocolate. A dim smile crept across his face as their ghostly images had taken hold of their presence. Shaking his head and holding back his aching thought, he sighed and moved forward. He gave the bar to the mare and sat back down. The two of them exchanged greetings and conversed a moment in quiet.
“Deckle... is something wrong?” Sprig asked, unraveling the wrapping from the bar.
“Just some old memories, is all.”
Kyanite spoke up, “So... can I come with you to the castle, Deckle?”
“Make sure it's okay with with Panna.” He answered, Kyanite nodded.
They talked away for a while discussing small stories of mischief and nonsense until the evening. Sprig went on her way, leaving two pieces of the bar for the two of them. Deckle took one and Kyanite ate the other right away and went to study some of his old books. Deckle re-wrapped his square of the chocolate and put it back in the cabinet, tucked away behind some other oddly assorted sweets. Then he glanced over to the pie, took a slice and nibbled away as he checked the ink of the now dried book. All was good and as he closed the book, he remembered his family again.
Wandering to the mantle, he grabbed a simple-framed photograph of his family. His mother, kind and caring who was stern in her teaching. A father distant and quiet but ready always had a fighters heart that was vastly wise. His brother, a wanderer boastful about his luck that has gotten him into trouble a number of times. Lastly, his sister, a healing type who filled entire rooms with an unmatched purity and presence. And here in the cold north, a hundred lands away holed up in a rotting cottage, sat Deckle all alone. Homesickness was a nagging feeling once and now it gnawed again for another countless measure. It will take time to tear the feeling away again.
“Deckle... are you okay?” He yielded no response. “Deckle?” Kyanite called out again.
His head lurched out of thought. “Sorry, dear, I'm fine.” Deckle demeanor changed drastically from the light-hearted and happy fellow to a sluggish, unsure, and perhaps, lost individual in a city street. “What's the matter?”
“Did you have any books on local myths here?”
“Yea.” he said, setting the framed photograph back in it's place. “there's about four or five books, left of the history section. I think the one you'll want to look at first is Myth and Legend: Crystal Empire. Should give you short specifics. The other books have more detail on them.”
“Got it.” She went back down the stairs, looking forward to her new topic.
Deckle looked forward to meeting the former queen and her husband once again.
Chapter 02: A Different Search
Early the next morning, another town a great lengths away from The Crystal Empire, took to its early, small town tolls of the morning sun rang out. Calling all the residents to rise for the day. To work, and play, to walk and run. To toil away in formidable conditions and relax in front of televisions that kept them entertained. The Everfree forest, calmed by cultivation of its magical forces, kept Ponyville a stones throw away from the freezing north. The only connection by land are the old railroads. Three lines put in place to sustain the transportation of precious cargo and pony folk alike. The first of these commissioned by Celestia, the other two by Twilight.
Twilight, Twilight, Twilight. A mare who had lived many a dream, surpassed foes oh-so-mighty, and outsmarting dubious enemies, now passing on her Element title. Her old friends apart by cities, unable to simply poof to her at a whim. The aging years have failed to call for their assistance and all their titles passed on to either descendants or greatly trusted friends. In one case, an adopted daughter. All of them had to pass the test Twilight gave to them in the end, a test that she personally observed and gave out. The rules unspoken and the questions more so. It took an understanding of sorts and that boggled many of her citizens.
Pass the test, earn the title. For the first time she'd give her title to someone that had to be hunted out. Hay sifted through for that one needle that gave the biggest prick. She needs a pony that could band the others together in times of need. The requirements took tremendous thought and planning and only yesterday, after a year and a half of planning, did she finalize them.
Two of her friends grandchildren, well regarded and mindful of their duties. Loyalty and Honesty. A combination that of personalities that proved nearly inseparable. All throughout their schooling, Twilight observed them and tested them from behind the scenes. Like her mentor Celestia did before her. When they graduated from their schooling, she presented them with their respective titles. Fleet Forth, grandson of Fluttershy, took on Loyalty and Pumice, granddaughter of Rarity, took the title of Honesty. Now the three of them, for the first time in years, are face to face again.
A massive arched lobby of deep purple crystal. The hall drawing them to a round table with a map of Equestria stamped upon it. It glowed a faint white that made it appear alive. A holographic image of the moon floated daintily above, a small structure jutted from the surface. The three ponies sat in their appropriate chairs. Twilight taking the most ornate, but not the largest; a symbol of her modesty. Fleet taking the largest, but the least detailed; the shape of a pillar. Pumice sat in the coldest and hardest, a reminder of home.
“Well, what're we here for?” Fleet asked.
“A mission.” Twilight said, downplaying his rudeness. She tapped the table and an flurry translucent papers sprung forth. “If you're not already aware, I've decided to hand down my title to a pony I deem worthy through a set of rules. There are a number of candidates I've selected already, putting them to the test discreetly or directly is up to you two.”
Pumice quickly flipped through the sheets set before her, Nearly drowning out her voice. “An author, a prince, a princess, an author, librarian, glazier, fletcher, blacksmith...” she trailed off. “You're sending us on a wild goose-chase, Twilight. You may these candidates but they may also be completely wrong. Quill Smith here, looks like he may be prone to violence.”
“Pumice, there's only so much information I can collect. Most of this is word-of-mouth. Even with all of our recording equipment around, I prefer not to spy on the citizens of Equestria, it's unethical and unneeded. Besides, I've developed something that will aid you greatly in your search.”
“Oh?” Fleet queried.
Twilight grinned in her self-satisfaction, revealing an extraordinary wand of cherry wood and entanglements of silver fastened with gold. At the larger end, a bulb with a small, blank window. “I present: The Seeker.” She placed the device in the center of the table, as cautiously as could.
“Pfft, some name.” Fleet barked. Pumice shot him a cold death stare. Something she wasn't keen to do often. “Well, what's it do?”
“It reads into magic streams. The essence of our beings and the world. Like DNA and personality archetypes, magic too has a fairly similar set of rules. I discovered this after hours of simulation and shortly after I began noticing a pattern with how the Tree of Harmony distributes its magic. Finally I concocted this and synced it to my magic traits.”
“Sooo... how's it work?”
Twilight tapped her chin and darted her eyes back and forth, tossing around a simile that would make this more easily understood. “Like a metal detector, I suppose. Closer you get to the target, the more the silver expands. If the silver comes to a full bloom, then you've found the perfect candidate.”
“Question.” Pumice spoke up, clearing her throat, “is there an off switch?”
“Yes, you just wrap it up in some cloth.”
“Really? That's simple enough.”
“I'm afraid that''s all I have time for. I have a meeting with Celestia and Luna in a few minutes. We have to discuss the matters of Princess Kyanite. Her family is worried and the parade is tomorrow. We're preparing to take on the investigation ourselves if it comes down to it. Anyways, start in Ponyville here, then move on to the other locations. Keep in touch.”
Pumice and Fleet stood and bowed their heads. Twilight wearily raised a hoof and dismissed them. Upon exited the grand doors and stepping back outside from stuffy old room. Slowly dancing bits of dust that felt older than the castle itself. Their presence highlighted by rays of colored sunlight that peered through the stained glass.
Pumice stared back at the closing doors, “It's sad, isn't it? Seeing her all alone like that.”
“It is.” Fleet answered as he looked through the information once again. “Obtuse Acute... What an awful name...”
“Like yours is any better.” Pumice quipped. “Let's see what we can do.”
The day slowly rolled on, Fleet and Pumice taking on nearly all of Ponyville, careful not to disclose any information regarding the quick, short, interviews. More often than not, the duo simply had to walk by them, pretending to be tourists or local townsfolk. A run in with an orange cart almost had them losing the device to the local pond. A last second spell prevented them from having to jump into the water.
The math teacher, the first of the bunch, proved incompatible and cold. Another was mean and unworthy of even being in earshot of the title. Fleet Forth straightened him out with a collective of choice words, leaving the stallion scared. A third, triggered the device, but only for a short period. Clearly an imperfection with Twilight's invention. Even after quite literally running into the last candidate, the device did not find a match.
By late afternoon, the two of them were forced to move on. Their next stop, Appleloosa. A place where the wild west is now an aged and rusty idea, now only seen in movie theaters, fantasized and romanced. Now, a culinary behemoth of all kinds. Restaurants, cafes, diners, breakfast houses, bars, and specialized food shops ranging from botanical sodas and gourmet chocolates.
Wanting to take at least take a break, they took the old train. As outdated as some of the older setups were, they were popular for those not minding a longer trip or tourists that wanted to appreciated the scenery just a little bit more. The old locomotive, was converted into something more environmentally friendly, however. Fleet Forth settled into a bench and stared out the window as Pumice calmly surfed through the next batch of potential holders. “Tired already?”
“No... just, annoyed, I guess. We have to confront all these different ponies differently. I should've declined the offer...” Fleet complained.
“She would've convinced you anyways, you know that. Having nothing better to do with your time after you graduated from the Academy, it's bad for you.” Pumice retorted, closing the screen on her PDA. The faint green light snapped away with it. “Look at it this way, it's like a trust building exercise. You'll learn how to interact with those, to an extent, who may harm others, have a generous personality, and those who keep to themselves. Knowing how to confront the difficulties that they may provide and coming to a solution are important.”
“And as the Element of Loyalty, I'm obligated to help my friends wherever and whenever they may need it.” Fleet said rather dreadfully, almost as if he were reciting lines he hated to repeat.
“You still hold that true. I know you do.”
“I'm tired of you reminding me.”
“An honest reminder.” Pumice snickered. Fleet immediately groaned and rolled his eyes. “I apologize, that was terrible.” She cleared her throat. “Anyways, Twilight reserved a hotel for us at each location. Good rooms with a bath included. We'll stop in at the one in Applepoloosa and then begin our search again tomorrow.”
“Great! I could use a break after nearly breaking my hoof against that cart.”
“Oh please...”
The train slowly whined its way down to the city, rattled lightly by small chips or bumps in the steel tracks. Some that worried a few passengers, stewards assured them that the tracks were fine and that bumps were minor. A combination of speed and wear.
Then, just as Fleet fell asleep, he awoke to see the city before them. Buildings that dwarfed Canterlot Castle and Twilight's combined. Pumice and Fleet grabbed their bags once the train stopped and departed for the hotel Twilight had assigned to them. It was perhaps the largest hotel there but the exterior of glass and sandy plaster-looking columns made the building appear tasteless and out of place. The bakery and museum at its sides were much more inviting. Vivid colors and clear signs and large front windows but those were required for such things.
Fleet and Pumice crossed the road with the feeling that it should be busier but night had fallen and most folks had taken to their beds to snooze away the night. Then arise again in the morning when they fall into routine once more. A cold breeze swept through and chilled the two of them before they opened the door to the hotel, a hearth of warmth and comfort. A glance surprised them, compared to the outside, the interior of the hotel was modeled after times of old when logs were both sides of the walls and leather was bound to all furniture. When inns and hotels hardly asked for a name.
However, the hotel adopted newer systems of communication, allowing for tourists from all over the world to check-in far ahead of time. The reservations for Pumice and Fleet Forth, made three months in advance. Well before Twilight had contacted either of them.
A cozy elevator took them to their floor, a room with a view, a bathroom, and two beds with some sweets arranged lovingly on the pillows. “Aw yes!” Fleet exclaimed, “Chocolate morsels!”
Pumice smiled and bit into one, “Oh, strawberry. Hm hm hm, Twilight has certainly done her homework. Kind of concerning, honestly.”
“Says the Element of Honesty.” he mocked. “I suppose it can be. She may have just asked our parents, or our grandmothers.”
“True.” Pumice stared longingly out the window overlooking the nearby river. “We should get some rest. We've got another long day ahead of us after all.”
“You can, I'm gonna watch the news for a bit. See if they found that princess up in the Crystal Empire.”
“Just keep it down, I don't sleep well with a lot of noise.”
A click of the remote and the TV lit up like a fireworks display. A few more clicks led to a late night news channel reporting the incident. The Queen distressed, the King worried sick. Her siblings concerned but too busy to comment. Several interviews with random citizens got opinions saying that Kyanite wasn't much of a princess if she was hermit. Another showed sincere concern saying that a loss in the royal family would be tragic. The search has only brought up the fact that she may be well out of the kingdom by now and on her way overseas to somewhere else. However, some claims have stated otherwise, saying that Kyanite is still in the kingdom. The search itself will soon expand to the outer lying and less populated areas of the Crystal Empire.
“That's somethin'...” Fleet whispered aimlessly. He glanced over at Pumice, who lied under a thick blanket of varied white and brown pinstripes. She appeared to be calm but fighting a silent battle. Fleet looked away and covered himself up after turning the bedside lamp and the TV off. He imagined a coffee shop before falling asleep, one he had visited when he was younger. The memory became skewed and vanished as his mind turned elsewhere.
