Fleeting Fire

I stare in the depths of this dark room, wondering where it ends.

I look out the window, the only light source for the night.

The light shows me my inevitable doom, wishing I could take out these awkward trends.

I can't remember the time when I could be happy...

...except that one random rainbow, the source of my never-ending plight.

I wish I could find where it led, but I'll never see the end.

Maybe, maybe I'll find it someday.

For now, I'll just lie here in bed.

"Fleetfoot," she calmly states, politely knocking on my wooden door. "We need to talk."

I call her in, telling her it is open.

She opens the door, her shadow casting more as she walks, her legs carrying her to me.

"Ever heard of sleep?" she asks, her eyes of fire burning into me. I could feel it's glare bearing witness upon me.

I snort, the joker she is: one who held the cards for me not too long ago. "I did," I begin, my eyes still set for the sky. "But I lost the will to sleep."

I hear a clip-clopping of hooves, the tile floors giving way to the loud echos in the room.

Nothing run, nothing whirs; only the pitter-patter of those who carry themselves will be heard.

My vision fills with new colors that shatter the night's usual blacks and greys. They are now replaced by the varied tints of those who pass me by.

My eyes grow weary of the query that lies in front of me, her eyes staring into my very soul. "You should rest," she says, clinging on to me with her hooves, the grey wrapping me in delight.

I succumb to the pleasure of another: her grasp bringing me warmth, want—no, a sudden need for companionship. "I'll try again soon."

She smiles brightly, the moonlight hitting her beautiful grey face just right, lightening the hue of my life. "I'm glad that you're okay, Fleetfoot," she says as she grips onto the silence, holding it closer to her than before. "Do you know where you're going?"

I nuzzle her. "I... I don't know where I'm going to go," I mutter, the distress returns to me as I acknowledge its presence. "I've been here for so long and I-"

She halts my emotional beginning with a harsh, more smelly ending, her hoof pushing rather tightly against my muzzle. "You'll be fine."

I can't believe her, she always says that even when we're going to a performance.

Even when we're going out to dinner.

Even when we're going to a hoofball game.

She does this all the time... I can't take it.

I sob as I hear the lie slide by, it vanishes in the wind; I hope it has a nice, fine trip. "I don't think so, Spitfire. Boss said I can't return," I say, casting my eyes upon her once orange eyes.

Her smile vanishes with it, putting sadness in its place. "The boss didn't totally thr-"

"I lost that privilege today, Spitfire!" I shout as a bead of sweat races down my cheek, I can feel it.

Her shock can be seen from miles away, her wings standing on end to defend the right to rend the apprehension of me. "I don't believe that, Fleetfoot!" she declares, her eyes cast fair in the light of Luna's night. "She sat there and offered you the opportunity to have another shot on the team!"

Then, I did something I never thought I would do or say.

"Bullshit!"

The slang hangs in the midst of us, our wings both flared in defense of the others' offense.

Shadows reign as we both no longer sit on our rumps, standing proud and defiant to show support for our own beliefs, our own rights.

No one could see us if they enter: only the bed will they be led to the conclusion that I have fled, but no one would want to see the two stares of us; neither willing to be free.

"The boss tore my contract up, you saw her do it in front of me!" I proclaim, the static noise affecting my will to be.

She fires right back, her brow furrowing as she glares at me with seething anger. "She never did! That was the contract of your replacement!"

"How would you know?" I snap as my face begins to burn.

She must see this: her eyes shimmer in the light that she still partakes in. "I can't believe that you would ask that, Fleetfoot," she states with venom, her voice shaky and raspy. "I'm the Captain of this group, no other will garner this until I step down," she begins, softening her gaze but continuing her false hate of me. "I command and ask of the rest who follow and wear our vestments to journey with me on our quest to be free in the skies." She stands up to me and stares into my eyes, our chests together. "You know why I like you the most, Fleetfoot?"

She... likes me?

I feel my anger for her simmer to a cool, neutral level. "I never knew you liked me, Spitfire," I say downtrodden, the melancholy inside me bearing fruit of those who cannot handle the possible truth that they must hear.

She sighs and wraps her fore hooves around my neck, nuzzling me. "I like you because you remind me of myself when I first started."

I gasp. "W-what?"

She broke me.

Spitfire giggles while she still nuzzles me, her mane rubbing against the cusp of my chest. "You're nervous in private, yet strong in public; you're upset in your room with no one to talk to, yet you're happy and charismatic when we're out stoking the bars and clubs." She brings her hoof to my cheek. "You're afraid that if you'd show your real self that you'd be exposed, yet you laugh happily to jokes about featherbrains and how they can't screw in a lightbulb without causing another factory to explode."

I laugh. Loudly.

She joins in, the joyous rupture of our laughter fills the pitch black room.

We gather ourselves at the same time, our gazes lock despite our positions: she lies on her side, her legs dangle in two spread out intervals, spread wide for me to eye; and her eyes are crossing paths.

I am in a similar position except I lie beside her, our legs intertwined.

I blush. "Sorry about this..."

She giggles. "I don't mind," she says as she flips over, her wings still half mast from our tumble.

She stares down at me.

I stare up at her.

We stare at each other.

"S-spitfire..."

"Yes?"

I close my eyes for a moment, afraid to see what happens. "Do you really like me?"

I hear nothing but a bit of shifting, the mattress creaking as I hear her move.

Then I hear a lick of a sweet pair of lips, before silence reigns again.

I open my eyes.

Wetness resides.

She has me pinned, her lips meet mine.

I close my eyes and succumb to her power, flutter as they may but not to my dismay.

She pulls away after a few moments, both of us panting. "Fleetfoot?"

I open my eyes again, the colors no longer are grey.

"Y-yes?" my voice cracks, still stunned by the orange and yellow of her form.

"Will you be mine?"

I tear up, the color no longer mattering to me.

"Yes," I declare happily as I pull her close, nuzzling her cheek. "I would love to."

As I say those words, she smiles brightly.

A smile of fire...

...and the fleeting memory of darkness fades away as we bask in the new, sunny day.