Luna's

Luna’s

Chapter 9

A wall of bitterly cold air slapped me in the face the moment I stepped out the front door. The frigid grass nipped at my underhoof, but I tolerated the chill. After all, it was better than the alternative. For the first time since I had come here, my breathing left faint wisps hanging in the air before me. A chill crept up from the base of my spine; the forest’s formerly tolerable climate had suddenly become dry and bitingly cold. But despite the chill outside, my blood was still roiling from that stubborn mare’s words.

I glared at the ever-shifting fog. It was somehow responsible for summoning that infuriating pony—both of them. Because of the fog, I was trapped here. Just thinking back on the way she had refused to admit the obvious futility of her struggle made my blood pressure skyrocket.

If anypony should know when to quit, I thought, it’s me.

Ghostly voices attached to countless faceless ponies came to mind. They surrounded me, staring at me with their featureless eyes. The word stubborn rang out and echoed in my head. I only gritted my teeth as I continued to glare at the fog, pushing the imaginary tormentors from my thoughts.

"It’s not the same,” I muttered to nobody. “She’s just wandering aimlessly. I at least had a plan with my career." My gaze drifted down to the grass. "It’s not like I can just quit now, either."

But as I stared at the chilly grass, a distant voice caught my ear, a voice distinctly not in my head. I looked down the road as the words grew louder. My heart rose in my chest at the prospect of another—hopefully sane—pony.

From the fog’s soupy veil a faded light peeked, one that grew brighter by the second and took on a blue tint. The voices—and at this point I could tell that there was more than one—came from that direction; my ears swiveled towards them.

"And it’s just atrocious, darling." A white-coated mare coalesced in a shifting wall of fog as she approached me. She was a unicorn, and the blue light emanated from the tip of her pearly horn. A flowing indigo mane curled down around her neck with bangs that threatened to cover her eyes; she tossed the trespassing locks to the side with a sharp jerk of her head.

Blue eyeliner, clean coat, and crisp mane—clearly she hadn’t been here long.

"If I was in your horseshoes, I wouldn’t stand for it." She glanced back towards the fog. My eyes followed her gaze.

Right behind her crept a yellow pegasus pony whose gaze was practically glued to her hooves. Her ears lay flat, letting her thick, full pink mane fall in front of her face—as if she were hiding from the world.

"O-okay," she replied in a soft voice that screamed infirmity.

"Don’t mumble," her companion commanded, rolling her eyes. "As I was saying, grace is what separates us from the vermin. You don’t want to be some filthy commoner, do you? So try to have some. Alright, darling?"

The quiet one lifted her head up ever so slightly. Her lips, barely visible behind the cascade of pink hair, quivered. "I’ll try." The words were just barely above a whisper—hardly audible even in the dead of the night.

"Then again,” the unicorn went on, “I suppose I wouldn’t stand for a lot of things if I was in your shoes." She laughed, covering her mouth with a hoof. When her laugher died, she waved the hoof dismissively. "Your stylist would be fired for sure." She stared down her nose at her companion’s mane.

As the pegasus shrunk even lower, a faint whimper floated to my attentive ears.

The sound didn’t escape her boisterous friend’s notice either; she laughed in response. A hoof rose to brush the poor pegasus’ shoulder. "The word doormat comes to mind, but that’s none of my business, I suppose." Her mouth twisted into a cruel smirk.

My skin crawled as I took notice.

Doormat inhaled sharply. "I-I don’t—" She was cut off by a click of the unicorn’s tonge. For what may have been the first time since I started listening, I could hear what sounded like her actual speaking voice. A soft, melodic tone—well suited for singing—but also frail.

The demeaning one shook her head calmly. "Don’t take offense. It’s unbecoming to let others see such a disgrace." Her eyes closed as she averted her gaze, emphasizing her disgust.

"It’s just that—" Doormat lowered her head below her shoulders. That lustrous pink mane of hers pooled in the dirt, without a single care from its owner. "You’re the one who…s-started saying those things…" Whatever strength she had mustered at the start vanished with the first stammer. Her voice dropped down into nothingness shortly after, though I could still make out her lips moving.

The unicorn tilted her head. "I thought we moved past that, darling.” The way she said “darling” grated on my ears, like hooves on a chalkboard. “Live in the present. It’s far more entertaining here, after all.” The same disgusting smirk crept across her lips again as she eyed her companion. “Besides, you’re the one who fell, not I." She giggled again, covering her mouth as she did so.

Doormat’s shoulders shook for a brief moment.

"Now, let us go inside," the unicorn said as she turned and proceeded into Luna’s.

However, as she turned, our eyes met for the briefest of moments. Her snout rose in such a condescending way, I nearly retched. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then that mare’s would give an excellent view of the sewers in Canterlot after a particularly bad stomach bug. Utter contempt burned inside me at the lack of empathy in her ice-cold gaze. I knew her type; I had seen it many times before. Upper-class, self-important, snobbish, and above all else, cruel to a fault—a perfect noble if I had ever seen one.

Which drew my sights to her companion—Doormat. A frail, meek girl, following like a lost puppy. I would have pitied her if the sight of her wasn’t just as sickening as her master’s. She followed the unicorn inside, not bothering to pull her miserable eyes from the dirt she crawled on. She loosed a small, apologetic nod in my direction before disappearing inside the bar. As she slunk away, her head hung low, groveling like the dog she was. It only made me despise her more.

Begging to suckle at the teat of power, I thought as I looked back to the fog.

I let a scowl spread across my face; what had started as a moment outside to cool my temper merely served to stoke the flames. Next time, I wouldn’t even bother trying.

Again it happens, I thought as I peered back into the depthless fog, frigid air nipping my cheeks. This place just keeps dredging up bad memories I’d rather forget.

Resigned to wallow in my anger, I turned and went back inside the bar myself. After all, misery always did love company.