The Life and Times of Loud Mouthby Dubs RewatcherChaptersA Wrench in the Works: Loud Mouth vs. Glyph Dance (Slice of Life)The Breaking Point: Loud Mouth vs. Foxglove (Dramatic/Sad)The Lady and the Architect: Loud Mouth vs. Ace Artisan (Comedy)A Wrench in the Works: Loud Mouth vs. Glyph Dance (Slice of Life)Round One: Loud Mouth vs. Glyph Dance Loud Mouth could have sworn she saw blood on the daggers. They were scattered across the table, mixed in with the hammers and nails, as if they were just another construction tool. Hay, maybe they were just another tool. Loud Mouth certainly didn’t know anything about construction—she didn’t know much about anything that involved sweat, really. All she knew about was talking, and even that she didn’t consider herself very good at. But there was just something about these daggers that looked very… stabby. Like at any moment a pony could snatch one up and plunge it into her chest. She would be a victim, a helpless damsel, just like in the radio dramas. And no one would hear her scream… It took her a moment to realize that she was gripping her cup so tightly that the coffee was spilling out onto her wing. She flinched at the flash of pain and shook the dampness away, before taking a deep breath and walking to the doorway, headed off to deliver the coffee to the pony who had asked for it. What was his name again? Loud asked herself, scrunching up her muzzle. Glitter, Glam…? Glyph? Glyph Dance, right! The name sounded like something out of one of those Daring Do novels her niece was always reading. It was the kind of name an archaeologist would have. Is that why he carried around daggers with all of his construction tools? So he could fight off grave robbers? Why in the world would a radio station hire an archaeologist to build a new studio for them? Maybe the station was built on a Buffalo Burial Ground or something. Loud shivered. Maybe that’s why my lunch keeps disappearing from the break room… Keeping an eye out for strange markings on the walls, Loud Mouth rounded a corner which led her into a small plot of land that had been cordoned off with some rope. The noontime sun was harsh, spilling out across the makeshift construction site like a searchlight. Loud shaded her eyes with a wing and gazed out upon the clearing. Glyph Dance stuck out like a black hole. The sun glimmered off of his deep blue fur, giving him the look of a giant rain drop. Actually, there was a good chance that “giant” was an understatement; from where she stood, a few yards away, Glyph looked nearly as tall as Princess Luna. Yet, despite his height, he was skinny and gangly, like a collection of sticks. Loud had never seen a horn so sharp. He stood at the other end of the clearing, staring down at some blueprints. His face was set in a solid frown. Loud lifted her hoof to take a step forward, but stopped when she saw the belt wrapped around Glyph’s barrel—more daggers. Why? She stepped back and gulped. Don’t question it, Loud. You want to keep this job. “Uh, excuse me?” Loud squeaked. Her voice was barely more than air. Glyph sniffed and pushed the blueprint away, only to levitate another over. Loud opened her mouth again, but her words died with another look at the daggers. Gripping the coffee cup again, she looked around at the various tools scattered along the ground. There were wrenches, hammers, nails… no knives or spears, luckily. She took a deep breath and aimed her gaze at Glyph. Pointing her shaking hooves in the right direction, she walked forward. A pale white light wrapped around Glyph’s horn. Loud only barely noticed as the same white light surrounded a socket wrench, right in front of her. Loud Mouth yelped as the socket wrench leaped upwards, smacking into her muzzle. She dropped the coffee cup and stumbled backwards, pain roaring through her face. She threw both hooves to her snout and swore under her breath. The light around the wrench disappeared, and it fell to the ground with a thud. Glyph Dance spun around, eyes going wide as he realized what he had just done. Barking a few choice words of his own, he galloped up to Loud Mouth and bent down to meet her gaze. Loud flinched as he pushed his face uncomfortably close to her own. “Horseapples,” he muttered, ogling her wounded snout. His frown hadn’t softened at all. “Sorry about that. You alright, girl?” Loud ogled him back, hooves pressed firmly into her nose. The sunlight glinted off of the daggers in his belt, shining in her eyes. “Uh, yeah!” she said, forcing a smile and shuffling a few paces back. “Fine, fine! It’s no problem! I’m perfectly okay.” Glyph matched her steps. “You’re bleedin’.” Loud lifted her hooves from her nose, only to choke on air as she realized her tan hooves were painted red. A thin trickle of blood ran from both nostrils, matting down the fur above her mouth. She took a few long breaths. “Oh, hey. Look at that.” “I thought I put a caution sign in the doorway,” Glyph said, eyes narrowing. “Can’t work with mares runnin’ every which way around the construction site!” “I didn’t see it!” Loud babbled, throwing up her hooves defensively. “I swear, I didn’t! I’m sorr—” “Aw, save it,” Glyph said, backing away. “It ain’t your fault. You didn’t do nothin’.” Loud tried to respond, but her cheeks were set ablaze as she felt Glyph’s tingling magic wrap around her legs, her neck, her flanks. She could only squirm as Glyph hoisted her into the air. “Let’s go,” he said, ignoring her flails. “We’re gettin’ you patched up.” With Loud hanging in the air next to him, Glyph trotted out of the lot and back into the radio station. The two of them were silent as they made their trek, with Glyph keeping his gaze forward, and Loud doing what she could do avoid the sharp knives hanging from his belt, jingling just a few inches away from her still-vulnerable chest. Glyph stepped into the storage room where he had been keeping the rest of his things and levitated Loud off of his back and into a nearby chair. The blood was coming faster now, and her fetlocks were soaked. He cast one last glance at her snout before heading over to a satchel that was laying on the table. Loud fidgeted in her chair, trying and failing to keep her wings in place. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “Really, I didn’t mean to—” “What’s your name?” Glyph asked, rummaging through the sack. “Um, Loud. Loud Mouth.” Glyph snorted and shook his head, smiling for the first time since the two had met. “Next time you see ‘em, tell your folks I said ‘thanks for the laugh.’” Loud frowned, but stayed silent, eyes cast to the ground. “Aw, I’m just teasin’ you,” Glyph said. “Certainly not the worst name I’ve ever heard. Name’s Glyph Dance, by the way.” “I know,” Loud said. Her ears went flat. “I was, uh, supposed to deliver you some coffee.” “Were you? Weird. I don’t remember orderin’ anything.” Glyph pulled a long strip of white cloth out of the bag. “Here we go.” “What are you doing?” Loud asked, craning her neck. “What is—” Glyph whipped out one of his daggers, stabbing it high into the air. You’re dead. Loud’s wings flared open, nearly sending her tumbling off the chair. As Glyph spun around and walked toward her, dagger level with her throat, she tried to scoot away, but could only get so far before her chair clunked against the wall. She shrank into the seat, trying to escape, trying to save herself from the madpony about to slaughter her— Glyph stopped a few paces away. With one quick motion, he used the dagger to slice through the cloth, cutting it into two equal parts. He levitated one over to where Loud was cowering. “Clean yourself up.” Loud hesitated for a moment before taking it. “Oh,” she stammered, staring at the towel. She dabbed at her bleeding nose. “Thanks.” Glyph didn’t answer, but drew close to Loud once again, staring intently at her snout. Just as Loud was about to ask him what he was doing, he backed away again. “Your muzzle don’t look like it's broken or anythin',” he said. He smiled. “And trust me, I know my broken noses. Hoofed a few of ‘em out myself.” Loud was frozen. “Uh-huh.” “Here, lean forward and use your wing or somethin’ to pinch your snout. It’ll help stop the bleedin’,” Glyph explained. As Loud followed his instructions, he pulled up another chair and sat down in it, just across from Loud. “Keep doin’ that for a few minutes, and you’ll be fine.” “Great.” Loud nodded. “Thanks again—” “Oh, stop thankin’ me!” Glyph groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m the one who whacked you, ain’t I?” Loud rubbed the back of her neck. “Sorry.” Her words faded quickly, leaving the room to flood with a thick, viscous silence. Loud could feel Glyph’s gaze boring into her face, drilling into her soul. She kept her eyes locked to the carpet, not daring to look up. Whenever Glyph breathed, his belt jingled, making Loud’s legs tense up. She closed her eyes and forced her breaths to steady— “Y’know,” Glyph said, “for a mare named Loud Mouth, you ain’t very loud.” “And you’re not an archaeologist,” Loud murmured, all steadiness lost. “Excuse me?” “Nothing,” Loud piped, waving her words away. “I get that a lot. I guess I was pretty crazy when I was a kid, but I quieted down as I got older. When your parents are both snowflake builders, you kinda have to be quiet, y’know?” She waited for a response, but Glyph just stared. “If you yell at a snowflake, it’ll crack.” “Oh.” Glyph’s blank expression stayed static. “Too bad. You’ve got a nice voice.” “Really? Uh, thanks.” Loud paused, cheeks heating once again. “I mean, I can still be loud when I want to be! I have to give speeches a lot for my job.” “That sounds important,” Glyph said, his smirk returning. He leaned forward in his seat. “So what’s a pretty mare like you doin’ here, havin’ to run coffee to stallions that don’t even want ‘em?” “I'm just an assistant,” Loud said, allowing herself a smile of her own. "They don't really look for 'pretty' in the radio business." “Well, I said you had a nice voice, didn’t I? What’s the problem?” “Because… that’s just the way it is, I guess.” Loud sighed. “Some ponies make it big and some don’t. No one really wants me on the radio, even if it is my special talent. I don’t know why.” “What, you never asked ‘em?” “Huh?” Loud frowned. “What do you mean?” “You never asked ‘em what the problem was? Why you’re out here makin’ coffee runs when some nasally foal’s up at the mic screamin’ about pop music?” Glyph asked. When Loud shook her head, Glyph growled and stood up. “Well, why not? Why are you out here gettin’ whacked by wrenches, instead of on the radio?” Loud flinched into her seat. “I, uh, um—” “Say somethin’!” Glyph said. “You said talkin’ on the radio was your special talent; why can’t you talk now? Give me one of those speeches!” “I haven’t asked because I don’t want to lose my job!” Loud sputtered. “This is the fourth radio station I’ve worked at this year, all because I keep messing things up. For the first time I’ve got a boss and co-workers that actually kinda like me. I’m not gonna risk that just because I want to talk more. Besides, it’s not like I’m even good at it—” “Oh, that’s a load of horseapples. Bein’ on the radio is your special talent, right? So you’re better for the job than anypony!” Glyph jabbed at hoof at the doorway. “When I was comin’ in this morning, I got a look at the guy who runs the morning show here. His cutie mark is an hourglass. Yours is a microphone! How could he possibly be better than you?” “I don’t know!” Loud said, looking away. “Even if I am better than him, it doesn’t matter. Nopony wants to hear me.” “So you gotta make ‘em want to hear you.” Loud lidded her eyes. “Uh-huh. And how should I do that?” Glyph chuckled. “Your name is Loud Mouth, ain’t it? Be loud! Let everypony know what you want, and what you’re gonna do to get it. You gotta be strong! You gotta—” “I get it, I get it,” Loud said, holding up a hoof to stop him. “Listen, Mr. Dance: those speeches I said I give? I hold motivational seminars at night. When it comes to pep talks, I’ve heard every line in the book.” Glyph narrowed his eyes. “Oh, yeah? Well then, why don’t you hear this: I may not look it, but I’ve had ponies tellin’ me what I could and couldn’t do my entire life. When I was a kid, all my folks wanted was for me to become a lawyer just like them. So y’know what I did? I said screw that, and I went to go make my own destiny. Now, I’m usin’ my talents every day. Sure, I’ve still got goals, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been. You get that?” Loud’s throat suddenly felt like a desert. She nodded. “Yeah?” “Sure, you’ve got wings and I’ve got a horn, but we’re both ponies. We’ve both got talents, and we’ve both got a duty to use ‘em. That’s the way I see it.” Glyph smiled again and gave Loud a soft shove. “I like you, girl. You seem like a good pony, and that’s why I’m helpin’ you. But I ain’t got no respect for a pony that knows their special talent, but chooses not to use it. That’s just wrong.” “Mhm.” That was all Loud could muster. There was a tightness in her chest, as if her lungs were being tied together. And yet, at the center of it all, there was a sort of warmth—a glint in the dark. She managed a smile. “That… makes a lot of sense.” Glyph laughed. “Well, if a mare whose special talent is talkin’ says what I said made sense, it must be good, right?” Loud giggled. “Yeah.” It was at that point that she noticed the bleeding had stopped; in fact, it had probably stopped a while ago. She lifted the rag from her stained snout, which Glyph took in his magic and threw into a wastebasket nearby. “I gotta get back to work buildin’ that new studio of yours,” Glyph said, jerking his head towards the door. “Hay, maybe someday you’ll be workin’ in that studio.” “Thanks,” Loud said, hopping off of her chair. “For the talk, I mean. Not the maybe-broken nose.” “It ain’t no problem.” Glyph picked up his satchel and moved to the door. “You go get yourself cleaned up. And remember: be loud! You gotta earn that weird name of yours.” He trotted out. Loud watched him go. The heat in her chest had spread to her face, settling in for a comfortable warmth. She took a long breath and walked out of the room, headed back to her boss. As she went, her gaze passed over the daggers, which were still scattered out across the table—and yet, they didn’t make her feel a bit nervous. The Breaking Point: Loud Mouth vs. Foxglove (Dramatic/Sad)Round Two: Loud Mouth vs. Foxglove In the past few months, Foxglove had learned quite a few new skills—picking locks, however, was not one of them. Foxglove muttered a curse as his paperclip snapped in half. Even with magic, he had never been good at sensing the organs of a lock; no matter how much he practiced, he still couldn’t tell his bolts from his latches and his spindles from his plates. This was his third attempt—and his third failure—in only five minutes. He snatched the doorknob in his magic and jostled it a few times, more out of frustration than any real attempt to open it up. With a snort, Foxglove threw the paperclip to the carpet and moved on to the next door in the hall. What was so classified in a radio station that they had to lock the doors? When he had been hired to temp as a security guard there, he had figured it would be easy pickings. Celebrities were usually careless, and left their things laying around, as if they were daring somepony to come and snatch them away. Even if they were only radio celebrities… Foxglove hated the radio. Didn’t see the point of it. It certainly didn’t help that the radio he and his daughter owned was busted; no matter how much he turned the dial, all it could pick up were political talk shows. Not exactly his cup of tea. His breath went short as an image of his daughter, Figgy, leapt through his mind. It was a memory from months ago: the two of them at a street fair, with the smell of popcorn light in the air. He remembered Figgy twirling, skipping, dancing to the music that drifted through the street. He’d love to have a way to let her listen to all the music she’d like. Anything to hear her laugh. He shook the thought away and moved to pick the lock of the next door in the hall—only to freeze as he realized that it wasn’t locked. Smirking, he walked inside. Lighting his horn illuminate the room, Foxglove trotted up to the wide desk at the end of the room and slid open one of the drawers. He reached inside. His legs tensed as a door he hadn’t even noticed creaked open, and a gangly, tan pegasus stepped into the room. Loud Mouth felt pathetic. She smacked her hooves against her head and scowled. This was wrong. She was strong, beautiful, smart! As long as she believed in herself, anything could happen. She knew that. She was sure of that. Words like ‘pathetic’ wouldn’t get her anywhere. Not that she was getting anywhere right now. Groaning, she forced herself to lift her head from the desk again. She originally had a motivational seminar to speak at that night, but the rec center that had invited her decided to cancel. “Not enough interest,” they had said. So instead, she was sitting here in an empty studio, glaring at her one true love: the microphone. She did this from time to time. She would ask her friend, Whammy Bar—host of Whammy’s Rock Universe on 103.4, “The Chimera”—if Whammy could leave her studio open for Loud to use. Whammy never asked questions, although Loud suspected that she knew what was going on. Loud would sit in the studio and dream of having a show to call her own. She would whisper into the mic and practice her catchphrases. She would make lists in her head of what songs she would play, and how she would introduce them. She would giggle as she thought of all the funny sound effects she would play. It was pathetic. She took a deep breath, trying to crush the nausea flickering through her stomach. A glance at the clock up on the wall showed that it was nearly ten o’clock—it was high time for her to stop playing radio host and head home. She flicked off the small lamp that sat on the host’s desk and headed for the door. Whammy Bar was lucky enough to have her studio be connected to her office. She had often joked that Loud should have her own set of keys, she used the studio so much. Loud just smiled and laughed along. She walked into Whammy’s office and tried to picture what the office looked like so she could navigate in the dark—but her thoughts froze as she saw that another pony was in the room. She yelped and threw herself against the wall as the strange unicorn stumbled back a few steps. The grey stallion was at least twice her size. A few stringy brown bangs fell over his face, nearly obscuring his eyes. Loud could just barely see his cutie mark, a bronze bell, half of which was covered by the thick blue jacket he wore. The jacket was the only thing about him that was familiar. “Oh,” she sputtered, throwing a hoof to her heaving chest. “A security guard! I’m so sorry for shouting like that, Mr.”—she glanced at his nametag—“Foxglove!” Foxglove’s eyes were wide. He took a few breaths before brushing the hair out of his face and smiling. “No problem at all, Miss…?” “Loud Mouth.” “Mhm.” Foxglove chuckled. His voice was gravelly, and he spoke with some strange mix of a Manehattan and Trottingham accent. “I’ve gotta say, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be knocking about here so late. Especially not a fine lass like yourself…” I don’t think ‘fine lasses’ spend their nights babbling to themselves in empty studios… Loud threw the thought away, even as a thick heat flooded her cheeks. Looking away, she said, “I just forgot something in Whammy’s studio and came back to get it. It was, uh…” She pointed to the tiny gem hanging from her right ear; the cheapest diamond her ex-coltfriend's money could buy. “I forgot my earring. I’m just so disorganized. Heh.” At that, Foxglove’s eyes seemed to flash. Loud felt a chill crawl up her spine as Foxglove scanned her, hoof-to-mane, muzzle-to-flank, his purple eyes beady and solid. She bit her lip—but pushed the feeling away. This was someone specifically hired to keep the building safe; she had no reason to be nervous. Foxglove’s smile faded a bit. “A lass like yourself shouldn’t be creeping around out. Wouldn’t do to see you get hurt. Head home, get some rest.” “That’s probably a good idea,” Loud said, forcing a laugh. She nodded and took a step toward the exit. “Have a good—“ She froze mid-step. From her new angle, she could now see more of Whammy Bar’s desk… and she could see that one of the drawers had been pulled open. She could see all of Whammy Bar’s things scattered about inside: personal notes and files, photos. Jewelry she kept in case she managed to snag a date during her lunch break. And Foxglove was standing above it all. Any trace of a smile on his face had disappeared. What was a security guard doing standing around in somepony’s office? And why was the drawer…? She flicked her eyes back up at him, only to jump as she realized that he was staring straight at her. His gaze jabbed into her like a syringe. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out of her tightening throat. “Let me guess,” Foxglove said, startling the wind from Loud’s lungs. “You’re wondering why I’m in your friend’s office?” Loud paused for a moment before nodding. Foxglove’s smile came back. He jerked his head toward the open drawer. “Your mate—Whammy asked me to check on her stuff, make sure it hadn’t been moved.” Memories of Whammy Bar yelling at ponies who dared to go through her desk flew through Loud’s mind. Not even her best friends were allowed to touch the things she kept in there. Loud Mouth choked out a laugh and put on a grin. “Okay!” she chirped, nodding. She took another step toward the door. “That… that’s fine. Now, if you’ll just excuse me—“ “Do you need someone to walk you to the exit?” Foxglove asked. His voice slid across the room like ice. “No!” Loud yelped. Seeing Foxglove raise an eyebrow, she bit down the curses in her throat and stammered, “I know the way. I’m fine.” A wave of calm rested upon Foxglove’s face, and Loud felt her lungs begin to loosen. She reached for the doorknob. That was when Foxglove walked towards her. “Before you go,” he muttered, moving towards the door. Loud’s entire body was rigid as he passed, his shaggy coat bristling against hers. The heavy smell of pickles wafted from him in waves, pooling in her nostrils and choking out her breath. She could see the muscles bulging in his legs, the gleam off of his sharpened horseshoes—she tried to swallow, but her throat felt like she had just eaten a boulder. “If you’re not too busy,” Foxglove said, closing the door and locking it, “might you help me with something?” It took Loud a moment to jerk her head into some version of a nod. “What?” “Just thought it might be nice to have some company. Guarding is lonely work,” Foxglove said, walking back to the desk. From where he stood, he cast a glance back at Loud. “Got any family? Kids?” Loud took a deep breath, trying to calm the shaking in her legs. “No.” “So you don’t have anyone you need to provide for,” Foxglove said. He jerked the desk drawer open wider. “Anyone who’s counting on you.” Loud watched as a purple glow sparked to life in Whammy Bar’s drawer. She could hear Foxglove moving her things around, pushing them aside—she gritted her teeth. “No, I don’t.” Foxglove’s gaze tightened. “Mhm.” He pulled out a weathered photo of Whammy and her brother— “Don’t touch that!” Loud yelled, wings flaring. Foxglove glared at her, and she flinched back, bumping into the wall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“ Foxglove laughed and put the picture back in the drawer. “I’m sorry. I’ve got no reason to touch something like that.” He shook his head and went back to rummaging. “I’m guessing you know the lass who owns this office?” “She’s my friend,” Loud said in a shaking voice. Loud had worked at that station for six months, and Whammy had been the only one who ever talked to her, ever laughed with her, who ever cared about her. When Loud called her a friend, she wasn’t using the term lightly. But if Whammy was really her friend, why wasn’t Loud doing anything to protect her things...? “It’s great that a lass like you has a lot of friends,” Foxglove murmured. “Young fillies deserve to be happy.” He pulled out a shining silver necklace and held it in the air, letting the small sailboat-shaped charm hang. “Your friend has good taste in jewelry.” Loud’s legs tensed as she watched Foxglove stare at the necklace, as if it were a piece of food. She thought about leaping forward, about pinning him to the ground and beating him into submission. But then she met Foxglove’s steely glare, and she froze up, her mind went fuzzy. She just stood there. “Whammy worked a really long time to afford that,” Loud said, forcing her voice to steady. “She cares about it.” “Then why does she leave it in her desk?” Loud opened her mouth—but realized that she didn’t have an answer. “All these radio types are overpaid anyway,” Foxglove said, gathering the long chain into a bundle. “I’m sure she could afford at least ten more. She’s not bothered.” All the tension in Loud’s bones turned to nausea-laced sludge as Foxglove stuffed the necklace into a small pocket on his jacket. She wanted to scream, to tackle him, to do anything she could to stop being such a stupid, pathetic coward—but all she could do was bow her head and bite down the bile rising in her throat. There was a thump as Foxglove slammed the desk drawer closed. The light from his horn glinted off the necklace in his pocket. He walked up to Loud, close enough that she could feel his hot breath traipsing along her mane. “Let’s just keep quiet about this, alright?” Loud didn’t answer. “Well?” She dug her hooves into the carpet—but nodded. Foxglove smirked and unlocked the door. A light jingle ran through the brisk night air as Foxglove stepped out of the pawn shop, a bulging bag of bits peeking out of his jacket. Standing in the middle of the street, he took a long breath. The stiff breeze rolling through a city was like a torrent of water against his skin, forcing him awake and sparking an onslaught of fresh thoughts. The look on Loud Mouth’s face… the fear, the anger, the defeat. It was etched into his eyelids, as if it had been carved there. He ran a hoof through his ragged mane and started on the path home. It was almost midnight; Figgy was supposed to be asleep, but he had no doubt that she was slumped against a window, watching the soft flicker of the streetlamps and waiting for her father to return. And as soon as she heard his hoofsteps outside the door, she would sprint to bed and pretend she was asleep, even as Foxglove crept into her room and placed a kiss on her forehead, even as he held her tight and basked in the smell of cinnamon that always seemed to waft from her mane. Foxglove didn’t like hurting ponies. He wished he didn’t have to terrify Loud Mouth like he did—but he had to. Loud was alone. She didn’t know what is was like to want something, to need something you can’t ever have. She didn’t know what it was like to watch a filly’s future fade before your eyes… unless you did something about it. She didn’t have to care about anyone. Foxglove did. It was either stop stealing, or see his daughter go without. The choice was clear. The bag of bits was heavy in his pocket. That necklace had earned him just enough to buy a decent radio; he couldn’t wait to see Figgy dance again. It was almost sunrise, and Loud Mouth couldn’t sleep. The mattress under her was soaked with sweat. Burning waves of sickness spilled through her veins. She tried to close her eyes, but whenever she did, all she could see was Foxglove standing above her best friend’s desk, that silver necklace hanging in his magic. She could see him slipping it away, not a single microbe of regret on his face. And she had just watched. Air escaped her. She smothered her face with a pillow, trying to crush the stinging beneath her eyes—but there was no stopping what was coming. And yet, as she lay there, cursing into the fabric, she wasn’t scared. She wasn’t afraid of Foxglove, and how he could have hurt her. Could still hurt her. That wasn’t it. All Loud could think about was Whammy’s face when she found out that her things had been touched, that her prized possessions had been stolen. She would yell, she would kick—and then, off in the shadows, with Loud Mouth stroking her mane, she would cry. Loud would be the only one who would know how upset she truly was. And it was all her fault. Loud could never tell her what happened. Loud could never tell her how sorry she was for just standing there, for just watching, for not doing anything to stop the thief. It was her burden alone. As the sun rose, Loud Mouth cried. The Lady and the Architect: Loud Mouth vs. Ace Artisan (Comedy)Round Three: The Lady and the Architect “Who in Celestia’s name designed this room? It looks like Discord had a case of food poisoning.” “Shut up, Ace.” “Plastic chairs, wooden tables; nothing matches! It’s a shame, honestly. This is such a well-designed building, otherwise. Coltbusier did this one, I think—ow!” Ace yipped, jumping in his seat. He reached down to massage his now-throbbing fetlock. “What was that for?” Sitting next to him, Nocturne glared. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe you shouldn’t be spending the day insulting the place where I might end up working?” Ace opened his mouth to argue—but all that came was a sigh. “Point taken,” he said, looking away. “Sorry.” Nocturne kept her glower steady for a few more moments before letting a smile break through. She sat back in her seat and murmured, “It’s no problem, Artie. Thanks for coming with me. I know how much you hate traveling.” Ace shrugged. “Eh, it’s only an hour train ride from Canterlot to Manehattan. Nothing too serious.” “I guess. It’s weird to think I’ll be taking that train twice a day from now on,” Nocturne said. “At least, assuming I get the job.” “You’re not exactly applying to become the next Princess,” Ace said with a smirk. “It’s just a secretary job. It shouldn’t be hard to get.” “That’s easy for you to say, Mr. ‘I’m the Only Earth Pony in a Field of Unicorns.’” Nocturne cast a wary glance across the waiting room, over to the hallway that she knew would lead her to her interview. “This is the biggest radio station in Equestria. The pony who runs this place is important, y’know? I do well here, that means a job with Galactic Records sometime down the line. And a job at Galactic Records means money.” “Since when do you care so much about money?” “Since you started buying the cheap toilet paper ‘to cut costs.’” Once again, Ace opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. The sharp sound of hoofsteps echoed from the hallway, filling the room and making Nocturne go rigid in her seat. “Here we go,” she murmured to Ace, her words accented by a giggle. “It’s showtime!” As she tittered on, a pegasus entered the room, staring down at a small clipboard she held in her wing. The mare was tall, almost gangly, and she walked with a flinching gait, as if her toothpick legs were ready to snap under her at any moment. To Nocturne, this pegasus was most certainly not the kind of pony she pictured when she thought of the word “boss.” Rather, this pegasus screamed “intern.” Nevertheless, Nocturne put on her best smile and sat up a bit straighter, waiting for her name to be called. For the slightest of moments, she looked to her coltfriend—only to frown as she saw his pale, frozen face. Still reading the clipboard, the pegasus walked a bit further into the room, headed for where they sat. “Um, ‘Nocturne?’” she read. She looked up. “Is there a Noc—“ Silence. A thick, horrendous silence descended upon the room as Ace Artisan and the pegasus locked eyes, only a few steps away from one another. Their eyes were wide and their jaws were slack, as if they had both just witnessed a massacre of the highest order. As their staring contest went on, Nocturne threw her gaze between the two, waiting for something, anything to happen. When a full thirty seconds had passed with no movement—not even a breath—from either side, she cleared her throat. “Uh, are you—“ “Loud?” Ace choked out. The pegasus squeaked and flared her wings. Without another sound, she spun around and sprinted away, back down the hallway she had come from. A familiar quiet flooded the room as the intern’s hoofsteps faded into the distance. Ace looked like he was still recovering his ability to breathe, taking deep, shuddering breaths. It certainly didn’t help that Nocturne had leapt onto his chair, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck with her magic, and lifted him into the air. “What did you do?!” she screamed. Ace shook his head. “That was Loud Mouth.” “Who?!” “Loud Mouth,” he repeated, voice shaking. “Loud Mouth.” Nocturne clenched her teeth and prepared a torrent of curses—but froze as the name bounced through her mind. She weakened her hold on him. “Wait, wait,” she said, jumping off the chair. “That was Loud Mouth. The Loud Mouth? That mare you dated all through college?” Ace nodded. “Yep.” The hairs on the back of Nocturne’s neck went stiff. “The mare you broke up with in front of all of her friends and humiliated?” “Also true—ow!” As he rubbed his fetlock, Nocturne paced in front of him, wisps of smoke trailing from her mane. “You, you… do you know what you’ve done? You just cost me a job!” Nocturne turned to face him. “They’re never gonna hire me when they find out I brought a pig like you along!” “Hey, that’s racist—ow!” Ace swore and curled into his seat. “Okay, okay, I get it! I messed up. But Loud isn’t the type of mare to just out someone like that. Back when we were dating, she was the kindest mare I knew!” “And you broke her heart.” “Hey, if I hadn’t done it, we could have never gotten together!” Nocturne rolled her eyes and walked away. “And what a tragedy that would have been.” “Where are you going?” Ace asked, hopping out of his seat. “I’m going to find this Loud Mouth mare so you can apologize to her, and so I can get my job!” Nocturne called, across the room at this point. “Oh, come on!” Ace groaned. “Do I really have—“ Nocturne shot him a glare that could have set a timberwolf ablaze. He scrambled to catch up with her. He found me. A thin sheen of sweat wrapped around Loud Mouth’s forehead as she tried to stuff her lunch into an already-full saddlebag. Her cheeks burned, and her mane looked like it had just been through a wood chipper. She shoved her daisy sandwich into the bag, not even caring as it was crushed against her clipboard. She had to leave. She had to. There was no other choice. Not as long as he was out there, speaking with his stupid voice, and walking around with his stupid mane, moving his stupid abs… She banged her canteen against her forehead, trying desperately to knock the thoughts out of her mind. And yet, they remained, scurrying through her brain like rabid mice. Memories of long walks on the beach; romantic moonlit dinners; endless piles of architecture magazines, stacked so high that her dorm room floor had begun to buckle… “Yo, LoMo!” Loud Mouth shrieked and threw her canteen into the air, only just barely avoiding it as it came crashing back down. She shook as she turned around—only to let out a relieved breath as she saw who was behind her. “Oh,” she said, smiling. “Hey, Whammy.” Whammy Bar walked past and flumped into a seat across the table from her. Groaning, she let all of her limbs go slack, hanging off the chair. “Ugh. Neon Lights is out sick, so the boss had me take over for his electronica broadcast. Never heard such annoying music…” Although her teeth still clattered, Loud allowed herself a giggle. In the year she had been working at 103.4, Loud hadn’t made many friends; most ponies there were too busy with their own lives for Loud to really get to know. And yet, here was Whammy. She ran her own radio show, was constantly getting interviewed, was a big star… and yet, she still had time to talk to Loud. “What’s up with you?” Whammy asked, raising a brow. “You seem jumpy.” “Nothing!” Loud said, looking away. A cloud of pink swirled through her cheeks. “Nothing, really. I’m fine!” Whammy lidded her eyes. “It’s a stallion, ain’t it?” Loud nodded. “I knew it,” Whammy said with a smirk. She sat up a bit straighter and cracked her neck before putting on a coy smile and leaning over the table, taking Loud’s hoof in hers. “I wanna hear everything. Who is he? Is he cute? Does he have a brother?” Loud rested her head on her hooves, a deep frown on her face. “His name is Ace Artisan. We both went to Canterlot University for the Arts. He was my last coltfriend,” she squeaked. “Ooh.” Whammy’s eyes went wide as her smirk disappeared. “That’s hard. You liked him?” “Totally,” Loud said, sighing. “We met Freshman year, and it was like love at first sight. We did everything together! Went to movies, listened to the radio, went to all his favorite museums… He was studying to be an architect, so he used to spend hours showing me all of his ideas and sketches. He was always so good at it.” As she spoke, the smallest of smiles danced across her lips—only to die within seconds as she muttered, “Then it happened.” Whammy was on the literal edge of her seat. “What?” “It was the day before graduation,” Loud said through a gulp. “I was out spending time with my friends, and everything was perfect. Then, without any warning, Ace walks up to me and tells me that we’re breaking up.” Loud crossed her forelegs. “No explanation. I didn’t even see him the next day, at graduation. “Hay, I almost didn’t go; I spent most of the day crying in my room. But Dad told me he wasn’t paying forty-thousand bits a year for me to miss graduation, so I just went and cried there.” Loud shrank into her seat. “Mom didn’t take a lot of pictures that day.” “Mhm,” Whammy murmured. She scrunched up her muzzle and tapped her chin a few times before nodding and leaning back in her chair. “Yep. I’ve seen this kinda thing loads of times.” “You have?” “Yeah! I saw a movie last week with the same exact story.” Whammy grinned and shot Loud a mischievous glance. “I have the perfect plan.” Loud returned her smile. “Does it involve me working past my fears and anxieties so that I might reconcile with Ace, and maybe even rekindle a sort of friendship, rather than avoiding him and harboring regrets for the rest of my life?” Whammy stared. Loud looked away, cheeks pink. “Motivational speaker.” “Right.” Whammy shook her head and leaned into Loud’s ear. “Here’s what you’re gonna do…” It had been nearly half an hour since Ace and Nocturne had left the waiting room, and Ace was sure that he was about to throw up. Never in his life had he seen so much awful interior design—and that was quite the feat, considered he was raised in the Upper East Side of Canterlot, a neighborhood known for gaudy houses and even gaudier furniture. And yet, for fear that he may simply lose his fetlocks, he pressed on, through the valley of radio broadcasting. It was a good thing he had his flask with him. The two of them had walked through offices, through cubicles—they had even stepped into a radio studio, at which point the fair citizens of Equestria had been given the chance to hear Nocturne scream a particularly harsh curse word. Nocturne took quick, jerky steps as they walked down another long hallway. “Oh, we’re never gonna find this filly! I’m never getting this stupid job.” Ace took another swig from his flask. “It’s just a secretary job, Noc. Nothing to pull your mane out over.” “I’ll be pulling your mane out in a second,” Nocturne muttered, speeding up a bit as she turned a corner into another hallway. “But seriously, where is—“ Nocturne skidded to a stop, and shot a foreleg out to stop Ace, too. Pursing his lips, Ace followed her gaze. Loud Mouth was standing a few yards away from them, a saddlebag slung over her back. Her face was concealed by a dim shadow. “Miss!” Nocturne cried, waving. “Over here! We’d like to talk to you!” A quiet moment passed. Loud walked toward them. Ace balanced his flask on a nearby potted plant and put on the warmest smile he could muster. In the time they had been walking, he had practiced this. All he had to do was apologize. Just say that he was sorry, that he was an idiot… the works. They would make up, and everything would be fine. They’d make up, and Nocturne wouldn’t make him sleep on the couch. It only took a few seconds for Loud to reach them. Her wings were raised high, but her mane drooped over her eyes like a dying willow tree. “Hey?” Ace tried. Loud Mouth slapped him. …Or, at least, tried to. Her trembling, skinny hoof barely made a sound against his cheek. Nocturne stared, jaw slack. Ace just stood there, eyes wide, head tilted slightly. “That’s for breaking my heart?” Loud yelped, sounding more like she was asking a question than making a statement. “Hey!” Nocturne sputtered, snapping out of her stupor. “You can’t just slap my coltfriend like that! Only I can slap him like that. And only when he eats all the cookies without telling me.” Loud gasped and took a few steps back. “Your coltfriend? Goodness, sorry, I didn’t mean—“ “No, no, it’s fine,” Ace said, rubbing his cheek. “I probably deserved that.” “You did?” Nocturne and Loud asked in unison. Loud had started sweating again. “Yeah.” Ace took a deep breath and looked into Loud’s eyes. “Listen, Loud. I didn’t come here to embarrass you, or to open old wounds, or even to talk to you for very long, really. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what I did, all those years ago.” “Really?” Loud asked, her frown weakening. “Wow, that’s really—I mean, no!” Loud scrunched up her muzzle and turned away. “I’m not forgiving you, and I don’t accept your apology, because, um…” She reached into her saddlebag with a wing and pulled out a huge stack of index cards before cycling through them, eyes moving faster than rockets. “Uh, just give me a moment here…” Ace sat down and waited for Loud to find her answer. It was only once Nocturne elbowed him that he realized just how ridiculous the scene was. “Loud, stop,” Ace said, rubbing his head. “I’ve got something to say.” Loud was on her third round through the pile. She gulped and put them away. “Again, I’m sorry for treating you the way I did,” Ace said. “I mean that. When we broke up, I was young, and stupid, and, to be honest, I was kinda jealous.” “Huh?” Loud frowned and took a step forward. “But you used to be so good at… well, everything! How could you have ever been jealous of me?” Ace took a deep breath before pointing at Loud’s still-flared wings. “My…?” Loud blushed and folded her wings. “But why?” “I’m one of the only earth ponies in a city of unicorns. I’m one of the only earth pony architects in the world. That’s not easy.” Ace shook his head, glaring at the ground. “It’s never been easy. You remember how insecure I used to be about my race. I was always scared that everyone else thought they were better than me, that I was inferior to them somehow. “And that included you. You were a pegasi, free to roam wherever you wanted, while I was an earth pony, stuck on the ground. Do you know how much it hurt to see you fly away with your friends, off to some cloud that I would never be able to see?” Ace snorted. “That was why I broke up with you. I was so caught up in not having wings, or a horn, that I let my anger get the better of me.” Ace’s glower softened. “I was so stupid. You never thought you were better than me, and I don’t need anypony else’s opinion to feel better about myself. I get that now. “So, I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?” Silence. Loud’s mouth hung. Biting her lip, Loud glanced down at her index cards—from where Nocturne stood, she could see that the topmost one read “DON’T FORGIVE HIM”—only to drop them, letting the cards scatter across the carpet. Loud leapt forward and pulled Ace into a hug. “Of course I do, Acey.” Ace hesitated for a moment before returning the gesture. He held Loud close to him, enjoying a special sort of warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. As she pressed her head into his broad chest, the familiar smell of cinnamon wafted past his nose— Nocturne cleared her throat. Ace let go. Loud snapped back, cheeks bright. “Oh, uh,” she stammered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry.” “Uh-huh. Can we finally get to this job interview?” Nocturne asked. “I swear, I’ve been preparing for this thing for weeks!” Ace smirked. “It’s still just a secretary job, Noc. It’s nothing—“ “Shut up, Ace.” Loud frowned at Ace. “You say ‘secretary job’ like it’s a bad thing.” Ace blinked. “Well, I—“ “Just because a job isn’t extravagant doesn’t mean that it’s not important,” Loud said, taking a place at Nocturne’s side. “We need secretaries! Without them, businesses couldn’t function! No lack of glitz or glamor will change that. As long as you enjoy doing something, it’s worthwhile.” She turned to Nocturne. “Have you had secretary jobs in the past?” Nocturne was beaming. Turning up her nose, she said, “Yes.” “And have you enjoyed them?” “I have,” Nocturne said, shooting a pointed glance at Ace. “And I’m also very good at it.” “Well, there you go!” Loud said, grinning. “You love doing what you’re doing, and you shouldn’t need anypony else’s opinion to feel better about it.” She winked at Ace. “Right, Acey?” Ace opened his mouth, but no answer came. “All those self-help books I used to read paid off,” Loud said to him, stifling a giggle. She walked away, headed to the end of the hallway. “Now, let’s go get you that job!” Ace watched her go, jaw hanging. Smirking, Nocturne elbowed him. “What’s up with you? Still reeling from getting totally schooled by your ex?” Ace shook his head. “Just remembering why I fell in love with her—ow!” As he jumped around, massaging his fetlock, Nocturne rolled her eyes and walked away. “At least I can have that interview now…” “What do you mean he’s not here?!” Nocturne screamed. The secretary sitting outside the radio executive’s office took a moment to wipe the spittle off her face before saying, “He left five minutes ago. Perhaps if you hadn’t been nearly an hour late to your interview, you would have seen him.” Nocturne spun around and shot a burning glare at Ace and Loud, who were sitting a few yards away. Ace threw up his hooves defensively. “Hey, I’m not the one who ran away!” Loud gave a weak laugh. “Uh, sorry. Again.” Nocturne kept her glare up for a few seconds before groaning at the ceiling and stalking away, tail dragging along the ground, leaving Loud and Ace to sit alone. The two of them exchanged a silent glance. “Do you happen to know who did the interior designing for this place?” Ace asked. “I dunno,” Loud said, shaking her head. She smiled. “Isn’t it horrible, though?”
A Wrench in the Works: Loud Mouth vs. Glyph Dance (Slice of Life)Round One: Loud Mouth vs. Glyph Dance Loud Mouth could have sworn she saw blood on the daggers. They were scattered across the table, mixed in with the hammers and nails, as if they were just another construction tool. Hay, maybe they were just another tool. Loud Mouth certainly didn’t know anything about construction—she didn’t know much about anything that involved sweat, really. All she knew about was talking, and even that she didn’t consider herself very good at. But there was just something about these daggers that looked very… stabby. Like at any moment a pony could snatch one up and plunge it into her chest. She would be a victim, a helpless damsel, just like in the radio dramas. And no one would hear her scream… It took her a moment to realize that she was gripping her cup so tightly that the coffee was spilling out onto her wing. She flinched at the flash of pain and shook the dampness away, before taking a deep breath and walking to the doorway, headed off to deliver the coffee to the pony who had asked for it. What was his name again? Loud asked herself, scrunching up her muzzle. Glitter, Glam…? Glyph? Glyph Dance, right! The name sounded like something out of one of those Daring Do novels her niece was always reading. It was the kind of name an archaeologist would have. Is that why he carried around daggers with all of his construction tools? So he could fight off grave robbers? Why in the world would a radio station hire an archaeologist to build a new studio for them? Maybe the station was built on a Buffalo Burial Ground or something. Loud shivered. Maybe that’s why my lunch keeps disappearing from the break room… Keeping an eye out for strange markings on the walls, Loud Mouth rounded a corner which led her into a small plot of land that had been cordoned off with some rope. The noontime sun was harsh, spilling out across the makeshift construction site like a searchlight. Loud shaded her eyes with a wing and gazed out upon the clearing. Glyph Dance stuck out like a black hole. The sun glimmered off of his deep blue fur, giving him the look of a giant rain drop. Actually, there was a good chance that “giant” was an understatement; from where she stood, a few yards away, Glyph looked nearly as tall as Princess Luna. Yet, despite his height, he was skinny and gangly, like a collection of sticks. Loud had never seen a horn so sharp. He stood at the other end of the clearing, staring down at some blueprints. His face was set in a solid frown. Loud lifted her hoof to take a step forward, but stopped when she saw the belt wrapped around Glyph’s barrel—more daggers. Why? She stepped back and gulped. Don’t question it, Loud. You want to keep this job. “Uh, excuse me?” Loud squeaked. Her voice was barely more than air. Glyph sniffed and pushed the blueprint away, only to levitate another over. Loud opened her mouth again, but her words died with another look at the daggers. Gripping the coffee cup again, she looked around at the various tools scattered along the ground. There were wrenches, hammers, nails… no knives or spears, luckily. She took a deep breath and aimed her gaze at Glyph. Pointing her shaking hooves in the right direction, she walked forward. A pale white light wrapped around Glyph’s horn. Loud only barely noticed as the same white light surrounded a socket wrench, right in front of her. Loud Mouth yelped as the socket wrench leaped upwards, smacking into her muzzle. She dropped the coffee cup and stumbled backwards, pain roaring through her face. She threw both hooves to her snout and swore under her breath. The light around the wrench disappeared, and it fell to the ground with a thud. Glyph Dance spun around, eyes going wide as he realized what he had just done. Barking a few choice words of his own, he galloped up to Loud Mouth and bent down to meet her gaze. Loud flinched as he pushed his face uncomfortably close to her own. “Horseapples,” he muttered, ogling her wounded snout. His frown hadn’t softened at all. “Sorry about that. You alright, girl?” Loud ogled him back, hooves pressed firmly into her nose. The sunlight glinted off of the daggers in his belt, shining in her eyes. “Uh, yeah!” she said, forcing a smile and shuffling a few paces back. “Fine, fine! It’s no problem! I’m perfectly okay.” Glyph matched her steps. “You’re bleedin’.” Loud lifted her hooves from her nose, only to choke on air as she realized her tan hooves were painted red. A thin trickle of blood ran from both nostrils, matting down the fur above her mouth. She took a few long breaths. “Oh, hey. Look at that.” “I thought I put a caution sign in the doorway,” Glyph said, eyes narrowing. “Can’t work with mares runnin’ every which way around the construction site!” “I didn’t see it!” Loud babbled, throwing up her hooves defensively. “I swear, I didn’t! I’m sorr—” “Aw, save it,” Glyph said, backing away. “It ain’t your fault. You didn’t do nothin’.” Loud tried to respond, but her cheeks were set ablaze as she felt Glyph’s tingling magic wrap around her legs, her neck, her flanks. She could only squirm as Glyph hoisted her into the air. “Let’s go,” he said, ignoring her flails. “We’re gettin’ you patched up.” With Loud hanging in the air next to him, Glyph trotted out of the lot and back into the radio station. The two of them were silent as they made their trek, with Glyph keeping his gaze forward, and Loud doing what she could do avoid the sharp knives hanging from his belt, jingling just a few inches away from her still-vulnerable chest. Glyph stepped into the storage room where he had been keeping the rest of his things and levitated Loud off of his back and into a nearby chair. The blood was coming faster now, and her fetlocks were soaked. He cast one last glance at her snout before heading over to a satchel that was laying on the table. Loud fidgeted in her chair, trying and failing to keep her wings in place. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “Really, I didn’t mean to—” “What’s your name?” Glyph asked, rummaging through the sack. “Um, Loud. Loud Mouth.” Glyph snorted and shook his head, smiling for the first time since the two had met. “Next time you see ‘em, tell your folks I said ‘thanks for the laugh.’” Loud frowned, but stayed silent, eyes cast to the ground. “Aw, I’m just teasin’ you,” Glyph said. “Certainly not the worst name I’ve ever heard. Name’s Glyph Dance, by the way.” “I know,” Loud said. Her ears went flat. “I was, uh, supposed to deliver you some coffee.” “Were you? Weird. I don’t remember orderin’ anything.” Glyph pulled a long strip of white cloth out of the bag. “Here we go.” “What are you doing?” Loud asked, craning her neck. “What is—” Glyph whipped out one of his daggers, stabbing it high into the air. You’re dead. Loud’s wings flared open, nearly sending her tumbling off the chair. As Glyph spun around and walked toward her, dagger level with her throat, she tried to scoot away, but could only get so far before her chair clunked against the wall. She shrank into the seat, trying to escape, trying to save herself from the madpony about to slaughter her— Glyph stopped a few paces away. With one quick motion, he used the dagger to slice through the cloth, cutting it into two equal parts. He levitated one over to where Loud was cowering. “Clean yourself up.” Loud hesitated for a moment before taking it. “Oh,” she stammered, staring at the towel. She dabbed at her bleeding nose. “Thanks.” Glyph didn’t answer, but drew close to Loud once again, staring intently at her snout. Just as Loud was about to ask him what he was doing, he backed away again. “Your muzzle don’t look like it's broken or anythin',” he said. He smiled. “And trust me, I know my broken noses. Hoofed a few of ‘em out myself.” Loud was frozen. “Uh-huh.” “Here, lean forward and use your wing or somethin’ to pinch your snout. It’ll help stop the bleedin’,” Glyph explained. As Loud followed his instructions, he pulled up another chair and sat down in it, just across from Loud. “Keep doin’ that for a few minutes, and you’ll be fine.” “Great.” Loud nodded. “Thanks again—” “Oh, stop thankin’ me!” Glyph groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m the one who whacked you, ain’t I?” Loud rubbed the back of her neck. “Sorry.” Her words faded quickly, leaving the room to flood with a thick, viscous silence. Loud could feel Glyph’s gaze boring into her face, drilling into her soul. She kept her eyes locked to the carpet, not daring to look up. Whenever Glyph breathed, his belt jingled, making Loud’s legs tense up. She closed her eyes and forced her breaths to steady— “Y’know,” Glyph said, “for a mare named Loud Mouth, you ain’t very loud.” “And you’re not an archaeologist,” Loud murmured, all steadiness lost. “Excuse me?” “Nothing,” Loud piped, waving her words away. “I get that a lot. I guess I was pretty crazy when I was a kid, but I quieted down as I got older. When your parents are both snowflake builders, you kinda have to be quiet, y’know?” She waited for a response, but Glyph just stared. “If you yell at a snowflake, it’ll crack.” “Oh.” Glyph’s blank expression stayed static. “Too bad. You’ve got a nice voice.” “Really? Uh, thanks.” Loud paused, cheeks heating once again. “I mean, I can still be loud when I want to be! I have to give speeches a lot for my job.” “That sounds important,” Glyph said, his smirk returning. He leaned forward in his seat. “So what’s a pretty mare like you doin’ here, havin’ to run coffee to stallions that don’t even want ‘em?” “I'm just an assistant,” Loud said, allowing herself a smile of her own. "They don't really look for 'pretty' in the radio business." “Well, I said you had a nice voice, didn’t I? What’s the problem?” “Because… that’s just the way it is, I guess.” Loud sighed. “Some ponies make it big and some don’t. No one really wants me on the radio, even if it is my special talent. I don’t know why.” “What, you never asked ‘em?” “Huh?” Loud frowned. “What do you mean?” “You never asked ‘em what the problem was? Why you’re out here makin’ coffee runs when some nasally foal’s up at the mic screamin’ about pop music?” Glyph asked. When Loud shook her head, Glyph growled and stood up. “Well, why not? Why are you out here gettin’ whacked by wrenches, instead of on the radio?” Loud flinched into her seat. “I, uh, um—” “Say somethin’!” Glyph said. “You said talkin’ on the radio was your special talent; why can’t you talk now? Give me one of those speeches!” “I haven’t asked because I don’t want to lose my job!” Loud sputtered. “This is the fourth radio station I’ve worked at this year, all because I keep messing things up. For the first time I’ve got a boss and co-workers that actually kinda like me. I’m not gonna risk that just because I want to talk more. Besides, it’s not like I’m even good at it—” “Oh, that’s a load of horseapples. Bein’ on the radio is your special talent, right? So you’re better for the job than anypony!” Glyph jabbed at hoof at the doorway. “When I was comin’ in this morning, I got a look at the guy who runs the morning show here. His cutie mark is an hourglass. Yours is a microphone! How could he possibly be better than you?” “I don’t know!” Loud said, looking away. “Even if I am better than him, it doesn’t matter. Nopony wants to hear me.” “So you gotta make ‘em want to hear you.” Loud lidded her eyes. “Uh-huh. And how should I do that?” Glyph chuckled. “Your name is Loud Mouth, ain’t it? Be loud! Let everypony know what you want, and what you’re gonna do to get it. You gotta be strong! You gotta—” “I get it, I get it,” Loud said, holding up a hoof to stop him. “Listen, Mr. Dance: those speeches I said I give? I hold motivational seminars at night. When it comes to pep talks, I’ve heard every line in the book.” Glyph narrowed his eyes. “Oh, yeah? Well then, why don’t you hear this: I may not look it, but I’ve had ponies tellin’ me what I could and couldn’t do my entire life. When I was a kid, all my folks wanted was for me to become a lawyer just like them. So y’know what I did? I said screw that, and I went to go make my own destiny. Now, I’m usin’ my talents every day. Sure, I’ve still got goals, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been. You get that?” Loud’s throat suddenly felt like a desert. She nodded. “Yeah?” “Sure, you’ve got wings and I’ve got a horn, but we’re both ponies. We’ve both got talents, and we’ve both got a duty to use ‘em. That’s the way I see it.” Glyph smiled again and gave Loud a soft shove. “I like you, girl. You seem like a good pony, and that’s why I’m helpin’ you. But I ain’t got no respect for a pony that knows their special talent, but chooses not to use it. That’s just wrong.” “Mhm.” That was all Loud could muster. There was a tightness in her chest, as if her lungs were being tied together. And yet, at the center of it all, there was a sort of warmth—a glint in the dark. She managed a smile. “That… makes a lot of sense.” Glyph laughed. “Well, if a mare whose special talent is talkin’ says what I said made sense, it must be good, right?” Loud giggled. “Yeah.” It was at that point that she noticed the bleeding had stopped; in fact, it had probably stopped a while ago. She lifted the rag from her stained snout, which Glyph took in his magic and threw into a wastebasket nearby. “I gotta get back to work buildin’ that new studio of yours,” Glyph said, jerking his head towards the door. “Hay, maybe someday you’ll be workin’ in that studio.” “Thanks,” Loud said, hopping off of her chair. “For the talk, I mean. Not the maybe-broken nose.” “It ain’t no problem.” Glyph picked up his satchel and moved to the door. “You go get yourself cleaned up. And remember: be loud! You gotta earn that weird name of yours.” He trotted out. Loud watched him go. The heat in her chest had spread to her face, settling in for a comfortable warmth. She took a long breath and walked out of the room, headed back to her boss. As she went, her gaze passed over the daggers, which were still scattered out across the table—and yet, they didn’t make her feel a bit nervous.
The Breaking Point: Loud Mouth vs. Foxglove (Dramatic/Sad)Round Two: Loud Mouth vs. Foxglove In the past few months, Foxglove had learned quite a few new skills—picking locks, however, was not one of them. Foxglove muttered a curse as his paperclip snapped in half. Even with magic, he had never been good at sensing the organs of a lock; no matter how much he practiced, he still couldn’t tell his bolts from his latches and his spindles from his plates. This was his third attempt—and his third failure—in only five minutes. He snatched the doorknob in his magic and jostled it a few times, more out of frustration than any real attempt to open it up. With a snort, Foxglove threw the paperclip to the carpet and moved on to the next door in the hall. What was so classified in a radio station that they had to lock the doors? When he had been hired to temp as a security guard there, he had figured it would be easy pickings. Celebrities were usually careless, and left their things laying around, as if they were daring somepony to come and snatch them away. Even if they were only radio celebrities… Foxglove hated the radio. Didn’t see the point of it. It certainly didn’t help that the radio he and his daughter owned was busted; no matter how much he turned the dial, all it could pick up were political talk shows. Not exactly his cup of tea. His breath went short as an image of his daughter, Figgy, leapt through his mind. It was a memory from months ago: the two of them at a street fair, with the smell of popcorn light in the air. He remembered Figgy twirling, skipping, dancing to the music that drifted through the street. He’d love to have a way to let her listen to all the music she’d like. Anything to hear her laugh. He shook the thought away and moved to pick the lock of the next door in the hall—only to freeze as he realized that it wasn’t locked. Smirking, he walked inside. Lighting his horn illuminate the room, Foxglove trotted up to the wide desk at the end of the room and slid open one of the drawers. He reached inside. His legs tensed as a door he hadn’t even noticed creaked open, and a gangly, tan pegasus stepped into the room. Loud Mouth felt pathetic. She smacked her hooves against her head and scowled. This was wrong. She was strong, beautiful, smart! As long as she believed in herself, anything could happen. She knew that. She was sure of that. Words like ‘pathetic’ wouldn’t get her anywhere. Not that she was getting anywhere right now. Groaning, she forced herself to lift her head from the desk again. She originally had a motivational seminar to speak at that night, but the rec center that had invited her decided to cancel. “Not enough interest,” they had said. So instead, she was sitting here in an empty studio, glaring at her one true love: the microphone. She did this from time to time. She would ask her friend, Whammy Bar—host of Whammy’s Rock Universe on 103.4, “The Chimera”—if Whammy could leave her studio open for Loud to use. Whammy never asked questions, although Loud suspected that she knew what was going on. Loud would sit in the studio and dream of having a show to call her own. She would whisper into the mic and practice her catchphrases. She would make lists in her head of what songs she would play, and how she would introduce them. She would giggle as she thought of all the funny sound effects she would play. It was pathetic. She took a deep breath, trying to crush the nausea flickering through her stomach. A glance at the clock up on the wall showed that it was nearly ten o’clock—it was high time for her to stop playing radio host and head home. She flicked off the small lamp that sat on the host’s desk and headed for the door. Whammy Bar was lucky enough to have her studio be connected to her office. She had often joked that Loud should have her own set of keys, she used the studio so much. Loud just smiled and laughed along. She walked into Whammy’s office and tried to picture what the office looked like so she could navigate in the dark—but her thoughts froze as she saw that another pony was in the room. She yelped and threw herself against the wall as the strange unicorn stumbled back a few steps. The grey stallion was at least twice her size. A few stringy brown bangs fell over his face, nearly obscuring his eyes. Loud could just barely see his cutie mark, a bronze bell, half of which was covered by the thick blue jacket he wore. The jacket was the only thing about him that was familiar. “Oh,” she sputtered, throwing a hoof to her heaving chest. “A security guard! I’m so sorry for shouting like that, Mr.”—she glanced at his nametag—“Foxglove!” Foxglove’s eyes were wide. He took a few breaths before brushing the hair out of his face and smiling. “No problem at all, Miss…?” “Loud Mouth.” “Mhm.” Foxglove chuckled. His voice was gravelly, and he spoke with some strange mix of a Manehattan and Trottingham accent. “I’ve gotta say, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be knocking about here so late. Especially not a fine lass like yourself…” I don’t think ‘fine lasses’ spend their nights babbling to themselves in empty studios… Loud threw the thought away, even as a thick heat flooded her cheeks. Looking away, she said, “I just forgot something in Whammy’s studio and came back to get it. It was, uh…” She pointed to the tiny gem hanging from her right ear; the cheapest diamond her ex-coltfriend's money could buy. “I forgot my earring. I’m just so disorganized. Heh.” At that, Foxglove’s eyes seemed to flash. Loud felt a chill crawl up her spine as Foxglove scanned her, hoof-to-mane, muzzle-to-flank, his purple eyes beady and solid. She bit her lip—but pushed the feeling away. This was someone specifically hired to keep the building safe; she had no reason to be nervous. Foxglove’s smile faded a bit. “A lass like yourself shouldn’t be creeping around out. Wouldn’t do to see you get hurt. Head home, get some rest.” “That’s probably a good idea,” Loud said, forcing a laugh. She nodded and took a step toward the exit. “Have a good—“ She froze mid-step. From her new angle, she could now see more of Whammy Bar’s desk… and she could see that one of the drawers had been pulled open. She could see all of Whammy Bar’s things scattered about inside: personal notes and files, photos. Jewelry she kept in case she managed to snag a date during her lunch break. And Foxglove was standing above it all. Any trace of a smile on his face had disappeared. What was a security guard doing standing around in somepony’s office? And why was the drawer…? She flicked her eyes back up at him, only to jump as she realized that he was staring straight at her. His gaze jabbed into her like a syringe. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out of her tightening throat. “Let me guess,” Foxglove said, startling the wind from Loud’s lungs. “You’re wondering why I’m in your friend’s office?” Loud paused for a moment before nodding. Foxglove’s smile came back. He jerked his head toward the open drawer. “Your mate—Whammy asked me to check on her stuff, make sure it hadn’t been moved.” Memories of Whammy Bar yelling at ponies who dared to go through her desk flew through Loud’s mind. Not even her best friends were allowed to touch the things she kept in there. Loud Mouth choked out a laugh and put on a grin. “Okay!” she chirped, nodding. She took another step toward the door. “That… that’s fine. Now, if you’ll just excuse me—“ “Do you need someone to walk you to the exit?” Foxglove asked. His voice slid across the room like ice. “No!” Loud yelped. Seeing Foxglove raise an eyebrow, she bit down the curses in her throat and stammered, “I know the way. I’m fine.” A wave of calm rested upon Foxglove’s face, and Loud felt her lungs begin to loosen. She reached for the doorknob. That was when Foxglove walked towards her. “Before you go,” he muttered, moving towards the door. Loud’s entire body was rigid as he passed, his shaggy coat bristling against hers. The heavy smell of pickles wafted from him in waves, pooling in her nostrils and choking out her breath. She could see the muscles bulging in his legs, the gleam off of his sharpened horseshoes—she tried to swallow, but her throat felt like she had just eaten a boulder. “If you’re not too busy,” Foxglove said, closing the door and locking it, “might you help me with something?” It took Loud a moment to jerk her head into some version of a nod. “What?” “Just thought it might be nice to have some company. Guarding is lonely work,” Foxglove said, walking back to the desk. From where he stood, he cast a glance back at Loud. “Got any family? Kids?” Loud took a deep breath, trying to calm the shaking in her legs. “No.” “So you don’t have anyone you need to provide for,” Foxglove said. He jerked the desk drawer open wider. “Anyone who’s counting on you.” Loud watched as a purple glow sparked to life in Whammy Bar’s drawer. She could hear Foxglove moving her things around, pushing them aside—she gritted her teeth. “No, I don’t.” Foxglove’s gaze tightened. “Mhm.” He pulled out a weathered photo of Whammy and her brother— “Don’t touch that!” Loud yelled, wings flaring. Foxglove glared at her, and she flinched back, bumping into the wall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“ Foxglove laughed and put the picture back in the drawer. “I’m sorry. I’ve got no reason to touch something like that.” He shook his head and went back to rummaging. “I’m guessing you know the lass who owns this office?” “She’s my friend,” Loud said in a shaking voice. Loud had worked at that station for six months, and Whammy had been the only one who ever talked to her, ever laughed with her, who ever cared about her. When Loud called her a friend, she wasn’t using the term lightly. But if Whammy was really her friend, why wasn’t Loud doing anything to protect her things...? “It’s great that a lass like you has a lot of friends,” Foxglove murmured. “Young fillies deserve to be happy.” He pulled out a shining silver necklace and held it in the air, letting the small sailboat-shaped charm hang. “Your friend has good taste in jewelry.” Loud’s legs tensed as she watched Foxglove stare at the necklace, as if it were a piece of food. She thought about leaping forward, about pinning him to the ground and beating him into submission. But then she met Foxglove’s steely glare, and she froze up, her mind went fuzzy. She just stood there. “Whammy worked a really long time to afford that,” Loud said, forcing her voice to steady. “She cares about it.” “Then why does she leave it in her desk?” Loud opened her mouth—but realized that she didn’t have an answer. “All these radio types are overpaid anyway,” Foxglove said, gathering the long chain into a bundle. “I’m sure she could afford at least ten more. She’s not bothered.” All the tension in Loud’s bones turned to nausea-laced sludge as Foxglove stuffed the necklace into a small pocket on his jacket. She wanted to scream, to tackle him, to do anything she could to stop being such a stupid, pathetic coward—but all she could do was bow her head and bite down the bile rising in her throat. There was a thump as Foxglove slammed the desk drawer closed. The light from his horn glinted off the necklace in his pocket. He walked up to Loud, close enough that she could feel his hot breath traipsing along her mane. “Let’s just keep quiet about this, alright?” Loud didn’t answer. “Well?” She dug her hooves into the carpet—but nodded. Foxglove smirked and unlocked the door. A light jingle ran through the brisk night air as Foxglove stepped out of the pawn shop, a bulging bag of bits peeking out of his jacket. Standing in the middle of the street, he took a long breath. The stiff breeze rolling through a city was like a torrent of water against his skin, forcing him awake and sparking an onslaught of fresh thoughts. The look on Loud Mouth’s face… the fear, the anger, the defeat. It was etched into his eyelids, as if it had been carved there. He ran a hoof through his ragged mane and started on the path home. It was almost midnight; Figgy was supposed to be asleep, but he had no doubt that she was slumped against a window, watching the soft flicker of the streetlamps and waiting for her father to return. And as soon as she heard his hoofsteps outside the door, she would sprint to bed and pretend she was asleep, even as Foxglove crept into her room and placed a kiss on her forehead, even as he held her tight and basked in the smell of cinnamon that always seemed to waft from her mane. Foxglove didn’t like hurting ponies. He wished he didn’t have to terrify Loud Mouth like he did—but he had to. Loud was alone. She didn’t know what is was like to want something, to need something you can’t ever have. She didn’t know what it was like to watch a filly’s future fade before your eyes… unless you did something about it. She didn’t have to care about anyone. Foxglove did. It was either stop stealing, or see his daughter go without. The choice was clear. The bag of bits was heavy in his pocket. That necklace had earned him just enough to buy a decent radio; he couldn’t wait to see Figgy dance again. It was almost sunrise, and Loud Mouth couldn’t sleep. The mattress under her was soaked with sweat. Burning waves of sickness spilled through her veins. She tried to close her eyes, but whenever she did, all she could see was Foxglove standing above her best friend’s desk, that silver necklace hanging in his magic. She could see him slipping it away, not a single microbe of regret on his face. And she had just watched. Air escaped her. She smothered her face with a pillow, trying to crush the stinging beneath her eyes—but there was no stopping what was coming. And yet, as she lay there, cursing into the fabric, she wasn’t scared. She wasn’t afraid of Foxglove, and how he could have hurt her. Could still hurt her. That wasn’t it. All Loud could think about was Whammy’s face when she found out that her things had been touched, that her prized possessions had been stolen. She would yell, she would kick—and then, off in the shadows, with Loud Mouth stroking her mane, she would cry. Loud would be the only one who would know how upset she truly was. And it was all her fault. Loud could never tell her what happened. Loud could never tell her how sorry she was for just standing there, for just watching, for not doing anything to stop the thief. It was her burden alone. As the sun rose, Loud Mouth cried.
The Lady and the Architect: Loud Mouth vs. Ace Artisan (Comedy)Round Three: The Lady and the Architect “Who in Celestia’s name designed this room? It looks like Discord had a case of food poisoning.” “Shut up, Ace.” “Plastic chairs, wooden tables; nothing matches! It’s a shame, honestly. This is such a well-designed building, otherwise. Coltbusier did this one, I think—ow!” Ace yipped, jumping in his seat. He reached down to massage his now-throbbing fetlock. “What was that for?” Sitting next to him, Nocturne glared. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe you shouldn’t be spending the day insulting the place where I might end up working?” Ace opened his mouth to argue—but all that came was a sigh. “Point taken,” he said, looking away. “Sorry.” Nocturne kept her glower steady for a few more moments before letting a smile break through. She sat back in her seat and murmured, “It’s no problem, Artie. Thanks for coming with me. I know how much you hate traveling.” Ace shrugged. “Eh, it’s only an hour train ride from Canterlot to Manehattan. Nothing too serious.” “I guess. It’s weird to think I’ll be taking that train twice a day from now on,” Nocturne said. “At least, assuming I get the job.” “You’re not exactly applying to become the next Princess,” Ace said with a smirk. “It’s just a secretary job. It shouldn’t be hard to get.” “That’s easy for you to say, Mr. ‘I’m the Only Earth Pony in a Field of Unicorns.’” Nocturne cast a wary glance across the waiting room, over to the hallway that she knew would lead her to her interview. “This is the biggest radio station in Equestria. The pony who runs this place is important, y’know? I do well here, that means a job with Galactic Records sometime down the line. And a job at Galactic Records means money.” “Since when do you care so much about money?” “Since you started buying the cheap toilet paper ‘to cut costs.’” Once again, Ace opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. The sharp sound of hoofsteps echoed from the hallway, filling the room and making Nocturne go rigid in her seat. “Here we go,” she murmured to Ace, her words accented by a giggle. “It’s showtime!” As she tittered on, a pegasus entered the room, staring down at a small clipboard she held in her wing. The mare was tall, almost gangly, and she walked with a flinching gait, as if her toothpick legs were ready to snap under her at any moment. To Nocturne, this pegasus was most certainly not the kind of pony she pictured when she thought of the word “boss.” Rather, this pegasus screamed “intern.” Nevertheless, Nocturne put on her best smile and sat up a bit straighter, waiting for her name to be called. For the slightest of moments, she looked to her coltfriend—only to frown as she saw his pale, frozen face. Still reading the clipboard, the pegasus walked a bit further into the room, headed for where they sat. “Um, ‘Nocturne?’” she read. She looked up. “Is there a Noc—“ Silence. A thick, horrendous silence descended upon the room as Ace Artisan and the pegasus locked eyes, only a few steps away from one another. Their eyes were wide and their jaws were slack, as if they had both just witnessed a massacre of the highest order. As their staring contest went on, Nocturne threw her gaze between the two, waiting for something, anything to happen. When a full thirty seconds had passed with no movement—not even a breath—from either side, she cleared her throat. “Uh, are you—“ “Loud?” Ace choked out. The pegasus squeaked and flared her wings. Without another sound, she spun around and sprinted away, back down the hallway she had come from. A familiar quiet flooded the room as the intern’s hoofsteps faded into the distance. Ace looked like he was still recovering his ability to breathe, taking deep, shuddering breaths. It certainly didn’t help that Nocturne had leapt onto his chair, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck with her magic, and lifted him into the air. “What did you do?!” she screamed. Ace shook his head. “That was Loud Mouth.” “Who?!” “Loud Mouth,” he repeated, voice shaking. “Loud Mouth.” Nocturne clenched her teeth and prepared a torrent of curses—but froze as the name bounced through her mind. She weakened her hold on him. “Wait, wait,” she said, jumping off the chair. “That was Loud Mouth. The Loud Mouth? That mare you dated all through college?” Ace nodded. “Yep.” The hairs on the back of Nocturne’s neck went stiff. “The mare you broke up with in front of all of her friends and humiliated?” “Also true—ow!” As he rubbed his fetlock, Nocturne paced in front of him, wisps of smoke trailing from her mane. “You, you… do you know what you’ve done? You just cost me a job!” Nocturne turned to face him. “They’re never gonna hire me when they find out I brought a pig like you along!” “Hey, that’s racist—ow!” Ace swore and curled into his seat. “Okay, okay, I get it! I messed up. But Loud isn’t the type of mare to just out someone like that. Back when we were dating, she was the kindest mare I knew!” “And you broke her heart.” “Hey, if I hadn’t done it, we could have never gotten together!” Nocturne rolled her eyes and walked away. “And what a tragedy that would have been.” “Where are you going?” Ace asked, hopping out of his seat. “I’m going to find this Loud Mouth mare so you can apologize to her, and so I can get my job!” Nocturne called, across the room at this point. “Oh, come on!” Ace groaned. “Do I really have—“ Nocturne shot him a glare that could have set a timberwolf ablaze. He scrambled to catch up with her. He found me. A thin sheen of sweat wrapped around Loud Mouth’s forehead as she tried to stuff her lunch into an already-full saddlebag. Her cheeks burned, and her mane looked like it had just been through a wood chipper. She shoved her daisy sandwich into the bag, not even caring as it was crushed against her clipboard. She had to leave. She had to. There was no other choice. Not as long as he was out there, speaking with his stupid voice, and walking around with his stupid mane, moving his stupid abs… She banged her canteen against her forehead, trying desperately to knock the thoughts out of her mind. And yet, they remained, scurrying through her brain like rabid mice. Memories of long walks on the beach; romantic moonlit dinners; endless piles of architecture magazines, stacked so high that her dorm room floor had begun to buckle… “Yo, LoMo!” Loud Mouth shrieked and threw her canteen into the air, only just barely avoiding it as it came crashing back down. She shook as she turned around—only to let out a relieved breath as she saw who was behind her. “Oh,” she said, smiling. “Hey, Whammy.” Whammy Bar walked past and flumped into a seat across the table from her. Groaning, she let all of her limbs go slack, hanging off the chair. “Ugh. Neon Lights is out sick, so the boss had me take over for his electronica broadcast. Never heard such annoying music…” Although her teeth still clattered, Loud allowed herself a giggle. In the year she had been working at 103.4, Loud hadn’t made many friends; most ponies there were too busy with their own lives for Loud to really get to know. And yet, here was Whammy. She ran her own radio show, was constantly getting interviewed, was a big star… and yet, she still had time to talk to Loud. “What’s up with you?” Whammy asked, raising a brow. “You seem jumpy.” “Nothing!” Loud said, looking away. A cloud of pink swirled through her cheeks. “Nothing, really. I’m fine!” Whammy lidded her eyes. “It’s a stallion, ain’t it?” Loud nodded. “I knew it,” Whammy said with a smirk. She sat up a bit straighter and cracked her neck before putting on a coy smile and leaning over the table, taking Loud’s hoof in hers. “I wanna hear everything. Who is he? Is he cute? Does he have a brother?” Loud rested her head on her hooves, a deep frown on her face. “His name is Ace Artisan. We both went to Canterlot University for the Arts. He was my last coltfriend,” she squeaked. “Ooh.” Whammy’s eyes went wide as her smirk disappeared. “That’s hard. You liked him?” “Totally,” Loud said, sighing. “We met Freshman year, and it was like love at first sight. We did everything together! Went to movies, listened to the radio, went to all his favorite museums… He was studying to be an architect, so he used to spend hours showing me all of his ideas and sketches. He was always so good at it.” As she spoke, the smallest of smiles danced across her lips—only to die within seconds as she muttered, “Then it happened.” Whammy was on the literal edge of her seat. “What?” “It was the day before graduation,” Loud said through a gulp. “I was out spending time with my friends, and everything was perfect. Then, without any warning, Ace walks up to me and tells me that we’re breaking up.” Loud crossed her forelegs. “No explanation. I didn’t even see him the next day, at graduation. “Hay, I almost didn’t go; I spent most of the day crying in my room. But Dad told me he wasn’t paying forty-thousand bits a year for me to miss graduation, so I just went and cried there.” Loud shrank into her seat. “Mom didn’t take a lot of pictures that day.” “Mhm,” Whammy murmured. She scrunched up her muzzle and tapped her chin a few times before nodding and leaning back in her chair. “Yep. I’ve seen this kinda thing loads of times.” “You have?” “Yeah! I saw a movie last week with the same exact story.” Whammy grinned and shot Loud a mischievous glance. “I have the perfect plan.” Loud returned her smile. “Does it involve me working past my fears and anxieties so that I might reconcile with Ace, and maybe even rekindle a sort of friendship, rather than avoiding him and harboring regrets for the rest of my life?” Whammy stared. Loud looked away, cheeks pink. “Motivational speaker.” “Right.” Whammy shook her head and leaned into Loud’s ear. “Here’s what you’re gonna do…” It had been nearly half an hour since Ace and Nocturne had left the waiting room, and Ace was sure that he was about to throw up. Never in his life had he seen so much awful interior design—and that was quite the feat, considered he was raised in the Upper East Side of Canterlot, a neighborhood known for gaudy houses and even gaudier furniture. And yet, for fear that he may simply lose his fetlocks, he pressed on, through the valley of radio broadcasting. It was a good thing he had his flask with him. The two of them had walked through offices, through cubicles—they had even stepped into a radio studio, at which point the fair citizens of Equestria had been given the chance to hear Nocturne scream a particularly harsh curse word. Nocturne took quick, jerky steps as they walked down another long hallway. “Oh, we’re never gonna find this filly! I’m never getting this stupid job.” Ace took another swig from his flask. “It’s just a secretary job, Noc. Nothing to pull your mane out over.” “I’ll be pulling your mane out in a second,” Nocturne muttered, speeding up a bit as she turned a corner into another hallway. “But seriously, where is—“ Nocturne skidded to a stop, and shot a foreleg out to stop Ace, too. Pursing his lips, Ace followed her gaze. Loud Mouth was standing a few yards away from them, a saddlebag slung over her back. Her face was concealed by a dim shadow. “Miss!” Nocturne cried, waving. “Over here! We’d like to talk to you!” A quiet moment passed. Loud walked toward them. Ace balanced his flask on a nearby potted plant and put on the warmest smile he could muster. In the time they had been walking, he had practiced this. All he had to do was apologize. Just say that he was sorry, that he was an idiot… the works. They would make up, and everything would be fine. They’d make up, and Nocturne wouldn’t make him sleep on the couch. It only took a few seconds for Loud to reach them. Her wings were raised high, but her mane drooped over her eyes like a dying willow tree. “Hey?” Ace tried. Loud Mouth slapped him. …Or, at least, tried to. Her trembling, skinny hoof barely made a sound against his cheek. Nocturne stared, jaw slack. Ace just stood there, eyes wide, head tilted slightly. “That’s for breaking my heart?” Loud yelped, sounding more like she was asking a question than making a statement. “Hey!” Nocturne sputtered, snapping out of her stupor. “You can’t just slap my coltfriend like that! Only I can slap him like that. And only when he eats all the cookies without telling me.” Loud gasped and took a few steps back. “Your coltfriend? Goodness, sorry, I didn’t mean—“ “No, no, it’s fine,” Ace said, rubbing his cheek. “I probably deserved that.” “You did?” Nocturne and Loud asked in unison. Loud had started sweating again. “Yeah.” Ace took a deep breath and looked into Loud’s eyes. “Listen, Loud. I didn’t come here to embarrass you, or to open old wounds, or even to talk to you for very long, really. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what I did, all those years ago.” “Really?” Loud asked, her frown weakening. “Wow, that’s really—I mean, no!” Loud scrunched up her muzzle and turned away. “I’m not forgiving you, and I don’t accept your apology, because, um…” She reached into her saddlebag with a wing and pulled out a huge stack of index cards before cycling through them, eyes moving faster than rockets. “Uh, just give me a moment here…” Ace sat down and waited for Loud to find her answer. It was only once Nocturne elbowed him that he realized just how ridiculous the scene was. “Loud, stop,” Ace said, rubbing his head. “I’ve got something to say.” Loud was on her third round through the pile. She gulped and put them away. “Again, I’m sorry for treating you the way I did,” Ace said. “I mean that. When we broke up, I was young, and stupid, and, to be honest, I was kinda jealous.” “Huh?” Loud frowned and took a step forward. “But you used to be so good at… well, everything! How could you have ever been jealous of me?” Ace took a deep breath before pointing at Loud’s still-flared wings. “My…?” Loud blushed and folded her wings. “But why?” “I’m one of the only earth ponies in a city of unicorns. I’m one of the only earth pony architects in the world. That’s not easy.” Ace shook his head, glaring at the ground. “It’s never been easy. You remember how insecure I used to be about my race. I was always scared that everyone else thought they were better than me, that I was inferior to them somehow. “And that included you. You were a pegasi, free to roam wherever you wanted, while I was an earth pony, stuck on the ground. Do you know how much it hurt to see you fly away with your friends, off to some cloud that I would never be able to see?” Ace snorted. “That was why I broke up with you. I was so caught up in not having wings, or a horn, that I let my anger get the better of me.” Ace’s glower softened. “I was so stupid. You never thought you were better than me, and I don’t need anypony else’s opinion to feel better about myself. I get that now. “So, I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?” Silence. Loud’s mouth hung. Biting her lip, Loud glanced down at her index cards—from where Nocturne stood, she could see that the topmost one read “DON’T FORGIVE HIM”—only to drop them, letting the cards scatter across the carpet. Loud leapt forward and pulled Ace into a hug. “Of course I do, Acey.” Ace hesitated for a moment before returning the gesture. He held Loud close to him, enjoying a special sort of warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. As she pressed her head into his broad chest, the familiar smell of cinnamon wafted past his nose— Nocturne cleared her throat. Ace let go. Loud snapped back, cheeks bright. “Oh, uh,” she stammered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry.” “Uh-huh. Can we finally get to this job interview?” Nocturne asked. “I swear, I’ve been preparing for this thing for weeks!” Ace smirked. “It’s still just a secretary job, Noc. It’s nothing—“ “Shut up, Ace.” Loud frowned at Ace. “You say ‘secretary job’ like it’s a bad thing.” Ace blinked. “Well, I—“ “Just because a job isn’t extravagant doesn’t mean that it’s not important,” Loud said, taking a place at Nocturne’s side. “We need secretaries! Without them, businesses couldn’t function! No lack of glitz or glamor will change that. As long as you enjoy doing something, it’s worthwhile.” She turned to Nocturne. “Have you had secretary jobs in the past?” Nocturne was beaming. Turning up her nose, she said, “Yes.” “And have you enjoyed them?” “I have,” Nocturne said, shooting a pointed glance at Ace. “And I’m also very good at it.” “Well, there you go!” Loud said, grinning. “You love doing what you’re doing, and you shouldn’t need anypony else’s opinion to feel better about it.” She winked at Ace. “Right, Acey?” Ace opened his mouth, but no answer came. “All those self-help books I used to read paid off,” Loud said to him, stifling a giggle. She walked away, headed to the end of the hallway. “Now, let’s go get you that job!” Ace watched her go, jaw hanging. Smirking, Nocturne elbowed him. “What’s up with you? Still reeling from getting totally schooled by your ex?” Ace shook his head. “Just remembering why I fell in love with her—ow!” As he jumped around, massaging his fetlock, Nocturne rolled her eyes and walked away. “At least I can have that interview now…” “What do you mean he’s not here?!” Nocturne screamed. The secretary sitting outside the radio executive’s office took a moment to wipe the spittle off her face before saying, “He left five minutes ago. Perhaps if you hadn’t been nearly an hour late to your interview, you would have seen him.” Nocturne spun around and shot a burning glare at Ace and Loud, who were sitting a few yards away. Ace threw up his hooves defensively. “Hey, I’m not the one who ran away!” Loud gave a weak laugh. “Uh, sorry. Again.” Nocturne kept her glare up for a few seconds before groaning at the ceiling and stalking away, tail dragging along the ground, leaving Loud and Ace to sit alone. The two of them exchanged a silent glance. “Do you happen to know who did the interior designing for this place?” Ace asked. “I dunno,” Loud said, shaking her head. She smiled. “Isn’t it horrible, though?”
