Lucky And The Search For Friends.

June 8 2015

Dear Diary

So, err, there's another date jump huh? Sorry about that Diary, I tried, I really did try to update frequently, and I'm sorry I keep screwing up, but things keep happening ya know. . . heh, I really am pathetic aren't I?

Anyway's, I haven't really been able to get any flying practice in recently, been busy with other things, important things. Not anything you need to know about diary! There very private things, well not really private but. . . gah!

Why am I even writing in you today, I'm not in the mood to write, there's too much going on right now I need to focus, but i can’t focus, and that’s the problem that I'm trying to focus on solving, so I can focus on the other more important stuff, but what if the reason I can’t focus is more important and. . .

[the rest of the page is covered in unintelligible scribbles.]

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Lucas had never really understood the expression ‘butterflies in your stomach’, surely butterflies would be dead if they were in your stomach, cause for them to be there in the first place you would have to eat them, so wouldn't they just feel like regular food? Of course that was looking at it from a more literal standpoint, from the meaning of the expression itself though, Lucas had just never really felt all that nervous or anxious, or at least not so much that he would distinctly remember the feeling itself. He wasn't terribly confident, but he had never really come across anything he couldn't handle, or at least minimum effort his way out of. So no Lucas Tracy never really understood the expression ‘butterflies in your stomach’. It was however an expression and feeling Lucky Raindrops was getting more and more familiar with.

“I made us some salad Lucas. . .”  Stuttered the snow white mare. She held herself rather stiffly, slow jerky movements easily projecting her desire to simply bolt from the situation and return to ‘her section of the house’ as it were.

“Thank you Sunshine.” Lucky cautiously replied, drawing out each word just a half second longer then needed. She offered an easy grin trying to cover up her own failing nerves. She felt a cold chill creep through her body and considered closing a window. She scoffed at that, there was no reason to close the window, it was June for crying out loud. The snow white mare had an annoyed expression on her face when Lucky returned her attention to her, and gave a small exasperated huff. It was odd really, well over a month ago Lucas would probably have just seen the company (person or otherwise),  Lucas would have barely registered the huff as anything but a small sign of annoyance, but now? Lucky couldn't help but wonder why the mare across from her smelled like a beautiful flower garden in bloom, and yet have breath that smelled of industrial mouthwash with just a hint of strawberry.

“It’s Margaret dear, please do use my actual name.” the white mare said, her French accent becoming more pronounced without the stuttering, though her voice still remained almost naught but a whisper. She had a very whisper like quality to her in general Lucky mused, the way the white mare walked as if trying to move through life without leaving a trace, the way she held herself closely prepared to shy away from prying eyes, and the smooth, quiet, and light quality of her voice. The comparison was increased a lot whenever she said anything in French, the flowing, soft quality of the French language making it almost inevitable.

Still the whisper like quality did nothing to deter the simmering anger Lucky felt towards the white mare, bitter resignation just barely dulling the anger from a deafening roar. Just when she had found someone else to talk to, someone else to share this new life with, they come in and try to impose their will on her? She should have just told the white mare to fuck off, and to take her lofty principles with her, and yet she didn't. . .

“Thank you. . . Margaret, this is delicious.” Lucky softly replied, bitter sarcasm oozing from every word. The white mare seemed to brighten a little at this, her gentle smile brightening every feature on her face, glowing like sunlight. It lasted for only a fraction of a moment (or was it actually 5 minutes? time seemed to crash when Sunshine smiled), until it morphed into a sheepish reserved smile, which then morphed into a tight small frown. The white mare shuffled backwards a few steps, her body quivering bundle of nerves.

“Thank you.” She mumbled, and then scampered off back to her section of the house. Lucky sat there staring at the living room doorway (the living room and the kitchen being the only two places the really interacted with each other), before returning her attention to her salad. Staring at the salad trying to will it into flames, lucky reluctantly gave up on her small task, and heaved an overly dramatic sigh.

She just didn't get it.

/*/

Margaret shakily rested on the frame of her bedroom door, her chest (or did horses have a different name for it?) moving up and down Shakily. Was it rage, fear, embarrassment? She wasn't entirely sure.

oh, she must be such a terrible host!

But that wasn't really what was important here, there were bigger things, more monumental things to worry about here. Three days after having met another person to talk to (another person in the same situation as her!) and they hadn't made any headway on doing well. . . anything! Her daily routine had been almost entirely unaffected, save for making meals large enough for two people now. It shouldn't be like this though, her routine should have drastically changed when another person had appeared, they should be making progress, trying to find others, building better shelter, finding ways to make sustainable energy, all the important things to sustaining civilization. she felt something start to grip the hairs of her chest rather tightly, it couldn't be her hoof thing though as that had no fingers.

Rage, rage felt very prominent right now, a little bit of the burning fiery rage that leads to many bad decisions, and a lot of frustration at the other resident of her household (rather her current residence, there was no way this would be sustainable) and the rage felt so, so very satisfying and justified. Why did the only other person she meet have to be so difficult? Why did they have to have some disconnection with reality? Why did they have to be such a god damn brat!

She felt a rather sharp jolt of pain on her chest, and realized that whatever was causing the pain, was being fuelled by her (justified) rage. She took a calming breath, counted to five, listed all the things that made her happy, and ran through several other calming exercises (self made and more common ones alike.), eventually regaining some form of a calm mood. She sat there for a few minutes, quietly breathing.

She would bring up the question of finding a different location tomorrow, at dinner, after all this situation was not sustainable.

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