Marble Pie sat quietly in her family’s drab little living room, situated in a dusty old chair. It had been red at some point in the past, but now the color had all but entirely faded from the fabric. She readjusted her body and sighed demurely.
In front of her, the fireplace crackled softly. The whole family’s stone Hearth’s Warming dolls were situated on the rocky ledge above the glowing logs.
Marble couldn’t even bring herself to look at the granite lumps. They disgusted her. No, they reminded her she disgusted herself.
Gently stepping down from her position on the chair, she walked over to the small kitchenette nearby. Her mother had always spent long hours working in the cramped little space in years past, darting effortlessly between the various cast-iron stoves and appliances. Now, it was filled with all sorts of apple-based dishes brought from Ponyville by their guests.
She sighed in disappointment as she looked at the counters, already full with food. It wasn’t even their food, aside from a single cake her sister Pinkie had baked on her own that morning.
There wasn’t even any rock soup in the fridge. That tradition had fallen by the wayside, too.
Marble used to think that nothing was more calming than a rock. They were familiar, usually smooth, and never pretended to be something they weren’t. But as she leaned down to take a drink from the sink-not even bothering with a glass- she had to fight against the feeling of the rock inside her chest, which wanted nothing more than to sink down to the floor.
Swallowing the tepid water, she shook her head in a futile attempt to clear it. The sort of general malaise she had felt the last few days- the constant, edge-like feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong- was constantly present, and few things made her feel better. She strolled to the edge of the kitchenette and glanced out of the ancient window there.
For a moment, she took in the familiar plain, almost unchanged from her childhood. The moonlight still glinted off the rocks, as it always did, with even the snow not completely able to halt the shining light. The whole, grand view dulled the edge of that constant anxiety that had plagued Marble.
Taking another breath, she turned tail to head out of the kitchen area and back to the dusty old chair in front of the fireplace. When she turned the corner, however, she realized that she couldn’t make out the glint of the tinsel on the family’s crooked little Hearth’s Warming tree. It was dark in that section of her vision, with a figure blocking the soft light from the dying fire.
A large figure.
Marble’s breath caught in her throat, and her knees started to tremble slightly as she realized who it was.
Big Macintosh stared somewhat aloofly at Marble for a moment, before tilting his head to the side in a silent question.
Biting her lip, Marble Pie could do nothing but wince and turn her head down and away from Big Mac. It was all she could do to keep the tears from flowing down her face.
She shut her eyes even tighter as deep creaking in the floorboards heralded the stallion’s slow approach. She almost jumped when she felt a hoof on her withers.
Big Mac pulled her into a tight hug, placing the bottom of his muzzle on top of her gray mane. To Marble, it felt as if she had quickly been stabbed in the heart; but as the pain receded, the cloak of anxiety went with it.
Pulling away for a moment, Big Mac lifted her muzzle with a hoof and smiled sadly at her. Keeping a foreleg over her withers, he silently led her into the family room.
Marble reluctantly followed, watching him curiously as he clambered up onto the weathered old chair and settled in. Softly, he patted the small space in front of him.
Startled, Marble shook her head vigorously and took a step back.
Creases appeared around Big Mac’s eyes as his gaze morphed, taking on a much heavier, sadder character. He patted the space again, softer this time.
Marble stopped retreating. All of this could only make her feel worse; but, somehow, looking into Big Mac’s eyes, she knew she had to what he asked. Timidly, she took one step forward, and then another, a wave of heat from the dying fire washing over her front hooves.
The larger stallion allowed himself a small smile as Marble climbed onto the chair and turned her back at him, sitting such that their bodies didn’t touch.
From here, Marble could watch the morphing and glinting silver light dancing off the tree’s tinsel. She allowed herself to do so for a moment, before the awkward angle forced her to center her head toward the fireplace. She watched the dancing of the embers with great interest, focusing as best she could on the warm colors in front of the deep gray walls of the firebox, not willing to look at either the sickening dolls on the mantle, or anywhere near the stallion behind her.
Marble didn’t move as Big Mac’s forehooves closed around her barrel. She at first feared he would pull her back toward him, but he applied no force. Instead, he simply held her gently.
She hated this about him. Whenever she saw him, he was like this- always gentle, never brusque. He always made her want more, and she hated it.
A few more moments in Big Mac’s embrace, and the rock in her chest was replaced by a roiling, curdling, sick feeling that rose up her throat. Unable to keep control, she allowed herself to lean back into him.
Big Mac situated himself so that their forms complemented each other more completely, but didn’t change his position any further. His hooves simply laid against her soft coat, as if just surrounding her to keep her safe.
Marble obliged the beautiful, visceral, sickening feeling by leaning her head back into Big Mac’s chest. She closed her eyes- gently, this time- focusing as much as she could on the feeling of him. His coat was rougher than hers, and shorter, but also warm and pleasantly rugged. His body was hard and had all manner of little crannies formed by the junction of his ample muscles.
The pair simply sat together for a while as the fire began to die down.
Without much warning, Big Mac began to move, shifting his body around Marble Pie so as not to disturb her positioning. He stood up, leaving her alone in the chair, and turned to face her.
She gazed deeply at his visage. Her eyes begged for him to stay longer.
Big Mac simply smiled and nuzzled the top of her head, making her ears go flat against her mane. Then, he walked out of the family room on the side opposite the kitchen.
Marble Pie sat still as the creaking of the wooden stairs began, rose to a crescendo, and then slowed. A few more creaks followed, these different in character, before fading. This left only the gentle rippling and occasional popping of the fading blaze.
She knew Big Mac’s sweet parting was more of a ‘goodbye’ than an ‘until next time’.
She glanced at the Hearth’s Warming dolls on the mantle, forcing herself to analyze them. There were more than there used to be, and it didn’t feel good to see a figurine of Big Mac next to one of Sugar Belle. But, her own stone doll didn’t look as sad or lonely as before. In fact, it seemed to stand a little straighter and carry itself better. It looked almost unbreakable. It was made of rock, after all.
Author's Note
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