Wood crashes against wood in a thunderous event, truly heralding forth the end of the world and quite possibly the end of the tavern’s door.
I blearily lifted up my head, turquoise fur sticking to the side of the mug alongside me. Somehow the mugs here managed to be both simultaneously bristly and sticky at the exact same time.
Supposedly, as told to me by a drunken friend to my left, a truly gifted student from Celestia’s School for gifted unicorns came here hoping to break the conundrum behind the mugs as their graduation thesis.
They never left.
There is some question whether they actually wanted to write a thesis or just wanted to get away from it all. That’s how most of the ponies here find their way on to a squeaky bar stool. The wanting to get away from it all, not the thesis. Not more than a hoofful of those. He passed out before he could expand on this theory more, an olive skewered crooked on top of his horn.
That’s how...well, that’s how I ended up here. Life kept giving me ups and downs and mostly? I kept thinking it was ups. I just saw the highs for the longest times until… well, until her. I was so angry after she came into my life. For a while I blamed everything on her.
For a long, long while.
...Still.
I growl under my breath, unconsciously licking the side of my mug in an attempt to whet my lips. A curious combination of stale sweat, dried drool, and beer that also, coincidentally, happened to be quite stale.
I had found it surprising earlier finding such a dark and seemingly seedy bar so close to Canterlot Castle. It was my kind of place in a town that was very much not my own. No where better to crash after a Washouts performance than a hole in the wall. I wondered, very briefly, if I had misjudged the Canterlot elite. My thoughts quickly shifted to wondering why they hadn’t torn down such an “eyesore”. Now however I know the bar isn’t for the elite, too snobby to even step on grass at a garden party, but for the guards that serve them day in and day out. Anyone would need a drink dealing with those twits.
In come the guards, swaggering in like returning heroes coming home. Loud and brawdy… and just as cocky as I like them, I admitted to myself. I push my hoof against the bar, serving to brace myself after a few too many. Maybe I shouldn’t have had so much to drink but I wasn’t going to let that pipsqueak Short Fuse be the one to drink me under the table.
Oof, head was almost starting to spin there.
Well, hair of the Diamond Dog and all. Only cure for too much alcohol is...I turn my attention towards this more pressing matter, gesturing ye olde barkeep over towards me. His attention got, I tap the side of my mug, holding up a single feather. Before he can turn away to grab my drink, a turquoise wing that I would almost swear was my own shoots out in front of me.
“Make that two, my friend, the finest drink you serve for moi!”
I glare up to see the interrupting wing attached to one of those loud guards that just entered inserting himself on the stool between me and sleepy beauty. The snores sputter for a second and I find myself hoping for a second that the guard’s attention will find a different audience before I get a good look at him.
Unlike the scrawny unicorn, this here is a rather fine example of pegasi stallionhood. He stood near a head above me, with long limbs you might normally find on one of those exotic Arabian horses. His face, still framed by a golden guardpony’s helmet, featured a jaw that could be considered chiseled along with a rakishly handsome five o'clock shadow that was surely against regulations.
And, if I don’t mind sayin’ so, his colors looked quite fetching paired together. Reminds me of the finest pegasus in Equestria. Neigh, the entire world, from here to Saddle Arabia and back.
“Name’s Zephyr Breeze,” The guard sidles a little closer to me as the barkeep starts tugging at the one and only rusty spigot in the joint, “What’s your name, little filly?”
And then he had to open that mouth of his and talk. I accept my refill from the barkeep and take a sip before answering, “Do I look like some kind of little filly to you?” I smack my lips free of the foam before continuing, “If you’re looking for some easy hookup, you best keep on prancing along, pretty boy.”
“Oh, no no no, you’ve got me all wrong. You see, I’m just hoping to chat, really!” The barkeep places a second mug in front of him, a sheen of what was overfilled glistening off the side before his hoof covers it, “You’ve got no idea idea how tiring it is only talking about guard duty all day long, that is, when we can even talk at all.”
I look around the room for Rolling Thunder. Short Fuse had, surprising no pony at all, already been escorted out this evening for starting fights. Only escorted out twice actually for once. But Rolling Thunder, she should be here still if I can only just…
How can it be so hard to spot a mare taller than most stallions? I glance back at the other tall pegasus. The guard was distracted, fiddling with his mane. My ear flicks as I feel a slightly cool breeze rustle against my pinions and I turn to see the front door opened once more. A mare exiting, and in front of her a fleeting glimpse of a frustratingly familiar blue and white tail.
“Horse feathers,” I swear under my breath before turning to the guard, “Well, why not talk with him? I already know he’s got plenty to talk about.” I lean across the guard, careful of his drink and mine, trying to reach enough to jostle awake the sleeping unicorn.
“Him,” Zephyr Breeze’s eyes follow mine, looking the unicorn up and down briefly, “ Nah, let him sleep. He’s here all the time. Frankly my dear, eggheads like him put me to sleep. You though, you look like a mare that’s all about adventure! Who’s seen what the sky has to offer and then some!” His eyes shine, not so unlike a little filly setting her sights upon a pile of Hearth’s Warming gifts.
“And you look like an oversized colt playing dress up. Am I supposed to sit here and tell you stories while you sip at your juice?”
“Hey now,” He pouts, “that’s uncalled for. Is it so much to ask to just want to talk to another pegasus about life outside the big city...And what do you mean dress up? This is a genuine Royal Guard uniform. I helped out the Princesses themselves when they revamped the security force, I’ll have you know.”
I allow myself a little bit of curiosity, “Is that so? Just didn’t seem to me like the uniform really fits you.”
“Yeah, these colors kinda clash with my coat but what’s a stallion to do? Mares do love a stallion in uniform, ya know,” A flash of teeth gleam against what little light is in the joint as he strikes a pose, “Am I right?”
I roll my eyes. “ So you went for Royal Guard instead of Wonderbolts? Colors might match better… or are you not a good enough flier, Private Breeze?”
“Ehhh, Wonderbolts are too structured, you know? They’re not really my speeeed. It’s all rules this and rules that. I gotta fly free, not held down by the man.”
I look up and down his armor slowly, the very symbol of rule enforcement around here, before looking back up at his unshaven face. “Uh-huh…”
“Oh, this,” A hoof lazily traces the golden filigree adorning the armor, “The guards aren’t all bad. I mean yeah, I guess some of the sergeants come on a bit strong… But not many jobs let you see the sights and chat up pretty fillies.”
I set down my mug contemplating. “Was it what you wanted? When you were a colt, I mean? Did you stay awake in bed at night thinking, no, dreaming, of the days when you would be full grown and step hoof the first time on a royal guard training field?”
I picture the dust billowing up, the clang of a wooden training sword against another. Iron shod hooves beat down a drumbeat of precision. The smell of sweat, a harsh tang in the air. The grunts of ponies; pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies, pushing their bodies to their limits, pushing themselves to new limits.
A drill sergeant yells at a private to pick up their pace in my imagination. Another falters behind while some push themselves farther ahead.
Not too different from the Wonderbolts.
I grunt. “Not a bad dream.”
I stare down into the sudsy foam of my drink, popping away one by one by one. Despite my glance not sparing its way up toward his face, I can see his hooves scuffle against the wooden floorboards.
“Yeah, what can I say, I’m a stallion of many talents. Not even Celestia herself could turn away all of… this”
A hoof tangles its way through his mane nervously, helmet now laying on its side on the countertop. I hadn’t even noticed him taking it off.
“Well, what about you, Miss Lightning Dust? I don’t recall hearing about any Wonderbolts with your name.”
“Heh. Yeah I’d be surprised if you did. Wonderbolts ain’t got nothing on me. You’re looking at the one and only leader of Equestria’s premiere aerial stunt team, The Washouts! You heard of us, I’m sure.”
“Oh, yeah! Didn’t they do a show here in Canterlot just the other night? I think I heard some soldiers talking about it in the barracks.”
“Oh, yeah? I bet they were impressed. You don’t see our kind of show anywhere else.”
“So that was your dream as a filly? Putting on great, big theatrical aerial shows all around the globe? Man, where did you even lear-”
“It’s not something you learn. What my team and I do, it’s in our blood. It’s what gets our wings pumping. We do what we want,” I quirk an eyebrow at him, “without some overblown sergeant yelling orders about stupid rules.”
“Sounds like my kind of calling! Where do I sign up?” He moves closer to me as he talks, “I’m sure you’ve got some sort of place alongside your flank for a handsome stallion like me.”
I snort, knocking away his reaching hoof as he leans into me and push his own drink into his grip instead.
“This swill doesn’t get any better if you don’t drink it fast,” I take a long draw of my drink, the bubbles tickling the back of my throat and a warmth spreading through my hooves, “And anyways, you can’t just join up with the Washouts. You’ve got to be a Wonderbolt first, hotshot.”
“You were a Wonderbolt? But I thought you just said you weren’t. I thought you didn’t like all the rules,” Zephyr Breeze drains his mug, leaving behind a beard of suds behind, “Barkeep, keep ‘em coming.”
“Never said I wasn’t a Wonderbolt,” I look around the bar, taking note of the mostly earth pony and pegasus patrons, “You know what they say about assumptions after all, dontcha?”
Zephyr Breeze’s cheeks color and he rubs the tips of his ears, “Well excuse me, Miss Dust. I just didn’t know,” His back straightens, “But why? The Wonderbolts are the dream of almost every little pegasus, aren’t they? I’ve got a close friend that hasn’t stopped talking about the Wonderbolts as long as I’ve known her.”
I scowl. “Yeah it was my dream too, once. The Wonderbolts aren’t all they’re cracked up to be if you can believe it. Underneath that tough exterior they’re all a bunch of little fillies too scared to break teacher’s rules.”
A smudge of brown hangs around the corner of my line of sight and I swivel, turning to see the bartender hovering just right out of direct line of sight. He grunts in acknowledgement of my stare, hooves rubbing a dirty grey rag into a rut on a glass that would be speckled to the day it broke in a drunken bar fight gone too far. My mouth twists into a half crooked scowl.
“What are you looking at,” I bite out a bit more harshly than I intend. I lift up my mug, tilting brown suds into view, “Still got plenty. We good here….I’m sorry… sorry.” A hiccup breaks out, “Something stronger if that’s alright?”
“‘Fraid not. I’m going to be cutting you off, lass. You can finish off that drink but t’after that,” A shrug, “Well, I’ve got water if you want anything else.”
I feel Zephyr Breeze’s gaze on me, and while I’m sure if I was thinking clearly it would have been only contemplative, all I felt was judgement radiating off.
“Oh my sun and moon, is that Princess Celestia in the flesh?” Zephyr Breeze cries out, neatly shorn hooves flailing out so dramatically even I couldn’t quite tell where he was supposed to be pointing at. A clamor raises up to greet his hoof.
And then , before I can even look around to find out, my side is jostled. My mug and his kiss in an unholy union involving the exchange of fluids. Just like that more than half of his remaining beer is topping off my own.
“What, why-”
“Seems like you need it,” the clamor around us starts to die down to a mildly perturbed confusion and the bartender starts to turn back to us, “To talk I mean.” His eyes stare into mine.
I hug the drink towards my body, the small act of kindness clashing weirdly with the torn up emotions fighting to be let out.
"It just makes me so… so …" I struggle, grasping at straws trying to find the right word to encompass all I've been feeling, "peeved!" I slam my hoof down on the bar, rattling my mug carelessly in the process.
"Oh hoho!" Zephyr breaks out into outrageous laughter and I scramble to catch my precious mug as a slight rattle becomes a full blown earthquake, "Oh, gosh. Even I didn't expect such language, sweet cheeks, I'm sorry. I just don't think I know anypony to just drop the P word so casually."
"Are you finished?" I bridle in my irritation, carefully not choosing my next few words, knowing now he’s not trying to push my buttons.
“I’m not making fun of you. Really, I’m not. I don’t fully understand it but I think I get some of it. I’ve always just been a go with the flow kinda pony but even then there’s currents that just kind of throw even the coolest of cats,” He pauses and I nod slightly, using the motion to tip the mug up,” I’m talking about myself of course, for a loop da loop.”
I crinkle up my muzzle, still feeling all my frustrations at the forefront fighting at odds with the light weight feathery feeling of inebriation. I peer down into my drink..our drink, I guess with a hiccup. The suds are dying down. There’s still one or two bubbles that rise to the surface popping but most have finished their journey. Those still coming are further apart, several seconds between each instead of several each second.
I lift up the mug, a little more forcefully than I intended admittedly, and throw back the last dregs. Wiping a hoof across my muzzle I step off of the bar stool, wings flaring out on instinct to correct for my lack of balance. The guard, no I mean, Zephyr, reaches out to help me and I lean into his embrace, knowing darn well I don’t need it.
“How about you and I go somewhere else, Mr. Hotshot Guard?”
Author's Note
Remember kids, drink responsibly!
If I can I will consider a part that will be separate and a bit mature. However even if I do that could take a little while. Clop can be hard to write and I work full time. I do already have a story idea for it though. Half clop, half drama from one of them calling out the wrong name in the bedroom,
