Chapters Letters From Whinnyapolis
The mare ran her hoof around the lid of the coffee cup, her hind hooves tapping on the floor with a thumping rhythm. Her eyes were grilling me with the intensity of the sun, small beads of sweat permeated my skin as I thought about a proper icebreaker. Although, you can imagine that it isn’t easy when somepony is searing you with her own eyes. I grabbed my cup of water and took a few wimpy sips from it, bringing my hands together. A steady stream of steam rose from her cup of coffee, joining her own collected breaths.
Snowflakes landed atop of her winter hat and coat, showing off their crystalline structure one last time before melting into thin air. Her blonde hair flickered subtly in the cold breeze, her jacket, brown and bold. She carried with her the undeniable sense of professionalism that one would expect from a government official. She took a hefty sip of her coffee, superficial indents and creases appeared as she tightened her grip on the cup. Her badge dangled from her neck, a portrait just as stern as the one that’s showing on her visage.
She was calm, calculated, and had that cunning look.
Those pictures weren’t lying. I thought.
I fiddled with my fingers one last time, my eyes looking around for one final escape until they returned to meet her gaze, “Uh, fancy to meet you Miss-”
She slammed her hoof on the table with frightening authority.
“You’ve got 10 seconds to explain yourself before I throw this coffee on you,” she said, her eyebrows furrowing as they continued to burn through my corneas. The scowl on her face deepened as the corners of her mouth tugged itself downwards. I was almost certain that this would be the last thing I’d get to see.
“Ofcoursemissdelegate, Uh- I was- I was-”
“Spit it out already!” She said out loud, attracting the attention of some bewildered passersby.
“Well- Miss Delegate, I was uh- sent here on official terms to meet with you, the representative of Whinnyapolis-”
“Nonsense! I can tell just by looking at ‘cha ugly mug that what you’re saying is a heap of balooney. It says right here on my schedule that I’ve got nothing ‘official’ planned today, much less meeting such a strange creature pretending otherwise!” Like the Minnesotan girls back home, this mare’s got that cadence in her tone that’s unmistakably so, “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today, because if I wasn’t, I’d have emptied this cup on you a long time ago.” She took another sip of her coffee, her eyes still fixated on me.
Good mood.
Really?
I tried to clear my voice using the best businessman-like tone I could muster up. “Ahem. According to this document here, it says that you’re obliged to be here at this location at this exact time,” I handed her the paper, she took one quick glance at it before ripping it clean in half and pushing it back my way. She rubbed her eyes with both of her hooves, as disinterested as ever.
“Oh please, what’s so important about this meeting that I have to be here in this dinky little coffee shop on a Sunday? I’ve seen fillies come up with better things in their letters to us for their classroom assignments. Look at this mess, the font’s wrong, this signature’s all out of whack, and Ponyville doesn’t have a delegate or representative for crying out loud!” She picked up one half of the paper and smacked it with her hooves, disapproving of my cheap attempts to forge an official letter. “Who are you, what are you, and what is your business here?”
Her rapid-fire questions took me aback, and I found myself stammering as I tackled the ever so blunt questions. “Well, my name is Anonymous, Anon for short, and I came from this place called Earth.”
“Earth?” She asked, the name not ringing any bells for her.
“Earth. It’s… a place where there are many more of us, I’m not even sure how I ended up here, the last thing I remember is blacking out after 20 hours of being awake and I woke up in this pony place– but that’s beside the point.” I could see her face shifting into total confusion as I carried on, “And I’m here to uh… meet you. Like you pointed out, not really on official terms, but I’m still here to meet you.”
“So you got my info from Celestia knows where, forge an official request, tell me to come here just so you could meet me?” She repeated each clause with a big delay, as if to emphasize to me the ridiculousness of my sole purpose for being here.
“That’s right, ma’am.”
“Are you proud of yourself?”
“Not particularly.”
“...” Her jaw hung open, I could tell that she was trying to muster up something besides a slew of anger-fueled dialogue.
“Just– look, I’ll pay for your coffee.” Her eyes widened a little as I slapped a couple bits on the table, her expression shifted to one of acceptance.
“Should’ve started with that.” She slid the bits into her jacket pockets and took a more at-ease position, dusting off some snowflakes on her hat and coat, “Very well then, so tell me, what are you enjoying about Whinnyapolis so far?” She suddenly took on a more friendly demeanor, leaning forwards and placing a hoof on the table.
As far as I could tell, it was a genuine smile, and a much appreciated change from her terrifying look earlier. I scratched my head as I searched for the right words to say. Ones that wouldn’t cause her to return to her fiery inferno mere moments ago.
On one hand, I was completely charmed by the snow-swept city, it was an atmosphere that I’d come to associate with evergreen forests. It was quieter than Manehattan’s constant hustle and bustle and more consistently chilly than Ponyville. I’d come to enjoy all the scarf-wearing ponies walking around in their winter attire. Needless to say, this was more my speed.
On the other hand, there was something about her eyes that completely captured me when I was looking through the records in the Ponyville town hall; as one does. I saw a smidgen of personal/official data and jumped the gun, impulsively writing and telegraphing that document to try and meet up with her. Hopped on a train to Whinnyapolis, sat here waiting for the better part of the hour and here I was, sitting next to the mare herself, at a loss of words as I didn’t expect for my attempt to make it this far.
“I like your hair and eyes, they’re really pretty,” she was a little taken-aback but responded in her usual tone,
“I said Whinnyapolis, not me ,” she said, her smile turning into a look of annoyance. She looked me up and down, scanning to see if there was something fundamentally wrong with the creature in front of her.
“I like the atmosphere here, it’s quite nice and I really enjoy the snow. I looked through some brochures and this place seemed the most alluring, so that’s why I came here. Plus, being able to see you would draw anypony to Whinnyapolis,” I cringed on the inside, I was never good with women, much less mares. But something inside of me kept on urging me to throw out these corny lines until something stuck.
“Listen, mister, we aren’t on a date, so stop acting like it,” she said, unamused with my attempt, “But I have to agree, this weather keeps me fresh, I can’t imagine having to deal with some hot and humid tropical weather all the time, I’d probably go insane!” She combed through her hair briefly, enjoying the flow of wind through the strands of her mane. It’s quite a mystery to me how somepony can look so effortlessly pretty.
Well played.
“Well um, are there any places around here that you suggest I visit? I haven’t really had the chance to explore around much.” I say, steering the conversation in a different direction.
“I’m no tour guide but there’s a neat place you can skate in once the pond’s frozen over and you can always visit the roadside venues, they make delicious stuff. Hayburgers, hay fries, Manehattan pizza, and whatever else suits you really, although we don’t have much in terms of entertainment.”
She gestured towards the row of restaurants that bordered our street. They were particularly bright spots that shone out towards the streets, vendors moved about, selling what I can only assume to be Whinnyapolis delicacies. My eyes narrowed as I tried to study the strange food from a distance, not making it any easier on myself.
“You never seen a plate of cheese curds in your life or what?” She asked, a look of confusion on her face.
“Not really, I mean, I know what they are, I’ve just never had them before.”
“You oughta try some one day, nopony makes it better than us Whinnyapolis ponies,” she added, sipping on her coffee.
“By the way, what do you usually do here if there isn’t much entertainment? Maybe something at home or… at work, anything?” I asked, and she responded promptly with a shrug.
“I wake up, I do my work, I go back home, I go to sleep. All day, every day. Unless it’s the weekend, then I like to keep myself occupied with a nice cup of coffee. Honest to Celestia, I’d like to do more but by the time I get to that point I’m already drained. Government business and stuff, you know the drill,” she had that “it-is-what-it-is” attitude, and I don’t blame her one bit.
“You mentioned that pond, do you ever go ice-skating? I could probably show you a thing or two, I was the best skater in my elementary class,” this prompted a minuscule chuckle from her.
“Not really, but I still have my pair of skates that I received years ago, been collecting dust in my attic ever since. But I might be up for a go, not that I’m very busy today regardless,” she took a large swill of her coffee and crumpled it up, throwing it in the bin closest to her.
“Sure! I’m itching to do something myself.”
“Alright, I’ll go get them, meet me back here in a minute,” she said as she made her way around the coffee store’s corner, heading elsewhere to retrieve her pairs of skates. I didn’t have anything on me, and I doubt that the ponies here would be very willing to make tailor made skates for a human, but I can probably fare well with just my pair of slippery shoes.
Eventually, I was kicked off of my table for sitting there for so long and not ordering anything, but that was fine as I heard a few grunts and stumbling noises around the corner. Through the windows of the store, I could see a familiar silhouette approaching.
“Goddamn- stupid skates-” the same mare from earlier hopped into view, trying to put on the last boot out of her pair. It probably wouldn’t have been wrong to assume that this was what delayed her trip back from her home to here. She panted, leaning against the wall with her hoof as she managed to get the last boot on her front hoof, kicking it against the wall to set it in place.
“You good?” I asked, walking over to her.
“Yeah, it’s just these skates are-” she panted, “-tighter than I remember… Wait, where are your skates?” She asked, looking almost betrayed at my lack of skating gear.
“I don’t got any, but I can skate just fine with these bad boys here,” She scoffed as I kicked my heels together.
“Whatever you say. Lake’s somewhere over there, follow me,” she said, awkwardly trying to maintain balance with her new found predicament. I offered to help by extending my hand, but she shook her head and slapped it away.
She stopped at an intersection on the way and straightened her tie and readjusted her hat. She still wore that professional expression as she stood still, trying not to topple over or slip away on the snow.
“Don’t you think it would’ve been better to put those things on once we got there?” Another playful jab at her.
“In hindsight, yes, but I might as well keep these on because we’re already too far along,” she groaned and mumbled something under her breath as the pedestrian crossing light switched on, forcing her to continue trekking. I tried my best to walk at her same pace, but it felt more like I was accompanying an elderly mare across the street.
This solicited a platitude of laughs and jesting remarks as we walked towards our destination, in no small part because of my unusual appearance, but she managed to keep an unbothered face and carried on. Upon arriving at the lake, I was met with the sight of ponies skating about on the frosted surface, some going out of their way to practice tricks and turns.
“You ready?” I turned over to look at her, she was prodding the ice with her skates, testing how slippery it is with gentle sliding motions. Definitely a mare that hasn’t skated in a very long time.
“Yeah, I just have to- Ack!” She slipped forwards onto the ice, her front hooves fully extending, turning her body into a glorified arch bridge. She inched her hindhooves backwards bit by bit, trying to reel in her hooves, but it wasn’t working. “Ope, a little help here?” She asked, straining to keep herself away from face planting into the ice. I ran over to her and with one swift motion, pulled her towards safety. She took a few moments to recuperate, shaking off the soreness that occurred as a result of dangling over ice.
“I’m good to go whenever you’re ready,” I say, stretching my legs and shaking my foot.
She walked toward the ice again, this time with extra caution in her steps. One hoof after the other, she made her way onto the ice, her hoofing even shakier than before. I shuffled in front of her, she was still looking straight down at the ground, trying to not become a contorted mess on the ground. “C’mon, you gotta look upwards, you’re gonna fall on your flank if you keep on staring at the ground,” She craned her neck upwards, letting out a big exhale as she finally feels more stable.
“Is this better?” She said, it looked like she was using everything in herself to not look back down at the ground.
“You’re doing great. Okay, now I want you to use your left hooves and kick off the ground slowly. Put your weight on your right hooves as you kick, if anything happens I’ll catch you,” she placed her hooves into position, gulping as she tried to kick herself forwards. The first few attempts were like striking a match in rain, and she only moved up a tiny distance. But, with every next push, she went a little further.
“I think I’m… getting the hang of this, but it’s still really hard and my hooves are starting to ache,” she bent her forehoof upward, grimacing a bit before placing it back down on the ice, “I apologize for being slowish, this stuff’s really not my specialty.”
“Hey no worries, as long as you’re having fun,” she gave me a tiny smile and pushed forwards again, this time, she glided across the ice with extra speed, her eyes widened in panic as she tumbled towards me.
“Holymotherof-”
“Make a V! Make a V with your hooves!” I cried out in protest, but it was a futile attempt. I braced myself as we made impact, the collision sending the both of us tumbling towards the ground. Upon regaining my bearings, I found my arm being clutched by hers, and just as quickly as I noticed, she retracted her hooves and immediately tried to stand up again.
“Not the smoothest landing I’ve ever seen; But fun as hell, wanna do it again?”
“What, are you crazy? My shoulders are sore from that!” She denied my preposterous suggestion and scoffed as she kicked herself closer to shore, I followed closely behind.
“C’mon, one more time?”
“Do you want me to kick you or not?” She turned her head around, face as stern as ever as she marched on forwards.
“I suppose not, but here, let me help,” Seeing that she was still having a little bit of trouble moving, I placed a hand on her jacket and gently guided her forwards. She unstiffened herself, relieved that somepony else could take charge for a second as she took a breather. Once we got off of the ice, she sat down on the snow and sighed, turning over to look at me.
“That was a ride alright, phew…” She half said half exhaled, taking off her skating shoes one by one.
“Yup, I gotta say, that was not a half-bad experience,” I said, she nodded in agreement.
“It’s been quite a bit since I’ve been out here, thanks for the idea. But I’m really winded now, dontcha know,” She gave a soft chuckle, tying her skate-strings together.
“Ya’ done for today?” I asked.
“You betcha, I got a lot of things to get to tomorrow, so I probably can’t spend too much time fooling around. My name’s March Snowgust, but you can just call me March,” She stood up, “Obviously, I cannot disclose to you my personal residence, but you can write to our city hall and I’ll write you back. I’ll be free next weekend if you’re up for another ‘official meeting’,” she added with a playful smile.
“Sounds good, it was really nice meeting you today,” I shook her hoof, forgetting that I’d never introduced my name to her throughout the entire time. She nodded and slung the skates over her back, trotting off into the distance.
I brought my hands together and stood in place, feeling the contours and bumps of my own hands. As I walk back to the train station to head back to my temporary residence in Ponyville, there was only one thought on my mind.
Could this be the start of something more?
Author's Note
Hi hi!
Just writing a story to show some love for a very beautiful and pretty mare.
All feedback/criticism appreciated, this is an incomplete story, and their romance is only about to bud.
Hope you enjoyed the read!
Letters From Whinnyapolis
She told me that I could write to her over the weekdays, so that’s what I did.
I went and bought a pack of pencils from the market and a heap of paper, lit up a candle or two as I got home for some atmospheric enrichment and wrote away.
Dear March,
This is my first letter to you, I hope that you will receive this because honestly, I have no clue if my words would even reach you or if some freak accident would make my letter lost. I wrote my current address on the cover, hopefully it’s clear enough for you to read.
Anyways, I just wanted to extend my greetings to you over there, see how things are going, what you’ve been up to, how you’re doing, and everything in between. I know you’re real busy this week but just know I wouldn’t mind hearing everything you’ve got to say (or write) one bit. Even if it’s just about your job. Or maybe the weather, who knows.
I went to the local markets today. Got the supplies for this letter, and got some food from the shops. They tasted decent but left a grassy aftertaste in my mouth, must be because of all the hay in it. I wanted to revisit that skating thing we did yesterday, sorry for not bringing myself a pair, didn’t mean to leave you behind or anything, honest.
Anywhom, I hope you’re hanging in there alright with your job. I don’t got much experience doing what you do but I can imagine stuff can get a little hectic sometimes.
Good day,
Anonymous.
P.S: I still like your hair. And eyes.
The letter wasn’t the best work I’d ever done, scribbled in pencil marks and sporting not the best English you’d ever seen. Some parts of it were sloppy, choppy, and a few other words ending in -ppy that I don’t really care to list right now, you get the gist. Writing letters seemed quite archaic compared to the system that I was so used to. But, it was time well spent, and I chucked the letter into my mailbox, waltzing back inside my home and staring out of the window with anticipation.
Eventually, the mail pony came along. I was a bit worried that he would’ve taken a millenia to get that letter all the way to Whinnyapolis with his pace, but everything worked out fine in the end. I laid in the bed all night long with excitement, barely able to sleep as I thought about all the ways she could write back. For all I know, it could be entirely different from how she presented herself when we were meeting in person… or is it in pony?
As morning came, I clutched a cup of water in my hands and waited until something would be written back. Maybe I’d stood there for a couple hours, who knew, but I darted out of the door immediately at the first sign of the mail pony approaching my residence and snatched it clean out of his hooves. I went back inside and ripped the front cover open, finishing my cup of water in one big gulp as I prepared to lay my eyes on what she’d written.
To Sir Anonymous,
First and foremost, I would like to request that you do not start off your letters with “Dear” in the future, that is reserved for if you’re sending your letter directly to my residence. Our city hall is a little strict regarding the greetings and sign-offs. The contents of your letter will not be judged otherwise, so feel free to continue as you were.
I expected for you to be more dexterous seeing as you have 5 digits, but I guess writing is not your strong suit. Now, I was able to write this letter and send it to you, so you can rest assured knowing that your writing is at least legible. But, I’ll have to give you some pointers the next time I see you.
The delegate of Manehattan was sent to see me yesterday, alongside a few other officials. Issue being, the main roads that connect the cities together were reported to have had a large amount of potholes scattered throughout, and we were trying to discuss the repair plans. I’d have garnered something more productive from the whole session if it weren’t for that Manehattan delegate’s constant “Hey I’m talkin’ here! Hey I’m workin’ here!” Attitude. Holy buckets, it’s so annoying. At least he’s got a few decent ideas to back up his loudmouthing.
The grassy aftertaste that comes after eating the food is due to the hay in the food. I’m not sure what you eat at Earth but we ponies eat a lot of hay, we’re vegetarian. And about the skates, all forgiven. I’d actually have liked to do that little stunt again with you but at one point, the other ponies would be staring at us, and that would be another can of worms. It’s a nice little thrill after all.
As for myself, I’d say I’m doing fine. It’s a little snowy out there; as per usual, and I find myself idly staring out at the streets more often than I want to admit. You have to remember that the weather isn’t the only thing that’s cold in these places. Ponies are cold too, the term “Whinneysota Ice” isn’t a saying for no reason. And it’s not like I have some deep desire for connection but it’s a nice thing to have. Nopony, no matter how withdrawn they are, is completely averted to interaction; especially if it's meaningful. Although some ponies here can learn a thing or two about that.
Meeting you was a nice change of pace, that’s for sure. But, I’ve spent too much time writing today, and I’ve got more things to attend to tomorrow.
I hope these words find you well,
March Snowgust, Whinnyapolis Delegate.
P.S: Thanks, you flatter me. Although, next time, just include it in the body of the letter. I do not like P.S’s very much as they disrupt the flow, and this will be the last time you see me using one.
I could almost feel like the air was intertwined with the atmosphere from somewhere government-like. I didn’t expect her writing style to adhere to such a vehement strictness, but I find it quite charming. As far as I could tell, there were a few new things on my agenda, get better handwriting and stop using P.S’s after my letters.
I didn’t know what I was doing, but I ran upstairs and got a box to store her letter in. I neatly folded the paper and put it back into its envelope, closing it with its original adherence.
*This was going to be the first of many.* was the only thing going through my head. I suddenly felt the need to just pour out everything into my head and mail it to her, but that would be an eyeful of nothing. I enjoyed this form of back and forth writing, it was more fulfilling than some crappy text that would take me less than a second to send.
And, something about potentially having someone working for the government as your pen-pal just seemed like a wonderfully strange concept to me. Not that it matters in the grand scheme of things, but it does make me feel a tinge more important in a way. As I chowed down my measly bowl of cereal, I thought about what to write back with.
To March,
Hello again, thanks for writing back to me so fast! I took some of your concerns to heart and I will no longer address my letters using Dear or finish my letters off with P.S’s. Hmm, I suppose I’ll just include it at the beginning paragraph from now on. I was just thinking, that the next time that I come over, maybe we can go to some sort of restaurant? I do want to get to know you a little bit better.
And yes, my handwriting isn’t the best, or very good at all for that matter, but that’s because it’s sort of an outdated form of writing where I came from. For example, back in the day, we used to have these commercial typewriters where you input the letter that you want, and it would press it on the paper and so-forth. And even that is considered antique technology here. Now we have all these devices that you can send others messages to and from within seconds.
Sorry, that was just a long excuse on why my handwriting probably looks like a filly’s. I promise I’m actually trying this time.
Sorry about that other delegate, I’ve known a handful of folks that behave the same way and yeah, does hurt my head a bit whenever I’m around them. I’m actually quite surprised that you ponies are actually trying to discuss a plan to fix the potholes, there was this one pothole near my old house that didn’t get fixed for like… 4 years. Not that it was too disruptive because it was in a residential area but still. How’re the discussions going now? Anything new? I don’t know much about this Manehattan you mentioned but if it’s the same thing I’m thinking of, there’s gotta be a bunch of traffic coming in and out.
A lot of us are also vegetarians, or vegans, they just don’t eat hay. And another thing that I wanted to say, that I found you so so so so cute when we fell down that one time and you were grabbing on my arm. I apologize if you don’t want to be called that but, that’s just what I wanted to tell you. It honestly made me feel all fuzzy inside for just a little bit, but I’ll stop going on about this now.
I have to agree with your sentiment. I would consider myself an introvert but it’s really nice to have some worthwhile conversations sometimes. I’d say that going out this far to meet you was probably one of the biggest steps I’ve ever taken socially, and I’d say that it paid off? I’m still grateful that the reception upon my arrival in Ponyville was so warm but getting to talk (and now write) to you makes me happy. I couldn’t tell ya’ why and how, it just does.
Good day,
Anonymous.
I glanced back at my work a few times over and was quite pleased with myself. It wasn’t easy switching my handwriting style from using 4 fingers to 3, and although the improvements were small, they were noticeable. I checked it one last time for any errors I may have missed, and sealed the envelope shut with a big kiss. Don’t ask me why, it just felt right.
I’ll say, my heart was racing a bit from re-reading my comments to her, they felt more direct than I wanted them to be. Bits of it felt too forward to send but I decided to bite my tongue and keep on writing regardless. What’s the worst that could happen? She hasn’t really rejected my small compliments in the past, and although this is a step up, it isn’t anything that would be crossing a boundary.
I clenched my teeth for one last time as the mail pony arrived and took my letter away to Whinnyapolis once again. Visiting the local stalls and markets to clear my mind, I found a couple of mares selling bouquets and beautiful floral arrangements. After a brief conversation with the leading florists, I decided on a white orchid with a large pink petal at the bottom. They said it’d be a great gift for somepony from Whinnyapolis.
Of course, I couldn’t buy it yet because it would end up wilted with my care, so I asked them to reserve a flower or two when I’d come back in a few days. Miraculously, they agreed to my strange request. I only decided on a small number because, judging from what March wrote to me earlier, she sounds like she’d appreciate small gestures as opposed to grand ones. Also, because I don’t have the bits to finance a big and elaborate floral arrangement, so this’ll have to do.
Another night passes by.
I stayed up awfully late last night due to extra excitement, so I missed the part when her letter was delivered. But, seeing as the flag was raised, I got outside and retrieved my treasure just as quickly. This time, the letter had an extra bit of thickness on the backside, and had a different return address. I used my fingernail to gently pry open the lid of the envelope, trying not to cause any unnecessary rips.
Dear Anon,
Behind this letter are three photos I took from yesterday, do not look at them yet.
You may have noticed that I’ve written down a new address on my envelope, this is where I live. My apologies for the restrictions on how you could start your letter, you may now write freely as you wish. I also found myself feeling quite restricted at the city hall, so I’m writing to you within the premises of my home.
I see that your hoofwriting is improved, I’m glad. As for this technology you speak of, I’ll take your word for it but it sounds quite outlandish compared to what we have here. Although, it would be more convenient for everypony if the means of communications here are so instant. At least our mail delivery systems have seen quite the increase in quality over the years. Perhaps you can tell me more about other things you have over at Earth? I’d be interested.
And no, there are no significant developments so far. We’ve decided that the repairs would be sanctioned early on a Friday to reduce traffic while our workers section off areas that would be in need of repair. You’d be right about Manehattan having a lot of traffic, in fact; the term rush-hour was coined a handful years ago to describe the amount of traffic coming from there.
I must say, I’m glad you think that I’m cute. I’m not very used to this type of attention from stallions or anypony for that matter, so you’ll have to bear with me on that side. There’s a higher-end restaurant near where we were, I reckon we could go there for a nice first date. It’ll be my treat since you paid for that coffee I had. I’m not sure if you’ve had any Itailian cuisine, but it’s definitely on a different platter compared to what I eat on a daily basis.
You’re really nice, Anon.
You may now look.
Warm Regards,
March.
Without a second’s delay, I set the letter down and grabbed the remaining pictures from the letter. There were some scribblings on the back that were written with the same amount of eloquence as the main letter.
“It was a little awkward trying to figure this whole ‘taking a picture of myself’ thing, hope you don’t mind my arm covering a chunk of the picture.
I got a lot of looks from the other ponies,
You’d better enjoy this.”
The first picture was labeled with “Snow Angel.”, March was laying in the snow, a beautiful smile across her face. My heart almost melted then and there as I saw a tiny heart carved out in the snow.
Her arms were outstretched and she was holding what I could only assume was some form of a handheld polaroid camera. A few bits of snow were in between her hair, and she was deep enough into the snow that it was covering a decent amount of her jacket. She really puts the angel in snow angel.
I set the picture on the corner of the table and moved on to the next one, it was labeled “Coffee at same spot.”. She sat at the same coffee shop we were at, her eyes furrowed slightly and her tongue stuck out just a tad. She seemed to be mainly focusing on the camera which describes her expression. Bits of snow still lingered in her hair and on her coat, she never bothered to dust herself off after the snow angel picture.
A steaming cup of coffee sat on the table, its steam rising up into the backdrop of snow-covered trees and roads. Somewhere in the distance, I could see a part of the lake we skated on.
I let this photograph join its predecessor, and moved on to the third picture. It was very simply labeled “The Restaurant”. It depicted a fancy looking restaurant that was packed full of ponies, many of which were staring at their photographer. It was centered neatly in the middle of the frame, many blurs were seen near the edges of the photo of passing by ponies. It sounds like she picked a high-traffic location.
I looked back at the other pictures she sent, I didn’t have the means to frame them or anything, but I had a dusty notebook that I could temporarily keep the pictures in. I taped them into the notebook and wrote the labels to the side. Even though she wouldn’t be able to write to me back as I was headed to Whinnyapolis tomorrow, it wouldn’t hurt to write her a letter to tell her in advance. As well as to tell her how stunning she looked in those pictures.
Dear March,
Just writing this last letter to you to notify you that I’ll be headed to Whinnyapolis by tomorrow morning, so you don’t have to write back.
And wow! You’re so gorgeous in those pictures, I haven’t seen any mare who’s prettier than you. And sure, I can tell you about everything cool we got back on Earth, a lot of things would probably blow your mind.
That’s all.
Good day,
Anonymous.
Done and sent. It won’t go out until tomorrow but I was going to tell her that once I got there regardless. There was only one more thing that needed to be done.
I went to the florists again and picked up my reserved flowers, went home and put them in a little vase filled up with water. They looked gorgeous under the gentle evening sun, I could see the distinct mass of pink on the petal intertwining with the warm sunlight.
I was a bit nervous about how tomorrow would go. I searched in my not-very-expansive cabinet and came up with an outfit that would be fit for an interview at a minimum-wage restaurant. It had only been a week since I last saw her but for some reason, I feel like I’d be meeting with an entirely different mare. And something told me that every bit of my brain was forgetting how to properly go on a date with somepony.
One that I wanted to get closer to, and one who I desperately wanted to be able to love. Maybe my love language is a little intense, I definitely receive that a lot, but it feels best when I follow my heart. I’m just a small dam holding back an endless river of affection and love after all, and if there’s anypony who I’d want to receive that, I’d want it to be her and nopony else.
Okay, enough of the sap, you get the point, I really like March.
Anyways, I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow.
Author's Note
Anon writes to March and March writes back to Anon!
Hope you find March as adorable as I did, she's wonderful.
Thanks for reading!
Next chapter coming soon-ish.
Letters From Whinnyapolis
I sprung forth from the bed and landed into my shoes, darting out of the room. I combed through my frayed hair in front of the mirror and tampered it down with a few splashes of water. It looked like a hurricane had passed through the house earlier judging by my appearance. Something like this was an all too common occurrence. Going over to my pre-ironed clothes that were waiting for me by the door, I threw them on and chucked my old clothes into the bin.
I popped a tablet of chewing gum into my mouth, took the flowers from the vase, and made off towards the train. There was a spring in my step, and a flow in my body as I half-jogged to the station. I wore a brown turtleneck alongside a pair of light beige cargo pants, alongside a light blue jacket that I’d put on at the last second. It was the most proper thing I could concoct, a mismatch between an odd number of birthday presents I received in the past.
Reaching down my back, I plucked off a tag and stuffed it in my pocket. I'd never worn these things before and now I’m wearing them for the first date.
But it was no matter, my pace picked up as the train screeched to a halt in the distance, blowing its horns. My feet glided across the cobbled roads, it felt like I was flying as I narrowly entered the train cabin. The ponies were a little confused upon seeing my frazzled look. Nearing the back of the cabin, I took a seat in an empty section and set down the flowers on my lap.
The ride to Whinnyapolis wasn’t long the last time I rode, and not very busy too. Somepony told me that the only reason that anypony would want to move to Whinnyapolis would be if they were obliged by their job or if they were visiting relatives. Today, I bring forth a third reason; dating.
As I settled into the cushioned chair, I fumbled with the turtleneck’s itchy collar before resting my neck on the windowpane. Having not slept a lot last night, I’d take the extra shut-eye whenever I could.
Sounds of moving ponies and shuttered chatter were consistent throughout the ride, the general accent becoming more Northern oriented the more I stayed on the train. A creeping sense of cold penetrated through the thin glass, and I opened my eyes to see very heavy snowfall coupled with what seems to be a few feet of snow on the ground.
What was visible of the sky seemed to be covered by a foggy gray, and I was certain it wasn’t like this the last time I visited. I took another look at my choice of attire and leaned back into my seat, groaning.
I’d probably die in this weather.
Ponies around me were quite nonchalant about everything, clad in their multiple layers of winter clothing. Some snuck sharp glances at me, mainly targeting my shirt that was a little bit too thin for this type of climate. Tall buildings went by as the train pulled into a station, halting once more. Ponies funneled out of the train with monotone expressions as I sat in my seat, building up the courage to bring myself into the freezing cold.
As I took the step of faith into the outside world, piercing breezes went through my shirt like it was just a mere facade. My outstretched stance turned into a withdrawn mess as I huddled towards the benches. I mapped out a path in my head of the routes to take that would not make me end up as a frostbitten corpse on the ground. First, I’d go to this neat little clothing store on the right, then, I’d head to that big steaming food stall, then I’d–
A hoof pressed on my back just as I was about to make the run for it.
“I knew you’d wear something dumb for our date.” I snapped my neck around to see March behind me, stoic acceptance on her face. She threw a heat pack at my chest which I caught after a second of juggling it in the air, “A little bit of snow today, hm?” As I prepared myself to chuckle, I noticed that she had a deadpan expression and was looking elsewhere. I cleared my throat.
“Yeah, a bit,” I said. She shook her head as she returned to face me, nudging me along with a few firm thumps. I was practically dragged across the road as we turned left and right, navigating the icy roads. As we made our way through uncountable brick buildings and complexes, we halted at a two-story building, indiscernible from the rest.
“Is this your house?” I ask, still clutching onto the heat pack for dear life. I briefly looked around my surroundings, we were in a different corner of Whinnyapolis, gruff-looking ponies looked out of their windows with a hint of skepticism in their eyes. Not the prettiest part of town, I thought.
“None other,” she said, pushing a pair of keys into the lock and pushing the door open. Her home was sparsely furnished, a distinct lack of decorations was the first thing that I picked up on. There was a “Welcome” mattress on the outside, but that was about all there was. She led me inside the house, shaking off some snow that had accumulated on her coat. I followed suit.
Closer inspections told me that, although the interiors were a bit worse for wear, it’s still maintained quite regularly. She turned and went into a room off to the side, it was next to the staircase. Taking off my shoes and socks, I laid them on the ground and walked inside of a bedroom, following her hoofsteps. For the record, she was silent throughout the whole ordeal, and I didn’t really notice where I was headed until the door shut behind me.
I sat down on the mattress with a soft thump, she stood near the doorway, looking quite blank. There were two hot drinks already on the bedside table, and I helped myself to one. I brought it closer to take a quick whiff, and the spicy aroma cleared my sinuses then and there.
“So… what exactly are we doing here?” I asked, enjoying the warmth of the hot beverage as I held it in my palms.
“I can’t let you go outside in that cold without any sort of protection, don'tcha know. Wait here, I’ll get you some extra clothing,” she left the room as soon as she said it, and I could hear a few rustling sounds from the room next to me. I took a sip of whatever was in the cup, relieved at the fact that it’s just hot chocolate and not battery acid black coffee.
There was a picture frame on the table, it was an image of March sitting next to somepony. I could only tell because there was a hoof wrapped around her neck, the other half of the image had been cut off, leaving only her image. Sensing that she was approaching, I looked away from the frame. The last thing that left my peripheral was the date at the bottom of the frame, going back two years.
It was not long before she made her way back into the bedroom, carrying with her a variety of garments and scarves. She caught onto my strange behavior but dismissed it with a wave of a hoof.
“Oh, that’s nothing. Just an old picture I had around,” she added, fixing the slight tilt of the frame before carrying on. “Here’s some scarves I got for you, not the comfiest out there but it should help with the cold,” she smiled weakly, subdued with emotion in her eyes.
I picked out the thickest ones that she had and wrapped it around my neck, creating a mess of tangled fabric that would repel Satan himself. She put the rest of what she had into a cabinet and briefly looked at me before gesturing for me to follow her.
“I gotta say, this wasn’t the type of place I was expecting you to live in,” I added as we shuffled through the hallways.
“I prefer it this way,” she said. I prepared myself as she swung the door open, an immediate inpour of coldness filled the house up with a chill that gave me goosebumps. At least now only in the areas where there was exposed skin.
The streets felt a little more empty as we walked on them, passing by numerous storefronts that are also lacking in business. The cold air from our breaths mingled, white clouds dissipated into nothingness behind us. Melancholy lingered in the atmosphere, I couldn’t help but to notice that she still carried with her that same look from earlier.
As we neared the same row of restaurants from our first meeting, I reeled back at the activity in the same restaurant that March had taken a picture of. Her expression faded into that of a more neutral look, and she batted her eyes back at me, a sweet smile on her face.
“I’ve never eaten at this place before, so I know just as much as the next pony,” she added, craning her neck to look into the interior of the restaurant.
There was an almost constant stream of ponies entering and exiting the building, and I could make out faint strings of conversation through the swinging glass door. I must’ve looked through the big glass windows for too long because a nudge on my leg brought me out of it. As we were seated at the table, the waiter brought menus to us with unmistakably Italian dishes. Sorry, Itailian.
It is and will always be a surprise to me that everything here can have such parallels with the things we have on Earth. I scanned down the list of dishes offered at the restaurant, and settled with a Pasta Carbonara. Meanwhile, she seemed to be having a lot of trouble deciding what to eat.
“Having a hard time over there?” I asked. Her eye movements were so precise, I could almost see each and every line she was currently on. She nodded, stopping for a brief moment and closing the menu.
“Yeah, there’s no images anywhere and I’m not exactly a connoisseur of this food. I think I’ll just ask them to make me something random. You got anything in mind?” She asked, eyebrow cocked.
“Uh.. yeah, I was just thinking about getting the Pasta Carbonara, I used to eat this every other week at home,” I said, folding up my menu and placing it on hers.
“The Pasta what?” She asked.
“Pasta Carbonara. Basically, spaghetti made with eggs, seasoned with salt and black pepper, and um, ‘cured hay’, at least here it is. And, it has cheese,” I conjured up a mental image in my head, it’d been so long since I had proper carbonara and not some crap I made.
“Sounds good,” she said with a soft smile, “You really know your stuff huh?”
“Nah, we also had this food back from where I came from, only difference is, it’s called Italian food,” I said, emphasizing the “Italian” part.
“I… tah-lian?” She said, tilting her head a little to the side.
“Yup. Also, you’re not gonna believe me, but we also have a Whinnyapolis and a Manehattan, the only difference being their names. There, we call it Minneapolis and Manhattan,” her eyes went through a mixture of narrowing and furrowing as I spoke.
“No way,” she said, placing a hoof on the table and leaning backwards with a hint of skepticism.
“Yes way. In fact, the people in Minneapolis sound Just. Like. You,” I said, reaching out to boop her on the nose. She responded in kind by scrunching it up and flicking my hand away.
“You mean like the Whinneysotan accent?” She asked, still in disbelief.
“Yes, the Minnesot– Whinneysotan accent, I don’t know how our worlds are so similar in that sense, but it’s pretty cool,” I said, crossing my arms.
Her mouth twitched a little as she searched for a response, but she settled for a nod and a quick raise of the eye. She took a large sip out of the provided water and patted her mouth dry with the tablecloth. I was still curious about that picture she had put up, but I didn’t want to sour the mood with my nosy self.
“So, how is your time in Equestria so far? I know for certain that the ponies here must’ve taken a while to get used to your… appearance,” She said, smirking.
“Everything’s been alright, I mainly work odd-jobs here and there just to make a couple bits. But, costs of living are low here, and I can get away with not doing much. And, you say that, but my reception– at least in Ponyville, was quite warm. Of course ponies still give me the stare every now and then, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” she chuckled as I finished my long-drawn answer.
“I can imagine that,” she said. It was quite the treat when she’s relaxed, and for a moment I could feel the corners of my lips tugging upwards as I sat across from her. I didn’t have a lot to add to the conversation, and neither did she, but I felt content enough with this silence.
If anything, it let me look into her eyes just for a bit longer.
It wasn’t long before a waiter arrived to take our order. He wore a navy blue apron and had quite the fancy mustache. Taking a moment to refill March’s glass, he asked for our orders in a smooth voice.
“Welcome to Gusto, my name is Parma John and I will be your waiter for today, may I take your orders?” He asked, sporting a distinct lack of a pen and paper. March looked unready, so I went first.
“I’ll just take the Pasta Carbonara, thank you,” I said. The waiter gave me a firm nod and turned to look at March.
“Of course, and for you ma’am?” He said.
“Surprise me. And… I’ll take some red wine, thanks. The cheapest kind,” she added with a sudden urgency in her voice.
“Very well, I will be right back with your food,” the waiter shuffled away and disappeared into the kitchen.
“March, I didn’t know that you drank wine,” I asked. It wasn’t something that would surprise me but considering her cutie mark, I thought she’d have a preference for a short coffee of some sort at this restaurant. She shrugged.
“I don’t, but I wanted to try since we’re here. I always wondered what it tasted like,” she said.
“Wouldn’t you have wine sometimes with your meetings and such?” I scratched my head.
“What sort of meetings do you think I go to?” She looked at me with a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes.
“Fair point.” The waiter came back with a bottle of wine and poured it into our glasses until a third of the way full. March herself appeared to be surprised at the amount.
“This is our house red wine, enjoy,” the waiter vanished again, leaving us to our own devices. I never liked wine, it was too intense of a taste for me to enjoy. Not that I had the money nor the opportunity to splurge in these wine and dine dinners very often.
March picked up her glass and stared at it before taking a big swill. She smacked her lips a little, tasting all of the different flavors there were in the wine. She placed both of her hooves on the table and pressed it down. She bent her neck and contorted her face in a funny way.
“I didn’t like that very much,” March said calmly, a gruff voice from processing the unpleasant flavors. I chuckled and pushed my wine glass to the side.
“Yeah, me neither, but I don’t drink much anyways. How’s it taste?” I asked, shifting my expression a bit as I tasted the wine in my head.
“Weird.”
“Yeah, sounds about right,” I added. She raised her glass once more and downed the rest of it in one go, leaving as little time as possible for her to taste the wine.
“Hey hey hey, what are you doing?” I asked as she placed her glass down and drank some water to clear out the aftertaste.
“Uff da… that wasn’t fun, but I can’t waste any bits. And I definitely will if I eat the food first. Give me your glass,” she extended her hoof to grab mine, but I stopped her by snatching her hoof. She stopped and looked up at me, her cheeks now had a rose-tinted flare to them. Whether it was a byproduct of the sudden wine intake or not, I wasn’t sure.
“March, no, I’ll keep my glass,” I said, and with a grunt, she muttered an affirmation and tried to yank her hoof away from my grasp, “On second thought, I want to keep on holding your hoof if that’s alright with you,” I said, the words almost flowing together like a stream.
This was my first time really holding a pony that way, and her hoof was a lot softer than I initially expected. I bristled her fur, enjoying its silky coldness. Her blush’s complexion had reddened a tinge more, so I guess she had no objections to what I was doing. Although it was a bit awkward having to stretch my hand out over the table and maneuvering over the various items already on it, it was worth it.
“Hey March, would you mind if I switched my seat and sat next to you? This is a little awkward,” I say, preparing to move myself out of the seat. I was thankful that no one was looking at our half-baked display. She retracted her hoof and nodded, scooting closer towards the wall to make some room for me. I took a few large steps over and moved in with her, getting close enough that our bodies were brushing against each other.
I sat there and continued to hold her hoof, brushing over it with my thumb. As I leaned in closer to say something to her, she thumped my stomach with enough force that it caused me to keel over and clutch my belly in pain.
“March, what the f–”
“-Ahem. Your food,” I turned to see the waiter standing there, holding two steaming dishes on both of his hooves. He wore a quizzical look on his face, sliding them down onto the table and going elsewhere. The dish that they’d make for her seemed to be a small Margherita pizza, and it looked amazing.
I took my fork and dug into the Carbonara, enjoying the absolute creaminess of the dish. Although the hay’s texture wasn’t my favorite, I still liked its saltiness.
March was worried, and she spectated my careless feasting for a while before running her hoof along the side of my belly in soothing motions. It kind of tickled.
“Are you hurt?” She asked.
“Uh-uh.” I mumbled over my mouthful of food. Yes, there was a slight burning sensation down there, but it wasn’t anything I haven’t experienced before. And, nothing could take me out of chowing down on some good comfort food.
“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” She spoke, this time in a firmer voice.
“Heh, I know, I’ll be better next time, I promise,” I said, finishing off my current bite and wiping my mouth clean. Her expression softened as she returned to her meal, picking up a slice of pizza and taking a large bite out of it. She chewed, giving slight nods along the way, “I take it you like it?” I asked, enjoying how adorable she was as she ate in silence.
By now, her cheeks were almost the same hue as her bright pink eyes.
“Yeah, the flavor isn’t what I’m used to from pizza but it’s quite good,” she said, swallowing, “How’s your pasta?” She asked, her attention now on my half-eaten plate.
“Oh, it’s amazing! Just as good as what we had back home. Hey, maybe you’d like to try some?” I spun my fork around, tangling the strands of spaghetti together for the perfect bite. She looked at me, hooves clammed onto my hand as she opened her mouth with a certain pensiveness. She inched her head closer and bit down on the fork, pulling away as she chewed. As she eased herself, the one cautious expression melted into satisfaction. I brought my hand to her hair and held one of her locks in place, it was very smooth.
“Please, we’re in public, Anon.” She retorted, brushing away my hand and prompting me to continue eating like normal. Our meal passed in relative silence, I finished my meal a lot earlier than March, and that gave me extra opportunities to gaze into her eyes. I know, it’s really cheesy, but sometimes I just can’t help myself in situations like these.
Before we knew it, we were outside, having already paid the bill and left. For a minute, we stood there, exchanging no words. I pulled the flowers out of my pocket and patted her on the back, handing it to her.
“I picked this up back in Ponyville, the florists there recommended it,” she plucked it out of my palm and observed it for a short while. A warm smile perked up on her face, but it shifted to a more solemn look as she looked back at the flower. As she stuffed the flower into her jacket’s collar, snowflakes landed atop the petals.
Maybe it was an incoming food coma, but I could tell she had something else in her that was a source of bothering. Before I could ask her what was wrong, she stood on her hind hooves and wrapped her arms around my waist, perking her head up and looking at me.
“Anon… I… I…” She paused, hesitating.
“You love me?” I asked with snark, returning her hug. Her warmness radiated through my entire body, and I could feel my arms tightening their grasp around her.
“No, well– that is not what I’m talking about, just, give me a second,” she said, sighing. She released her grasp of me and returned her gaze to the ground. As I kneeled down to try and figure out what was wrong, a singular tear fell onto the snow.
“March… what’s wrong?” I cupped her face with my hand, she took my hand and pushed it away, eyes still lingered on the snow. A second later, she made eye contact with me.
“We have to walk.”
Author's Note
March seems to have a lot on her mind.
Letters From Whinnyapolis
Snow flattened under our firm steps as we walked, masses of ponies fizzled out the further we made away from the restaurant. I brushed my hand against a streetlamp, its coldness seeping through my skin. A small road led to a desolate park, its premises being adorned by the odd bench and lamppost. Hedges and bushes stood firm against the onslaught of snowfall, there was a fountain, frozen in place. It was filled with bits, suspended to the bottom by ice.
March ran her hoof along the side of the fountain, feeling the cold of the marble curves. Her once wet eyes were now dried out, and she was a mirror image of the first day I saw her. Stern, authoritative, and a plethora of many official-like attitudes. Yet, it seems like that is just something that remained with her through her career. Underneath, I could feel that there was something bubbling up. Her breaths were shallow, and with each breath came a small cloud.
As I looked down at the fountain myself, I noticed many with various inscriptions on them. Those at the bottom had accumulated more rust and oxidation, their details faded away after years spent in the water. She glanced at the flower once more, her hind hoof shifting to the side with a light sway.
“...” A tiny voice came from her. A light nasal sound, indicative of an “mm”.
“Yes, March?” I asked. She gazed upon all the bits at the bottom of the fountain, a heavy exhale; her response.
“This is where we met, and this is where we departed,” her eyes met mine for half a second, “I was sitting on that bench with a coffee, a stallion came along, his eyes with the wonder that I’d never seen in anypony before,” I listened as she spoke, the blistering cold fading out into nothing as my focus laid bare on her.
“Mm..” I said with a nod, hands tucked into my pockets.
“Things sparked, and we continued to speak over the course of a few weeks. Moved in with me back then, we’d go to this fountain every now and then and spoke with each other. One day, we made a wish together, that our love would be strong and resilient no matter what, and we threw a bit into this fountain here. I still see it, although parts of it have been buried under the rest. Some months later, he told me that he felt unfulfilled, and that I was working too much for us to spend enough time together. I tried my best but it's hard when I don’t have much flexibility with my job, so we had to break it off. We came back here one last time, and he gave me that same flower you did. Kept it in my pocket ever since…”
She reached into her left pocket and pulled out a wilted flower, barely recognizable in its form. It was mangled with rips and tears, but still held the same general shape of what a flower would look like. She twirled it in the air for a second’s worth, and placed it back into her pocket. I lowered myself, patting her back.
“I’m sorry to hear, March.” I felt myself wince at my own words. While they were genuine, I didn’t feel good about the nature of the phrase. Oftentimes, that’s all I could offer. Maybe it’d have been better if I remained silent, but I still wanted to let her know I was still listening. She nodded and continued on, her expression softened, a weak smile appeared and dissipated just as fast.
“I guess you can say I just… never moved past it fully,” she said with a pause, “I’m open to a relationship but I’m still afraid. You’re a strange one for liking me, Anon, but I can appreciate that. At least if everything else fails, I still have somepony I can go to. That is; if you aren’t swept away again to some other foreign land, that would make me sad,” she smiled, nuzzling against my leg.
“Awh, don’t be, I’m not going anywhere. And, here’s the thing,” I said, reaching in her collar to pull out the flowers I’d just given her, “There’s always more room in your heart for love. It’s not the nicest thing to think about but, everypony comes and goes. We can only make do with what we have right now, and right now, all I want to have is you,” My face contorted into an awkward smile as I just comprehended what I’d just said to her. She chuckled.
“Where’d you get that line from?” She asked with a smirk.
“I dunno, from the bottom of my heart or something. Oh, I have another thing for you,” I took out a loose bit from my pocket and placed it on her palm, “Here’s to another wish, that our relationship will be stable and that we can overcome any problems that may arise in the future,”
She walked over to the fountain and flicked the coin into the water, “I agree,”
“Haha, it’s kind of a work in progress, but I’m happy it works for you,” she approached me as I spoke, nodding contently.
“I can’t say that I have complete faith in your wish, but I will hold it true nonetheless,” she said, bringing a hoof up to lock it into my palm.
“Does that mean that we’re official?” We both faced the fountain, close to each other.
“I guess so,” she said, giving a dry chuckle.
I sat down on the ground, grabbing her other hoof and holding it with tenderness.
“Well, Anon, I can’t say that I expected for everything to go this way,” she said, her cheeks laced with a pink tint.
“Me neither,” I said. I knew what I wanted to say next, and it was going to haunt me for the better part of the next few seconds, “March, can I kiss you now?” I licked my lips, the cold induced dryness stinging me. A closer inspection told me that her lips were much more tender than they looked every other time I’ve seen her.
“Sure,” she replied with a sly look, drawing out the sound for longer than usual. As she moved her head closer, she suppressed a grin and shut her eyes. I wrapped my hands around her body and pulled her in, causing her to yelp and stand up on her hind hooves. I planted my lips onto hers, and I could feel her body loosening as she melted into my own.
I couldn’t tell her this right now, but that was my first kiss.
I combed her back, her warmness radiating through my clothing as she intensified her kissing. She tasted bitter, but warm, and I couldn’t get enough of it. She pressed onto me with her entire weight and I fell backwards on the snow, March ending on top of me. She pulled her lips back from me, a trail of saliva separating our mouths.
“Anon, you’re so good… ACK!” She gasped as I took control of the reins, grabbing her arms and sending the both of us rolling through the snow. Snow caked on us as we came to a halt, I held her close to me. With a gentle laugh, she wrapped her hooves over my arm and we laid in the snow for minutes, enjoying each others’ warmth. Her coat felt so soft against my face, and I couldn’t stop burying my cheek into her neck.
“Who made your coat so silky?” I asked.
“Me,” She replied, nonchalant. She craned her neck back, kissing me one more time on the lips, “I’m getting a bit embarrassed out here, how about we continue at home?” An enticing proposal indeed. I got back up with her and wiped off the snow from my jeans. I hadn’t noticed before, but the water had seeped through my jeans and I was feeling the cold as it reached my skin.
“As you wish.”
Her expression was vibrant throughout our entire way back, a permanent red on her cheek. If the warmth I felt today could be converted into heat, it would melt all of the snow within a 1 foot radius. She unlocked the door as we arrived, walking into the house with a quick swish of her tail.
“Come, my bedroom’s upstairs,” she said, turning her head back before trotting upstairs. As I ran my fingers along the wooden handrails, I could hear the sounds of curtains being drawn. The door hung open, and sounds of bedsheet rustling invited me in. Going in, I was met with the sight of a March without her hat on; nor her jacket. I did not think that this was a possibility, but her smooth golden curls distracted me from the sudden lack of attire.
“Uh…”
“What? Ponies don’t usually wear clothes don’tcha know,” she said, feigning disappointment as she shook her head, smiling.
“Well, yes, but you look so different without your clothes,” I said. It was a bit of a conundrum, although the ponies in Ponyville looked fine without clothes, she just feels so naked. But I’m not complaining, a March in uniform or not is still a gorgeous March.
“I’ve been told, now come on and get over here,” She lifted the blanket over her, raising it to fit somepony next to her. As I took off my socks and climbed aboard, I was surprised by the softness of the bed. She clearly prioritized sleeping quality over decor, and I could relate to that. I tucked myself beside her and pulled the blanket over me, the coolness of the air mixing with the warmth of ourselves. She yawned and snuggled her head towards my chest, her nose pointed into my neck.
“Sleepy?”
“Mhm…” She half mumbled. Small sniffing sounds came from beside me, and I could feel her tongue’s long strides on my skin. The sensation was magnetic, and I pulled her in closer, one arm over her torso. Using my leg, I kicked one of the curtains shut, encasing the room in gentle darkness. With one last nuzzle, she clamped her eyes shut, her breaths becoming shallow as she transitioned into a state of rest.
I looked down at the beauty in my arms, like the great works of Mona Lisa and Girl With a Pearl Earring, I could not look away. The entire room was tranquil, individual strands of her hair flowed down onto the pillow and laid across her face. She cooed softly as I ran my fingers across her back, rubbing her with a firm touch. My eyelids became heavier, and like her, I too yawned and shut my eyes.
Intense snowfall on the outside, glimmers of light breaking in from the gaps in the curtain, air that would put a bear to hibernation, and a beautiful sleeping mare in my very arms.
Can life get any better than this?
Letters From Whinnyapolis
I Bid You Good Morning, And An I-Love-You.
I woke up as the first beams of light met my eyes, a total absence of sound in the early morning. March was still sound asleep, I could feel a small stream of saliva down my neck from where she rested her mouth during the night. I gave her cheek a little pinch, smooth, soft, and surprisingly cold. Her expression was peaceful, like all the worries in the world had melted amidst her slumber.
For as long as I could before my eyes got the better of me, I kept watch over her. Between yesterday and now, she had wrapped her legs and hooves around me, and any movement puts me at risk of waking her up. I didn’t know what would come if she were awakened, but I’d rather not sour her rest. Seconds blended into minutes as I lay, a very faint tick from the alarm clock on her side. It was soon to reach 7:30, the faint light from outside turned a brighter shade as more tendrils grasped their way through the gaps in the curtain.
A morning yawn escaped my arm as I did my best to stretch my limbs under the tiny wiggle room. I shut my eyes again, prepared to return to sleep.
The alarm clock screeched, vibrating the table like ball-peen hammer against wooden planks. I panicked and reached over march, slamming it down. I was relieved as it stopped, continuing to tick like nothing happened. March was still sound asleep, not moving as much as a muscle throughout the entire ordeal.
No wonder why she required that monster of an alarm clock to wake her up.
“Looks like I’ll have to wake you up myself,” I said, brushing her hair. I leaned closer into her and nibbled on her ear. It had a delightful softness, the slight bend of the cartilage much familiar to my own. She began to shift and turn under me, pushing against me with a big stretch. I would’ve liked to go back for seconds as she opened her mouth to yawn, but out of courtesy, I left her tongue alone. First, her right eye opened, then her left, they looked at mine in their groggy state.
“Mmh, Anon…” She mumbled, freeing a hoof from my side to rub her eyes. Her voice had such an angelic quality when she’s tired, and I couldn’t help but to smile. “...Did something happen?” She droned, crust below her eyes.
“Morning, March,” She nodded, “Your alarm clock ran so I woke you up,” I said, planting a firm kiss on her forehead.
“Ope, time for work…” I laid there and watched as she slid out of bed and darted around the room, a sudden burst of energy compared to before. She smiled every time we exchanged glances, putting on her hat. By the time she got her jacket on, I was laying there grinning like a maniac.
“Now that’s the March I’m used to,” I said, pointing at her clothing. Tucking in her tie, she chuckled.
“Which version do you prefer, hm?” She asked, raising one of her eyebrows.
“I don’t really care, as long as it’s you,” I winked, which caused her to blush a little. For someone who deals with such pressure on a daily basis, it sure was easy to make her blush.
“Gosh, so much sap I could put it on some pancakes,” She shook her head and strode over, giving me a peck on the cheek and licking it, “Mmh, and you’re just as sweet as one,” she said.
“Who’s being sappy now?”
“Oh please, you came to me in the first place,” she fixed some of the creases in her outfit and turned to me, “Well, I’ll be heading out now, I l…love you Anon,” she swallowed.
“Awh, I love you too, March,” I beamed. It takes a lot out of anypony to say that, and I’m glad to be the receiver. She scratched her chin with her hoof for a second and leaned towards me, whispering,
“I prefer ‘cutie’.”
Author's Note
And they live happily forever after!
Just kidding, I don't know how their relationship will progress. Hope you guys liked reading this story, I love March to the ends of the earth and back so some of that is reflected within this little fic.
I hope you loved her in this story,
Because she loves you too!
