Cleaning the Wound

It was a terrible morning in Ponyville.

Garble had woken up just before dawn. Again. He had scrounged up breakfast in the Everfree (easy, since nothing could put up a good fight), looked for an opponent worth fighting (there was none), then started a workout with Bulk (which was still lame).

“So, you like lifting, right?” Bulk asked.

“No, it’s dumb,” Garble said.

He lifted up the barbell with a roar, then slammed it back into the holder. He could feel the exhaustion in his body, but, just like last time, the residuals of his nightmares were fading, which made all the effort worth it.

“All you do is lift a bunch of heavy stuff over and over again,” Garble continued. “It’s nothing compared to getting into an actual fight.”

“So why don’t you fight someone in Ponyville?” Bulk asked.

Garble snorted. “Sparkle bomb will kill me if I do that.”

“...Sparkle bomb?”

“Ugh, Twilight or whatever her dumb name is.”

“Right.” Bulk nodded sharply once. “But what if someone wants to get into a fight with you?”

“You offering?”

“Just asking.”

“Then still no, since then I’ll end with one dead pony and a pissed off Twilight regardless.”

“You’re pretty confident.”

“Because I know I can take anyone on in this loser town.” Except Twilight or the zebra in the Everfree, but Garble wasn’t going to admit that aloud. “Anyways, gotta go. Whelp is due for a lesson.”

“Alright, see ya.”

Garble flew off.

“Where’s the runt?”

Twilight didn’t look up from her book. “He’s with Rarity.”

“Who?” Garble asked.

“One of my best friends.”

“...Who?”

“She’s a seamstress and lives at the carousel boutique up town. It’s shaped like its namesake.” Twilight put her book down. “Why?”

“We got a lesson now.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were serious about what you said yesterday.”

Garble scowled.

“Don’t give me that. You ended the lesson early since you were apparently sick of dealing with us. We figured you wouldn’t want to see either of us for a while.”

She wasn’t wrong, but that would require admitting that she was right about something and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“I’m a dragon. I mean what I say, unlike ponies,” Garble retorted.

Twilight quirked an eyebrow. “Bold words from the dragon that got worked over basic biology.”

“Whatever. I’m getting the runt.”

“Can’t you—”

Slam. Garble already left.

True to Twilight’s word, there was a building shaped like a carousel on the other end of town. It looked tacky and gross. He barged inside.

The interior gave him pause.

It was filled to the brim with fabric, gemstones, and ponyquinns laden with fancy clothes. One such piece that drew his eye was a dress composed of nothing but frills. It had sapphires sewn into the fabric that sparkled in the lights of the boutique.

A normal dragon would question why some pony would be wasting perfectly good sapphires on some frilly stupid dress, then proceed to tear them off and eat them. Which is what he should do since he was a dragon.

But he always loved sapphires for how pretty they were, and the dumb fabric made them… prettier.

“You must be Garble.”

He jerked his head toward the voice. A white pony looked at him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The tone was pleasant, but he could read between the lines and know that he wasn’t welcome there.

Garble didn’t care.

“Where’s the whelp?” Garble asked.

“Whelp?” Her face scrunched up in thought then opened in realization. “Oh! Do you mean Spike? He’s gone to fetch more sapphires from the basement for me.”

“He’s supposed to be at the field.”

“For?”

“Learning how to be a dragon, since he’s bad at it.”

A momentary twitch in the perfect facade. That had clearly struck a nerve. Wouldn’t endear him to her, but Garble wasn’t looking to make friends with any of the bomb’s inner circle.

“Well, he doesn’t need to do lessons every day, does he?” Rarity asked.

“He does, if he wants to not be a loser.”

She snorted. “Now, listen here—”

A door in the back burst open.

“Rarity! I—” Spike called out.

He was carrying way too many bolts of fabric. It was stacked higher than he was tall and teetered precariously in his arms. His expression looked surprised to see him here.

“You’re late,” Garble said.

“Late for what?” Spike asked.

“Today’s lesson.”

“You were serious about that?!”

“Obviously!” Garble growled. “What? Are you as stupid as you are lame?”

“I’m not—!”

Rarity slammed a hoof into the floor. It drew both of their attention to her. She flashed Garble the most fake smile he had ever seen.

“Now, Garble. Since today is Sunday and a day of rest for most in Equestria, why not let Spike have the day off and continue with your lessons tomorrow, hm?” Rarity proposed.

“As smart as you are beautiful, my lady,” Spike agreed.

Spike had a dumbstruck look on his face directed at Rarity. He was practically falling over himself both literally and metaphorically. He could immediately tell that the drake had it bad for her. Garble could not even begin to describe how wrong that was.

“You’re pathetic,” Garble said.

“Garble!” Rarity snapped with indignation.

“He is!” Garble protested. “If he doesn’t learn, then he’s just going to stay that way. It’s my literal job to make sure he doesn’t.”

Rarity glared at him. Any semblance of niceness gone. Her eyes were narrowed into slits and she looked raring for a fight. It was a breath of fresh flame to Garble who was getting sick of the pony’s fakeness.

“I’m right and it’s stupid that you don’t even know how right I am,” Garble continued.

“...Fine, I won’t argue, mostly because I don’t think you’re capable of a civil discussion.” She upturned her nose at him, as if a pony could be better than a dragon. “What if I bribed you to let him go for the day?”

Garble snorted. “What do you even have that I would want?”

“Twilight told me you aren’t interested in gemstones, however, how about a gemstone mine?”

“Earth ponies don’t have any gem farms this far North,” Garble said.

“What? What in the world is— No, I’m not talking about an… earth pony gem mine.” She had a hint of confusion in her tone as she said it. “There are some Diamond Dogs set up in the foothills. They have—”

Garble tuned her out. She had nothing else of worth to listen to. He’d already heard something that interested him: a Diamond Dog colony. They were notoriously tough, but hard to find. If there was a group of them nearby that would make them great candidates for friends… so long as he beat them into submission first.

“Yeah, sure,” Garble interrupted.

Rarity stopped mid sentence. “Really? Wonderful!” She waved a hoof toward the door. “Then off you go! I have dresses to make.”

She grabbed several bolts of fabric from Spike in her magic and trotted toward one of the bare ponyquinns. Spike, the lovestruck idiot, waddled after her. Normally, he would get mad at the dismissive attitude, but he’d already gotten what he wanted and had no reason to stay in this lame shop any more.

The whelp could have his date (even if he was the only one that thought it was) while Garble dealt with something more important.

Making friends.