“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“‘M I still standin’?”
“Yes.”
“Then ain’t ‘nuff.”
Clear Waters sighed, shaking her head at the small inns only regular customer. She had no idea where the tall platinum mare had come from before, and she seemed to be disinclined to talk about the past. Instead, she simply arrived near dusk every day, drank herself into a stupor, and dragged herself out of the taproom. For the first few weeks of this, Clear had been scared stiff, hurriedly walking out of the inn to make sure that the mare didn’t brain herself on her doorstep.
Every time she tried to follow the strange pony though, she opened the inn’s main door to see nothing but a calm black night, empty of anything. After a few moments of staring into the blackness, she would shake her crystalline mane and slowly walk back into her home.
Often, the mare was the only pony that Clear Water’s would see in a day. Unlike most pegasi though, she enjoyed the solitude, preferring to spend her day reading aloud to the small herd of assorted pets than to listen to the bluster of a town. Still, even the hermit had to admit that she was happy to spend the odd evening talking to whatever traveler happened along.
There weren’t many of them this deep in the wilds though. Most ponies prefered to live where they could quickly flee for help if they needed it. Out here, the only ponies within leagues in any direction were hermits like herself, and most of them were far harder to find, and less than happy to help others.
The proprietor snorted as the mare tapped her hoof politely on the counter beside her glass, shaking her head. “Tell you what. How about a deal?”
“Hm?” The silver mare grunted, lifting her head from where it rested on the counter. Her exhausted, bloodshot topaz eyes glared half-heartedly at Clear’s silvery irises. After blinking slowly, she let her chin fall back to the polished wood of the small counter, sighing gustily.
“You haven’t payed me once, and you are drinking me dry. Its not that much of a problem,” She hastened to add, seeing something flicker in the brown eyes. “I can pay for it easily, but fair’s fair. So I want you to talk to me.”
“‘Bout what?”
“Yourself. Who are you, where do you live. You might not believe it,” The ice-white mare grinned. “But I do actually get lonely sometimes. So come on. Start talking, or I stop pouring.”
To add meaning to her threat, she poured the blood red wine into the glass just enough to make a teasing splash, leaving it only half filled. Tilting her head slightly, the other mare glowered at the win, as though she thought it would fill in accordance with her desire. When the liquid didn’t suddenly appear though, she let a gusty sigh escape, and tilted back to Clear Waters.
“Fine.”
“Well?” The pegasus asked after several moments in which the mare silently stared at her. The impassive stare was more than slightly unnerving, but she swallowed and stared right back.
She really does have pretty eyes. Clear noted absently. The platinum pony’s weren’t truly topaz she saw, looking hard at the mare. They were some exotic breed of amber. Like deep, thick honey, but with flecks of emerald green appearing here and there, lightening the shade from afar. She would probably look a lot better without drinking so much
“Ask.”
“Huh? Oh! Umm.” Clear’s lips pursed as she thought. There were more than a few things she wanted to know about the mysterious pony, but now seemed like an awkward time to ask most of them. “Have you ever slept with another mare” and “What did you do to get kicked out to this place” seemed to be rather too personal just now. Besides, she had a rule against flirting with customers.
“Well, how about your name?”
“Stiletto.” The mare whispered, hoarsely. Her gaze slipped away from Water’s, and she glared at the wine glass. Remembering her deal, the white mare filled the glass with wine. Instead of instantly downing the crimson liquid though, Stiletto just stared into the depths of the glass.
“Hey, are you okay?” Clear asked. She had never seen the other mare like this, so the sudden sobriety was more than a little worrying. Afraid that she had crossed some line, she hastened to add. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
“It’s fine. You... you haven’t heard of me?” Stiletto’s voice had steadied slightly, less hoarse now. THere was still a smokey, husky quality to her words though, a mixture of sadness, anger, alcohol, and... interest? Or was that last one just Clear’s wishful thinking?
The crystal pony cocked her head to the side, gently returning the the bottle to one of the shelves behind her, within easy reach for when her guest wanted another glass. She always did. “No, I haven’t. Should I have?”
“Hm.” She grunted again, though this time it seemed to more reflective than discouragement. She didn’t say anything else though, just picked up the glass gently in one hoof, and swirled the wine in it meditatively. Sighing and seeming to deflate slightly, she glanced at Clear Water’s for a moment, before tossing her head back, and swallowing the alcohol in one quick drink. “Most have.”
She wasn’t as intoxicated as she usually was, she could still follow the small movements of the innkeeper as she turned to refill the glass. As the white pegasus turned with the bottle cradled gently though, she shook her head at her. Raising an eyebrow, puzzled, Clear returned the bottle to its shelf, and picked the empty glass up from the counter. Trotting over to the small sink, she plopped the lightly stained glass into the soapy water left over from when she had washed her dinner dishes.
Struck by a sudden inspiration, she grinned. “You know,” She turned, still smiling. “You could always...”
The inn was empty once more. The quiet mare had once more slipped away before she could even turn. The pegasus hadn’t even heard the front door open and close as the mysterious Stiletto had vanished through it.
Sighing, she shook her head. “You could always say goodbye.”
Author's Note
Hello my dears. For those of you reading this, I hope you enjoyed the introduction of the main duo in this story. I feel I should explain this story a little here. This si a challenge I made with myself, to write, edit, and post a new chapter every day or two. So, if you like it, at least you wont have to wait long for the next installment.
Love and a nice wet one to the cheek,
Wind Singer
Clear Water’s snorted as she ran the oiled cloth along the bookshelf. It was a brilliant spring morning, bright and clear, though winter’s invigorating chill still lingered. The bright light of the sunrise shone through the many windows placed high on the walls. The windows were small, and placed tastefully throughout the inn. They let in a surprising amount of light, considering how little actually penetrated the thick cover of the trees.
While most of the inn gave a sense of muted happiness, lit enough to see easily but not glaringly bright, her small nook was a very different place. It extruded slightly from the side of the house, placed carefully at the end of the long hall that was the main artery to the inn. Doors on both sides of the hall lead into small rooms where visiting ponies could rest, each and every one a work of art. What made the alcove a beautiful decoration for the hall though, were its walls. Rather than the expected walls of the same smooth, polished birch, it had very thick, clear glass to serve as its borders. While the rest of the inn was comfortably lit, this small space was almost blindingly bright, perfect for reading without straining her eyes.
It was where she spent most of her time, curled up with one of the many books that rested neatly on the shelves bordering the cushioned seat that lay in the center of the alcove. The plush red seat was almost sinfully comfortable, conformed perfectly to her body after so many years of having her small form resting upon it.
Currently, Clear was engaged in her weekly cleaning regime, dusting and wiping down all of her bookshelves, the bar, the two tables, and nearly every other wooden surface in the inn. She had already cleaned the windows, and the glass wall near her sparkled in the light. One more pass with the dust cloth, and a quick run with the polish, and she was done. The bookshelves were always her last job, so that once she finished she could toss the soiled rags onto the hallway floor, and grab a book.
More often than not, her cleaning took no more than an hour or two. Today though, without the various forms of help her animal friends provided, the job was taking much longer. However, winter had only ended a few weeks ago, and without ponies to wrap up winter, and no weather patrol to usher in clear skies and warm weather to melt the snow, the wildlife in the wilds took much longer to rouse in the spring.
Now, almost four hours in, she was finally nearing the finish line. Her hooves ached, and her legs weren’t faring much better. They were sore from their constant exertion, and she wanted nothing more than to simply collapse into the warm embrace of the seat.
Sighing, she set to work, starting by removing all of the books from their shelves, stacking them in neat piles along the floor. Once the shelves were clear, she swiped the dust cloth once over all of the surfaces, a preliminary pass. Flipping the rag over, she inspected it for dust, and smiled. As usual, nothing on her bookshelves remained in place long enough to really collect dust.
Dust cloth still in hoof, the white mare reached down, picking up the spray bottle on the ground nearby. Spritzing the cloth several times, she set to with gusto.
It took only moments to clean the shelves of the minimal dust clinging to them, and another to wipe them with the oil soaked rag, leaving the warm smell of oranges clinging to the wood. Freshly polished, the pale birch gleamed with a luster much like the glass, though where the glass was clear, the shelves made a perfect mirror.
Taking a moment to admire her reflection, she grinned. She always loved the contorted reflection that the rounded edges of the wooden shelves created. The distortion was something that she found entertaining every time she cleaned, and she always took several minutes to just move about, eying her reflection in many of those round corners. Some would stretch her head, so that her face seemed to be at least as long as her body, while other’s would twist her entire body into a wavy mess.
Half crouching, and looking up at the shelf above eye level, she snorted. Rising slightly, she eyes the image, then sank back down until it returned to the glossy surface of the wood. When it finally came back into clear sight, she froze, staring intently.
Some combination of the light, and the angle had cast a very peculiar reflection back at her. Her entire body seemed to be so small as to be nonexistent. Except for a portion of her face, where her eyes stood out in startling contrast, wide and magnified many times over. She could see the grey irises, and the small, black pupils darting and quivering slightly, every now and then contracting slightly.
It took her several moments to break the spell the vision of herself had cast, but after several moments of intent staring, she could feel her legs trembling.
In fact, now that she noticed, she had been crouched awkwardly for several minutes. Straightening, she cleared her throat, and began to place the many volumes carefully back into their proper place.
After they were all placed neatly back from whence they had come, Clear smiled to herself, looking out at the bright day. Here and there, a bird flitted about through the boughs of the trees, each one heavy with the brilliant green of new leaves. More than a few squirrels capered about on the branches, hopping from one to another with reckless abandon. Occasionally, one would overestimate, and hurl himself into space only to find that the slender twig he had been aiming for had actually been another foot away. Then the reddish ball of fur would go flailing into the air, landing in the snow with a small plume to mark his landing.
Then the indestructible little critters would pop out of the small holes they made in the melting snow, rapidly shaking off the chilly slush from their little heads.
Clear Water’s grinned at the sight of them frolicking about, enjoying the chilly morning air. With one final look as many of the fallen rodent’s friends pointed and laughed at his mistake, the pony turned her back on their little pagent, and set off down the hall. Scooping up the dirty linens as she walked past, she carried the cloths and the small spray bottle with her, heading down to begin lunch. Then, once the stew was cooking over the fire, she would settle down and read for a while. Or maybe, she would go outside, and join in the animal’s play.
