Author's Notes:

Link to OC Encyclopedia. You can find the bios for both Loud Mouth and Glyph Dance there.

Loud Mouth could have sworn she saw blood on the daggers. They were scattered across the table, mixed in with the hammers and nails, as if they were just another construction tool. Hay, maybe they were just another tool. Loud Mouth certainly didn’t know anything about construction—she didn’t know much about anything that involved sweat, really. All she knew about was talking, and even that she didn’t consider herself very good at.

But there was just something about these daggers that looked very… stabby. Like at any moment a pony could snatch one up and plunge it into her chest. She would be a victim, a helpless damsel, just like in the radio dramas. And no one would hear her scream…

It took her a moment to realize that she was gripping her cup so tightly that the coffee was spilling out onto her wing. She flinched at the flash of pain and shook the dampness away, before taking a deep breath and walking to the doorway, headed off to deliver the coffee to the pony who had asked for it.

What was his name again? Loud asked herself, scrunching up her muzzle. Glitter, Glam…? Glyph? Glyph Dance, right!

The name sounded like something out of one of those Daring Do novels her niece was always reading. It was the kind of name an archaeologist would have. Is that why he carried around daggers with all of his construction tools? So he could fight off grave robbers? Why in the world would a radio station hire an archaeologist to build a new studio for them?

Maybe the station was built on a Buffalo Burial Ground or something. Loud shivered. Maybe that’s why my lunch keeps disappearing from the break room…

Keeping an eye out for strange markings on the walls, Loud Mouth rounded a corner which led her into a small plot of land that had been cordoned off with some rope. The noontime sun was harsh, spilling out across the makeshift construction site like a searchlight. Loud shaded her eyes with a wing and gazed out upon the clearing.

Glyph Dance stuck out like a black hole. The sun glimmered off of his deep blue fur, giving him the look of a giant rain drop. Actually, there was a good chance that “giant” was an understatement; from where she stood, a few yards away, Glyph looked nearly as tall as Princess Luna. Yet, despite his height, he was skinny and gangly, like a collection of sticks. Loud had never seen a horn so sharp. He stood at the other end of the clearing, staring down at some blueprints. His face was set in a solid frown.

Loud lifted her hoof to take a step forward, but stopped when she saw the belt wrapped around Glyph’s barrel—more daggers. Why? She stepped back and gulped. Don’t question it, Loud. You want to keep this job.

“Uh, excuse me?” Loud squeaked. Her voice was barely more than air.

Glyph sniffed and pushed the blueprint away, only to levitate another over.

Loud opened her mouth again, but her words died with another look at the daggers. Gripping the coffee cup again, she looked around at the various tools scattered along the ground. There were wrenches, hammers, nails… no knives or spears, luckily.

She took a deep breath and aimed her gaze at Glyph. Pointing her shaking hooves in the right direction, she walked forward.

A pale white light wrapped around Glyph’s horn. Loud only barely noticed as the same white light surrounded a socket wrench, right in front of her.

Loud Mouth yelped as the socket wrench leaped upwards, smacking into her muzzle. She dropped the coffee cup and stumbled backwards, pain roaring through her face. She threw both hooves to her snout and swore under her breath.

The light around the wrench disappeared, and it fell to the ground with a thud. Glyph Dance spun around, eyes going wide as he realized what he had just done. Barking a few choice words of his own, he galloped up to Loud Mouth and bent down to meet her gaze. Loud flinched as he pushed his face uncomfortably close to her own.

“Horseapples,” he muttered, ogling her wounded snout. His frown hadn’t softened at all. “Sorry about that. You alright, girl?”

Loud ogled him back, hooves pressed firmly into her nose. The sunlight glinted off of the daggers in his belt, shining in her eyes. “Uh, yeah!” she said, forcing a smile and shuffling a few paces back. “Fine, fine! It’s no problem! I’m perfectly okay.”

Glyph matched her steps. “You’re bleedin’.”

Loud lifted her hooves from her nose, only to choke on air as she realized her tan hooves were painted red. A thin trickle of blood ran from both nostrils, matting down the fur above her mouth.

She took a few long breaths. “Oh, hey. Look at that.”

“I thought I put a caution sign in the doorway,” Glyph said, eyes narrowing. “Can’t work with mares runnin’ every which way around the construction site!”

“I didn’t see it!” Loud babbled, throwing up her hooves defensively. “I swear, I didn’t! I’m sorr—”

“Aw, save it,” Glyph said, backing away. “It ain’t your fault. You didn’t do nothin’.”

Loud tried to respond, but her cheeks were set ablaze as she felt Glyph’s tingling magic wrap around her legs, her neck, her flanks. She could only squirm as Glyph hoisted her into the air.

“Let’s go,” he said, ignoring her flails. “We’re gettin’ you patched up.”

With Loud hanging in the air next to him, Glyph trotted out of the lot and back into the radio station. The two of them were silent as they made their trek, with Glyph keeping his gaze forward, and Loud doing what she could do avoid the sharp knives hanging from his belt, jingling just a few inches away from her still-vulnerable chest.

Glyph stepped into the storage room where he had been keeping the rest of his things and levitated Loud off of his back and into a nearby chair. The blood was coming faster now, and her fetlocks were soaked. He cast one last glance at her snout before heading over to a satchel that was laying on the table.

Loud fidgeted in her chair, trying and failing to keep her wings in place. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “Really, I didn’t mean to—”

“What’s your name?” Glyph asked, rummaging through the sack.

“Um, Loud. Loud Mouth.”

Glyph snorted and shook his head, smiling for the first time since the two had met. “Next time you see ‘em, tell your folks I said ‘thanks for the laugh.’”

Loud frowned, but stayed silent, eyes cast to the ground.

“Aw, I’m just teasin’ you,” Glyph said. “Certainly not the worst name I’ve ever heard. Name’s Glyph Dance, by the way.”

“I know,” Loud said. Her ears went flat. “I was, uh, supposed to deliver you some coffee.”

“Were you? Weird. I don’t remember orderin’ anything.” Glyph pulled a long strip of white cloth out of the bag. “Here we go.”

“What are you doing?” Loud asked, craning her neck. “What is—”

Glyph whipped out one of his daggers, stabbing it high into the air.

You’re dead.

Loud’s wings flared open, nearly sending her tumbling off the chair. As Glyph spun around and walked toward her, dagger level with her throat, she tried to scoot away, but could only get so far before her chair clunked against the wall. She shrank into the seat, trying to escape, trying to save herself from the madpony about to slaughter her—

Glyph stopped a few paces away. With one quick motion, he used the dagger to slice through the cloth, cutting it into two equal parts.

He levitated one over to where Loud was cowering. “Clean yourself up.”

Loud hesitated for a moment before taking it. “Oh,” she stammered, staring at the towel. She dabbed at her bleeding nose. “Thanks.”

Glyph didn’t answer, but drew close to Loud once again, staring intently at her snout. Just as Loud was about to ask him what he was doing, he backed away again. “Your muzzle don’t look like it's broken or anythin',” he said. He smiled. “And trust me, I know my broken noses. Hoofed a few of ‘em out myself.”

Loud was frozen. “Uh-huh.”

“Here, lean forward and use your wing or somethin’ to pinch your snout. It’ll help stop the bleedin’,” Glyph explained. As Loud followed his instructions, he pulled up another chair and sat down in it, just across from Loud. “Keep doin’ that for a few minutes, and you’ll be fine.”

“Great.” Loud nodded. “Thanks again—”

“Oh, stop thankin’ me!” Glyph groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m the one who whacked you, ain’t I?”

Loud rubbed the back of her neck. “Sorry.”

Her words faded quickly, leaving the room to flood with a thick, viscous silence. Loud could feel Glyph’s gaze boring into her face, drilling into her soul. She kept her eyes locked to the carpet, not daring to look up. Whenever Glyph breathed, his belt jingled, making Loud’s legs tense up. She closed her eyes and forced her breaths to steady—

“Y’know,” Glyph said, “for a mare named Loud Mouth, you ain’t very loud.”

“And you’re not an archaeologist,” Loud murmured, all steadiness lost.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” Loud piped, waving her words away. “I get that a lot. I guess I was pretty crazy when I was a kid, but I quieted down as I got older. When your parents are both snowflake builders, you kinda have to be quiet, y’know?” She waited for a response, but Glyph just stared. “If you yell at a snowflake, it’ll crack.”

“Oh.” Glyph’s blank expression stayed static. “Too bad. You’ve got a nice voice.”

“Really? Uh, thanks.” Loud paused, cheeks heating once again. “I mean, I can still be loud when I want to be! I have to give speeches a lot for my job.”

“That sounds important,” Glyph said, his smirk returning. He leaned forward in his seat. “So what’s a pretty mare like you doin’ here, havin’ to run coffee to stallions that don’t even want ‘em?”

“I'm just an assistant,” Loud said, allowing herself a smile of her own. "They don't really look for 'pretty' in the radio business."

“Well, I said you had a nice voice, didn’t I? What’s the problem?”

“Because… that’s just the way it is, I guess.” Loud sighed. “Some ponies make it big and some don’t. No one really wants me on the radio, even if it is my special talent. I don’t know why.”

“What, you never asked ‘em?”

“Huh?” Loud frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You never asked ‘em what the problem was? Why you’re out here makin’ coffee runs when some nasally foal’s up at the mic screamin’ about pop music?” Glyph asked. When Loud shook her head, Glyph growled and stood up. “Well, why not? Why are you out here gettin’ whacked by wrenches, instead of on the radio?”

Loud flinched into her seat. “I, uh, um—”

“Say somethin’!” Glyph said. “You said talkin’ on the radio was your special talent; why can’t you talk now? Give me one of those speeches!”

“I haven’t asked because I don’t want to lose my job!” Loud sputtered. “This is the fourth radio station I’ve worked at this year, all because I keep messing things up. For the first time I’ve got a boss and co-workers that actually kinda like me. I’m not gonna risk that just because I want to talk more. Besides, it’s not like I’m even good at it—”

“Oh, that’s a load of horseapples. Bein’ on the radio is your special talent, right? So you’re better for the job than anypony!” Glyph jabbed at hoof at the doorway. “When I was comin’ in this morning, I got a look at the guy who runs the morning show here. His cutie mark is an hourglass. Yours is a microphone! How could he possibly be better than you?”

“I don’t know!” Loud said, looking away. “Even if I am better than him, it doesn’t matter. Nopony wants to hear me.”

“So you gotta make ‘em want to hear you.”

Loud lidded her eyes. “Uh-huh. And how should I do that?”

Glyph chuckled. “Your name is Loud Mouth, ain’t it? Be loud! Let everypony know what you want, and what you’re gonna do to get it. You gotta be strong! You gotta—”

“I get it, I get it,” Loud said, holding up a hoof to stop him. “Listen, Mr. Dance: those speeches I said I give? I hold motivational seminars at night. When it comes to pep talks, I’ve heard every line in the book.”

Glyph narrowed his eyes. “Oh, yeah? Well then, why don’t you hear this: I may not look it, but I’ve had ponies tellin’ me what I could and couldn’t do my entire life. When I was a kid, all my folks wanted was for me to become a lawyer just like them. So y’know what I did? I said screw that, and I went to go make my own destiny. Now, I’m usin’ my talents every day. Sure, I’ve still got goals, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been. You get that?”

Loud’s throat suddenly felt like a desert. She nodded. “Yeah?”

“Sure, you’ve got wings and I’ve got a horn, but we’re both ponies. We’ve both got talents, and we’ve both got a duty to use ‘em. That’s the way I see it.” Glyph smiled again and gave Loud a soft shove. “I like you, girl. You seem like a good pony, and that’s why I’m helpin’ you. But I ain’t got no respect for a pony that knows their special talent, but chooses not to use it. That’s just wrong.”

“Mhm.” That was all Loud could muster. There was a tightness in her chest, as if her lungs were being tied together. And yet, at the center of it all, there was a sort of warmth—a glint in the dark. She managed a smile. “That… makes a lot of sense.”

Glyph laughed. “Well, if a mare whose special talent is talkin’ says what I said made sense, it must be good, right?”

Loud giggled. “Yeah.”

It was at that point that she noticed the bleeding had stopped; in fact, it had probably stopped a while ago. She lifted the rag from her stained snout, which Glyph took in his magic and threw into a wastebasket nearby.

“I gotta get back to work buildin’ that new studio of yours,” Glyph said, jerking his head towards the door. “Hay, maybe someday you’ll be workin’ in that studio.”

“Thanks,” Loud said, hopping off of her chair. “For the talk, I mean. Not the maybe-broken nose.”

“It ain’t no problem.” Glyph picked up his satchel and moved to the door. “You go get yourself cleaned up. And remember: be loud! You gotta earn that weird name of yours.” He trotted out.

Loud watched him go. The heat in her chest had spread to her face, settling in for a comfortable warmth. She took a long breath and walked out of the room, headed back to her boss. As she went, her gaze passed over the daggers, which were still scattered out across the table—and yet, they didn’t make her feel a bit nervous.