Everyday Life With Guardsmares
Chapter 146
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Honour Bound was currently liquor-bound. In fact, it was fair to say that she was probably more ‘Liquor’ than ‘Honour’ at this point. Sitting before her was yet another glass of Their Royal Majesties’ Celebratory Grand Galloping Gala Rum Punch. She thought to herself that it really would be for the best if she stopped drinking for the night.
‘And what reason do I even have to be guzzling these down, anyways?’
‘I’ve already had my catharsis outside, haven’t I?’
She’d made her choice earlier to throw in with Castlerook. Her father had been put in his place, too. And she’d even found the time to deal with two threats to the Gala in the form of belligerent sailors and bloodthirsty bats. So, why was she still trying to drown out her thoughts with Their Majesties’ powerfully boozy fruit juice?
Unconsciously, Honour reached up to her wavy mane, recently restyled in the mares’ restroom, and idly twirled a lock of hair around her forehoof. She didn’t get the opportunity to do that a lot these days with her hair always gathered up in a braid — not in the way she used to. For a moment, she felt herself taken back to those younger, more innocent years. Underage, hanging out in one of the Fillydelphia dockside taverns close enough to Fort Mifflin to host the most explosive combination of drunken & bored soldiers and sailors.
‘A Stallion Full of Trouble’; what a glorious dive bar. With its small, cramped serving room and an equally small and cramped ‘sitting-room’ that had nowhere to sit. Little more than an upturned box for a tiny performers’ stand, and a full iron cage for the bar itself so that there could be no arguing after last call. How many scraps had she gotten into there, before or during her enlistment? How many times had the brawls spilled out into the street — or been forcibly pushed there by the establishment’s sorely put-upon and heavily-scarred bouncers? When there wasn’t a fight, there was always the riotous laughter, the singing along to a soldier’s march or sailor’s shanty, and the shameless flirting with anything clean-shaven and able to stand on all four hooves.
‘Oh, you did twirl your curls then, didn’t you?’
Yes, she did — even as an insecure teenager, confident that she was too boring and brown to ever catch a colt’s eye. Not that she was even seen in her natural, dull color half the time, what with all the bruises from scuffling. Honour touched a forehoof to the bump on her brow and realized that tonight was a callback to that era in more ways than one. The ‘Stallion’ wasn’t where she’d met her husband, though; in truth, she’d never heard of anypony who hooked up at that dump. Maybe it was because everypony was just there to get absolutely hammered on the cheapest swill possible.
Shortly after she’d passed the legal drinking age and made Private First Class, Honour had been inducted by her seniors into attending a slightly more upscale kind of piss-soaked watering hole. One with actual furniture — some of which was even upholstered — and more entertainment than a fiddle, fife, or squeeze-box could provide when accompanied by the percussion of hind-kick-roundhouses and forehoof-haymakers from the crowd. Sure, the drinks were more expensive, and they actually checked her ID, but as a result, Honour could usually return to base clad in her coat’s natural tones, instead of sporting a black welt accessory. She’d even managed to get halfway decent at eight-ball, before she got swept off her horseshoes to become hitched up, largely abandoning the bar for what she’d hoped would be a happy married life.
How eager she’d been to jump into that.
How quickly it had all fallen apart.
And not long after, she’d found herself galloping away from those bars, that base, and that whole damn city. Now, Honour was stationed in the capital, wearing a designer dress rather than her olive drab service uniform, sipping cocktails in place of cheap cider, dining on platters of creamy Prench pastries instead of rough bread and barley stew. She’d gone up in rank three times, got hastily married and messily divorced, switched to another department, and earned a Silver Star fighting against the Changelings.
‘Is that really all I could achieve in the seven years since I enlisted?’
Other ponies she’d known had made Sergeant, or done more with their life than just rank up in the Guard.
It was depressing.
Maybe that’s why she was still drinking.
As Honour reached a forehoof forward to lift up the elegant, short-stemmed, tulip-shaped glass with its orangey-pink concoction, the Royal Engineer arrived, throwing his jacket over the back of the next chair over and sitting down next to the mare.
“Honour! Why are you here when there’s all this dancing to be had?” With a wide, enthusiastic smile, he deftly undid his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves, then attacked the tie at his neck, sweating profusely as he loosened it.
“Just waiting for them to play my song,” Honour replied, gesturing with her glass.
He chuckled, pouring himself a full glass of water from the pitcher on the table and chugging it down. Then he took a deep breath and sighed, leaning back into his chair.
Honour gingerly sipped her beverage. It had warmed up since it was poured; the rum was starting to overpower the juice, making its presence known. “Taking a break?”
Anonymous shook his head, spreading his arms and sucking in his cheeks. “I’ve run out of dance partners!” he said, dismissively waving a hand out in front. “Artemis left to find her formal-wear partner from earlier, Their Majesties had to go do the rounds, Purity only really stopped by briefly to show off her beau for the evening, and otherwise I’ve been dancing with Lily until moments ago, but she’s finally given up and said I’ve worn her out, quote, ‘more than a double-time hike up and down Three-Mile Hill’ — albeit, also quote, ‘not in a bad way’.”
Honour stifled a whinny. Did that mean it was now her time to step up? She had promised not to abandon him, but she hadn’t exactly gone anywhere.
The Royal Engineer glanced back and forth between Honour and her drink, before he sighed again, and leaned back in his seat. “So, what’s eating you? Didn’t you patch things up with your, ah, friend? Castlerook, wasn’t it?”
Honour nodded, slowly. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“And your dad agreed to leave you alone for a bit, so you don’t have to worry about that any more tonight.”
Honour nodded again. “True.”
“We don’t have to worry about the batponies tonight any more, either.”
“No, we don’t.”
He paused to look her over again. “Are you hurting physically? From the fight outside?”
She shook her head. “No. There’s a bump, but it’s a dull pain, and the liquor’s keeping it under control.”
Anonymous shrugged. “So, why are you parked here, then? If you don’t feel like dancing, you could go hang out with your Mister Castlerook.”
Now it was her turn to sigh. “I don’t know. Things still feel off. I just can’t help but look back at the past.” She rolled her head to and fro. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Missed a lot of opportunities. I guess the regrets are still outweighing the... ‘promise of tomorrow’, or whatever you want to call it.”
Anonymous paused for a moment, then leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together. “Can I be candid with you, Honour?”
Part of her wanted to scoff and make a dismissive remark, knowing the sort of patronizing advice which inevitably followed such a question — that’s certainly what she would have done as a youth – indeed, had done so – to any authority figure trying to control her after she’d realized that her mother couldn’t control herself and that her father wouldn’t even try to stop her.
Honour was long past doing that now, especially to her Very Important Pony — who may not be a Pony, but who had demonstrated multiple times to her that he was genuinely Very Important.
She just nodded.
Unclasping his hands, Anonymous held his palms forwards to her. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you get consumed by regrets. You have to get over yourself. Everybody misses opportunities. Nobody has a perfect history. I’ve got plenty of things I wish I’d done, and plenty more things I sure wish I hadn’t. Do you know I had wanted to go into teaching engineering, but didn’t have the grades to make it into the doctorate program? I decided to work for a bit instead and maybe try to go back later with experience. But even though I did alright, several others in my graduating class climbed the ladder up much more quickly than I did.”
‘Wait — so he wasn’t an accomplished genius back on his world?’
Considering everything he’d managed so far here, not to mention how he’d comported himself, that revelation came as a bit of a shock.
“...And, you know, after I called off my engagement, I didn’t dream of being ‘Professor’ any more, either. That mess really broke me.” He dropped his hands to his legs in defeat. “You just have to take what life throws at you and try to catch as much of it as you can, and then move on. Sure, you can look back now and again to improve yourself, but you can’t dwell on it or spend your hours measuring your achievements up to those of others. That doesn’t do any good. I mean, look at me, here…”
Lifting his eyebrows, he glanced around the room, and for a moment, with his formal wear disheveled and his mask of intense focus removed, Honour was taken back to the moment when she’d first met him, and thought to herself just how alien he appeared. Glamerspear may have been the one to crudely voice the comparison to a monkey, but Honour had felt a not entirely dissimilar feeling, even if it had faded quickly. He wore the same clothes and spoke the same words and felt the same things and yet…
He wasn’t from here.
“This place is still foreign to me. Everything’s similar and yet so different. And at first I thought my coming here was a disaster. Of course, I was immensely grateful when I found a place – an incredible place – to fit into this world, but I didn’t see it as an opportunity, just something to knuckle down into for survival. It didn’t really start throwing me any challenges until you three showed up, and then even more when you became four. I like to think I did an okay job at handling the tribulations.”
Anonymous smiled as he continued.
“But, Honour. Corporal. You’ve handled everything this posting has thrown at you. That I’ve thrown at you. You beat Kilfeather at his own game, you learned to drive, educated me in Equestrian culture and custom, helped teach me how to fight, put on a fantastic demonstration for the upper crust of the Equestrian government and military, taken us into the darkest depths of an alien society, and fended off an ambush by some of their finest warriors. You’re one of the most adaptable and capable creatures I’ve ever met.” He held out a hand, as if asking for her forehoof. She didn’t know what else to do, so she gave it to him, and he closed his fingers around it, then placed his other hand gently on top. “Maybe you’re not happy with where you’ve been or where you’re at right now, but I promise you: if you can shut away your regrets for long enough to face the future with a clear head, there’s a world of opportunity opening up before you that will more than make up for whatever failures you believe you had before, and I’ll do everything I can to help you seize it all.”
It wasn’t a bad speech. She even felt a little inspired.
Swallowing, Honour withdrew her forehoof. “You going to get me promoted to Sergeant, sir?”
Ignoring her switch back to formality, he threw his hands into the air with excitement. “Demonstrating the Whirlwind can do that! Or participating in the MXP Games! Or all the work you’ve done with the batponies! I may not know about how the military works here, but hell, with everything that’s happened so far? I bet I could recommend you for a promotion tomorrow morning, and you’d receive it in the afternoon. And then maybe you can finally look forward to what comes after.”
Honour couldn’t help but feel a little uplifted from his infectious smile and energy. “That would be Staff Sergeant,” she deadpanned.
He snorted, “Hah, of course! But for now, how about you set your sights on an achievement that’s immediately within your grasp?”
‘This sounds like the setup for a bad pick-up line.’
Honour pushed herself back slightly, searching his expression. “What’s that?”
The Royal Engineer of Equestria, with his bow-tie loose around his neck and his collar open, his cuffs folded back and his vest unbuttoned and open, and noticeable dampness under his arms, didn’t miss a beat. “Have a good damn time tonight here at the Gala. I don’t even care how, but I can think of a few ways, if you’re stumped for ideas.”
Well, it wasn’t much of a hook, but it’d do. It was obvious from his energy that he was champing at the bit to get back on the dance floor, anyway.
As Honour paused for a moment to ponder just what she ought to do when she got back to her hooves, a familiar tune started to blare from the dance floor. It was the intro to an old, cheesy hit that she’d almost be embarrassed to say she used to love to dance to, except it was a great song, and everybody else danced to it back then — and still did now.
This surely signaled the start of a set of similarly goofy throwback tracks that were more towards Honour’s era.
‘May as well see what our VIP can do, if he’s managed to wear out party-mare Glamerspear, ‘not in a bad way’.’
“You up for more dancing, sir?”
He grinned. “Absolutely!”
In the time it took her to knock back her drink, clamber out of her seat, and get down onto her hooves, Anonymous had made himself presentable again. The jacket stayed off, but he’d donned his top hat once more, and with everything else done up and his red officeholder’s sash layered over top, he looked like a dashing warmblooded light-charger out of one of the historical battlefield paintings in the palace’s portrait hall.
‘Or maybe something a little more modern…’
A dapper rum-running gangster from Prohibition-era Manehattan? Without the pomade or the baggy trousers, though.
Anonymous tipped his hat and gestured graciously for Honour to head over first. She started toward the dance floor but turned to call back to him over her shoulder — though her poofy red shawl did manage to get in the way a bit. “I must’ve missed a real show earlier if you managed to wear out Lily already.”
“She said something about our ‘triple spinarooni’ being the best move she’s ever done?”
‘’Our’? What kind of dancing have those two been up to out here, exactly?’
‘And what kind am I in for now?’
Honour furrowed her brow and faced forwards. The dance floor didn’t seem to have changed much since she’d last looked over it, when they’d first opened to modern music. There was the stage with the ‘hype colt’ MC, who was still doing his best to inject energy while the DJ held a headphone up to one ear as she bobbed left and right, working the controls. Flashing strobes, colored washes, and a pair of glittering, reflective balls casting rotating dots managed a respectable nightclub setup. And the speakers were plentiful, loud, and well-tuned, with deep bass that Honour felt in her ribcage. It wasn’t her scene — not anymore, if it ever really was — but she still appreciated the quality and effort. Most of the places they’d gone on Tuesday night had superior setups, but none of them had the glitz of the Gala.
A sudden vertical movement caught her eye.
‘Is that a pony trying to climb up a Maypole?’
‘No, it couldn’t be.’
The maypoles were outside, thick, and wooden. This was brass, and narrow enough for the drunken reveler to try to wrap their hind legs around. It was a portable dance pole: freestanding, with a wide padded base to accommodate amateurs.
‘When did they haul this out?’
Honour glanced the other way and saw there was another, identical model on the other side as well.
From behind, Anonymous noticed her gaze, raising his voice to almost a shout to be heard over the din. “You didn’t see when they brought those out a little while ago? Even had some pros to demonstrate, then the MC ran a game singling out showboaters on the floor and encouraging them to give a try on a pole. Couple of guests made decent attempts; Lily said she wasn’t in the mood to be public tonight or she would’ve got up; I was almost tempted. Laughs and applause all around. That MC’s pretty good at keeping the show going, actually.”
Honour sighed, though there was no way he could hear it. “Would you believe I took lessons for a bit?”
“Really? If you still remember the moves, you should get up there and take point, ‘Sergeant’!”
Shaking her head, she pushed out onto the floor, no longer nearly as crowded as when Anonymous and Artemis had come up to dance at the start, or even when he’d gone back to grab Lily. Honour grimaced. Even with panties on underneath and a shawl on top, and despite getting into a barehoofed brawl in it, she was still very self-conscious about the incredibly lascivious dress. It would take a very particular state of mind to get her up and pole-dancing in front of the remaining crowd at the Grand Galloping Gala.
“Maybe if the right track comes on,” she said. “And if I’m feeling warmed up.” Having reached a free spot, Honour turned to face her VIP.
With a smirk, he started bobbing to the beat. “You need to get warmed up? Let’s get hot, then!”
Laughing, she shook her head and waggled a forehoof as she started to weave to the music as well. “Nuh-uh! That’s a different song. Listen!”
Suggested background music: Get Low (Dillon Francis & DJ Snake) [2014]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7nUdHAVSLr4
When the main hook started, Honour surprised even herself, launching into the song with abandon — and she was privately happy to see her VIP do the same.
‘If I look ridiculous, at least I look ridiculous next to someone far more conspicuous than me.’
Up on the stage behind them, the DJ had cut out the track’s original vocals in favor of the MC speaking them live, injecting the vitality of immediate performance into the playback. While Honour was a bit rusty and out of practice, Anonymous was clearly running at full steam, having had almost the whole evening to warm up, busting out a repertoire of energetic moves in perfect sync with the beat. It was almost intimidating how agile he could be when not in a formal setting, or wearing heavy minotaur bronze armor. And he could still be pretty swift in his protective covers; Honour remembered how he ran her down in the sandpit practice.
Frowning for a moment in-between steps, Honour realized she really ought to take his advice and look forward, not back.
‘Think instead about how he’ll do with that gear in the Games.’
‘How his steam-powered carriage will work.’
‘How you’ll do.’
‘How the whole team’ll do.’
They couldn’t expect a podium finish; there were too many other teams with accomplished warriors that had been training for it all year. Honour, Anonymous, and the others, on the other hoof, have only known each other for a few weeks; even less in the case of Purity. But hopefully a decent performance, combined with the novelty of a mixed group and the Whirlwind itself, would elevate them to the middle of the pack instead of being relegated to the rear. Taking fifth or sixth out of eight would still be an accomplishment, especially if Lily did a good job demonstrating how the Whirlwind could sweep the skies. Purity, even though she was more of a solo performer than a team fighter, had the skills to elevate them that high, surely. And Artemis with that rocket-lance ought to be a smash hit, if the battle in the Grand Hall of Stars was anything to go by. They all still had a lot of training to do, and that day would be absolutely exhausting, but it was something to look forward to.
And, who could say? If Anonymous wasn’t able to get Honour that promotion right now — assuming he was serious about trying to use his influence to bump her up, rather than drunkenly boasting — surely the prestige of raising the Canterlot Palace Military Office’s VIP Section banner at the Games would provide enough career recognition for an impromptu review and advancement. At least then she could head back to Filly’ and meet Castlerook eye-to-eye on level ground.
Honour whinnied to herself. Maybe even becoming Sergeant Bound would be enough to get Leeward off her back, if Anonymous’ impassioned speech earlier and Alexander’s scheduled sermon later didn’t do the trick. Wasn’t a bosun to a ship’s crew what a sergeant was to a platoon? That was worth the pay bump up from Corporal alone.
Energized by thoughts of a promising future, she found herself letting loose, even allowing her shawl to slip a bit, showing off more of the scandalous red dress underneath. She really shouldn’t have brought the thing out here; her VIP wasn’t wearing his jacket, after all. Looking around, Honour realized that she was hardly in poor company when it came to plot-revealing outfits: plenty of mares around were shaking everything their dame gave them with little more than their tails to cover the underneath. The music was too good and she was in too good of a mood to want to head back to the table to drop it off. And she couldn’t just hoof it to Anonymous, even though that’s how it’s supposed to work, between colt and mare on the dance floor.
‘Except we’re not ‘colt and mare’.’
Putting it out of her mind, Honour let her thoughts drift back to the future, but she didn’t get far before another, very familiar beat started to fade in on the preceding classic beat.
‘Oh no, they aren’t, are they?’
‘Oh, Celestia, they are.’
It was that song.
The one she’d rehearsed to for a month for her recital.
Her recital for that course.
‘Of all the eclectic, experimental selection of hobbies and interests I’d spun through to ‘find myself’ after the divorce, why’d this one have to come up, here and now?’
Well, there was no sense in wasting what she’d learned: both poles were presently empty, and her dress was about as form-fitting as her leotard was back then.
“Alright. I’m warmed up.”
Recommended background music: Naughty Girl (Beyoncé) [2003]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRQqwNWQIN0
Anonymous was surprised, but he didn’t think for more than a half-moment before following her over to the brass pole. Honour wondered if she still remembered how to do this properly or if she was about to fall flat on her plot.
It was a good thing the routine started slowly, on just her hind hooves.
Stepping onto the base, she reared up and steadied herself against the pole with a forehoof held high, starting to bob in time with the building beat, as her dress-tassels and furry shawl bounced along with her mane and tail. Already, quite a few of the immediately surrounding eyes were on her, as the newest amateur aspirant.
‘Wait for it…’
At the fourth bar, she started to strut around in a circle to the tempo. It was encouraging that she’d managed to keep perfectly steady on her hind hooves; doing it in slippers rather than heels certainly helped. The intro act got her a couple of hoots of encouragement from the little pocket of nearby dancers.
When the lyrics started eight bars later, Honour stopped and shook off the shawl, kicking it over to Anonymous, who caught it without hesitation in one hand, to a scattering of spectators’ cheers and whistles. He was standing close enough to reach out and hold her, if she needed help, which was a little reassuring. And now that she was set up, he continued his own routine in support of her own, acting like a back-up dancer in a live show. The half-a-hoof of extra height provided by the padded base actually brought her up as high as Artemis was when she was dancing the Lipizzaner with him. Anon’s active presence nearby actually made Honour’s heart race a bit more than the public exhibition already did. But surely he wouldn’t want to remain with her in the spotlight once she really started embarrassing herself.
Honour shut her eyes momentarily in concentration.
‘Now, can I still climb this thing and hold on…’
Lily Glamerspear
Lily’s legs were wobbly; wobblier than she thought they’d ever been in her whole life. And it wasn’t the booze.
Well, it was partially the booze.
But never mind galloping for eight hours straight — the Royal Engineer dancing at full tilt for an hour and a half was enough to knock the unicorn off her hooves. Still, she supposed, it wasn’t all bad. Lily felt the groove overtaking her; it was a good pain. She was going to be sore as all buck tomorrow, but so what? She had the day off. Besides, that’s how her assignment had been going since the beginning, and she certainly wouldn’t trade it for any other boring regular posting. Where else would she have gotten to do all this stuff, including attending the Grand Galloping Gala?
‘Now, back to enjoying one of the simplest privileges of said Gala.’
“Another Manehattan. And gimme a cherry with the stem still on it. Longest stem you got.”
She only got a polite nod in response from the bartender, but it was late and loud and the bar was still pretty busy, even if there were a few free stools now. Of course, it was only a temporary installation, but there’s just something about being able to sit down at a high table and admire a wall of liquor with some well-dressed ponies who would mix you up whatever you wanted from it. Lily had had enough fruity rum for the evening, and she was going back to an old faithful, named for her hometown, no less.
And the cherry on top was the cherry on top.
She had some plans for that; plans involving the unescorted pair of bucks chatting to each other a few seats down. Yeah, maybe she wasn’t looking for a coltfriend right now, and maybe she wasn’t likely to horizontally mambo with a stallion tonight — not with how her hooves felt after all that dancing. But she could still have some fun and show off to a pair of studs. Besides, it’d boost her self-confidence after Mailedhoof dumpstered it earlier in the evening when he chucked her out over her association with Purity.
‘Yeah, that’s right, colts, look over here, check out the real deal.’
Lily’s cocktail arrived with the harpooned cherry just where she wanted it.
‘Time to hit ‘em with the ol’ tongue twister.’
Keeping her eyes fixed over on them, she snapped the stem off and stuck her tongue out, deliberately avoiding the use of her magic — ‘no cheating!’ — as she dropped it in place. One of them elbowed the other, and they looked over her way, clearly interested.
‘Okay, now poke your tongue to the roof of your mouth to bend it in half, bite down to hold the middle, cross the ends, and — hey, what the buck?’
The other one elbowed his mate back, pointing away past Lily, and the two of them craned their necks to behold something new on the dance floor.
‘Okay, who the buck has the absolute teats to upstage me while I’m cherry-knotting?’
Infuriated, but still holding the stem in place, she spun around to find the target of the colts’ attention. When Lily saw it for herself, her eyes went wide and the cherry-stem dropped from her open mouth to the floor.
Purity Ebonshield
This was the best nightclub she’d ever been in. Never mind the excellent music at ‘The Stables’, the dazzling lights at ‘Tapestry’, the stylish furniture at ‘The Mad Ox’, or the raw, youthful energy of ‘Earthquake’; here at the Grand Galloping Gala, this was everything Purity had expected, dreamed, imagined, hoped, and wished for. All that, and she could still ‘hang out’ with her companions so dear! A shame her Gilbert did not have an invite, but he was only a student, after all. She might have perhaps asked for one on his behalf, but she did not wish to impose on her VIP or give her paramour the wrong impression. She was merely his teacher for the moment; she could never be his long-term lover.
‘Best to take breaks now and again to make that relationship clear.’
Tonight she was dancing with somepony else instead. He was a little older, true, but still youthful enough for Purity to initiate. And what beautiful movements he could make with his feathered wings! It made her jealous that hers were leathery, even though they had never let her down.
Had the Great Mother known her Children would be envious of the handsome pegasi when they were at last reunited with their Equestrian kin? As much as she was pleased that the prospect of fighting was no more, and that her Creator had peacefully reunited with Her divine sister, part of Purity wondered what plan, if any, Nightmare Moon had had in mind if She and Her Children of the League of Stars had emerged victorious when She returned. Purity had been certain that her own mother, Carmen, would have pushed for racial ‘purity’ and the prohibition of interbreeding, at least up until the inebriated confessional earlier tonight. It was hard to believe she could really have changed her mind, but then again, Carmen was nothing if not opportunistic.
The music became sultrier, and Purity closed in tight around her partner, wrapping her wings around his body and nuzzling into the crook of his feathered wing, up against his paisley-patterned golden vest and crisp white shirt.
No wonder her Very Important Pony stated that he found feathers interesting; perhaps she should not have jumped at the prospect of a unicorn for her first Equestrian coupling. But Gilbert was a very interesting partner in his own right, and had taught her so many things about Equestrian customs and culture.
“Whoa, someone’s on the pole now, and they’re really working it. You ought to get up next and show what you can do, Miss Purity.”
She inhaled deeply, taking in the strange, foreign scent of preening oil. “Mmm, I told you already, my sweet Paget, I am not here to show off.” He curled his powerful wing-arm around her, surrounding her head with feathers.
‘What a delightful feeling!’
“Yeah, but she’s the best so far. You said you were a professional acrobat, didn’t you?”
A little lie, but technically true.
“Ahh... You really wish me to demonstrate in public? Don’t you want to keep me for yourself?”
He hugged her a little tighter, and nuzzled down against her neck, speaking into her ear. “Nopony’s going to believe I danced with a batpony gymnast if I’m the only one who saw you tonight.”
Purity chuckled. “Is that all I am? A trophy? A conquest?”
He whinnied softly, nibbling at her nape. “I don’t think anypony could conquer you, Miss Purity.”
After taking a moment to revel in the feeling, she lifted her head up and opened her eyes. “Let us see, then, this performer who has taken your attention away from me.”
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the brilliant flashing lights. But when she saw the mare, the only thing she could think was:
‘Those are not among the moves of the Temple of the Shining Stellar Dance that I taught to comrade Honoria.’
Artemis Sparkshower
It was a beautiful night out. Artemis was a little less enthused with the reason why she was outside. Albert Pacesetter, in a development sadly not at all out of character for somepony from the upper crust of Canterlot society, was a smoker. The two of them had had quite some time dancing happily together so far, and when he invited her to head out onto a balcony for a moment to ‘get some fresh air’, the thought of it being for tobacco hadn’t even crossed her mind. Things got a bit awkward, at least from Artemis’ perspective, when, upon reaching the balcony edge, he telekinetically pulled a polished silver cigarette-case out of his breast pocket and offered her one of the crisp little white cylinders with three decorative gold bands, which she’d declined. He must not have lit up before dinner, or she probably would have picked up on it during their tango or two-step. Then again, she’d had her head so high up in the stratosphere that perhaps she wouldn’t have noticed, and there had been enough ambient odors in the hall that it might’ve been impossible to place it on him in particular.
Well, nopony was perfect.
And anyways, it’s not like she was about to propose, or anything like that. There were no strings being attached here. He was just a gateway to a pleasant evening, which Artemis had indeed enjoyed so far, and which she looked forward to continuing to enjoy once her partner finished his smoke break, just like the dozens of other ponies out here on the balconies, indulging in their vice.
Pacesetter blew a plume of smoke out and away from her, then extracted a small, silver canister from another pocket and stubbed the cigarette-butt out in it. “I do apologize, Miss Sparkshower. It’s a terrible habit. I’m afraid it’s quite impossible to avoid amongst my peers, however.”
“Unfortunately, I can say the same is true in my circles as well.” After all, what proportion of Equestria’s ordinary rank-and-file Guardsponies smoked like chimneys when they were off-duty if there was nothing better to do? Half? Two thirds? It was a lot. Being out of barracks and in the palace proper at least meant Artemis got away from the smoke. And she was happy her VIP didn’t imbibe either. But there the two of them stood, Artemis still being coy about her own social situation while trying to suss out that of the other.
That was almost a bigger frustration than the smoking.
“But you have managed to abstain where I succumbed. It is true what they say that the fairer sex is also the ultimately stronger one. I hope we may continue our merrymaking tonight together in spite of this difference.”
She smiled. “I’d like to.”
Pacesetter bowed his head. “Thank you. I promise no further interruptions. But shall we gaze upon the stars before returning inside?”
“I’d like that, too.”
Rising back up, he nodded his head up towards a spot in the sky, away from the palace. “Splendid. Do you know any astronomy? The constellation ‘Cygnus’, ‘The Swan’, is spectacularly visible at this moment.”
‘Oh, stars! I love stars!’
That was one of her best courses in recon training. The trick would be to share what she knew without making it clear why she knew how to astronavigate.
‘So the game continues…’
Honour Bound
Honour was about to collapse. Her thighs were not up to clamping onto a pole like this anymore. And hanging upside-down with a gut full of liquor was a really bad idea.
‘Why’d I have to design this routine to end with a ‘Jasmine’ straight-leg inversion, slowly rotating around the pole?’
Now she was stuck there, unable to loosen her hindlegs just that little bit to either slide down gracefully (as she was supposed to) or to bend back up to seize the pole with her forehooves. All she could do now is crash down when everything gave out in another second...
Just before that moment came, she felt firm hands come up against her spine to support her weight. It was Anonymous, but she wouldn’t have cared if it was a demon from Tartarus. Transferring her weight to him let Honour release her grip on the pole and she tried, as delicately as she could, to lift her back and put her hind hooves on the ground again. She wobbled for a moment, but her dance partner kept his hands on her, shifting his grip to her flanks and barrel. Honour was panting, there was foam at her neck, and she felt like she’d drenched that scandalously elegant dress of hers in sweat.
“Easy there,” he said, in a soft, reassuring tone.
“AY, YO, Y’ALL, GIVE IT UP FOR MISSY BROWN OVER THERE IN THE RED FOR THAT TRIPLE-A PROFESSIONAL SHOW JUST NOW, AM I RIGHT? YYYYEAH!” That amplified holler from the MC was rather less reassuring, though Honour had to admit that the few moments of applause and cheers had made for a nice conclusion as she finally got back down on all fours. But she was definitely done for now.
“I need to sit down, away from the crowd.”
“Sure. Over here.” The Royal Engineer put on his broadest public smile and waved a bit in farewell to the audience, who quickly got back to partying, as he escorted her past the dinner tables and over through a doorway into the ‘Carousel Room’, so named for the enormous painting of an oval carriage race covering one of the walls. Here, there were a few club chairs and coffee tables, and since there was no bar or drinks station nearby, it wasn’t very busy.
Honour’s VIP set her down in one of the seats and then squatted so low in front of her that she actually had to look down a bit to see his face. “You need anything? Glass of water? Something stronger?”
She shook her head. “No. Just a moment to rest.”
He nodded, and watched as she caught her breath. He licked his lips, glancing back towards the dance floor and brass pole. “You looked like you were about to collapse at the end.”
She nodded. “I was. It’s been a while. I haven’t practiced in a couple of years...” She looked down at the floor, shaking her head. “...I don’t know what I was thinking. The rum punch must really be in the driver’s seat for me to make a fool of myself like that.”
Anonymous sighed. “Hey. What’d I tell you?” Gently taking up her forehooves in his hands, he continued. “You can’t keep putting yourself down like that. I sure didn’t see a fool out there. You were so fantastic, I had trouble keeping up with you. Do you want to know what I did see?”
Swallowing, she looked up into his eyes.
“I saw an amazing performance put on by a gorgeous g—” He choked off a word, but she barely noticed the interruption. “A gorgeous mare, with a stunning mane, in an exquisite dress.” Then, he lifted her forehoof up to his mouth and kissed it softly. “You’re beautiful, Honour. I can see it. Anybody who can’t is completely blind.”
‘He…’
‘The…’
‘It…’
She thought she was about to fall over, even though she was already sitting down.
An eternity passed before she took her next breath. And she still didn’t know what to say in reply.
“I...” It took an act of willpower to shut her eyes and break away from his gaze for even a moment. “...Maybe I will take that glass of water after all.”
Anonymous nodded. “Okay.” He gently guided her forehooves back onto the seat in front of her haunches, and then got up. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
Honour was completely stunned; she couldn’t have moved a muscle if she wanted to. It was a miracle she hadn’t toppled to the floor. There was a pounding in her chest and in her head, and it wasn’t the bass drum from the dance music.
Before she could even put two thoughts together, he was back with the water. With her mind a blur, she took it and drank it all down. And when he squatted down in front of her to take the empty cup away, she couldn’t help but be captivated by his eyes again.
“Better?”
She felt herself nodding.
He nodded, tenderly. “Okay.” He bobbed his head back towards the dance floor. “Are you done for the night, or are you still up for some more dancing? The regular kind, I mean.”
She found herself scooting forwards, hind hooves touching the ground, followed by fore. “Yeah...” He stood up beside her, and she found herself swishing her tail in anticipation. “Yeah, we can keep going.”
Finally, real breathing returned to her, and she inhaled deeply, swelling her chest with a strange and unfamiliar kind of confidence and determination. “We can keep going all night. They’ll have to drive us out with spears and javelins.”
She looked up, and the Royal Engineer smiled down at her. “All right! Let’s wreck the joint!”
And with that, Honour accompanied her Very Important Pony back to the dance floor.
Suggested interlude music: Lady In Red (Chris De Burgh) [1986]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9Jcs45GhxU