GREEN
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1210 6.41 KB 88
1210 6.41 KB 88
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>A house
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>Back on earth,
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>Your earth
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>Whenever you read one of those stories, the main character would be living in a house
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>So when you found yourself on this earth, the equestrian earth, you expected to be able to find a house quite easily
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>The logs clink as they tumble into the fireplace
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>”That’s the last of the wood”, the blue mare notes as she walks back from the rack, taking a seat by your side
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Great. Let’s hope it lasts.
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>You weren’t so fortunate
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>You, Anonymous, ended up in an apartment
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>Not even a very good one. All things considered, it would be more accurate to call it a furnished woodshed
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>And the worst part was you couldn’t even land the rental on your own
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>You cracked a new beer, one of many you’ve had since the start of the evening, and raised the can to your lips
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>Only for it to float away in a cloud of blue shimmering magic
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Would you get your own beers?
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>”Or what? You think you can stop Trixie?”, she sneered at you
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>You growled back, and grabbed yet another beer from the large carton
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>Again unlike the stories, you lived with Trixie, who you could very loosely consider to be a roommate
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>Despite how hazy it may have seemed to other ponies, your relationship was simple
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>She sexually assaults you, and you get to keep a roof over your head
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>Why agree to such an arrangement?
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>Because despite the harassment she has subjected you to from the moment you arrived, she’s the only pony who sees you as more than just a strange kind of ape
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>Perhaps that’s why she decided to assault you to begin with
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>You take a large swallow of alcohol to drown the thought
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>Outside, the wind howls against the thin walls of your small shared studio.
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>In time, you drink enough beers that you have enough empties to build a sizable pyramid
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>Trixie sits beneath a blanket, a next to a square made of her own empty cans
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>”Trixie heard it would go down to -30 tonight.”
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No it won’t. It’ll go to -15.
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>You grabbed one of her cans and added it to the pyramid
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>”The newspaper clearly said it would go down to -30.”
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Yes. With the wind-chill. We’re inside, Trixie. -15.
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>You grabbed for another of her empty cans, only for her to stop you with magic
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Oh piss off, you’re not allowed to be upset because you misread the paper.
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>”I can be upset about whatever I want.”
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Ooooh, she’s ditched the self-referential third person. Scary.
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>You feel the magic envelope heat your hand to scalding
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>She’s done it often enough that you’re sure the nerves in your hand are damaged
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>”There’s no need to be an asshole, Anon” she snarls as she dissipates her spell
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Don’t blame your pissyness on me. Not my fault you can’t read
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>Abandoning the pyramid, you retrieve a new can from the carton and place it in front of your roommate
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>You wait for her to open and drink it before you grab one for yourself
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>”Why are you still here, Anon?” Her voice gives you pause
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>The can feels heavy in your hand. Heavier still is the urge to throw it
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>You turn to look at the azure unicorn. There’s something in her eyes you’re not used to seeing
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"Oh, because I have so many other options, right? Lil miss failed show-pony?"
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>...is what you want to say. But that thing in her eyes stops you
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>Instead, the beer remains in your hand and the tab is pulled
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>It’s cold and flat as it courses down your throat. Trixie replies by returning to her own beer
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>The fire is about half the size it used to be
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>There’s perhaps a quarter of the case of beer remaining, about 8 cans
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>The floor is littered by an assortment of empties, and several now sit scalded in the fireplace
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>Trixie moves closer to you, still covered in her blanket
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>Outside, the wind screams against the pathetic fencing surrounding your rental
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“Do you ever think about how we met”, the thought rolls out of your mouth, directed at no one
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>”Yes. It would be nice if Trixie had more money than she does currently.”
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>She stays focused on the fire
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Yeah. I think I’d prefer if I stayed in my tent, too.
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>Another can gets tossed into the fireplace
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>You reach towards Trixie and grab an end of her blanket, stretching it around yourself so that you're both sitting underneath it
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>With her magic, Trixie grabs another two cans of beer from the carton and drops one in front of you
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>The wind continues to race past the outside of the windows, a haze of cold static as the snow is thrown around
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>Trixie's hoof starts tracing circles on your pants, in the fabric above your crotch
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"No", you bark and smack her hoof to the floor where it makes a clop noise
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>She places her hoof on your thigh, you leave it there, and you both continue drinking
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>The fire, once proud, now glows feebly as it struggles to exhaust the last of its fuel
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>Under the blanket, you and Trixie lay spooning, your face buried in her mane
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>”You’d better not try anything funny back there,” she slurs out, “Trixie knows how you are when you’re drunk.”
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>Left hand wrapped around her barrel, you move it to poke her in the stomach. Hard
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Don’t put your issues on me, Lulamoon. Wouldn’t fuck you if you begged me.
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>She doesn’t react. Not to the poke, nor to your retort
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>But the pit in your stomach gnaws all the same, that she might react
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>Your hand finds its way back around her chest, and you both are still
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>The room seems to fill with the sounds of your breathing, the pathetic crackling of the fireplace buried under the respiration
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>”Five.”
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>The muscles in her neck shift as she looks at the ceiling, and more of her mane falls across your face
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>”The tables, the bed, the bed frame, and the desk. And they wouldn’t blame you either, they knew my finances were variable when they took the application.”
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>Her heart beats strong enough that you can feel it on your chest. She’s still looking at the ceiling, probably trying to make you feel like she’s talking to you
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“You’re right. They wouldn’t blame you one bit,” you reply, staying buried within her mane
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>You pulled your arm back from across her side so that it rested on your hip
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>Her weight shifts, slightly, like she was thinking about thinking to stand up
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>But it settles back deeper into your stomach than it was before
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>A familiar sensation pulls your arm back across her body, and you settle your hand into the flat of her chest
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>Silence returned to the room, save for the final whimpers of the embers in the fireplace
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>And as the night carried on, and the air grew colder, the silence grew deeper still.
by Greggums
by Greggums
by Greggums
by Greggums
by Greggums