Random /moon/ short


                                            >Man, parties in Eques...

                                            >Erque-

                                            >Pony-world, that works.

                                            >Parties here fucking suck.

                                            >You don't know the reason for this one.

                                            >Feels like there's one every other day.

                                            >This one's in Canterlot, though.

                                            >In the freaking castle.

                                            >So you had hoped it would be better.

                                            >Twilight asked you to tag along with her friends, and you agreed in anticipation this would be a real shindig with food other than grass.

                                            >And proper booze.

                                            >At least the booze worked out.

                                            >Certainly not from the spiked punch, though.

                                            >Wow, more sugar - yeah, that's really exciting and daring.

                                            >Where in the goddamn Pinks pulled a whole five-pound bag of sugar from is anyone's guess.

                                            >You've stopped questioning it.

                                            >Actually, you're just trying to stand up now.

                                            >The goddamn floors in this place keep moving.

                                            >The air in here is too damn stuffy.

                                            >And the walls are spinning.

                                            >Alright feet, get us outside for some fresh air before blowing chunks all over the floor.

                                            >That's it...

                                            >Carefully stumble past these uppity poners practically guarding the door outside to the landing...

                                            >The floor moves and you bump into one.

                                            "Sorry."

                                            >No response back, but despite your blurred vision, you can basically feel the stares of disapproval poring into you.

                                            >You quickly make your way outside, almost tripping over the threshold.

                                            >No, wait, you are tripping.

                                            >As your mind tries to make sense of your orientation, you remember it's winter.

                                            >Just before falling face-first into a small snowdrift that has whipped up along the railing at the edge of the balcony.

                                            >Fuck, that's cold.

                                            "Who the hell ordered all this white bullshit?" you mutter while trying to stand up and brush yourself off.

                                            >Simultaneously.

                                            >Your coordination isn't there for those physical tasks, and you end up on your ass.

                                            >"Quite the graceful one, aren't you?" a feminine voice muses somewhere off to your right...

                                            >And above?

                                            >Who knows.

                                            "I'm a man of many talents," you announce back, finally getting your feet and legs to cooperate for the time being.

                                            >Still, you reach out and grab the railing for insurance.

                                            >Now you start to look around, but in your swirling vision, there's no sign of who just spoke to you.

                                            >Whatever, you aren't out here to shoot the shit anyway.

                                            >But... well, why not?

                                            "It's uh... quite the party in there, huh?"

                                            >There's a deafening silence as you look over the blanket of snow that caps the many spires and rooftops around you.

                                            >Maybe you're more sloshed than you thought.

                                            >"I suppose so. But I must confess, I am not one to indulge in such galas," the voice finally answers back solemnly.

                                            "Aw, come on, you don't know how to party? You just put your lips together and drink."

                                            >There's a slight chuckle in response to that awful and slurred quip.

                                            >"Ah. That would explain the lack of fine motor control and balance."

                                            "No, that's gravity and the ground under my feet fucking with only me."

                                            >"Of course. My mistake."

                                            "I'll let it slide this time."

                                            >Only the murmurs of conversation and the hint of a classical melody filter through the closed door behind you to pick up where the small talk has abruptly died.

                                            "It's a little cold out here tonight, yeah?"

                                            >"A proper night for the beginning of winter, yes?"

                                            "I guess. Is that what this party is all about?"

                                            >"More or less. The proper name is the Winter Moon Festival, the longest night of the year."

                                            "That's fucking retarded."

                                            >"I... beg your pardon?"

                                            >Welp, judging by the tone in your confidant's voice, your word filter decided to stop at an inappropriate time.

                                            "Look, I know you ponies have your celebrations and that stuff means a lot to you. Not criticizing that."

                                            >"Go on."

                                            >That tone shifts from someone being offended to someone daring you to try talking your way out of a hole.

                                            "It's kind of stupid if you're celebrating the moon and the night when you just spend the whole time indoors, isn't it?" What the hell's the point of that?"

                                            >Again, the words leave your mouth and seem to enter a vacuum, as no answer follows for quite some time.

                                            >You manage to crank your head up and focus your vision to gaze upon the heavenly body apparently being celebrated tonight.

                                            >Certainly looks more impressive than normal - larger, brighter...

                                            >But that could just be your inebriated mind making shit up.

                                            >"Your sentiments match mine to some degree. But the bitter irony is the cold of the longest night forces those celebrations indoors. But it is nonetheless refreshing to hear such a statement said aloud by somepony else."

                                            "But it means enough to you to stand out here, huh? Or are you on night watch?"

                                            >Another chuckle emanates from above, coinciding with a slight rush of air and ruffle of feathers.

                                            >"Ah, your brazen naivety is quite astonishing and amusing," she replies, followed by the sound of hooves daintily touching down upon the balcony to your right. "But I must admit, there lies truth within both of your explanations.

                                            >Even though you've finally started remembering how your eyes work, turning your head to finally set eyes upon the mystery mare only allows you to make out her general form and navy blue coat in an otherwise unfocused mess.

                                            "Damn, didn't know they made pegasus as big as you, nightingale," you absentmindedly comment.

                                            >Through the haze, you see the mare open her mouth to speak as her bright turquoise eyes widen just a bit.

                                            >"Hm. I had no idea your vision was quite so poor."

                                            "I made sure to bring my high-strength booze goggles tonight. Special occasion," you answer back.

                                            >"Ah, that would explain it."

                                            "What should I be seeing?"

                                            >"It is unimportant, to be honest with you," she dismisses casually. "The candidness of this idle conversation is something I find enjoyable this evening, and I would rather not spoil it."

                                            >...

                                            "Alright, you got a name?"

                                            >"Nightingale has a nice ring to it."

                                            >Okay, this is taking an odd turn.

                                            "You aren't on Canterlot's Most Wanted list, are you?" you suggest jokingly.

                                            >Sorta.

                                            >"I don't believe so. But I am afraid I don't have your name, either."

                                            "Nuh-uh, if you're playing the anonymity card, so am I. What would be a good name for me?"

                                            >For a spell, she mulls the question.

                                            >"Al."

                                            "Coholic."

                                            >"You were quick to catch that. Quite unexpected, I must admit."

                                            "Hey, I'm drunk, not stupid."

                                            >"I never meant to imply such a thing," she says apologetically.

                                            "You can relax, I'm not offended."

                                            >"Perhaps I should have known you were merely jesting, but I prefer to err on the side of caution," Nightingale admits. "But with somepony so keen to party and an aversion to the cold and crassly termed 'white bullshit' I assume is snow - why are you out here?"

                                            >You shrug.

                                            >Of course you came out here for fresh air.

                                            >And now you got that.

                                            >But you have no interest in going back inside now.

                                            "Too stuffy in there. And drinking gets boring after a while."

                                            >You pause a moment, looking back up at the sky and the full moon hanging there.

                                            "Since I'm drunk and I can pass it off as stupidity by inebriation - someone told me the sun and the moon here are actually... like, somebody manipulates them. I find that hard to believe..."

                                            >"Yet you speak of such an outlandish idea with hesitation."

                                            "Yeah. I don't know. The moon just seems so much more... lively, if that makes sense. Like just for tonight, it's putting on a show, it knows the occasion."

                                            >"Perhaps there is some truth to that."

                                            >You turn back to Nightingale, who, through your haze, seems to be amused by your ramblings.

                                            >But hardly forthcoming with answers.

                                            "So you have heard of what I'm talking about, then?"

                                            >"I have," she replies quietly, turning her head to face the heavens. "And if there is a pony that possesses such power to make a picturesque backdrop for the Winter Moon Festival, I am certain he or she would be appreciative of the attention paid to this creation."

                                            >You meet her gaze, staring into the indigo canvas beyond the imposing silvery light.

                                            >Little by little, the specks of light from distant stars begin to filter in.

                                            >They seem to twinkle as they are enveloped by differing shades of blue and violet as if vast clusters of galaxies and nebulae beyond are being painted in real-time.

                                            "I can't say I've ever been a stargazer in my life. Lived in a city for most of it until... well, dropping in here. So I guess between that and booze... it's impressive when you stop and think about it. Looking at it now, for the first time, I guess."

                                            >"Indeed. While wholly unexpected, I am glad you decided to get away from the party for a short while."

                                            "Yeah. You going back in, I take it?" you ask.

                                            >"I am. Even I must admit the air is becoming quite brisk. But I also have items which require my attention tonight."

                                            "So you are a guard?"

                                            >"To an extent."

                                            "Man, you like toying around, don't you?"

                                            >"There is a certain enjoyment with such casual conversation that I am afraid is hard to come by, Al. So forgive my reluctance to share details about myself tonight."

                                            "I'll let it slide if you're gonna find my drunk ass again sometime."

                                            >"It would be safe to count on that happening in the future. Perhaps I may even partake in drink to even the score a bit. I will be in touch."

                                            "Take care, Nightingale."

                                            >"Likewise, Al. And thank you."

                                            >With that, Nightingale leaps up into the air, and try as you might, sluggish reactions and vertigo do not allow you to follow.

                                            >...

                                            >Well fuck.

                                            >Maybe you should have given her your real name.

                                            >But you're pretty unique, she can probably find you.

                                            >And if she is able to just wander amongst the castle like that, she probably has at least a little importance and resources to track you down anyway...