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Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 15, 2015 13:00:43 GMT -5
“Harharhar.” Script gave him a flat stare. The enchanter’s eyebrows rose a little at the name of the pony they were to accompany, a mix between incredulity and disbelief.
“Seriously? Max Force?” He shook his head slowly. “Kinda doubt that it’s his real name, then again, pony parents tend to be almost prophetic naming their fillies…”
It was true, he thought, many a parent had manage to choose the perfect name for their foal, as if knowing what they would grow up to. Sure there were Clans like the Apples, were the relation between name and Cutie Mark was not that much of a coincidence. On the other hand he had once met a jeweller who was named Gold Touch, his parents had been poor farmers and he had struck it rich quite per accident. Even his Cutie Mark had been a wreath of gold. There were many such strange coincidences around Equestria, someone naming their foal Max Force was, therefore, entirely possible. It still sounded really strange.
Nodding along as the other amber pony spoke he considered what he was saying. Hopefully they would get their briefing tomorrow then; he was rested now and felt ready, prepared, even if some part of him knew that he could hardly be ready for anything, being as green as he was. He shuddered as Lucky mentioned the rather unsavoury tasks.
“I do hope we don’t have to do something like that… I mean, sure, if we have to… its part of the job after all. But I kind of hope that we do more useful things… ah well. We’ll see I guess…”
Script frowned. Hopefully the assignment was something useful… if they just dug trenches and outhouses while that Max Force guy did whatever… sure it was all part of the war effort but he would prefer to be closer to the action.
Perking up he watched as Lucky suddenly began to mix up something again. Watching silently he waited for the other pony to finish, taking the vial in hand and sniffing it.
“Toast eh? Alright I guess. To an exciting assignment.” For blood and glory, he thought.
Throwing caution to the wind he clinked his vial with Lucky’s, chugged the brew and smacked his lips, trying to discern what it was he had so unthinkingly ingested. Maybe whatever it was would give him a pleasant night of sleep. He could certainly use one. Tomorrow he would take his first step on a long road towards his goal.
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Post by Red Charge on Jan 20, 2015 7:09:23 GMT -5
Lucky sat down on his sleeping bag, observing Fantasy Script. Immediately the enchanter pony felt his limbs sagging and his vision ... melting into nothingness... There were no dreams in his sleep, none that he could remember anyway. The unicorn woke up with a very refreshed mind, but a very sore body. He felt his intellect fresh and keen, full of new ideas and creativity, he hasn't had a peaceful rest like that in a long time. If it weren't for his sore body it perhaps could have been considered a perfect night, even though the potion left his mouth with a very noticeable aftertaste. Lucky was waking up on his own bedroll, seeming very pleased with himself and well rested too. The alchemist began stretching to prepare for the day, looking over at Fantasy, "So how'd you sleep?" He asked.
The pale amber pony began his morning ritual of looking through his stuff to see if anything was missing or if he needed anything else. When he was finished he waited for Fantasy Script to be ready so they could head for breakfast together.
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Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 20, 2015 7:18:32 GMT -5
Script groaned, stretching slowly, smacking his lips again and trying to get rid of that strange taste that was filling his mouth in a most uncomfortable way. His head felt great, admittedly, full of clear crisp thoughts and ideas and plans! If only his body were up to the task as much as his mind was.
Stretching languidly and popping a few joints and vertebrae back into place he looked around, finally acknowledging Lucky’s question.
“Dreamless, thankfully. Did you push me down a hill while I slept or something? I feel like I fell of a cloud and only my head remained up there.”
Yawning more for effect than anything Script stretched some more before he checked his stuff, petted Albion who was still snoring happily away and checked his stuff.
“You up for some food?”
Lucky seemed already be waiting for that and they headed off.
“What was that stuff though?”
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Post by Red Charge on Jan 20, 2015 7:35:17 GMT -5
Lucky gave a shrug at the accusation and replied to the question, "A recipe I've been dying to test on other unicorns. Let me know if there are any side effects." Once more he took point leading the other unicorn to the mess hall tent. They seemed to be up earlier than most, so all the dishes were still warm and fresh, certainly helped in getting the weird aftertaste and slimy feeling in Fantasy's throat out, which also felt sore if he had to think about it.
The cute pony from the other day, Honey Drizzle, sat down with them for breakfast. She was very pleasant and seemed to have all the news from everywhere. Of course, that's probably why Lucky Drops kept her so close, after all, she was in the mess hall all day. Who knows what things she overhears during the day?
The only other noticeable pony was one sitting far away from them, a large stallion decked out in some of the heaviest armor Fantasy has ever seen in his life. His helmet was off, so the enchanter could see his features, a military cut red mane over a persian green coat with vibrant but steely looking citrine eyes. He ate silently and properly in the corner. Once he met Fantasy's eyes with his chilling gaze and did not move it until Fantasy lowered his own eyes. Soon after, he got up, retrieved his helmet and left.
"That's a slayer." Honey Drizzle whispered.
"If there's a Max Force in existence, it's that guy." Lucky stated, "Gives me the chills."
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Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 20, 2015 7:47:59 GMT -5
“Your guinea pig am I?” Script shook his head slowly. Alchemists were crazy people after all. As Lucky asked for side effects he mentioned the soreness as well as the sore throat and general unpleasantness going on in his mouth. If that could be considered a side effect and not just be an effect of ingesting a potion. Those things tended to be rather vile concoctions most of the time.
Honey Drizzle joined them this time as they enjoyed the warm plates of breakfast, a noticeable perk about being up earlier than usual and began to gossip, or rather keep them up to date on all the ins and outs she had heard so far. Script tuned her out after a while, most of the names she mentioned not ringing any bells. As his eyes wandered he saw another pony in the hall, a huge stallion decked out in plate that seemed too heavy, too thick to be feasible, eating silently and with much decorum. That guy unsettled him. There was something about him that made Scripts coat plush out and make him antsy, his telekinesis wanting to grab the hilt of his sword to make sure he had something to push between himself and that strange tank in pony form.
As their eyes met his blood froze. These eyes… so cold… he tried to return the even gaze as best he could, pushed forward his sour disposition, his grumpiness and general hard-headedness, but it was for naught. His grumpy stormy gaze was met with unflinching icy eyes that did not care for his woes, did not care for his opinion. He felt small, powerless even and he did not like it one bit.
He turned his gaze away finally, his mood plummeting as he grumbled into his food, slowly finishing the rest of it.
Script heard the stallion clank away soon afterwards.
His gaze shot up as Honey Drizzle answered the unasked question. He had heard of the slayer’s in passing, but he knew only as much as the general public, of course. Once he had wondered whether he should have applied for that program, but seeing the cold unflinching hulks they produced… he wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore.
He nodded at Lucky’s observation.
“True… that guy… I don’t like him. Feels off.” He shook himself a little, trying to get rid of that feeling, of that cold gaze boring unto him, seeing to his core and judging him. Script felt as if he had failed said judgement.
He shuddered again. He felt cold. The gaze of those eyes burned into his mind.
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Post by Red Charge on Jan 20, 2015 13:43:35 GMT -5
Not long after, the two left the mess tent as more ponies started pouring in for grub. The day was exceptionally bright for the season and there was a chill wind. "What about you?" Lucky Drops asked the enchanter, "Fancy Honey Drizzle? Want me to set you up?" He asked, leading them back towards their tent so he could gather up his equipment and deposit it in the armory.
One of the things Honey Drizzle revealed to them was that all the military ponies were mobilizing for Fillydelphia, so that must have meant they too would be mobilized soon. With "Max Force" having arrived, that is. So he thought it would be best to deposit all of the non essential stuff he had so he wouldn't be under any time pressure when the order came.
"She's cute and all care-taker-y," The alchemist continued, "And to be honest, you look like you could use some TLC. When's the last time you even kissed a mare?" As they arrived in their now deserted campsite, Lucky began to stuff all of the non essential equipment into bags, enlisting Fantasy to help him out as he did.
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Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 20, 2015 14:07:35 GMT -5
Script was still thinking about the slayer that had unsettled him so and was caught rather flatfooted by Lucky’s question. Missing his step and almost stumbling he recovered to look at the light amber alchemist, somewhat incredulous.
“I… what?!”
He shook himself slowly, looking at Lucky as if he had grown a second head.
“No… no thank you I’m fine.”
Sure, Honey Drizzle was cute, he could freely admit that, but she lacked a certain something. He liked his mares with a bit of fire in their veins and with fight in their eyes. While she was certainly pleasant he just didn’t think he’d be happy with her as his special somepony. Of course he barely knew her… but… no, just no. He wasn’t in the mood for a relationship, or even something more casual, by Tartarus, if Lucky didn’t have a way of worming himself into peoples’ good books Script would probably still be wandering around all on his lonesome. He just wasn’t a social pony.
Helping Lucky with his gear and stowing it away for now Script worked silently, mulling over the fact that they would be deployed. He would have liked at least some sort of briefing, to know what was going on, but chances were that it would happen at the site. The enchanter just didn’t like things being so nebulous. Still the alchemist wouldn’t shut up about the cutie of the mess hall and was trying to argue his case further.
His eyebrow rose slowly as he answered.
“I’m fine, Lucky. I’m happy as is.”
He honestly couldn’t remember when he had last been going out with someone, or when he had last kissed a mare. Too many things in his past that he desperately tried to forget, pushing everything else away as well. But he was alright with that. Someday he would be fine; someday he might even have a family of his own. He doubted it, he felt uneasy with the thought still, terrified even; and him being a grump didn’t help his chances much.
He shook his head.
“I’m fine.” The words sounded hollow to him, but right now, he didn’t want any company. Albion chose that very moment to pop up, watching them as they moved Lucky’s things about. Script petted the fox softly. This was enough for now, he thought fondly.
“Albion, we’re moving out, you hold down the fort while I’m gone, alright? This is too dangerous for you.”
The fox seemed to glare at him for a long moment before looking at Lucky, then back to him before seemingly deciding something. He nodded, still looking a bit miffed and scurried away. Probably looking for a good hidey hole to live in for the coming days or weeks, that one was going to be okay on his own, Script thought.
With all his personal belongings already stowed away, Script could do nothing more than don his equipment, strap everything into place and wait. He was as ready as he was ever going to be, he just hoped that was going to be enough.
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Post by Red Charge on Jan 20, 2015 14:30:31 GMT -5
"Oh, we are so getting you a mare. No, no, don't even argue. Or wait, maybe you're into stallions? After all you got along pretty well with Dr. Colonoscopy over at the medical tent. Hmm...." Lucky hummed looking at the enchanter suspiciously as he shouldered his bags and led them over to the armory. "I can hook you up with one of the armory ponies, there's a couple of them into stallions. Or maybe you'd like to wait for Max Force? You two seemed to have a moment back at the mess hall." The alchemist nudged fantasy.
Canterlot seemed rather empty with all of the military ponies moving out. What renovation work was left to the griffons, the royal guards and the civilian volunteers. But the numbers were significantly lower than before and Canterlot's dominant unicorn population was showing once again. By now all of the roads were rubble free and getting from place to place was quite a breeze, but that only added to the empty feeling Canterlot had now that the military ponies were gone.
When they reached the armory lucky wiggled his eyebrows at Fantasy Script, "So what'cha say?"
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Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 20, 2015 14:48:34 GMT -5
“Lucky, I swear by the Princesses I will skin you alive if you don’t shut up.”
But the alchemist didn’t stop; in fact he did the very opposite of stopping and instead seemed to go with more outrageous options for Script’s possible mate. His behind still ached faintly from his time with the nice doctor fist-or-nothing.
“Stop it…” Script growled, his frown slowly turning into a snarl as he glared at Lucky. If that idiot didn’t shut up right this minute… he would… he would… do SOMETHING. Script stewed in impotent anger, mostly embarrassment really and a good solid dose of annoyance, but it felt close enough to anger that he was willing to go with that for ease of reference.
Lucky didn’t stop though.
At the mention of the bulky armour ponies, at least some of them, being into stallions he almost choked on his spittle. He wasn’t a homophobe, by the Diarchs, he was a firm believer of live and let live. He just wasn’t one of them, and really didn’t want to be.
“Stop it Lucky…”
Yet, the alchemist did not appear to hear him. He didn’t even notice how empty the streets were, how devoid of life Canterlot seemed, couldn’t even appreciate the good work being done clearing the ways, so busy was he not to throttle the amber unicorn where he stood.
He drew the line at Max Force.
As they arrived at the armoury and Lucky turned towards him Script was already reaching for the stallion’s throat with his hoofs.
“That’s it, stopping it myself.”
He wouldn’t hurt him… much. Just shake it into his head that: No he wasn’t interested and if Lucky didn’t want to be suffocated in his sleep then by the Ice Queen’s frozen rump he was going to shut up or else!
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Post by Red Charge on Jan 20, 2015 14:58:33 GMT -5
Lucky dodged him gracefully, "Then it's settled! We're getting you a mare!" He simply said, confidently turning his back on the enchanter and going into the armory to deposit his things. When he came out he still had his stupid grin and he tossed something over to Fantasy Script, "Here ya go, a bottle of one of my best perfumes. Let's go get your face cleaned up and your hair combed. We need to find you some nice mare before we get shipped off, give you a reason to get back in one piece... for a piece... you know what I'm saying..." The alchemist nudged him again, "Now come!" He commanded regally, once more leading the way into Canterlot.
Business in Canterlot has mostly proceeded as usual, with the exception that shops had a lot less inventory to sell as a lot of it went into the war effort and towards collectively feeding and supplying Canterlot. The ones who were hurt the least were the non essential specialty places, beauty salons, for example. "Now don't you worry, we're not going to sissify you or anything. Just get you looking less hideous." He indicated for him to sit in front of a mirror and called one of the attendants, speaking in hushed tones with her out of Fantasy's earshot. She nodded and immediately went to work pulling out all sorts of lotions and soaps, shampoos... and hot water.
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Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 20, 2015 15:16:55 GMT -5
The alchemist dodged, escaping his just punishment. Script blinked, almost comically confused at the nimble dodge and grumbled darkly, waiting for Lucky to return so he could properly educate the foal what was and what wasn’t acceptable behaviour in Script’s book. He didn’t want a partner, for Celestia’s sake… he was fine as he was! What good would it do him if he knew some sweet mare would be worried sick while he risked life and limp for his dream? He’d just feel even worse than usual, at least now he knew no one would miss him if things went south… Well Albion would probably miss him. The fox was rather attached to him as it was, but he would be alright on his own… probably.
He nearly dropped the perfume only catching it with his telekinesis out of reflex and stared, perplexed at the bottle. Script didn’t get a word in as Lucky declared his lofty goal and pushed the somewhat resisting stallion through the streets. Before he really knew what was going on he was sitting in a stool in a beauty salon, not really knowing what the heck was going on anymore, all his protests falling on deaf ears.
It was amusing in a way, the effort Lucky put into his little project, but Script really would have appreciated if the alchemist had just left well enough alone. Admittedly, he could use a bath and his hair was a right mess, probably. Though he made it abundantly clear that no scissors would be involved in this procedure… or else. There was an edge in his voice, a tone that would hopefully make clear that he was not to be crossed.
“Someone just kill me please… or him…” He grumbled as the attendant began her dastardly work. Working out the knots in his mane and the grime and dust of… quite a few weeks now that he thought about it… when was the last time he had had a proper bath anyways? He remembered a short dunk in a rather cold river but that was it.
He sighed, grumbling all the while, and tried to at least enjoy the mare’s ministrations.
She did have rather skilled hoofs.
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Post by Red Charge on Jan 20, 2015 15:37:46 GMT -5
The experienced mare worked on Fantasy with skilled precision, making sure not to cause any pain or get any soap or shampoo into his eyes. It took a while, but after a lot of bubbles, water and even more lotion, Fantasy Script was finally spotless and wouldn't you know it? Actually presentable.
"So that's your real color!" Lucky said, pointing a hoof at the unicorn's now clear coat.
"Three layers of dirt tend to fool you." The mare said with a somewhat chilly voice to the Stallion, obviously never having such a filthy customer before. His mane and tail, previously filled with knots and grime were now smooth, soft and silky. They no longer felt like dried hay, but were actually pleasant to touch and to smell. Whatever lotions the mare had put on him, fantasy's skin felt absolutely soft and rejuvenated and no longer like wax paper. At that point she began working on his hooves, cleaning them, peeling them, manicuring them. It's been a long time since Fantasy could feel his hoof pads, they almost felt chilly being exposed to the air after so long. The imperfections on his outer hoof layers had been removed and manicured to be so smooth as to being nearly reflective.
"Oh my," Lucky commented, "If you're not careful, you might even get me all hot and bothered about you." He gave the stallion a lewd wink before handing the mare some... wait a minute, those were the exact same products she had used on him! Were these exceptional beauty creams, lotions and shampoos Lucky's own craft?
"You ready to go stud?"
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Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 20, 2015 16:06:25 GMT -5
Looking at himself in the mirror Script could honestly say he didn’t recognize himself. It had been years since he had looked so clean and well groomed. The last time he had been anywhere near this presentable had been at the early stages of his apprenticeship, when his master had to see to a rather wealthy customer who insisted that he also bring his apprentice along. He had been groomed, if not quite so extensively, to be clean, lean and presentable. The older mare had taken quite a liking to the young Script and he had to keep her company while his master was at work. He didn’t particularly enjoy the wandering hoofs of the older woman.
“No, I’m actually bright pink.” He deadpanned. Deciding to ignore the comment of the beautician Script instead took another look at himself, wondering who that strange creature was that was mimicking his movements. Seriously… how was he supposed to care for his looks while trying to get from Stalliongrad to Canterlot… sure travelling wasn’t exactly deadly, but it sure as Hay wasn’t safe, nor overly comfy.
“That can be arranged Drops. Just remind me next time I work on your armour… I’ll make sure that thing cooks you alive.” He growled, though watching the exchange with interest. Was this more of Lucky’s stuff? He did mention that he had worked with such products before, if that was the extent of their power he couldn’t fault people for wanting to make sure Lucky never left. If they could turn a grumpy, hairy, dirty northerner into a gleaming, clean and – he admitted only in his head – handsome stallion they were more miracle cures than beauty products.
Even still, he would have to cut this short at some point, he felt Lucky was getting ahead of himself. As much as he appreciated the work the stallion was doing he just… he didn’t want a relationship, or even a date right now. His memories were still haunting him and he just… no… simply no. Fantasy Script wasn’t ready to date. Wasn’t ready for the responsibility, or the fear that would come with it, the fear of loss. He had lost his parents and his sister, if he got attached again… no. This was not a chance he wanted to take right now. There were more important things to worry about right now than his love life, or lack thereof.
Now he had to convince Lucky of that without blowing his top. As much as he usually preferred to just blurt out the honest hard truth, he found that he owed Lucky too much to snub him like that.
He actually liked the stupid idiot.
Even if he was infuriatingly annoying.
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Post by Red Charge on Jan 20, 2015 16:40:23 GMT -5
Lucky admired Fantasy Script for several moments, before finally speaking, "So what's your flavor exactly? What kind of mares do you northern ponies even like?" He asked seriously, leading the enchanter out of the shop and down the road towards the center of the city. "Haven't met a lot of northern mares myself."
"Ya got any preference even? Short manes, long manes? Tall? Short? Buff? Slender?" Lucky asked, then proceeded to a long rambling monologue about his own preferences, which could have been interesting if he didn't keep changing his mind and arguing advantages and disadvantages with himself. This went on and on for quite some while until they reached the center of the city where all the Canterlot ponies went about their businesses.
"There we go, mare central. Go on then, take your pick."
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Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 21, 2015 4:19:59 GMT -5
Moving through the streets once more, with Lucky arguing about the pros and cons of mane styles, rump size and leg length, Script wondered what he had done wrong to even get into this situation. At this point he was quite amused by it all and half considering just going along with it to shut the annoying chatterbox up. On the other hand, he didn’t have the faintest clue how to even go about it. The enchanter didn’t have a clue how to even talk to a mare, nor was he a skilled small talker. He was usually blunt, direct and to the point, not one for much frills and bells. Yet here he was, standing in front a crowd of ponies all milling about, going after their daily business and Lucky seemed to be dead set to get him on at least one date.
Script felt the uneasiness rise up in him as he watched the crowd of ponies, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of even attempting what Lucky suggested and watched them pass by. A stray thought entered his mind as he watched the different mares wander past. What did he actually like? Long mane, tall, curvy and with a bit of fire, were some of the things that came to mind. He didn’t want some sweet, docile housewife, thin as a rail and frail as a snowflake that much was for sure.
Still, now, in his opinion, was not the right time to be thinking about this. They were moving out soon and would face Tartarus knew what kind of danger. This was not the time for romance in his opinion.
“Lucky, would you kindly shut up and listen?!” He stressed listen, his annoyance, uneasiness and general discomfort giving his voice a clear edge. “I got plenty of motivation to come back alive. I’m not a suicidal maniac. Much as I appreciate the work you’re doing here, drop it. This is not the time to try and hook up an old grump with some poor mare.”
He sighed.
“We’re moving out soon. I don’t want to leave a mare behind worrying I might die.”
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