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- >It's past dusk by the time you get home, the world bathed in purple and black.
- >You check the outside letter drop, but Derpy hasn't left anything for you today.
- >Or if she did, she forgot about the drop, and posted them down the chimney.
- >Again.
- >You fiddle with your keyring for a minute, sorting through them.
- >It's calming, simple, and soothing; especially after a day picking leaves in Everfree.
- >Your thumb finds the notch cut into your front door key, and you slide it home.
- >A quick twist, and the door pushes open.
- >Dropping the keys onto the hook, you shrug out of your jacket, and toe your boots off.
- >You turn, and head towards the kitchen, but something stops you.
- >There's a light, coming from upstairs.
- >Your heart picks up, thump-thump-thumping in your chest, and you step backwards, leaning against the wall.
- >The door wasn't broken, so they prepared.
- >They're dangerous.
- >Possibly armed.
- >You step back towards the door, unsure of whether to flee or stay.
- >It's all only your stuff, at the end of the day.
- >But still...
- >It's YOUR stuff.
- >You worked hard, breaking your back for this stuff.
- >When Lyra left, she took nearly everything.
- >Resolved, you grab the umbrella, and pad forwards again.
- >It might not be an actual weapon, but it's got a spike, and you could probably flap it open, spook the burgler.
- >They're still horses, after all.
- >Slowly, carefully, you climb upstairs.
- >The carpet cool under your socks, worn away by countless passages up and down.
- >Upstairs, the bathroom light flickers a bit, throwing your shadow onto the wall.
- >A quick peek, but there's no-one in there.
- >You turn your head, and see another light.
- >Hope's room.
- >Muffled noises let you know they're still there, so you ready yourself, a few feet from the door.
- >You rear backwards, and plant your foot into the door.
- >With an almighty crash, the door splinters, flying open and launching shards of wood at the intruder.
- >You roar, and flick the umbrella open with a fwomp, but hiccuping laughter stops you in your tracks.
- >Sure, you aren't exactly new here, but you're more imposing than that?
- >Lowering the umbrella, you don't see any strangers picking through Hope's delicates.
- >Or a masked mare with a massive swag bag slung over her barrel.
- >Even a pimply teen trying to scrounge enough trinkets for some booze.
- "Hope? The hell are you doing here?"
- >Your daughter sits on her bed, hair pulled back into a clean ponytail, bound with a simple piece of ribbon.
- >Her cheeks and eyes are red, and fresh tear-tracks make her face glisten.
- >Dropping the umbrella, you rush over to her, heartrate slowing again.
- "Aren't you supposed to be at your school dance, sweetie?"
- >Plopping yourself down on the bed, you open your arms, ready for a hug.
- >Her lunge nearly knocks you over, as she almost dives into your chest, wrapping her arms around you.
- >The white dress crumple around her hips, just where the more fancy stitching begins, and you can see from the twitching fabric her tail's dancing underneath.
- >It takes half an hour for her to calm down, but you sit there, stroking her hair.
- >Your shirt is drenched, with smeared trails from Hope's make-up trickling down.
- "C'mon, tell your dad what's up?"
- >And she does.
- >She'd been looking forward to the dance, as had all her classmates, and had saved for weeks for her dress.
- >Gardening jobs, foal-sitting, reaching things off of top shelves, she'd put it all away, into the Miss Rarity Dress Fund.
- "And it's a lovely dress, sweetie, you look even nicer than normal."
- >She ducks her head, but you can see the blush travel up her neck.
- >And then Flash had asked her to the dance.
- "Wait, isn't Flash the new kid? From Canterlot?"
- >"Yeah... H-h-he transferred last term."
- >He'd even got her a few flowers.
- >You think for a minute,
- "Was that the night you had the lilies woven into your hair?"
- >It was.
- >Just like you, Hope can't stomach flowers or grasses.
- >Unlike you, she looks pretty when she wears them.
- >You just look daft.
- >"So I went to meet h-h-him tonight, cuz he'd said we could w-walk together, and..."
- >She lets out another sob, burying her head back into your shoulder again.
- >You hug her, hold her tight, and stroke her back.
- "He didn't show up, did he?"
- >The locals were used to you and Hope by now, but you never travelled, because of shit like this.
- >As the only human, and the only satyr, ponies freaked out when they saw you.
- >"N-no, he did. But h-h-he had all his f-f-friends with him, and th-they laughed at me, called me a m-m-monster!"
- >You let out a little growl.
- >She shouldn't have to deal with this.
- >You're of a good mind to head over to the dance, and teach that little cumstain a lesson.
- >But you look down again.
- >You couldn't leave Hope like this.
- >Grabbing her shoulders, you pry her off, before lifting her head, meeting her eyes.
- "Hey, forget him. Those fancy Canterlot ponies are too far up themselves to see how wonderful you are."
- >A tiny crack, as the corner of mouth rises.
- >Just a bit, but you know you've won.
- >You haul yourself to your feet, ignoring the protests from your knees and back.
- >Your daughter is upset, damnit, and you will fix it!
- >Pulling her up after you, you grab her hands, and start a slow dance around the room.
- >It's been a while, so your socked feet bump against Hope's hooves now and then, but the tiny crack is widening.
- >She's stopped crying, and the smile is getting bigger, toothier.
- "Hop onto my feet, I'll waltz us!"
- >She giggles again, and steps onto you-OH GOD!
- >She's heavier than last time you did this!
- >Hiding the wince, you start to dance.
- "Step and together and step and twirl and together"
- >You can't really remember any moves, but just the thought is enough.
- >She lets go of your hands, wraps her arms around you, and sighs.
- >You hug her back, and plant a kiss on the top of her head.
- >Everything's going to be fine.
- >Just so long as you hold onto Hope.
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