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- >Day Unrest in the House in Equestria
- >You stretch yourself out as you walk up the stairs to your children's bedroom.
- >Ace and Hotshot, the sister and brother pair that are physical manifestations of the love you share with Spitfire.
- >They were both home today, which meant you needed to keep an eye on them.
- >Thankfully, the recent introduction of a record player had served as an ample distraction.
- >After you'd removed a few specific vinyls.
- >House of Pain among them.
- >Despite the lack of their favorite song, the duo had taken a liking to the music of your homeworld.
- >Arriving at the door, you knock twice before sticking your head into the kid's bedroom, a smile on your lips.
- "Hey buckaroos, ready for lunch?"
- >After a moment, your smile falters.
- >There's no sign of the little anklebiters anywhere.
- >Stepping inside, you stroll around the perimeter and take a cursory glance underneath the beds, behind the doors, in the closet, and their other usual hiding places.
- >Nothing.
- >Frowning a little, you scratch the top of your head and call out again.
- "Ace? Hotshot?"
- >Silence.
- >You spot the record player sitting on top of the bed, still turning slowly, though the needle has fallen out of the groove.
- >Walking over, you lift the arm and the quiet hiss that you weren't even aware of disappears.
- >In the sudden silence, you hear a voice from outside in the yard.
- >Walking over to the window, you see Hotshot running around, his hands extended out in front of him, wearing a blue bicycle helmet.
- >While you're a little concerned that he managed to get outside without you noticing, you can't help but smile a little as you watch him.
- "What the heck is he up to?"
- >With a few grunts and gentle jarring pains in your knees and back, you hustle downstairs and head into the yard.
- >Your son has dropped his arms to his side, and stands in front of a slab of stone that wasn't there this morning.
- >A quick glance confirms that there's no way Hotshot should have been able to move it on his own.
- >The boy seems oblivious to your appearance, so you watch him for a moment longer before finally clearing your throat.
- "Hey squir-"
- http://youtu.be/uRZ07C4c4CA?t=1m31s
- >"Even here it is not safe..."
- >The boy deadpans as he cuts you off, turning slightly so that you can see the hollow look in his deep brown eyes.
- >A chill rolls down your spine as he stares for a moment then looks back to the rock.
- >After a moment, you take a few steps closer, concern evident in your voice as you call out to him again.
- "Shot?"
- >He ignores you, lost in his own little world.
- >"Even her grave has been defaced."
- >Grave?
- >As if knowing your thoughts, he points to the rock.
- >Ah, he's pretending.
- >Though, it's a rather morbid game from the sound of it.
- >As you're trying to figure out where they could have gotten the idea, Hotshot speaks again.
- >"Someone has written, on this stone."
- >Kneeling down, the boy swipes his hand over the rock a few times, the stone dwarfing his comparably small hands.
- >You glance around for some sign of his sister, half listening as the satyr continues.
- >"In some angry hand... Hope rides..."
- >...Wait a second.
- >You know thi-
- >"ALOOONE!"
- >Hotshot throws his head back and howls.
- >You yelp and clap your hands over your ears as the cry echoes into the sky, a testament to the prolific set of pipes of the young boy.
- >Before you can close in on him, he cries out again.
- >"HOPE RIDES ALOO~ONE!"
- >Hotshot's focused all his attention on you now, and you can see his serious expression has given way to the usual grin.
- >The satyr takes another deep breath, giving you time to close the distance.
- >"HOPE. RIDES. ALO-woah!"
- >You scoop him up in your arms, cutting the 'song' short.
- >Coughing several times, the young boy shoots you a playful scowl.
- >"Aw, Poppa, I was just getting to the good part!"
- >You sigh and shake your head.
- "Where's your sister?"
- >"Hotshot? Why'd you stop?"
- >The familiar almost sing-song voice of your daughter comes from the roof of the house.
- >You hoist your son onto your shoulder and turn towards the sound.
- >After a moment, the red and orange mop of hair pops into sight, followed shortly after by your daughter's face.
- >Seeing you on the ground, staring straight at her, Ace squeals and drops out of sight.
- "Kiddo, c'mon."
- >Seconds tick by before Ace appears again, a pout obvious on her lips.
- >"Poppa, you're not supposed to be out here! Hotshot and I are practicin!"
- >Now it's your son's turn to look indignant, his hands awkwardly attempting to cover your ears and failing miserably.
- >"Ace, you promised we wouldn't tell him!"
- >Shaking your head, you look between the two children.
- "All right, enough pussyfooting around. Tell me what?"
- >Both look away, Hotshot kicking his legs anxiously while Ace gnaws on the corner of her lip.
- "Out with it."
- >Ace pouts again, but flutters down to the ground.
- >Held tight in her grip is another bicycle helmet, this one a rich red color.
- >Shuffling back and forth on her hooves, she looks at her brother and sighs.
- >"Well, me'n'Hotshot really liked this one record, because it was about family and adventure and stuff. And we thought it'd be fun..."
- >The boy wraps his arm around your head and laughs.
- >"It'd be fun if we pretended like we were in the song and then show it to you!"
- >The two satyr's look up at you in a mix of concern and cautious optimism.
- >It's not clear how much they understand about the song they're practicing.
- >You're not even sure they understand the album.
- >But, doe that really matter?
- >Especially if they're having fun...
- >After a moment, you laugh and shake your head.
- "You two..."
- >With another sigh, you reach out and ruffle your daughter's hair.
- "Sorry for interrupting your practice, it won't happen again. I can't wait to see it when it's ready."
- >Ace's eyes light up as Hotshot laughs and hugs your head tighter.
- >"YES!"
- >Patting the excitable boy's fuzzy leg, you grin.
- "But, it's about time for lunch. Are my little thespians hungry?"
- >Another cheer erupts from your son's throat as your daughter laughs and bounces over to grab your hand in hers.
- >The three of you make your way back up to the house.
- >You briefly consider explaining the story behind the lyrics to them, but unless it causes any trouble, you don't see any harm.
- >Besides, they're smart kids.
- >As much as you'd like to protect them, they'll figure out what the songs are about with the passage of time.
- >Best to let them stay innocent for a little while longer.
- >As you drop your shoulder to avoid hitting Hotshot's head on the door frame, the boy asks you.
- >"Hey Poppa, what's a thispeein?"
- >You smile at his childish mangling of the world.
- >Definitely the best choice.
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