Reunions (Patreon)

 As Applebloom celebration her first shoeing in my Equestria dreamscape, others were having their own celebrations and reunions. 

  It was nighttime, and a slow, steady rain was falling. Above the lights and bustling streets of Manehattan flew a griffin. With strong, regular wing beats this aerial hunter traversed the city. Raindrops splattered on her goggles and the cool evening air was making the lens fog up but she was unconcerned. She knew where she was headed. She was heading home.

 
 And she really did consider this place her home, although there were probably only a half dozen of her kind living permanently in this city she felt more at home here than in her ancestral homeland. Here in this city she had a purpose, here she had a future, here she had a pony waiting for her. 

   
 Her destination was a rooftop penthouse garden with a long paved walkway that also made as an excellent landing pad for fliers. Only couple of lights from the residency hinted that anypony was home. Even in the rainy conditions the rough bricks of the walkway gave secure footing as the griffin touched down.

   
  lifting the flight goggles from her eyes the griffin reached into her black leather panniers and retrieved a large, intricate, brass key. With this key she unlocked an ornate floral-patterned glass and wrought-iron door. Stepping through the doorway she left the rain and the sounds of the city behind her.

    
 The only sounds the griffin could hear now was the faint drumming of rain on the roof, the steady ticking of a pendulum clock in the hallway, and from the back of the penthouse the distant and random sounds of a piano playing. The griffin paused and listened to the music for a moment.  

  
 Figures. Thought the griffin. When I left her four days ago she was working on that piece, and she still is. I hope hasn’t slept in the studio the whole time. For that matter I hope she’s taken a bath since I last saw her.

  
 The griffin followed broken snippets of music to their source. As she passed a long ornate gilded-framed mirror in the hallway she stopped and took a moment to look at herself. Four days of traveling around Equestria had taken its toll on her feathers and fur. Her usually brilliant white head feathers were streaked with dirt and soot. The light chestnut brown fur of her body was matted and soggy from the weather. Even her yellow claws had mud and coal dust on them.

   
 “Oh eggshells!” Muttered the griffin. “I probably look as bad as she does.” 

  
 The griffin spent a couple seconds trying in a vain attempt to improve her appearance before she gave up on the matter.

    
 The griffin’s suspicions were confirmed upon entering studios. The floor was littered with pages of musical notations, empty and partial empty food wrappers, several days worth of the Manehattan Times, some important correspondences with an engineering firm in Baltimare, and several manuals on the theories and applications of electrical engineering.

   
 The griffin didn’t bother knocking. It wouldn’t have matter; she recognized this mayhem as the result of genius, or madness, sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. Gingerly she stepping around the worst of the debris and set out to find the creator of this chaos.  As she expected she found her at the piano. 

 A young white unicorn mare sat on swivel stool in front of the piano and did not see or hear the large predator bearing down on her. The mare had six pages of sheet music levitated in front her. The sheets had so much notation scribbled across them that they were almost illegible, but this did not seem to bother the mare. The mare was rotating the order of the sheet music bringing them up in front her one at time. The mare would stare at the sheet for a few seconds then she’d play a couple notes from it on the piano. She then would either nod her head in approval causing her two-tone blue mane to bob and sway, or she’d attack the page with a fountain pen that she was also levitating. Despite only having a couple gas lamps on in the studio the mare was wearing a pair of goggles with ruby-purple tinted lens. 

  
 Unaware her plight, the griffin was able to walk right up behind the mare. The griffin reared up on its hind legs, then she lunged forward to wrap her talon cladded right front leg around the chest of the unsuspecting mare. The griffins left front leg swung lower to grab the mare’s left buttock and gave it a healthy pinch. 

 “Gotcha!” Growled the griffin.

 
 Papers and fountain pen scattered like a covey of terrified quail and the mare made the most adorable squeak. After a couple seconds the mare was able to regain her composure, she turned her head to glared at her tormentor. 

 
 “Bad Golden Bill! Bad, bad, bad griffin! You should know better than to interrupt a genius like me when I'm working!” 

  
 To emphasize her words the mare levitated a stack of papers off the piano and gently smacked the griffin on top of the head. Golden Bill ignored her and continued squeeze the mare. 

  
 “Oh give it up Scratch.” Purred the griffin. “The only reason you get so excited is because you like it so much.” Golden Bill gave Scratch’s rump another firm squeeze and the mare made approving sounds in return.

   
 For next couple minutes the griffin and the mare said nothing as they enjoyed each other’s company in the dimly lit studio. Finally Golden Bill relaxed her embrace. Scratch turned around on the stool and gave the griffin a looking over, then scowled at her.

   
 “Nibbles you look awful!” Nagged the mare. “By the looks of you.” The unicorn paused and sniffed the griffin. “And the smell of you haven’t taken a bath since I last saw you! You know better than that!” 

 The Golden Bill puffed her head feathers and glared at the Scratch. 

 “Oh like you're one to judge!” Growled the griffin. “Look at you! Really, Snacks have you stepped out of this room at all in the last four days?”

  Scratch suddenly got a haughty look and tossed her mane in an overly dramatic fashion.

 
 “Yes, yes I can truly say I have.” 

 “Going to the bathroom doesn’t count!” Growled the griffin. “Therefore I think it’s just a bit hypocritical of you to judge my appearance!”

 
 Scratch shook her head and in a fake, overly pompous Canterlot accent she spoke. 

  “Oh I must disagree with you my dear disheveled, unkempt griffin. For I have remained indoors, withdrawn from the critical public eye. While you’ve been flying over hill and dale looking like a half-drowned pigeon! Therefore my judgment is valid and completely irrefutable!” 

 
 Golden Bill suddenly pinned Scratch against the piano keyboard with her front legs causing the instrument to make a long, deep, ominous sound. The griffin jutted her head forward until it her bill was only inches away from the mare’s muzzle.

   
 “No pony calls me a pigeon!” Hissed the griffin.

 
 “No pony but me.” Said the leering, snow-white unicorn mare.

   
    For several seconds both were silent, and then slowly an impish grin grew across Golden Bill’s face. 

  
 “Yes.” Purred the griffin. “You’re the only pony who can call me that and keep their mane.”

   
 Golden Bill sat down on her haunches. Slowly she drew the mare into her embrace, snuggling the mare against her chest as she brought her wings forward to envelope the mare in her presence. Scratch nuzzled Golden Bill and then listened to the strong, steady music of the griffin’s heartbeat. After a minute or so of this the mare spoke again.

 
 “You still need a bath Nibbles.” 

  Golden Bill sighed. “We both need one.”

 
 To be continued.