Pipp knew what was coming. She had agreed to it. She had trained for it. She knew there were no risks involved. Everything was safe, controlled, and within her power to end it at any time.
But as she stepped closer and closer to the newly-erected flying training grounds, every fiber of her being suddenly started protesting. She bit her lip to keep the words inside, but her breath came in short gasps, her steps became unsteady, and the world was slowly going dim-
Strong hooves pressed into her chest, halting her forward movement and she jerked back in surprise to see Zipp staring intently at her, eyes darting in their sockets as she analyzed her sister.
"Pipp? Talk to me."
The words and tone were gentle, and the hooves softened their touch, allowing Pipp to rock forward before sitting down hard enough to make her teeth rattle.
"I don't want to fly," she croaked, the words barely above a whisper. "The wires were one thing, but this...this is too much."
Zipp said nothing, standing
Pipp rubbed her eyes and put her phone down, carefully placing it on the table in front of her. It fit perfectly in the same spot it always did, between a bottle of hoof polish and her pad of content ideas she had brought in from her bedroom. Sometimes she would wake up, half-remembering something, then grope for the pad in the dark to write down her idea. The next morning, she would wake up to either the best idea she’d had all week, or nonsense scribbles and a vaguely crude drawing of what she imagined was her sister, since they both usually had mostly unreadable expressions, but with a faint hint of pity lurking behind the eyes.
She rotated her ears, straining for any sounds of her sibling, but nothing reached her and she swiveled in her chair. She watched her reflection in the mirror copy her movements, and she was slightly envious that once she left the room, her reflection was free to do as she pleased, while Pipp walked back into a life filled with routine.
Wake up, wash up
Pipp knew what was coming. She had agreed to it. She had trained for it. She knew there were no risks involved. Everything was safe, controlled, and within her power to end it at any time.
But as she stepped closer and closer to the newly-erected flying training grounds, every fiber of her being suddenly started protesting. She bit her lip to keep the words inside, but her breath came in short gasps, her steps became unsteady, and the world was slowly going dim-
Strong hooves pressed into her chest, halting her forward movement and she jerked back in surprise to see Zipp staring intently at her, eyes darting in their sockets as she analyzed her sister.
"Pipp? Talk to me."
The words and tone were gentle, and the hooves softened their touch, allowing Pipp to rock forward before sitting down hard enough to make her teeth rattle.
"I don't want to fly," she croaked, the words barely above a whisper. "The wires were one thing, but this...this is too much."
Zipp said nothing, standing
Pipp rubbed her eyes and put her phone down, carefully placing it on the table in front of her. It fit perfectly in the same spot it always did, between a bottle of hoof polish and her pad of content ideas she had brought in from her bedroom. Sometimes she would wake up, half-remembering something, then grope for the pad in the dark to write down her idea. The next morning, she would wake up to either the best idea she’d had all week, or nonsense scribbles and a vaguely crude drawing of what she imagined was her sister, since they both usually had mostly unreadable expressions, but with a faint hint of pity lurking behind the eyes.
She rotated her ears, straining for any sounds of her sibling, but nothing reached her and she swiveled in her chair. She watched her reflection in the mirror copy her movements, and she was slightly envious that once she left the room, her reflection was free to do as she pleased, while Pipp walked back into a life filled with routine.
Wake up, wash up