Sweet Dreams 3

All Vivian wanted after a very long day and night celebrating Mochi Moon was to just flop into bed, pull her weighted blanket over herself, and sleep for two days.  (Well.  She would wake up a lot sooner than that, logically, but sleeping for two days always sounded ideal by the point she actually made it to her bed…

She managed to make it past her door, barely remembering to lock it behind her.  The hallway was the next obstacle, especially as her imps came to greet her.  Honor and Triumph were fine, at least - a guyst and an avia could just hover and float around her without really getting in her way, after all.

Victory was… a different matter.  Her little tail was wagging with happiness and she was dancing around Vivian’s hooves with joy.

She had really been out way too long today…  Mochi Moon might be the best holiday, but it was exhausting.  It was, fortunately, not as exhausting as All Sinner’s day, but… it sure was close some years. 

Vivian managed to give the little bonezo a few pets, as well as the others, before trying to move further down the hallway into the living room.  With Victory’s help, every inch felt like a mile.

She really hadn’t needed to get that drunk…

By the time she made it to the living room, the couch sounded like heaven, rather than continuing to the bedroom…  But Vivian was stubborn and determined, and kept going, into the other hallway.

At least she kept her floors very clean these days - this was a lot nicer than how she had used to come home drunk.

Her door was already open, thankfully, and Vivian was very grateful she kept a pair of stairs for Victory on it, as they helped her too.  Shapeshifting just did not seem appealing right now…

Victory followed her up them, getting cozy on the other pillow, while Vivian finally found relief in being horizontal.  Triumph and Honor soon joined Victory to nest on their pillow, with Triumph cooing softly as she got comfortable.

It didn’t take Vivian any time at all to be asleep - or if she did struggle, she didn’t really notice it.

There was a sword in her grip, long.  Heavy.  Deadly.

She had a powerful and solemn duty, she knew.  It permeated her mind, her essence.  She was to guard this place, this time.  No one was allowed to enter.

It was quiet.

Her own breath filled her ears.

She didn’t know why she had to guard this place, why she had to kill any who dared to enter.

Not that anyone had ever tried.

She wondered if other people even existed.  When was the last time she had seen someone else?  …had she ever seen anyone else?

For that matter, had she ever seen herself.

Time seemed to drag on as she pondered these questions.  If time even existed.  She knew she guarded the door night and day, but with no signs of either, how could she tell which was which?

She sat, tired and bored of standing.  She couldn’t even see how someone could come to the place she stood - there were no doors, no stairs…  Not even a window.

With little else to do, she unsheathed her sword to look at it.  (Hadn’t it just been in her hand…?  How was it now sheathed…?)

It was steel of course, the finest in existence.  Beautiful ripples in it caught the light - the steel must have been folded in on itself thousands of times to create this masterpiece of craftsmanship.

She wondered if it had been created by the owner of the room she guarded.  Did it have an owner?

Boredom continued to set in further, until she began to remove her armor for the sake of something new to look at.  (Did she have hands or hooves?  As she saw them more after removing her gauntlets, she grew unsure - each moment they seemed different.  She wasn’t even sure if they were hers - and wait, were they on fire…?

…it had to be tricks of the light.  (But the light qas steady…)

The armor was not as interesting as the sword.  It was simply made, with its only remarkable feature being that it had been blackened.  How odd, for the room was well lit, though she knew not where the light came from…

What if she entered the room?  Was that allowed?  Was that forbidden?

She found no answer in her mind, and so she stood, approaching the door.

The handle turned easily in her grasp, and the door swung inward.

She was unsure what she had expected.  The room was nearly identical to the one she had been in - well lit and unremarkably featureless for the most part.  The only thing different was a pedestal in the center of the room.

She approached it, and found an immense book on it.  A label on it read ‘Read only if the situation is truly dire’.

She wasn’t sure if things were dire, but she opened anyways.

There was only one page, and on it, written in the most beautiful handwriting she had ever beheld, was but a single word.

‘Pussy.’

The sound of laughter startled her, and then, Vivian jolted upright in bed.  Her imps stared at her from the pillow as she bent forward, realizing the laughter was coming from her.

What a funny dream!  Why had she been guarding that book?

She hurried to write it down in the notebook she kept by her bed, giggling all the while.  By the time she had it written, though, she was beginning to yawn again - it was time to get back to sleeping, she supposed, flopping back.

A one page book that only said ‘pussy’, Murmur’s blessings, she was never going to recover from that.

Eventually, she fell asleep again, to dream of new things.