Counselors and Cocoa

“You can do this.” I took a deep breath and reached out to rap on the door, then quickly withdrew my claw.

“I can’t do this!” I blurted out.

Yes you can, you dumbnut, my brain said. She’s the freaking guidance counselor. Her job is to help students.

“But what if she thinks I’m weird?” I shot back.

Everyone’s weird in some way.

“But I’m weirder. Abnormal.”

Yeah, we are pretty weird. BUT, it’s still her job.

“Everyone’s weird,” A new voice cut through my panic, and I stumbled backwards as the door opened. “But Trixie shall break through these chains of doubt that plague your mind, for she isn’t called Great and Powerful for nothing!”

“Oh, um, hey there Trixie,” I stammered. “I mean, counselor Trixie. I was just headed to the cafeteria.” I started to turn, but froze when she put her hoof on my shoulder.

“If you were headed to the cafeteria, you wouldn’t have been standing outside my office for the past five minutes.” She gestured to the door behind her, and I grimaced as I realized that what I had mistaken for opaque crystal was in fact clouded glass.

“Come on in, and we can talk about whatever’s bothering you. The Wise and Attentive Trixie highly suggests it.”

I hesitated.

I am in control.

“Fear not, young griff, for my powers of foresight and guidance counselor-ness shall ease your troubles today!” Trixie pulled a face. “Eh, sounded better in my head.” She turned with a swish of her cape, and I quickly looked around before following her into the office. The door closed softly behind me, but I jumped as though it had slammed.

She looked over her shoulder and pulled a mug from a cabinet. “Cocoa?”

I nodded as I smoothed my tail down. “Yes, please.” Hopefully it would calm my nerves.

“So, what’s up?” She asked as she bustled around the room.

I looked down at my claws and took a deep breath.

I am in control.

“It’s not really that big of a deal.”

Trixie snorted. “If it wasn’t that big of a deal you wouldn’t have been trying to work up the courage to bring it to me.” She poured some water into the mugs and with a flash of her horn, it boiled.

I held up my claws in mock surrender. “Alright, you got me. I’m secretly a clover addict and I need more, my stash is running out.”

“Hmm.” She rubbed her chin. “I’ve heard that Pinkie is a supplier. Not really surprised at that.” She chuckled. “Just don’t tell Starlight I told you, or else she’ll take my smoke bombs away.”

I managed a shaky laugh, then lapsed back into silence, staring at my claws.

“That’s not really what you’re here for, is it?” She asked softly.

I shook my head stiffly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I hesitated, and then gave a lackluster shrug.

She passed me a mug. “Well, when you’re ready, I’m here to listen.”

I gratefully accepted the cocoa and took a gulp, glad for a distraction, even if it did scald my throat.

“Woah, be careful,” Trixie warned. “Even the Great and Powerful Trixie can’t heal mouth burns.”

I took a more measured sip, then put the mug down.

“What if-” I started, then tried again. “Do you ever wish that you could just be normal?”

Trixie tilted her head. “What do you mean by that? Normalcy is a crowd-sourced fantasy, everyone’s different.”

“Yeah, sure,” I searched for words. “But fitting in. Do you ever wish that creatures would just accept you as you are without identifying you as someone to be wary of?”

Or as a failure, I thought, though I didn’t say it.

Trixie put her cocoa on her desk. “More than you know.” She gave a hollow laugh. “A couple of years ago I made some mistakes, messed up big time. Twilight wasn’t happy when I met Starlight. No matter how many times I’ve shown that I can be reliable, Twilight will never trust me.” She shrugged. “That’s just how the cookie crumbled. But,” she shifted and swirled her mug. “Are you worried that your friends think you’re abnormal?”

“Uh, I guess you could say that.” I rubbed my crest. “But it’s more than that.”

I am in control.

“How do you know if you’re in love?” I blurted out, then immediately slapped a claw over my beak.

“Is that what this is about?” Trixie asked.

I nodded sheepishly.

She shrugged and sipped her cocoa. “It just kind of happens. You want to spend time with them just for the sake of being with them. They make you extraordinarily happy, and you both know that you would go to the ends of the earth for each other.” She thought for a moment. “They’re your best friend, but more than that, they’re someone you can trust with your entire being. Does that answer your question?”

I felt sick to my stomach, but I nodded anyway. “I think so, yes.”

Her eyes searched my face. “You don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, but the tears beginning to pool in the corners of my eyes gave me away.

Trixie passed me a tissue. “Drink your cocoa, it’ll help.”

I took a small sip, and my nerves calmed for a moment. Only slightly, but I was less jittery than before. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waved a hoof. “That’s not all there is though, is it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded again.

I am in control.

“I think I love them all.”

Silence.

“I understand if you don’t want me here any more,” I choked out as I stood. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Wait,” Trixie spoke adamantly. “I would like to talk about this. Together.” I flinched at that, but immediately sat back down as she got up and walked around the desk. She reared up as I shrank back into the chair and tensed, preparing for the incoming blow.

Instead, her hooves wrapped around me, pulling me close to her chest. I sat in shock, wondering how any creature would willingly be hugging me. Me, the deviant. Me, the broken griffon. My beak trembled.

“Let it out. Just breathe, it’s all okay.” She patted my back, and that simple act of consolation cracked through my shell. I sobbed freely into her shoulder, and she held me, not caring about the tears that matted her fur.

I shook in her arms, wings fluttering feebly and shoulders heaving. Nobody had ever simply accepted me like that before. Even the rest of the Odd Squad had taken a while to integrate me. I had always been the odd one out, the loner.

“Thank you.” I croaked out. “Why? Why does it hurt so much?”

“Hmm?”

“Why am I broken? Why can’t I just love one of them?”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Trixie said simply, pulling away and offering me the box of tissues. “Why don’t you tell me what you see in them.”

I smiled through the tears. “I don’t think I can list everything.”

“Alright, alright.” She smiled. “If you’re comfortable with telling me, why haven’t you told any of them yet?”

My stomach did backflips. “You think they would really interact with a creature like me if they knew? I’m a monster, hoarding love for myself.”

Her eyes hardened. “We are not monsters. You are not a monster. We are normal creatures capable of loving more than one other, who hold more than one in that sacred spot of romantic love. We are not broken.” Her tone softened. “Sure, it might seem like you're greedy at first, but there's nothing wrong with wanting to be happy.”

I nodded absently, my brain only registering one word. Normal.

Normal.

I’m normal.

“You think they would abandon you?” Trixie was asking as I tuned back in. “You think they would turn their backs on you and leave you high and dry? I’ve seen the way the six of you interact, and I can say, without a trace of doubt in my mind, that they wouldn’t leave you hanging even for a second.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“But…” I fumbled for the words. “If I only date one of them, what about the others? What happens to our friendship then?”

“Who said you only had to date one of them?” Trixie grinned at me over her cocoa.

“What?” I blinked.

“Who said you only had to date one of them?” She repeated. “Like I said, Gallus, any of them would lay their life on the line in exchange for yours. I think it’s safe to say you would do the same?”

I nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Then I see no problems.” She sat back. “I think you need to have a talk with them, if you’re feeling ready. If not, you know where to find me.”

I downed the rest of my cocoa. “I think you’re right.” I hopped off the chair. “Thank you.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

As I turned towards the door, another thought passed through my mind. “You said we are not monsters. What did you mean?”

She grinned. “Lets just say our headmare, vice headmare, and myself are pretty close and leave it at that.”

Author's Note:

Well, here it is. This has been a while in the making. I'll make a blog about the reasons I wrote this at some point, but for now just know that this was both a character study on Gallus and a reflection on myself.

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Comments ( 9 )

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RainbowDoubleDash

RainbowDoubleDash #1 · Jan 19th, 2021 · 1 · ·

Aw, this was sweet.

Jarvy Jared

Jarvy Jared #2 · Jan 20th, 2021 · 1 · ·

I tend to err on the side of caution when it comes to stories that preach some lesson (even as I have a soft spot for stories that do so effectively). That said, this one is fairly simple in its scope, but luckily it doesn't feel too heavy handed. As I see it, the story is simply a meditation on the topic it presents, and its "lesson" isn't necessarily something that is applied so much as it's suggested to be applied later. It's also something that doesn't get hammered in - the story opens its argument, presents its facts and opinion, then closes itself fully, giving a sense of completeness.

I suppose one critique I would have is the fact that the story, beyond what it does successfully, doesn't quite go the full length of explaining why Gallus feels the way he does. Of course, a sense of being overwhelmed is to be expected, but I wonder if the story would have just as benefited from a bit of a dramatization of that struggle to explain, rather than just saying, "It's too difficult to put into words."

In the end, though, the story's length suits its intended purpose. I believe you've done well enough in that regard.

Esalen

Esalen #3 · Jan 20th, 2021 · 1 · ·

10637231

> I suppose one critique I would have is the fact that the story, beyond what it does successfully, doesn't quite go the full length of explaining why Gallus feels the way he does. Of course, a sense of being overwhelmed is to be expected, but I wonder if the story would have just as benefited from a bit of a dramatization of that struggle to explain, rather than just saying, "It's too difficult to put into words."

And that is definitely a fair criticism. I agree with you, but what it boiled down to was the fact that it felt like the impact of the story would be lessened, or that the reader's attention would be dulled in the middle if I went the route of "here's a list of the things I find attractive about them". I toyed with it for a while, but it felt bland and unnecessary, as there are a plethora of other stories that list the attractive attributes of potential partners. It didn't add anything other than words, and while I definitely agree that I could have dramatized the struggle better than I did, it felt appropriate to leave it in this state, somehow.

Fable Caster