Title:           Oblivious Anon: Gill [AiE], [Griffons]
Author:          Anonymous
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/exNGi11w
First Edit:      Saturday 30th of January 2016 05:24:13 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Saturday 30th of January 2016 05:24:13 PM CDT

>Absence makes the heart fonder
>You are Anonymous
>You are painfully in love with the world, with everyone and everything in it
>The town buzzes by you, and everything is alright. Your size 9 shoes plod into familiar and trampled dirt, ponies you knew since they were fillies and colts wave at you
>There's a suitcase in your right hand, an umbrella in the other
>Storm clouds gather above you and the sky is a steel dome
>Some procession has gathered around you as you made your way down the main road
>A slow, solemn march. You half expected this to feel like some funeral procession
>Even if you're the only one wearing black
>Above you there's a cloud of Pegasai, wings flapping quietly in mourning
>As you walk beneath them, it starts to rain
>But the clouds are still dry
>Oh
 
>The edge of town is where the buildings thin out and become smaller
>Shacks and little cottages in place of tightly packed shops, boutiques, homes
>The black parade follows you until the land finally opens up for you and spreads out, wildly untouched
>You turn to wave and thank them for their long years of friendship, magic, and hospitality
>And you set forward into unclaimed frontiers
 
>The first town you come upon forces you out
>The second town is welcoming just long enough for you to spend some bits on food and board
>The third town, is....
>The third town is in rubble
>You almost didn't believe it when you saw it on the map. Funny how those things can lie to you
>You stroll amongst the derelict town. Cobble stone and the ornaments of living have been piled up and now smolder at their center, little curls of smoke peek through the rubble
>A caved in house
>A bakery still halfway between a smoke stack and bread shop
>You find your first body curled up at the base of a still gushing fountain at what you estimate to be the center of town
>This pony has been slashed across the neck, not but a few hours ago
>You turn it over with your feet until-
>"WHO GOES THERE?!?"
 
>You turn around and see a Griffon standing before you. He's roughly at your height a loose fitting set of armor, freshly caked in mud
>You start forward at him with your hand extended. "Anon. E. Mous. You can just call me An-"
>Your friendly greeting earns you a hesitant step backward from the Griffon
>Catching his own battle mistake he leaps forward
>"D-DON'T COME ANY CLOSER, MONSTER!"
>Well that was rude, wasn't it? Still, you comply, halting with your hand still frozen in attempted courtesy
>The Griffon eyes you up and down apprehensively, his razor sharp talons still at the ready
>"Who sent you? W-Why are you here? Monster s-shouldn't be out this far. You're with the ponies a-aren't you?"
>Yes and no. You lived among them, but left to find your fortune. You hoist your suitcase as proof of your displacement
>The Griffon doesn't seem to trust this explanation
>"Drop the chest...S-Slowly, alright?" He puts on his most commanding voice, which is a sad mixture of a summoned deep grumble and inexorable stuttering
>You drop the suitcase into the dirt. Man you hope it's not busted, that's all of your shit
>The whole exchange is ridiculous, in your mind. He slowly slides the case from you and stares at it
>"O-Open this device, monster." He does that voice thingy again
>You crouch down and pop the case open for him, revealing your treasure of suits, ties, a pair of shoes, some undies, socks, and other goods
>He tenderly rifles through them like they were delicate artifacts
>They probably were
>He picks out a pair of shoes, tied together at the laces
>You never did figure out how to get them untied
>"This is a w-weapon of some kind, ISN'T IT?!" He throws the shoes onto the ashen ground
>That's your only spare pair!
>You show him you're wearing an identical pair and try to prove their benign uses. Unless you really wanted to kill someone. And now you're thinking about it
"Why the 20 questions? What the hell is going on here?"
 
>The Griffon looks at you like you'd just admitted to fucking rocks
>"You don't know?"
>You shrug your shoulders
>"W-War! Between ponies, ponies and us! G-Griffons!" He does a hasty salute
You grab your suitcase and shoes and begin repacking, all while he looks around at the decimated town, his gaze trying to gleam some purpose in his actions
>"We're supposed to kill ponies on sight." He reasons with himself, still in some novice shock. It was less for you to hear and more an explanation for himself
"So, why didn't you kill me?" You ask. You've come this far and the kid doesn't look all too threatening
>He gives it some thought. "B-Because you're not a pony. You're a monster. I only have orders to kill any s-straggling ponies here."
>You look around. Smoke rises in thick columns in every direction. Freshly lit fires still roar and consume buildings around town
>If a building's not in shambles it's in ashes, or on it's way there
"Look's like you got 'em all, champ." You say. You want no part of some magical talking horse war with their magical talking monster friends.
"Where's the rest of your army, soldier?" Maybe someone higher up could be of more help
>He looks slightly miffed by the question and instead glances at his side. One of his wings is glistening with dark, sticky blood.
>"I-I'm here..." he looks up at you, trying his best to be brave. "Here to kill any stragglers. T-This is my mission." The answer sounds like he read it from some cannon-fodder field guide
>And then it finally hits you. You look to the sky and can almost see a formation of something winging off in the distance, away from this kid, from all their burden
"They left you here, didn't they?" The question is the only thing you can think to say
>You never get your answer, you don't need one. The silence between you two says it all.
"Anyway, my name's Anonymous. What's yours?"
>"...Gill..." he whispers, then he stiffens up straight and looks at you. "M-My name is Gill."
 
>You start forward with your arm out in front of you, tight as a drum.
"Well Gill, my name's Anonymous. Where I'm from we shake hands together to show we mean no harm."
>He looks at your outstretched hand and nervously places his own into your palm
>You mechanically lift his unwilling arm up and down a few times for good measure.
"Where's that flock of Griffon's heading, Gill?"
>He begins to tell you that their general is driving them west, but stops before he get's to the conclusion of Griffon strategic movements
>"You're a monster, right? N-Not with the ponies?" He looks into your face to try and find some shred of double-agency
>But like everyone who's really met you, he learned that you are not really an expressive person. Not by choice of course
You laugh. "Yeah, sorta. I'm not with the ponies though, I promise."
>This is enough to earn a sigh of relief.
>You explain to him that you come from out east, but neglect to mention the name of the town's and villages you've been to before. You might accidentally get them massacred
>Gill seems to understand, and doesn't seem to care a whole lot about the lack of names. He's very distant as you sit down on the edge of fountain and explain what you're doing
>Keeps looking into the sky, off west at the setting sun
"And so that's when I found out that this dragon was ACTUALLY a large lizard and I was just high." That story always makes everyone laugh. Or just you. You can't remember, you usually only tell it when you're drunk
>Gill is glum, lmao
"Wanna have dinner with me?" You offer. You didn't want to travel in the dark, and these fires burning would save you the trouble of starting one yourself
>He asses your request for danger and then agrees, hearing his own stomach growl
 
>You and Gill talk beside a burning nursery. You love the smell of crispy bacon in the morning
>He eats from his own rations and tells you a bit about himself, while you thoughtfully study him
 
>Gill is by your standards, a young man, though still very much a kid in your eyes
>He's got a gray body, a white feathered head and blue eyes
>His hind legs are that of a lion but his front leg's are bird like, with gleaming talons, now digging into a clutch of rations
>"S-So that's it. I guess. My brother is off on some big mission and I'm here."
"Do they always leave the dead weight behind or did you really piss someone off?" You delicately probe
>He summons some false sense of pride. "I'm just s-serving my people." His dignified stare couldn't convince a mirror.
>The whole thing seemed cruel anyway, but you're a stranger in a strange land. Who are you to critique culture when you used to piss into bottles?
"Gill, you don't gotta pretend man. Can you fly?" You refer to his bloodied wing
>He strenuously unfurls it, his face twisting with pain every inch that unfolds
>"A spell that hit me mid f-flight did this to me. I wish I could get my talons around the Unicorn that did this, I'd tear his throat out."
>Well, he was still dangerous, in a sense. You'd better be more careful with what you say and do. Maybe try and earn some brownie points?
>You go to your suitcase and retrieve a small medical kit you keep with you
"How about I take a look at it? Maybe I can fix it?"
>He seems skeptical. "F-Fix it? Look, you can already see it plain as d-day-"
>You're already behind him. You're no vet, but fixing this shouldn't be too hard
>You grab at his trembling wing. It feels velvety and smooth, minus the dried blood
>Gill squeals loudly and skitters forward. You hold him in place.
>"W-What are you d-doing!?" He begs. You tell him that among your people you're a great medicine man and can heal him. You try stroking his wing to get him to calm down. If it works on dogs it can work on Griffons
>Unfortunately, all this does is slowly cause his other wing to unfurl and stiffen
>"A-Anon please s-stop..." he breathes
>Nonsense! It'll hurt but you'll be helping him
 
>You pop the cap off a bottle of rubbing alcohol and apply it a pad of gauze
"This is gonna sting a little, but I promise, it'll help."
>He flaps wildly attempting to wiggle away from you
>Before he can break free you jam the pungent rag onto his bloody gash
>Feathers fly into the air and Gill screams. You manage to hold the rag in place before he collapse in a spent heap
>With Gill asleep you can clean without having to fight him on it
>Infection is surely going to kill him first, if hunger or other ponies don't
>The wound satisfactorily cleaned, you apply a bandage and crudely wrap it around
>Fuck the boy scouts this is ghetto first-aid
>Gill is breathing softly beneath you, you rub his head
"Ya did good kid."
>You decided to get a move on in the morning
>You fall asleep in a burned out house, leaving Gill to rest by the dying fire
>You wake up to the smell of something burning, which is probably everything
>You sit up and yawn loudly, smacking your lips together
>Only to be bowled over by Gill, who had just woken up himself
>The two of you tangle loudly, his talons swinging at your tender flesh. You manage to pin him on his back and throw his arms down against the dirt
>Tears are running down his cheeks and his face is bright red
>"I knew I s-shouldn't have trusted! You tried to kill me last night!"
>Well that just wasn't true. You only had his best interests in mind when you cleaned up his wing last night
>He struggles against you, bug can't summon the strength to throw you off. He only grunts in frustration
>You smirk and let a wad of spit drip down from your mouth like a slowly building stalactite
>Just like what your brothers used to do to you
>He squirms away from the spit wad as best he can but it's no use. He's at your mercy.
>So this is how it feels to be an older brother
 
>Naturally you don't actually spit on him, you just enjoy watching the look on his face
"I'm not trying to kill you, I'm trying to help."
>"H-Help? That's what you call help? Molesting me and then doing who knows what to me while I was p-passed out!? I never asked for your help."
"And yet..." you look down at his broken and bandaged wing, which is now slightly quivering. "Seems like I helped anyway."
>He tests his wing reflexively. The realization is there but he's still fighting it with a blush.
>You roll off of him and the both of you lay face up panting in the dirt. A few days of travel and you're worn, and Gill already seems to be tired
>"S-So you weren't trying to hurt me?" He whispers at you.
>You let the silence speak for itself.
 
>The rest of the day you spend looking through old shelled out houses, Gill limps behind you at a good distance, looking like a lost puppy
>You give it maybe a day more
 
>With the discovery of a largely intact general store, "one day" becomes a week
>You and Gill eat richly on the fruits of the now deceased. You could stay here a bit before heading out.
 
>On Friday, you roll out a barrel of cider
>"What's that stuff?"
>You smirk
"This my dear boy, is cider, and proof that God loves us." You uncork the barrel and pour some into a discarded bowl for him
"It's going to taste a little bitter, but keep drinking, we've earned it.
>He sniffs the stuff apprehensively. "I-I'm not sure how we earned this b-but if it's as good as you s-say it is..." He extends his beak into the bowl and takes a shallow swig
>His eyes go wide with either disgust or adoration, but he continues drinking. "This i-isn't half bad Anon..." He affirms
>You don't need him to tell you, you've already had your second bowl of the stuff and can feel it burning softly in your belly. The burn works towards your face and you can finally relax
>Feels good man
>You refill Gill's bowl and he watches you with eagerness. You clearly can't pour fast enough for him
>Soon the two of you are blindingly drunk, Gill for perhaps the first time in his young life, and you for the first time in a long time
"Ssssso Gillligan,..." you slur his name. "Why did yous attack me?" To engage proper listening ears you must finish this bowl of cider
>Gill nearly stumbles into the fire you'd built, stretching his wings out. His broken one is seeming to do alright
>"C-Cause you molested me haha, thought you were gonna..." he pauses and hiccups. "RAEP ME!" Either it's the cider or the subject but his face goes red
>You can only laugh
"Rape you? Awww cmons man who do you think I am, some kinda rapey rapist?"
>Gill looks solemn at the mention of this. "W-Wouldn't surprise me, it's such a common problem among g-griffons..."
The cider masks your tact. "You weren't raped right?"
>Thankfully he shakes his head