Up From the Wilderness

by Cynewulf

IV. The Second Dream of the Shulammite

The doctor hummed. Rainbow sat in the corner, thinking that humming thoughtfully was probably something they taught you to do in medical school. This particular practitioner, certainly, found himself doing it far too much. Everytime she’d sat in this hospital he would come into the room, look at some chart or another, and hum as if this were all quite new and fascinating, some mystery worth his attention. Rainbow found it annoying far beyond how annoying it actually should have been.

This had a lot less to do with the doctor and a lot more to do with the fact that she was trying desperately not to squirm in panic.

Rarity was doing much better, at least on the outside. She sat quietly, face neutral, not in the schooled way Rainbow had learned to detect, but in a fairly natural set. She simply waited. Rainbow had no idea how she did, how she simply sat there and… waited. As if this were nothing more than waiting for somepony to tell the time or the forecast. As if it were just some passing transaction on the street. How was she calm? How did she keep her legs from fidgeting, or her mouth from curling down, or her brow from furrowing?

But that was the difference between them. True, sometimes Rarity wore her emotion on her sleeve in as overdramatic a way as possible, just like Rainbow sometimes tried her hardest to hide how she felt. But when it counted, when it really counted, when there was fear involved…

Yeah, she can be hard. Sometimes.

“I have to apologize with how this whole thing has gone, Miss Rarity,” the doctor said abruptly. “I’ll admit that this is not exactly an average case.”

“Not at all. I quite understand,” Rarity said.

“Usually when I see raw magic poisoning, it’s incredibly mild. A foal who tried just a bit too hard, a student from the community college up in Falcon’s Ford doing too much magic with too little sleep to safely control himself.”

“I know the feeling.”

Rainbow thought about those endless, coffee-drowned nights of vast dress orders, falling asleep on the couch while Rarity worked on feverishly into the night. She smiled.

“Usually, I prescribe something to fight off the infection that always accompanies the poisoining eventually, tell them to lay off the magic until everything’s cleared up… but this is so much more than that.”

Rainbow fidgeted. Her stomach churned. She hated the way his voice sounded. She hated it.

“I’m a grown mare,” Rarity said quietly. “It is quite alright. You can tell me things plainly, doctor.”

Rarit moved in her seat. It was only a little, but Rainbow knew her well. She had studied that face so much over the last few years. She knew when the facade was about to crack, when Rarity was close to the edge. She was hanging off the side even now. The calm was gone in an instant.

“It is not hopeless. Not at all,” he said quickly. “I’m not just saying that, either. You are a unicorn, luckily, and so you have a good system for absorbing and venting thaumaturgical energy… but at the same time, this is raw magic we’re dealing with here. Whatever happened out there, you absorbed far too much, in far too chaotic a state. Immobile limbs can happen with this sort of thing, but three of them?” He shook his head. “But I do have good news, at least.”

Rarity’s eyes widened. Slightly. She was trying. Rainbow frowned. She was trying to control, to contain. It was strange for that effort to be so obvious. No, not just strange. Rainbow took a deep breath while the doctor collected his thoughts for a moment. It was then that she caught Rarity’s eyes, and they smiled at each other reflexively.

Rarity always seemed to know when Rainbow was hurting. Like the sunlight creeping through even the smallest gap in the blinds, Rarity saw through any defense a pony could put up around their problems. But I can’t do that. Like, its the whole “I don’t do feelings” joke, except I’m not sure it’s funny anymore.

“I’ve gotten some good feedback from the doctors in Canterlot. Part of the problem is that the way the magic’s being absorbed, and how it got so mangled… So much time has passed that it’s like trying to put together a crime scene ten years later.” He smiled. Rainbow didn’t know how he smiled. “Ever try to heat up food and it just wasn’t the same anymore?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I know, I can see it. Terrible analogy, but bear with me. That’s what dealing with the magic poisoning is like. I can try and trace the flow of energy and see where it’s latching onto, but it’s just not the same. But the guys I’ve been talking to in Canterlot are working on something that may fix that.”

“I suppose we’ll be waiting on them, then,” Rarity said quietly.

“Yes, Miss Rarity. In the meantime, I do want to go ahead and put you on a battery of thaumaturgic-oriented medications. I think we can at least mitigate some of the inflammation… maybe get some of that sensation back.”

Rarity and Rainbow’s ears both perked up simultaneously. “Wait, does that mean she could move again?” Rainbow blurted out.

The doctor turned to her and gave a little lopsided grin. “Yes, technically.”

“Technically, doctor?” Rarity interjected.

“Movement, but not walking. It’s… even unicorn to unicorn it’s difficult to explain, but we can with luck get you movement. You’ll be able to move all four legs, but they’ll be far too weak to support any kind of serious weight. It’s not much, I know.”

“It’s more than you know,” Rarity said.

Author's Note:

I slept, but my heart was awake.
A sound! My beloved is knocking.
“Open to me, my sister, my love,
my dove, my perfect one,
for my head is wet with dew,
my locks with the drops of the night.”
3 I had put off my garment;
how could I put it on?
I had bathed my feet;
how could I soil them?
4 My beloved put his hand to the latch,
and my heart was thrilled within me.
5 I arose to open to my beloved,
and my hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with liquid myrrh,
on the handles of the bolt.
6 I opened to my beloved,
but my beloved had turned and gone.
My soul failed me when he spoke.
I sought him, but found him not;
I called him, but he gave no answer.
7 The watchmen found me
as they went about in the city;
they beat me, they bruised me,
they took away my veil,
those watchmen of the walls.
8 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
if you find my beloved,
that you tell him
I am sick with love.

Comments

[Texus]

It is not bad, actually a good story, but i had like it if there where not well timeskips, i don´t know how to explain it further.
It is a different knd of stroy, it is written a different way i read it normaly.