67w, 2dSecond Person Stories
A/N: Huge apologies for being absent for a while guys. I hope you didn’t forget about Lunar Essence. Actually, it looks like I got some new trackers for this fanfiction somehow while I was out. That’s…astounding to me. Anyways, I’m still a smidge busy so if chapters are only every other day, you know why. Oh well, I’m back, and thus this chapter was born!
You roll off the couch and land face first, emitting a loud thump on the wood paneled floor. Scrambling to your feet, rustling through blankets in an attempt to free yourself from their comfort, you look around in all directions, reassembling your bearings.
“What? Huh?” There’s nothing there, and it’s still an hour or two before sunrise. Massaging your forehead with a spare hoof, you calm yourself down from the recent dream. Or, perhaps nightmare would be a better word. You’re not entirely sure; but whatever it was, it was messed up in all connotations of the word.
“Alright, calm down, Lunar,” you speak to yourself. “It was only a-“ a light creak resonates from the stairs, disrupting your self-induced post dream therapy. Softly, you call out towards the stairs, “Hello? Is anypony there?”
A few creaks and the familiar sound of hoofsteps later reveal the mare you know as Applejack. “Oh, mornin’ Lunar. What wakes you up at this hour?” She lets out a small yawn and grabs her hat off a rack on the wall, almost instinctually.
Grabbing and folding the blanket with your left hoof and mouth, you explain your story. “I had the strangest dream actually. I was floating…sort of, and then I was falling and then…I hit the floor…with my face.” It wasn’t the most elegant explaination, but you figure the bump on your head must have had something to do with it. Story completed, you set the perfectly folded square blanket back on the top of the couch.
“Err, alright.” She shrugs. “I hope you don’t mind, us Apples get up mighty early.” She waltzed into the kitchen, grabbing assorted pots and pans for breakfast.
“Not at all. Actually, mind if I help with the cooking? It’s the least I could do for letting me stay here last night.”
She looks out of the pantry, giving you a puzzled look before asking rhetorically, “Let an amnesiac help with the cookin’? Sorry sugarcube, but I hope you know that doesn’t sound quite right.”
“Alright, I suppose that’s fair,” you admit. Come to think of it, all I know how to make right now is pancakes. Not that there’s anything wrong with pancakes, they are a filling and delicious breakfast item, but I suppose it would be a bit dangerous. I don’t want to have to fetch more pails of water because I set the kitchen on fire. “But I do want to repay you somehow for letting me stay the night. Is there anything I can do that’s not breakfast related?”
Turning on the stove, she stares at you for a moment, looking you up and down. “Yeah, you look alright.”
Finally, a color other than white explodes across your face. Two large pink blushes race across, leaving the orange farmpony to mimic you. “That’s not what I meant!” she retracts hastily. “I mean you look in decent shape for applebuckin’.”
“Right, of course.” What the heck was that about? After clearing your throat, you continue the conversation as if nothing had happened. “So, applebucking?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty easy once you get into the swing of things,” she starts whisking some batter with her mouth while talking, “bu’ I’ ‘akes a ‘iddle ‘acdice.” You assume that means “but it takes a little practice”.
“Alright, sounds fair enough.”
After you let Applejack finish with her cooking, a few minutes later the rest of the apple crew, including a sniffling Big Macintosh (who seems to know who you are already thanks to Apple Bloom) and a grandmother (who only looks you in the eye for a moment and then accepts you as is), walks down the steps and sits at the table, eager for a hearty early breakfast.
An extra plate is prepared at the end of the table, specifically for you. Thanking Applejack, you sit down and begin slowly munching on some muffins.
“So, yer Lunar Essence,” Big Macintosh states with a sniffle. “Mighty fine to meet you.” He gazes at you with slightly red eyes and a inflamed nose. The red and the green contrast (the green from near his nose...) told you enough that he's been fighting this for a while.
“Thanks, it’s nice to meet you too. I apologize for your ailment. I hope it gets better soon.”
“It’s nothin’, it’ll clear soon and I’ll be back on the fields,” he states with upmost insurance, but with a rather monotone and unchanging voice.
Mostly, the conversation after that was discussing who had what chores, many of which you tried to offer to help, but were denied due to your condition. I have amnesia, I’m not handicapped… All while that was happening, you enjoyed a meal with muffins, toast, some cooked hay (however the heck that worked…) and some apple juice.
By the time the rooster crowed, the family had already split up into their respective duties, with you following Applejack to the fields for your first lesson in the magnificent art of Applebucking.
She said it was going to be a little bit of a walk to the field where you’re going to be working today, so you figure you might as well start up a conversation.
A/N: nope, this isn’t the game changer, looks like that chapter won’t happen until much later. That’s what happens when you think of more ideas. As always, if I messed something up, slap me in the face and tell me what I missed.