House of the Rising Sunflower

by kudzuhaiku


An hour among the sunflowers

“Corduroy… help me, I feel woozy…” 

“That’s because you’re dying, Sundance.” 

“But I… I don’t want to die. There’s so much I haven’t done… like get laid.” 

Corduroy came into his field of vision, but she was blurry. Before her, she held a pair of tweezers, and pinched in said tweezers was something he couldn’t quite see. Everything was out of focus and he found it difficult to blink his eyes. His heart felt slow and he couldn’t feel any of his extremities. He was lying in a bed, but he couldn’t feel that either. In fact, he couldn’t feel much of anything at all. For a moment, he thought he saw a thorn held in the tweezers, but then his vision turned fuzzy and indistinct. 

“This is a spider fang,” Corduroy said. “It scratched you. Some of them are still stuck in you. A lot of them, actually. Bunches and bunches of tiny spider fangs scratched you and pierced your skin. You’re in luck though—” 

“I am?” Sundance didn’t recognise the sound of his own voice. 

“You are. I just made a fresh batch of antivenin. With giant spiders around, I figured that somepony was bound to get bit.” The towering nurse pulled her tweezers away. “But you have more than one bite, in a manner of speaking. I don’t actually know how bad this is.” 

“Oh…” Sundance wanted to say more, but found he lacked the motivation to do so. 

“Paradox, I need you to clean up Sundance and find every little fang that you can. I am going to administer some antivenin to him and then go to work on our visitor. She has huge fangs stuck in her, and I might need your help when I do surgery.” 

“Surgery?” Paradox’s voice sounded rather hesitant. 

“Some of the larger fangs appear stuck. Possibly lodged in bone or in between ribs.” 

“Oh… that’s not good.” There was a loud gulp from Paradox. 

“We have our work cut out for us, Paradox. Let’s get started.” 


 

The bed rocked like a rowboat on a choppy sea and Sundance was certain that he could feel his stomach sliding up and down his throat with each rise and fall of the bed. A terrible, cruel cold permeated his bones and his addled brain was certain that the chill of death was upon him. It was taking a while, his death, and given his current state of being, he sort of wished that his inevitable end would hurry up. 

“Say, does this cloth smell like chloroform?” asked Corduroy. 

Sundance heard the visitor reply, “Yeah, it kinda does.” 

“Uh…” Sundance could almost hear the quizzical dog expression on Corduroy’s face when he heard her confuzzled response. 

“What were you expecting, exactly? I have more spider venom than blood right now and you think that a little chloroform is going to knock me out? Please. Just do your job. Do surgery. Do whatever is needed. For the love of Luna, please, please pull out the big spider fang in my right teat. It stings!” 

“Will do,” Corduroy dutifully replied. “Just yank it out?” 

“Please!” 

“Alright then—” 

Sundance lost awareness of whatever happened next because his rowboat capsized. 


 

A sea of sunflowers with warm, smiling faces stretched from horizon to horizon. Narrow paths wound their way between the tall, stately flowers, and Sundance tried to make sense of how he’d arrived here in this odd, sunflowery place. There was no sun in the sky that he could see, yet it was quite sunny. Some of the sunflowers regarded him with curious expressions, while others ignored him and continued to bask in the sunlight that shone from a sun that did not exist. 

Yes, he could see faces in the seeds, or perhaps the faces were the seeds. In his current state, it was hard to tell. Some of the sunflowers watching him crossed their leaves over their stems, in very much the same way that Corduroy crossed her arms over her girth. The fact that the sunflowers studied him in such a scrutinous way made Sundance nervous, even more so than having no memory of how he arrived here in this place. 

“You appear lost,” a nearby sunflower said in a grandmotherly voice. 

“I think I am,” Sundance replied. “Do you know where I am?” 

A gruff, grandfatherly sunflower replied, “Why, this is the astral plane, of course. You were put you here so your soul wouldn’t go drifting off.” 

“Am I dead?” asked Sundance. 

“Not exactly,” another sunflower said to him. “You exist in between. ‘Tis easy for the soul to get confused in these states. Sometimes, it goes wandering off and doesn’t come back. Souls are rather stupid.” 

He tilted his head upwards, squinted up at the cloudless sky, and had a good look around. There was nothing for him to get his bearings with. No sun… yet the sky was blue and he felt warm daylight on his face. One of the nearby sunflowers leaned in a little closer and seemed to study him. While it was unnerving, Sundance said nothing. Who was he to tell sunflowers what to do? 

“Who put me here?” 

Several of the sunflowers harrumphed, as if offended, and one of them a few rows back said, “Sometimes, ponies are a reflection of their soul.” 

“I’m confused… what do you mean by that?” asked Sundance. 

“I rest my case,” the unseen sunflower a few rows back replied. 

“Oh, the poor dear is confused. Leave him be, ye bugbear.” 

Sundance found the movement of the seedy faces disconcerting. The soil beneath his hooves felt strange to him, somehow more real than usual while also being less than real. He felt the heat of the sun, but there was no sun, and after a few moments of trying to make sense of his senses, he realised that the sunflowers radiated the pleasant warmth that graced his skin. 

“Who are you?” Sundance glanced around him, unsure if he was ready for the answer. Surely, these sunflowers had to be somepony—er, somebody—someflower? As he stood there, waiting for an answer, and also trying to make sense of things, he discovered that his sense of up and down no longer functioned. 

His compass was busted; there was no north. 

“We are what you will one day be,” the gruff, grandfatherly sunflower said while his fellows all around him chuckled. 

“So, is this some kind of afterlife?” 

“No, this is the astral plane,” a snarky sunflower was quick to say. “Pay attention.” 

“You know”—Sundance spoke matter-of-factly—“sunflowers are edible.” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare. There’d be consequences. We’ll haunt your dreams, Bucko… just like we sometimes do to Rainbow Dash.” One of the sunflowers now stood with long leaves akimbo. 

“Yes, we must all have our hobbies,” another agreed with a bob and a nod. 

Sundance didn’t let this slide. “All things considered, you’re a bit rude.” 

“We stand around in the sun all day. Forever. Gets a bit boring.” 

“That’s not much of an excuse.” Sundance heard a great rustling as all of the sunflowers around him swayed together and brought their seedy little eyes to bear upon him. 

He turned about, had himself a quick look around, and noticed that his hooves made no sound when they clopped against the soil. An unfathomable number of seedy faces watched him, some with amusement, some with idle interest, and others with boredom. The seeds were like… well, very much like the grainy dotted images of the newspaper, where if one looked too close the image was ruined, but from a distance a reasonable picture emerged. He saw pony faces in the sunflowers, and even spotted pony ears in the form of pricked petals that stood at attention. 

These were once ponies, perhaps. 

“One day, you will stand among us.” A nearby sunflower spoke with a kind mare’s voice. “Most of your soul will go on to whatever fate it deserves, but a little seed of your existence will be planted here. You have bonded with the land. Just as we have. Our magic is now your magic.” 

“Our memories are now your memories,” another said. 

“And one day, when you die, a part of you will sprout here. Your magic will be passed on, and your memories. This is how the land provides. Ancestral magic. A great chain of existence that cannot be broken. She poured her tears and blood into the land… her hopes and worries.” 

He didn’t need to ask; they obviously spoke of Celestia. But, he was curious, and only one question arose within his mind. A question he feared to ask, and yet, his heart would not remain silent. He had to know. Even if he didn’t like the answer. Seedy faces studied him, watched him, his elders and ancestors, all those who’d come before him. 

“Is Cucumber here among you?” 

“He is,” the sunflower with the kind mare’s voice replied. “But I know not where. He is still a sprout, and not yet awoken to his new existence. His ties to the land were strong. For a time, he embodied the will of the land, and all of us kept him alive until a suitable replacement could be found. There is much the land can do. Much that we can do.” 

“You are one of us now,” a sunflower behind Sundance said. 

“You would not be here otherwise,” a soft, feminine voice said. 

“So, snarky peasants and lords and ladies become snarky sunflowers,” Sundance remarked. “I could think of worse fates. So, tell me, what of the previous lord? Is he here among you?” 

“He is not.” A gruff sunflower with a gravelly voice spat out the words. “Weeds do not bond with the land, they are parasites who destroy it.” 

“Oh.” Sundance felt the need to say more, but what, exactly? What could probably be said at a time like this? Perhaps the will of the land moved through poor Cucumber and yanked the pernicious weed from the garden. He started to ask, but then reconsidered. No, he decided. No, this was something he was better off not knowing. Whatever awful fate awaited Cucumber for violating his oath, at least a little part of him found refuge here. 

He would not carelessly destroy this much-needed comfort. 

“We will bolster your wisdom,” an elderly-voiced sunflower said. “Learn to meditate and focus upon the voices within. Develop your memories. Learn to commune with the land.” 

“You are not a unicorn, but we have other magics we can offer.” 

“Say, you caused the whole lightning thing, didn’t you?” 

“We did. Think of your state of mind at the time. Ponder upon your reflections. Call upon us and we will answer. We do not act to benefit you, but the land to which you are bound.” 

“Um, while I am here… is there anything you want from me? Is there anything I can do?” 

“There is, in fact, something you can do…” 


 

“The worst seems to have subsided. Look, he stirs.” 

Sundance shivered beneath a whole heap of blankets and his teeth clattered together. He could feel his blood trickling through veins that felt far too narrow, far too tight. Icy vices squeezed his hooves, and his legs were stabbed by millions of pins and needles. The flavour of his own tongue made him want to gag; it was vaguely metallic and positively foul. 

“He’s tougher than he looks,” a deep voice rumbled. “I’m honestly surprised.” 

“Those spiders proved to be a blessing,” Paradox said. “Without the antivenin…” Her words faded into a soft, muted squeak. “Sundance, can you hear me?” 

A gurgling croak escaped his lips, a dreadful, awful sound. A second later, his head was lifted and when he looked up, he saw Corduroy looking down at him. She shone a light into one eye, then the other, and then prodded his face with her thumb. When she pinched his ear, he yelped, and he saw the look of relief on her forlorn face. 

Then, a cup of water was pressed to his lips. He slurped it, almost choked, and Corduroy raised him into sitting position. The pins and needles in his limbs caused intense pain, but water proved a worthy distraction. Now that he was upright, and held in place by Corduroy, he could drink, and did. The cold, wet liquid cooled his hot, parched throat, and washed some of the awful taste off of his tongue. 

“Congratulations are in order,” the deep, gruff voice said. “You survived the magical aspects of the venom, so you’ll probably have a bit of immunity to paralysis magic in the future. Of course, I’ll be utterly immune to this spider venom after this. But the fact that you survived at all is impressive.” 

“You speak as though this is a good thing,” Paradox said. 

“It is.” The rough voice was cold. Deadpan. “This is probably the best thing that could have possibly happened to him. This is the best possible outcome. Whatever doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger.” 

“This comes from a creature that is as weak as a kitten right now,” said Corduroy. 

“I’ll get my strength back. I’m not worried. I survived manticore poison and chimera poison. I may not look like it on the outside, but on the inside, make no mistake… I am a pegasus. We endure. We survive, and we endure. My kind were constructed on pegasus foundations.” 

“Sundance, this is River Raider. She says that you’ve met.” Paradox shuffled near Sundance’s bed. 

Water dribbled down Sundance’s chin and he tried to have a look around. His eyes wouldn’t focus though, and everything more than a leg-length away was all smeary. He could feel, and a part of his brain understood just how important this was. Not being able to feel meant paralysis. His muscles twitched, his heart thumped, and the stabby sensations in his tender wings made him want to whimper. 

“I had to give you mouth-to-mouth for a while,” Corduroy said softly into his ear. “You were still breathing, but only just barely. The spider venom caused almost complete immobilisation. You seem to be getting sensation back. Can you say something?” 

He croaked, coughed, spluttered, and then tried again. “We kissed. Did I enjoy it?” 

Corduroy went stiff for a moment, her ears pricked tall, her jowls wibble-wobbled, and then, quite without warning, she rolled her eyes. “We need to get you to a specialist so you can be checked for brain damage, Sundance.” 

He turned his head, squinted, strained to see, and managed to make out a huge heap of mare in the nearby bed. She was mummified in bandages—all of her, from ear to hoof—and he strained to hear the sound of her breathing. Would she be alright? And what of himself? Would he recover? It seemed likely. 

Thunder rumbled and rattled the infirmary. 

“Might I get a cup of tea?” he asked. 

“Sure,” was Corduroy’s response. “You could probably use a little liquid.” 

“Thank you.” He felt Corduroy’s paw slide along the length of his back and he was lowered back down into his bed. The sheets were still damp with sweat, and he shivered from the clammy moistness of his bedding. “Thank you, Corduroy. Really. You keep saving me.” 

“It’s my job,” the dutiful diamond dog replied. “I am obligated to save my friends…”