//------------------------------// // 3 - Swirl, Swirl, Swish! // Story: Sea Dreams // by Odd_Sarge //------------------------------// “Oh! Good afternoon, Miss... Sea Swirl, was it?” “Yes, that’s me. You must be Nurse Snowheart.” “That I am! Just Snowheart is fine.” She leaned back slightly, and looked around. “Is Reckless not here today? She doesn’t usually leave her accommodation.” “No, she’s helping the Apple family. I think she’s probably out in town.” “Well, that’s good. Great, even! I assume that you’re the one watching over our special little pony, then?” “Yeah, she’s been waiting for you. Please, come in.” “Thank you!” The yellow-coated mare stepped forward, and Sea Swirl shut the front door behind her. She led her a few steps out of the doorway, and right into the living room. Snowheart smiled when the occupied couch came into sight. “And how are we doing today, Screw Loose?” The mare in question was all to excited to have company. With a lighting-quick kick, she launched off the couch, and soared to tackle Snowheart. The nurse reared up, and easily stopped the mare in her tracks. She grunted briefly under the effort, but was soon full of bubbly laughter. “Very well, it seems!” “She’s been doing a lot better out here than in the hospital, that’s for sure.” “Oh, don’t you say that. We’d love to have her back.” She winced, and gave Sea Swirl a sorry look. “Well, I mean, in a good way. She keeps ponies’ spirits up when she’s not making trouble.” Screwy rolled her tongue back in and whined through her throat, drawing Snowheart away again. “I just worry that she’ll relapse.” “That’s what I’m here for, Miss Swirl.” Her eyes narrowed into a focused look. Screwy dropped back onto all fours, and cocked her head. “We have plenty of behaviors we need to work on, yes, and those will certainly take some time. But some of the more... physically detrimental tics have moved on.” “And you’re sure they won’t be back?” Snowheart gave Screwy a few more moments of scrutiny before sending her off with an approving nod. As the mare scrambled back for the couch, Snowheart adjusted her nursing cap. “She may be Ponyville General’s toughest case to date, but we’re doing all we can to keep her on the right track.” “...Sorry.” “Why are you sorry? We should really be thanking you for bringing her in.” Sea Swirl looked at the floor and scratched it with a hoof. “I just wish I could do more.” She was surprised to find her muzzle tilting upwards, forced to meet Snowheart’s eyes. “Look... Sea Swirl. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Her hoof clopped back down. “Here, how’s this. I’ll talk to the other nurses about letting you in after visiting hours. Screw Loose will be coming back sooner or later. We have to take foalsteps. And her recovery is going to rely on the company of ponies who support her. Doesn’t that sound good?” Sea Swirl just nodded. “Thank you.” Smiling again, Snowheart gestured behind her with a short bob of her head. “There are some little things we need to keep track of, observations I’d like to record, activities and exercises for her to try. Do you think you could help me with that?” “Yeah.” She took a breath. “Yes, yes I can.” “Perfect,” Snowheart uttered with warmth and heart. “It’ll help me, and it’ll help Screw Loose in the long-term. She’s going to get better. But it’s not going to happen overnight.” “I understand.” “Alright, then right now’s the best time to get started!” Leaning her head down, she allowed her hat to fall into her hoof. Using her mouth, she plucked out a small writing pad, and a well-worn pencil. “First of all, let’s talk about getting her out more...” Sea Swirl couldn’t help but giggle. “She’s way ahead of you.” With two full baskets of apples balanced on her sides through a girth and strap, and a tremendously overloaded cart behind her, Reckless was as comfortable as she could be. Lugging her cargo alone through town, she sank no time into observing the world around her. It had taken her a long while to adjust to her new vision, but that was neither here nor there: she kept her focus on the task at hoof, pulling ahead with purpose. The cart was a significant upgrade from her days of hauling variable loads, but the worst sections of terrain she encountered were the sloping cobbles of the bridges placed about Ponyville. It was hardly the kind of environment that promoted a tough can-do attitude. Pulled out of her own world at the peak of her career, it went without saying that she found herself unfulfilled, underutilized, and underachieving. But working while ponies watched on in awe brought its own degree of pride. She’d been given a short order for this particular run, a two-way trip she’d run once: deliver the cargo to the front line; return and await further orders. In this particular scenario, there were no rampaging artillery shells being lobbed about, or comrades, bloody and wounded, reaching up for her aid. Instead, she had to contest with her inability to discern the difference between the various buildings that made up the village of Ponyville. Coming to a stop, she garnered some extra attention from a passing pony. The mare stared, and Reckless stared back. “Where Sugar Corner? Need go.” The mare blinked, then brightened with a gentle, tittering laugh. She pointed with a hoof. “Sugarcube Corner’s right there.” Reckless followed the aim of the mare’s hoof, right over to the building she’d stopped in front of. “This Corner?” “Yup, that’s it!” Her eyes wandered across the ‘building’. The place looked like it belonged more on an officer’s buffet than on the street. She nodded at the mare. “Thank.” “Sure thing. Have a nice day!” With a happy hum, the mare continued on her merry way. Reckless gave the crowd around her a look, then swiveled her cart through one last turn. As she approached the building, she pulled to the side of the single pink door, and the rocky steps that led up to it. There didn’t appear to be anyone—or anypony, for that matter—around to unharness, or even unload her. She’d been strapped in by Big Mac, but rather than try to learn how exactly a pony could equip themselves for hauling, she’d spent her time getting him to fit her in a more comfortable way. She’d long since given up on trying to use her natural movements to communicate with the ponies: Big Mac had come close, but she’d still had to rely on her new voice to get things done. So, she spoke up. Knowing better than to start with any ‘primal noise’ the ponies deemed strange (at least, now she did), she instead rose her voice. “Deliver!” Stomping her hoof, she snorted, and looked down. She’d walked herself into facing the building, and she wasn’t about to start backing the cart up. And while she’d try and remove the baskets, they were laid over the banding of the cart’s wooden arms, so it wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world. Reckless waited. It didn’t take long for the front door to open, and a pony to come out for a peek. “Oh! Hello there!” The pudgy, cerulean blue mare bore an apron. It was covered in something Reckless was all-too familiar with: confectioner’s sugar. “Sugar Corner. I deliver.” “I can see that,” the mare tentatively laughed. “Gosh, you’re a big pony... Um, could you take that cart around back for us? I don’t want to carry in all the ingredients through the front, if you don’t mind.” Reckless nodded. “No trouble.” Backing the cart easily—and not particularly caring if anypony was in her way—she swerved to the side. The pony at the door ducked back in. Rounding around the Sugarcube Corner, Reckless was greeted on equal terms: the mare was stood on a ledge near the back door, and she smiled warmly. “Thank you very much, Miss...?” “Reckless. Come from Sweet Acre.” “Of course. I figured Applejack must have sent you.” Stepping down, she approached Reckless’ side. “Do you need help getting out of that harness? I would appreciate a hoof in getting all these wonderful apples inside.” “Yes.” She jostled her back. “Take baskets.” “Mhm. This isn’t my first rodeo either!” She reached a hoof out, and Reckless recognized the gesture after a second: she reciprocated the hoofbump. “Chiffon Swirl. But you can call me Mrs. Cake.” “But Swirl good name.” Mrs. Cake giggled. “Yes, but it’s really for Carrot, er, my husband’s sake. You know how stallions are.” “No.” “...Oh.” “They promise foal when retire. Did not get stallion. Did not get foal.” Mrs. Cake blinked. “Maybe not retire long enough.” The mare’s face contorted in all manner of ways, before she finally settled for sympathetic. “You’re still young, dear. You have plenty of time.” Reckless stretched her neck to look over Mrs. Cake. The mare fidgeted, and pinched her ears back. “Wish you good foal.” Nodding, she brought her attention back to her harness. “We work now, yes?” After a moment, Mrs. Cake returned the nod, then went to work removing the baskets. She was quiet, and a little slow. But Reckless waited patiently while she worked. When the baskets had been removed, Reckless felt a hoof rest against her back. “It’s twins,” came the murmur. “We weren’t going to tell anypony yet.” Reckless turned her head. “Classified, yes?” Mrs. Cake had a tiny, but significant smile. “Secret. Thank you.” Weaving her body through the door, Reckless found herself standing in the backroom kitchen of Sugar Cube Corner. She’d been here before. But only in dreams. The unimaginable scents here were sown directly from the bounty of the Elysian Plains. A quiet gasp came from her left, and she looked to meet the sparkling eyes of the pink pastry mare extraordinaire. Reckless’ stony visage was something she’d developed over years of tenure in service. She’d waged her own internal wars to develop the fortitude to match the wiles of the world. She’d always been the same mare, but the real character in her was something she reserved for those she truly trusted. It wasn’t too easy to break her, especially for a stranger. But this mare... this one right here? For Reckless, it was like stepping ten years into the past. She smiled broadly, ears perking high. “Pinkie Pie!” “Reckless!” the party pony whispered. She swung her head around the room in a great big display. “I’d love to talk, but I have to keep working! I messed up big time!” “Pinkie Pie, I already told you—” “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Cake! I’m working,” she wailed, “I’m working!” She turned back to her mixing bowl, and resumed whisking with gusto. Mrs. Cake sighed. “Don’t mind her, she’s not in trouble. She’s still stuck in a rut about the ‘baked bads’ fiasco.” She gestured Reckless on with a hoof. “This way with those baskets, dear.” While she’d been brought in to help, Mrs. Cake soon disappeared back into the front—which Reckless assumed had something to do with the voices of ponies in the background—with a promise to help Reckless back into her harness when she was finished. Even then, unloading the goods into the surprisingly sizable pantry didn’t take long: back and forth Reckless went, ferrying load after load. And on each trip, her eyes lingered on Pinkie Pie for longer, and longer. When she’d run dry on apples, she stepped back inside. Her standing orders were to return to Mrs. Cake, but internally, she commanded herself to steer for Pinkie Pie. The mare was fit to burst with how swiftly she was working through the goods. By now, an armada of sweets and baked treats filtered along every little spot of space that could possibly be occupied. Dipping out of the oven with another tray, Pinkie Pie gasped, leaving the tray suspended in mid-air. “Reckless!” “Pinkie Pie!” Somehow, the pink pony perked up further. Her ears quickly wilted. “Ooo, give me one second.” She grabbed back onto the heating pad wrapped around the tray’s edge, and carefully placed the tray down to cool. She turned back around to Reckless, and lightly bounced in place. “Hi! What’s up?” Reckless looked around at the food-filled room, licked her lips, then gave Pinkie Pie a nod. Pinkie Pie returned with a serious look. Then, she nodded back. Reaching into her mane, she retrieved her prize, and in pristine condition. “I made it just for you, sergeant.” It was a simple treat, from a simpler world: glazed only by white vanilla frosting, it consisted of so little flair that it was almost hard to believe that it was the work of the same Pinkie Pie from Sugar Cube Corner. And yet, it was perfect. Reckless leaned forward, and plied it gently from Pinkie Pie’s grip. Swish! She tilted her head back in one slick motion, tossing the cupcake high. It arced, soaring like the road of a rainbow—which she accounted for with two steps back—before descending to its rightful place in Reckless’ gaping maw. While she savored the delight with her slowed, mushing, and noisy chewing, Pinkie Pie adopted a salute. “Are you ready for game night again soon, Sergeant Reckless?” The warhorse eagerly nodded, and swallowed. “Yes. Bring more poker chip. I find more pony play poker. Make more winning.” “Yes, ma’am! With sprinkles?” A mischievous glint filled Reckless’ eye, and gut. “Extra sprinkle.”