//------------------------------// // 2. Small Talk // Story: Dysphoria, Arc 1: Introductions // by thedarkprep //------------------------------// 2. Small Talk Although the pony with the purple mane had woken up what felt like an hour ago, he had still not opened his eyes. It was the pain that had woken him from his dreams, starting first as a small discomfort that grew exponentially with each ticking of the clock until he was ripped from his dreamland and into the throes of reality. And yet here he laid still, eyes closed, hoping to regain entry to his world of sleep. After a few extra moments he abandoned his pursuit and opened his eyes. He was in a small room, laying on a simple bed without covers and one pillow. Light shone in through the window, telling him it was morning and that the storm had passed. “Wait, what storm? Had that been real?” He thought to himself as he scanned the rest of the room. A clock was hanging from the wall to his right and there was a door on the wall opposite to him. His purple bag lay unopened next to the bed. A portrait hung on the wall to his left, next to the window, consisting of a large number of earth ponies standing in front of a barn. “One of them must be the owner of this house,” he thought. He then turned his attention to look at himself. He was surprised at what he found. Both his wings were bandaged next to his sides. His dislocated leg had been put back in place and was placed in a cast to heal without disruptions. His head was also bandaged with a few small bandages covering the few cuts he had sustained. “Strange, that I don’t remember being bandaged. In the state I was in, it must have been about as painful as it was to get injured,” he thought, then hesitated. He clenched his jaw as he fought to repress the memory he had accidentally sparked. “Maybe not.” He shook himself out of his stupor and began to analyze his situation. “I am still injured, but somepony has taken it upon themselves to bandage me. There was a storm last night; I was on my way to a town when I blacked out. I am not sure if I made it there or not. I am in somepony’s house, probably a spare bedroom; they are probably the ones who bandaged me. I am unable to move but out of any immediate danger. The pain is manageable. My bag is here and has not been opened.” He ran that list through his head again making sure he hadn’t missed an important detail. “Oh, and I’m alive I guess.” “And you’re talking to yourself; probably don’t want to leave that out.” He looked up and saw an orange mare with blonde hair and a cowboy hat looking at him from the doorway. He was surprised at how quietly she had opened the door and walked into the room, but then remembered that he was expected to be unconscious and therefore she probably had been trying not to wake him. He stared for a second, analyzing her. She looked familiar. He looked at the picture on his left and spotted her amongst the ponies, thinking maybe that’s from where he recognized her, before a memory from the storm came back. She had been the last thing he saw before he blacked out; he was probably staring at his savior. “Thank you for taking me in and bandaging me; I know it must have been a hassle, but you probably saved my life.” “I don’t know about all that. I just found a hurt pony out in the rain and gave them a roof over their head. Nurse Redheart is the one that patched you up while you were unconscious.” “Then I’ll make sure to thank her as well, but that doesn’t excuse you from my gratitude.” “Whatever you say, sugarcube.” Applejack walked up to sit near the bedside. “I reckon you have a couple of questions you want to ask, if that list you were making is any indication. I have a couple of questions myself that I would like answered if you don’t mind.” “Yea, I guess you’re right. Where am I?” he asked. “Why, this here is Sweet Apple Acres, the finest Apple Orchard in all of Equestria, despite what Appleloosa would have you believe. We are just a few minutes out from Ponyville.” “I guess that’s that town I saw. That means I didn’t make it there,” he commented. “Not out of lack of trying, mind you. When I found you, you were still crawling and trying to make your way there despite your injuries. Why were you trying to get to Ponyville so badly?” Applejack asked. “It wasn’t Ponyville per se that I was trying to reach, just any town where I might find some help with my injuries.” “Makes sense.” “How long have I been here, and who knows I’m here?” he asked. Applejack eyed him curiously. Though he was calm in his expression, she couldn’t help identifying the apprehension in his voice. Maybe it was the way he looked out the window as he asked, or how his tone shifted away from a conversational tone and into the tone he had used while making his mental list. In either case, she was intrigued. “You’ve only been here for a night. That awful storm was yesterday and as soon as it started to die down, I sent word to the Ponyville General Hospital that we had an injured pegasus. Nurse Redheart came to patch you up then left.” She thought for a minute, “that means that in total six ponies know you are here, counting my family, nurse Redheart, myself, and you.” “Fair enough, you said you had questions?” “Yea I do. For starters, how did you get banged up so badly?” Applejack asked. The pony looked out the window again before answering. “I was attacked by a Manticore a few ways back. It did most of the damage; the rest was caused by me traveling with injured limbs.” Applejack eyed him suspiciously, but chose to ignore the hoof shaped bruise on his cheek. Instead she asked another question. “Nurse Redheart says that it looks like you have been carrying these injuries for a while. In fact, she was surprised you were still alive with how much exposure your more severe cuts have seen. Not to mention your broken wing which had begun to heal at a wrong angle before she fixed it. How long ago did you get hurt and why didn’t you get help sooner?” “There are no towns between here and Canterlot and, while I was closer to Canterlot when I was attacked, I couldn’t go up the mountain as injured as I was. The journey here was a slow one due to my injuries.” Applejack stared in shock. “You traveled here from the base of the Canterlot Mountain with broken wings and a dislocated leg?” she asked incredulously. “More or less,” he stared out the window again as Applejack gathered her thoughts. “Who are you running from?” Applejack had to admit that it was a weird question to ask, one that might be answered with confusion. However, it was not confusion that Applejack noticed on the pony’s face. It was fear and shock. “I’m not running from anypony,” he said. Applejack raised an eyebrow. With a surge of guilt, he continued, “that is to say, no one is chasing me. As far as I know, no pony is looking for me, but I still don’t want to be found.” The pony looked out the window again and gave a soft sigh. “Actually, I would appreciate if you did not tell anypony that I’m here. I’ll be out of your hooves before long so if you could keep me a secret until then I’d be eternally grateful.” Applejack gave him a soft smile before she spoke. “Don’t worry, no pony will know you’re here and please don’t worry about being out of my hooves. It really is no trouble having you here. The first priority is for you to get better. Once that happens you are always welcome to stay here in the farm and work, or free to move on to Ponyville or some other place. But really, don’t go thinking you’re a burden or something like that; you are welcome here.” The pony looked at her with surprise on his face. “Why are you being so kind?” he asked. “The way I figure it, you don’t have a place to go; otherwise you would’ve headed there instead of some town you don’t know. We have extra rooms and more than enough work for a few extra set of hooves, so it’s no trouble at all,” she responded. “Thank you so much. I know I must be hard to trust, but I promise I won’t let you down. Speaking of trust, I notice you did not open my bag. Seems weird considering you did not know who I was; I figured the first thing ponies do in that situation is check their stuff.” “A pony’s business is their own until they feel like sharing it with others,” she responded. The pony wasn’t sure if Applejack was responding to his first or second statement. “What’s your name?” he asked, realizing it had not come up yet. “I’m Applejack. What’s your name?” Suddenly the pony looked tense, as if surprised that he had been asked. After a moment of hesitation he responded, “Script.” Applejack cast a throwaway glance at the purple bag sitting next to the bed, the bag she had helped carry last night, and the bag she knew said, “property of Slant Rhyme.” She returned her gaze back to the pony on the bed. “Nice to meet you Script. Now, I’m sure you’re probably mighty hungry, but you’re in no shape to go downstairs. Do you want me to bring you anything?” “No it’s ok, I am hungry but right now I’m even more tired. I think I’ll go back to sleep if that’s ok.” Applejack nodded. “Whatever works for you, sugarcube, just call me if you need anything.” With that she left the room closing the door behind her. Script was obviously keeping secrets from her, but she couldn’t help but trust that he had no bad intentions. She would still go by the town to make sure there were no wanted posters for a pony named Slant or Script fitting his description, but after that she did not feel the need to involve anypony else. Stepping out of her house, she decided she would stop by town later. Right now there were chores to be done. Inside the house, Script spent some time going over the conversation in his head. He had made a few blunders but nothing dangerous. Besides, Applejack was either too trusting to pick up on his hesitation, or too polite to point it out. He looked out the window again. “Maybe I could stay in this Ponyville. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.” With that final thought he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.