//------------------------------// // Graciousness isn't a Common Virtue // Story: Blackscale // by Leviathan //------------------------------// Light filtered down, irritating my sleeping form as it danced over my eyes. My closed lids twitched against the uninvited intrusion, instantly growing weary of the glaring dawn. Soon they opened, bringing me back to the conscious world. A world I could not abhor more. The first thing I became aware of was the severity of my condition; or rather, a lack of severity. I felt at peace. My body ached dully, but it wasn’t painful. I was laying across something soft, extremely so, in fact. It was abnormal for my experience. Normally when one passes out on a rapid flowing against stonework they don’t end up somewhere nice. Normally. They usually die. Wait, was I dead? I did fall unconscious under the pressure of water...an experience not many can claim to survive. And I couldn’t seem to find the saddlebags which had been so tightly strapped to my back. Also, when Brightwing shoved me off the cliffside I fell quite a length. Who’s to say I didn’t sustain internal injury from the impact with the water surface? Plus there was this super bright light shining on my face and- ... Crud. Yeah, I was dead. There was no way I could be anything else. I died on the rapids, body floating downstream until it hit an embankment or something. From there I would've just washed up on shore like any other piece of garbage. My body might not even be discovered depending on how far downstream it moved. Well[/i,] it wouldn’t be discovered by intelligent creatures, at least. It would end up being found by timber wolves or some other ravenous predator. After finding my juicy remains they would proceed to rip me apart, pulling anything worth consuming off my body and leaving the scraps to rot in festering heap of bone and sinew. What a nice image to think about. Maybe I’d give them food poisoning or something. That would be nice. Funny thing is, though, heaven looked a lot like a dusty old room. I was in a bed with a number of blankets piled over. No, not piled, placed. They were meticulously wrapped around me, keeping the heat my body radiated contained within the confines of the cloth. It was kind of hot. Two pillows were stacked under my head, one leaning against the post of the bed to support the cushion directly underneath my cranium. The room was small and bare of any decoration, excluding a table that was pressed against the bed. On it was a small, unlit candle. Directly above my head was a window with blinds closed over it. It hadn't helped keep the light out of my face though. I winced more as the unwelcome beams continued to dance across my face. A worn and beaten door sat across from the foot of the feather bed. It was small, looking to be an attic door or something. Wow, even Heaven had stuck me in the attic. I could see rust easily forming on the hinges. Whoever ran the place obviously didn’t give a crap about quality. . So that was heaven then? A crappy motel room that had light trying to grip my eyeballs in a bear hug? Heaven sucked. Unless I was in Hell. Was I in Hell? How would I determine whether I was in Heaven or Hell? Alright, let’s start with the basics. Had an undying fire consumed my body in a spiteful explosion of fury? Nope, I was okay there. Was anyone poking me with a pitchfork? Nope, I was good there too. Was anyone poking me with a regular fork? No, it seemed I was fine there as well. What about a spoon? No, nothing seemed to be poking me. Did my body ache? Dully. Did an immortal torment haunt my soul? No more than usual. Huh, guess Heaven does just suck. How unfortunate. You’d think I’d get a special place after seeing of so many people off here. Then again, they might have frowned upon that. Likely, Heaven was to be a very exclusive place. The caretakers in paradise probably hated new arrivals; I mean that was less space for them, right? Wait. What was that noise? Were those the door hinges squeaking? Of course, my eyes were instantly targeting the door after the noise until, sure enough, the handle turned. I sunk into the covers awaiting the whomever dared to enter my- well, their, domain. The door did not open easily. It scraped against the flooring as it moved, scratching and denting wooden boards that had already been ground by its past movements. The eerie squeaking of the un-oiled hinges worked at my nerves. The basic fear of the unknown that lies in the heart of all ponies overcame my more logical side(so what if I was afraid of Heaven?). I could not help but expect the worst. So when some apron wearing housewife burst through the door with a tray of liquids balanced on her back while whistling “Walking on Sunshine,” I was a little bit surprised (any fear I felt was gone by that point). The earth-pony’s eyes were closed as she strode towards my resting place, shoulders swaying with the beat she conjured. Her easy-going smile did look rather indicative of her being an angel of some sort. Without once looking towards me or opening her eyes she placed the tray down on the table. She plopped down in front of the table, sitting right on the edge of my blankets. These angels have great hoof-eye coordination. The mare took a glass of green liquid off the tray. She turned to me, still not looking directly at me, and started to push the sludgy drink towards my face. Globs of what looked to be spinach and, ew, olives were present in the repellent mixture. Heaven or not, there was no way I was going to drink that. “I’m going to shove that glass down your throat if you bring it any closer to my face.” I looked directly into her eyes as I spoke in a collected, deliberate manner. “Also, “Walking on Sunshine” sucks ass.” It seemed that, for the first time, the angel had noticed me. “AH!” She recoiled from the bed in surprise as soon as I spoke, tipping backwards and falling flat on her back, all four hooves flared up in the air. The sewage waste she had been trying to feed me followed her down, spilling over her and staining her country coat. I leaned over the bed as soon as she fell. She was rubbing away at the nasty, smelly crap on her with all hooves, desperately trying to remove the stink from herself. It took most of my willpower not to laugh at her. Wait, scratch that, it took all my willpower not to laugh at her. Strangely, she didn't acknowledge me while on the ground. She seemed to be stuck in her own little bubble, once again oblivious to my existence. Idiot. She picked herself off the ground taking heavy breaths. She was wiping away at the muck on her coat with her fore-hooves as she came to a sitting position. She didn’t even acknowledge that I was awake. She couldn’t have seriously forgotten what I had just said. “Excuse me.” I said blankly. Apparently I set off some alarm in her tiny mind because she reeled back once again. She managed to shout, “OH SHIII-” before hitting the floor...again. This was one dumb angel. Unfortunately for her, she fell into the remainder of the goop that she had spilled earlier. She gave a small squeak as she lay on her back, hooves flared out in all directions. What a sad display. Rather than pull herself up, as she had before, she rolled over to place the flats of her hooves against the ground. While this did help her get up, it also smeared more of that green sludge over her coat. It really wasn’t a good look. She turned around to face me. She didn’t wipe her face this time. Either that was a testament to her will, or her stupidity. But hey, angels don’t have to be smart. Though the drink, if you could call it that, did cover her features...that would make her hard to read. Oh, well. “Soooo, can you run me a bubble bath? I feel like I haven’t bathed in a week.” What? I have to bathe, don't I? Even through the green ooze I could see the blank look on her face. “What?” Not only was I stuck in the attic of Heaven’s crappiest house, I also got the mentally deficient angel. Woohoo. “Did I go too fast? Sorry. Me. Bubbles. Bathe. You. Make. Kapeesh?” The ball of green goop didn’t reply at first. Then it just repeated itself. “What?” Okay, this was ridiculous. “Could I request a different angel?” “Angel? I’m no angel.” Well that probably accounts for the lack of grace. “What’re you then? Housekeeping? Could you fetch an angel or something? I really want to get out of here and see what you’ve got up here.” The buffoon’s mouth was opened slightly. Whether she was trying trap a fly or just confused I couldn't tell. “Uh, mam? Sorry to say, but we don’t have any angels. Not that I know of, anyways. We’re in a valley next to Dodge City. We’re about as far down from up as you can get. So wherever you think we are...” “Oh.” I was still alive? Figures. The world was far too cruel to let me die alone. No, I had to live alone instead. The mare sniggered. “You really thought you were a goner, huh?” She pushed a hoof against her chin. “Guess it’s not so hard to believe though, eh? I mean I did find you nearly dead, washed up on the side of a river. What were you doing out there, anyhow? Did you fall or what?” A river? The river! I pulled myself up from the bed and grab the mare by the skin of her neck. It was hard, but I managed to ignore the stinking mess that dripped onto my legs...That could've been phrased better. “My saddlebags! Where are my saddlebags!? What did you do with them!?” The mare didn’t look scared of me, though, just empathetic. I wish I was taller. Then this intimidation crap would work better. “Woah now, simmer down. They’re fine. I have them downstairs in my kitchen. I didn’t touch em.’” I pushed her away and got completely off the bed, heading straight for the door. A hoof latched onto me, though. “Just hold it right there. You’re in way too bad a condition head off now. Besides there's-” I turned on her, pressing my face against hers. Celestia, that smell was worse than a septic tank. Did she dump raw sewage in with those leafy greens? “Look. Don’t touch me, ever. I appreciate you saving my life and all, but you don’t need to try and help me now. I’ve bounced back from much worse and survived. So what you’re going to do is back off. Ok?” She lifted her hoof off of me and lifted it into the air in a pacifying display. “Okay, okay. Sheesh, there is no need to bite my head off. I mean I was just trying to help.” “Good. Now tell me where your kitchen is.” I had little patience for fools. And intelligent creatures. And average ones. And creatures that were ordinarily dumb but displayed small bursts of intelligence now and then. “It’s down on the first floor, you can’t really miss it. But I think I should tell you that-” “Enough.” I cut her off. “You’ve been more than helpful. Now you can sit back and enjoy the good feeling you probably get from helping a complete stranger. Even if it is only a fleeting sensation meant to boost your pathetically inadequate self-esteem.” “...” She stared at me in silence. “You’re a di-” “Let me stop you right there. Bye.” I still didn’t get my bubble bath. I pushed through the door leading to the first floor, leaving a green, stinky mare behind me. Did she ever say what her name was? It was a quick descent to the first floor, each of my hooves pounding against the wooden boards of the staircase. I turned through the corners of the house looking for the kitchen. It wasn’t hard to find at all considering the size of the house. My saddlebags were located on the countertop. Right in the middle of the counter top. I heaved a sigh of relief as I grabbed them. I quickly overturned the bag onto the countertop. The contents poured onto it in a clutter. My eyes instantly focused on the small ledger. “Thank goodness your safe. I thought I failed the one thing Brightwing trusted me to do. The fate of the entire Blackscale hinges on you after all!” “Now I should be leav-” A false cough interrupted my self-aimed speech. I turned my head towards the noise, expecting the mysterious savior idiot to be standing in the frame of the kitchen. What I did not expect was a group of guards to be standing in front of me, eyebrows raised. I stared helplessly at them. “Uh...” Right then another voice rang out from the attic. “They’re are guards here, by the way!”