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// A Sliver Of Solar Sycamore 
// Story: Perhaps Death 
// by WritingSpirit 
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1024 AC, ? Month, ? Day, ? h/min/s


Ugh, my head...

I could never fathom this, honestly speaking. By this, I'm talking about the unpredictable, almost infinite capabilities of a unicorn's magic. Really, have you seen what those absurdly horned ponies can do lately? I've heard one pony had a recent breakthrough with some sort of transparency spell that had introduced a new form of see-through vision which had been endorsed and publicized in the mass media (a little too profoundly and bombastic for my preferences) as the next stage of medicine and surgery. What wonders that they could uncover next, I am excited yet skeptical about it.

Why am I excited? Well, if you had watched all these ponies evolve for more than a millennia, from the very beginning of their existence up until now, wouldn't you be excited to know what technological advancements they could come up with next? They were the next civilization of Time Lords, if I do say so myself! On the other hoof, I was more skeptical about the potential side effects that every new spell could bring. Some might call me paranoid, but when a spell is untested or the caster is inexperienced, the resulting side effects are conspicuous.

Now you might be wondering why in Princess Luna's pottery skills am I saying this.

It stemmed from a hunch, actually. After having a little read at the prison library -- yes, they do have a library -- I did a little research on different types of magic, initially to discover any means to cure my disease, until I stumbled upon a form of preservation magic, categorized under Alteration Magic, a slightly advanced form of magic for unicorns and alicorns alike that bring about changes to oneself, ranging from stamina to even socialization efficiency. From what I concluded, the logbook I am currently writing in is imbued with a Memory Preservation magic, meaning that as I read whatever words and timelines I supposedly wrote, I would fall unconscious and view these memories as hallucinations.

The one side effect it possessed, as listed in the book, was migraines. Of all the bleeping side effects it could cause, it just had to be migraines. Sure, a little wave of nausea could've suffice better, or even a skin rash and probably a loss of appetite (I believe I have gained weight anyway), but it must be the migraines. They were the bane to a Time Lord's mind, always interfering with our processes of critical thinking and despite seemingly harmless, could make a difference between walking out of a Dalek spaceship and walking out of a Dalek spaceship... in a body bag.

See the connection now?

For those too simple to understand common logic, it basically means that somepony had enchanted my logbook with this Memory Preservation Magic, which means that somepony wanted me to retain my memories. I have no idea who, but whoever did that really wanted me to remember something, almost as if what I remembered was too precious to let go. It only made me ever the more curious: who was this mysterious pony, and which part of my life did he or she want me to treasure and cherish completely?

My session of aimless pondering soon ended when the doors opened, the grumpy-faced chiropteran pegasi guards of Luna escorting me out to meet and hopefully not greet another visitor. Being the natural eavesdropper I am, the guards hinted out my visitor to be none other than the ever-faithful dentist again, leaving me to grumble at my unfortunate situation. Seriously, there's a line between a normal visitor and one with a stalker obsession that could easily spawn a hive of slasher movies; I think my fellow dentist just crossed that line.

Soon enough, we came back to the visiting room, with the glass panels, the stools and the staring guards and such. It was fortunate (for both her and me) that I had a few questions I had been planning to ask, particularly on the small Dalek token she sent me a week ago and about the mares she was acquainted with that I've met in the visit after that, namely Carrot Top and some psychopath with enough steam to fuel a minotaur.

"Doctor!" hollered my erm... associate. She was looking rather cheerful today, perhaps from a profitable appointment with some pompous patient, I presume. I do have to admit, even the most posh of ponies in this wondrous capital of ours do not have the decency to even pay bloody taxes. I pay bloody taxes all the time, but seeing as I am a Time Lord with a functioning TARDIS, that time never came yet. I think.

"If it isn't my favorite denticle custodian," I replied with a smug grin, making her laugh. Little old me. "What brings you here in this charming day, if I might ask?"

"A customary affair," was her reply. "Captain of the Royal Guard wanted to assign you onto... uh... some sort of memory enrichment program. Said it seems to him that you really needed it."

"Good Samaretan now, isn't he?"

I tried my best not to scoff. After all, he was the one that placed me in solitary confinement in the first place. Equestrian law states that ponies must only be placed in solitary confinement if a prisoner is considered dangerous to oneself or others. With the lack of a screwdriver or even dental floss, I must say I am pretty harmless; all they need is a good amputation on all four limbs and a bullet in the head to render me a hundred and ten percent safe for all biological organisms. Aside from that, they had no good reason why I was in solitary. "I'm afraid I have to decline, however," was the reply I mustar mustered. "Just tell him I have a private memory enrichment program of my own."

"Really?" my dentist asked, gasping in disbelief. "Does that... does that mean your memory's improving?"

"In some way or another, yes."

Thank the logbook, I said quietly in my mind. Thank also the unicorn who enchanted it to... well... give it some form of life? Provide me a popcorn worthy entertainment for me to pass the time? I could spend my time better if I were tossed into a cavern of Weeping Angels, Cyberponies or even those infuriating Daleks. Speaking of Daleks...

"There's something I must ask," I began, earning my associate's attention.

"What is it?"

"About the gift you sent me in that letter," I said, her eyebrows creasing. "Where did you get it from?"

"Funny you should ask."

With a whistle of delight, she reeled herself closer to me, her chair lurching forwards. She was wearing that delightful, cheeky grin again; a little discomforting if not disturbing for my taste. I never had a penchant for admiring over-the-top, flamboyant-looking smiles, having deemed them as creepy thanks to a single ordeal of watching clowns performing in a circus in my younger days. Trust me, I'm currently not a coulrophobiac (a pony with the fear of clowns) but it is certainly unpleasant for me to see a smile that could match those blundering baboons.

"I happened upon it while I was tidying up your house," she answered. "The shelves were a little dusty, so I couldn't help but give it a brush. Then there it was, standing like some chess figure of sorts, waiting just to be picked up and toyed around with--"

"Hold on a minute!" I cut in with a yell. It might be my hearing, but did she... did she say...? "You were tidying up my house? My house?"

"Yes siree!"

"B-But... But h-how did you get in?"

"Simple!" she answered, grinning widely. Her horn lit up a light blue as she levitated a ring of keys before me, jiggling i almost tauntingly in my face. Ha ha ha. "You handed me the keys! And before you ask, it was you who told me to get this Dalek figurine of yours and pass it to you if ever you got yourself in a sitch like this. Now look where we are!"

I could only gawk at her nonchalant reply. Basically, I was the one who gave the Dalek figurine and warned her that if anything happened to me (like being tossed into a dungeon) then she was the one to return it to me. It seemed as though I had been expecting my pointless traipse into prison before this, which in turn, means that I was prepared to do something wrong in the first place.

It doesn't seem right. What could've been so harsh and so desperate that drove me to commit such a crime and land me here? Even if it was a lie, there would not be any other simple, legitimate reason that I would give her my little Dalek token unless, of course, it was some treacherous, spit-worthy trick from the Princesses. It seems when it comes to those two lovely sisters, I could become a crude, slurring fiend.
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Was it all instinctive, I wonder?
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The Princesses did put me in here.
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I could've been a free stallion. I could've been doing something more profitable.
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It's all their fault.

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"You okay there, Turner?" the dentist asked suddenly, jabbing into my thoughts. "You seem a little... spaced out for a moment."

"Me? Spaced out?" I retorted, managing a scoff. "Nah. Just had a little er... epiphany, you could call it. It may seem that your visit has come to an end."

"Oh... uh... so soon, Doctor?"

"Sadly, yes. Ta ta for now!"

I could tell you she was certainly disappointed, if not irritated, by our conversation, mostly due to the length of it, I think, but we didn't really talk much still. I had warmed up to her a little, no doubt, but there are some quirks about her; something that tells me she isn't who she says she was, being the local dentist and such. Her Cutie Mark was one of those quirks.

It wasn't long before I end up back in the same lonely old box that is my cell. Again, I do wish that lonely old box be my TARDIS: for once I'm beginning to miss that slice of adventure, filled with dangers and surprises and traps galore! Ah, the wonders of a time traveler... pretty exciting lifestyle to have. Oh, look where I'm going with this; enough with my degenerate rants on freedom! Don't jinx it, Time Turner!

Flipping my logbook, I turn to the next date. Believe me, there are pages and pages of dates past this one, but despite my time traveling tendencies, I'm not the type to skip through time, lest I miss a mere fragment of major importance in my life. You'll never know how dastardly time can be if you don't pay attention.

It seems I have returned to Canterlot after my dandy little trip to Caramel's birthday. I must say, if he became one of my friends, I'm sure he would visit sooner in the future. Here's hoping you have another, more helpful visitor, Turner. Not that the dentist is not helpful, no! It's just I can't learn much of my predicament from her now.

Migraine's starting to burn now. If only there is a way to
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1005 AC, Third Summer, 7, 13:36:21


"That was really nice of you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know!" Twilight exclaimed, nudging me at the shoulder. "When you apologized to him! Knowing you, you're not the type to apologize."

"Now, now, Twilight Sparkle," I said, flipping a few switches as my TARDIS whirred, its engines dying down. "Just because I don't give apologies often doesn't mean I don't apologize at all. If the situation demands it, then I will apologize, though I don't encounter them frequently."

"Whatever you say, Turner."

If you must know, we were back in Canterlot, right after dropping Caramel back into his corresponding time stream in High Horn Gulch. I promised him that we would meet again (or, at least, our future selves) and secretly told him to head towards Canterlot by tomorrow the first chance he gets. I smiled to myself after Twilight and I waved to him; it wouldn't be long before I shall see his face again.

Soon enough, we stepped out of the TARDIS, resuming our normal lives as little students in school. Twilight was still talking about meeting Caramel in the future, to which I had already assured. Despite seemingly short, much can be done as the fateful day where we can reunite with Caramel grows closer. Who knows what achievements we could attain in a span of three years? But for now, it's time to totter off to our lessons in class.

"So..." I began. "You said you wanted to meet somepony?"

"Oh, of course!"
Immediately, Twilight grabbed her satchel, wrapping it around her body while I watched in amusement. If any of you recalled, she said she wanted to meet somepony after another lesson with Princess Celestia. The way she said it, a stallion who would one day become one of the greatest stallions of the century... it seemed like whoever he was, he's somepony worth eyeing out.

"I know I'm a little flustered right now," she said admittedly. "It's just... he doesn't come back very often."

"Why not?"

"His job is important," she replied softly just as we stepped outside of the TARDIS doors. "It's something like what you're doing, protecting the safety of Equestria and such. He's coming back from a camp in the mountains. You two should meet each other one day, knowing how the both of you were always so... overprotective of me sometimes. Right, Turner?"

My throat lurched immediately when she said that; for once I'm glad I didn't have custard in my mouth. Me? Protective? Since when in the blasted cesspools of Equestria did I shift to the same level as some fatherly figure prone to being possessive of his own daughters? Really, never in my life had I ever been protective of my companions, as I had already expected them to have matured and spontaneous escape reflexes before teetering off in time. On the other hoof, there are some ponies who can be too eager to get into trouble sometimes.

"I would be less protective if you can stop taking so many risks, Twilight," I answered back, locking up the doors. "From my experience, all is not what it seems. The next pony you meet might be a pony of vile intentions."

"You call Caramel a pony of vile intentions?"

"I had to make sure!" I retorted at her sarcastic statement. Do I have to berate about this again? "Just... be careful when dealing with things next time. At least ask for my consent."

Twilight couldn't help but stifle a chuckle, leaving me to realize what I just said. Alright, maybe I was becoming a little overprotective of her. Just a little. I mean, why not; she's the one and only friend I have, and when there is the notion of losing her somewhere as she accompanies you in your travels along the dangerous streams of time, you know how much you have to cherish her life as. No, it has nothing to do with my crush on her. Nothing at all!

"Only for you, Turner," she said, flicking the tip of my muzzle with her hoof. "On second thought, you wanna have dinner at my house?"

"Wait, what?"

"Dinner! At my place!" she repeated happily. "Wanna come?"

"I... b-but... ah..." I stammered like a bumbling fool. It's hard to take in, knowing that the one mare that you had secretly held a crush on was inviting you to her house for a meal. What's worse in these situations, if you say yes, not only do you step into her house, but it's pretty likely that you'll stumble upon her family; if you say no, however, she'll most likely be disappointed and there goes the one chance that you can be with her. Plus, I don't even know if she's in a relationship: she did say she wanted to head home to greet a stallion, after all. What are the odds?

Aside from that, there was the concern of food. I have a rather specific appetite, if you guys hadn't realized it yet. I was hoping tonight I would get something exotic like... a salad, maybe. Yes, a fine salad would suffice. Diced tomatoes, sliced lettuce and onions, a few chunks of pineapples and a sliver of solar sycamore -- the source of my exotic flairs -- hoof-picked from the wilderness of the eastern valleys, topping it off with a little mix of Worcestershire and tartar sauce and a single dash of pepper. Mmm... the perfect meal, fit for any Time Lord. Skipping that for a bland omelette isn't exactly a tango to my hungry taste buds, but it is all a sacrifice for a friend, right?

"Fine," I sighed in defeat, my companion gasping delightfully with glee. "I have to notify Missus Hearthfire, however. She always gets worried if I never show up past ten."

Twilight looked a little disappointed for a brief moment. Apparently, her little trip back home seemed somewhat of major importance to my companion. I was beginning to suspect her queer... obsession with the stallion was behind this, but I held myself back from asking any questions; you can't just simply pry into other ponies' affairs, unless, of course, you either love to breach the borders of a private life, or common sense doesn't exist in your frame of mind.

"Alright, notify your caretaker first," she said. "Then can we head to my house~?"

I nodded slightly, triggering a little fireworks show with her horn as she squealed happily with glee. Somepony's excited about going home, I told myself, trying to calm her down and avoiding a few stares of Nosy Parkers trotting down in their street, wearing their false, pretentious facades of modesty. Really, the nerve of Canterlotian ponies...

Of course, I'm having trouble calming myself down as well. All these questions keep running around my mind: how should I greet Twilight's parents? Who's this stallion she was so eager to meet? Should I help them with the cooking? Does Twilight's father share my obsession with bow ties? How much wood can a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

"Splendid," I muttered quietly, holding my breath. "Just splendid."

Oh, this is going to be a bugger of a long night.
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