Dreams. They’re simply wonderful things. A well-deserved reprieve from the toils and stress of the waking hours. Some are good, some are bad. Others you remember for your whole life. Even more and go without ever being acknowledged by you. The ones most well-versed in dreams can even control them. Letting the dreamer soar into adventures of their own design.
Dreams. Wonderful things.
And yours was just interrupted thanks to someone knocking on your door.
“Ugghhh…” you groan like something out of a zombie movie. Who knew exercising with a bunch of vampony soldiers would leave you so sore? You’ll blame Umbra for it later.
The rapping on your door comes again, making you groan and set up facing the window. To your immense annoyance, the sun hasn’t even gone down yet. If it’s Umbra behind that door, then she is so getting her ass kicked. A pang of pain from your abused neck remind you that you have a better reason for wanting to knock her block off.
After ‘hanging out’—read: exercising—with her old company, she insisted that she was exhausted and wanted a ‘pick me up’ from you. Umbra practically chewed on your neck, even though she’s well aware that you hate that. Whatever, you can deal with it later.
You sigh and flop back down to your pillow. “It’s open… come in…”
With a creak, the door swings open to reveal…
”Hmhm! Good morning, Mr. Anonymous.”
Rather than Umbra’s voice like you expected, a lower, smoother, accented tone flows into your ears. If you had to give it an Earth analog, then you would call it Scandinavian. Swedish maybe.
You raise your head back up and look to the door.
Meeting your bleary vision is a pair of large, pink pony eyes with slits for pupils. You know only one vampony with such an iris color.
“Warrant officer Bright Night?” you ask unsurely.
The vampony in the darkened doorway offers a small smile, revealing her fangs. “Indeed, Mr. Anonymous. But I implore you, there is no need to be so formal. Just Bright will be fine.”
No need to be so formal, eh?
“Really now?” you ask as you sit up and slowly get out of the bed, “Alright, but only if you call me Anon. The ‘Mister’ thing makes me feel old.”
"Oh, of course,” Bright says as she steps into the light. “I suppose it would be dreadfully rude to ask for something then not extend the same courtesy.”
In the waning light of the still-setting sun, you get a full view of Umbra’s old second in command. Like most other vamponies, she sports the same youthful body and charcoal gray fur of her kind, the only difference being how well groomed she keeps it. Her mane and tail are rather normal too, being a rather deep brown that looks black in low enough light. Rather than a pair of wings like the majority of vamponies, a slightly curved and unspiraled horn pokes out from her mane, marking her as a unicorn. The biggest thing that separates her from her compatriots are the pale pink orbs, shining with intelligence, that stare at you.
In most cases, vampony eyes tended to lean towards cooler colors, like greens and blues, but others are far from unheard of. Pink, however, is certainly a rarity. Mostly because many vamponies with pink eyes have their eye color magically changed. Pink, easily noticeable eyes make for bad stealth operation candidates, they say.
So Bright made her way through the ranks in a different way.
As she walks closer, it’s easy to make out the bright red cross emblazoned onto the side of her armor.
"Something the matter?” she inquires as she studies your ginger movements. “Ah, that’s right, you were out exercising with the rest of the company the day before, weren’t you?” She clicks her tongue disapprovingly as her horn lights up in a corona of magenta. “Yet again, I feel a case of déjà vu as I tell you this.”
The light on her horn stretches out into thin, pink wisps that snake around you expertly.
“You shouldn’t push yourself as hard as the soldiers,” Bright halfheartedly scolds as the lines of light sink into your skin, gradually pulling the aches from your limbs. “Not to sound demeaning or anything of that sort, but you just aren’t…”
“As well built?” you prod with a raised eyebrow.
“Hmhm! I wouldn’t say such a thing. I happen to think that your figure is excellent,” Bright comments with a small smile. “But as it stands, the Lunar Guard’s training has simply better prepared them for harsh circumstances. I believe you said your life before Equestria was rather leisurely?”
Understatement. If it weren’t for your unplanned interdimensional trip, then you would still have that embarrassing I-can’t-touch-my-toes gut.
“Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?” you ask as you fully stand and stretch, enjoying the lack of soreness from yesterday. You smile down at the unicorn. “Thanks, Bright. I haven't seen a better medic yet.”
She lets out a giggle and waves a hoof at you. “Oh, it's nothing much. A little bit of cellular revitalization and a minor energy transfusion goes a long way,” she says.
Bright glances back up to you slyly. “Buuuut… If you wish to compliment me some more, then I certainly won't stop you.”
“Nice try, but everyone gets one.”
She shrugs at the apparent ‘defeat’.
“Anyway,” you start, “what are you doing here, Bright? I thought that without Umbra to lead the company around, you were the one in charge?”
“Well, I am. Or at least I was,” she says as she walks to the door.
You follow along, wanting to hear what she has to say. You don’t bother to change out of your sleeping clothes, since most ponies won’t realize what they are for anyway. Both you and the pony exit and begin to trek down the hallway as she continues. “As you may or may not know, only a second lieutenant or higher is supposed to be leading a company. I’ve been left as the sort of unofficial leader in the power vacuum left by the major and its gone unnoticed since the 663rd is a fairly small company.”
Bright turns down a hallway, leading you to the infirmary if your memory serves you right.
“But,” she continues, “the upper levels of the guard finally caught wind that we’d been without official leadership just a few days ago. As you can probably piece together, a new commanding officer for the 663rd is being evaluated as we speak.”
“I take it that’s the reason that Umbra isn't here as well?” you ask as the doors to the infirmary come into view.
“Indeed,” Bright confirms with a nod of her head. “Major Umbra was called in to assist in the evaluation process. She gave me temporary guardianship of you whilst she's busy.”
“Guardianship?” you scoff. “You can't be serious, can you? You make it sound like I'm some brat who needs to be babysat every waking hour.”
“Hmhm! I wouldn't go as far as to say that you need watched at every possible moment,” she retorts as she pushes the infirmary doors open with magic, letting the unpleasant sterile smell all hospitals have wash over you. “But,” she says with a haughty smile, “I do happen to be one hundred and ten years old, so compared to I, you are indeed quite the brat.”
Fucking smug vamponies.
“Well, you know what they say,” you mockingly gesture towards the still open infirmary doors, letting Bright trot ahead of you, “age before beauty…”
The mare stops just beyond the infirmary threshold, shaking her head. “Touché, Anonymous, touché,” she says, then beckons for you to follow her.
You and the lunar guard bypass the rather dull and empty waiting room and the half-asleep pegasus attendant entirely, immediately making for the back of the medical unit. If there is anything that bewildered you about Equestria, other than the magic and talking ponies that is, then the Equestrian hospitals has to be it. The similarity they have to the ones on Earth is both uncanny and slightly unsettling. Practically everything is the same.
The level of medical technology, the expertise of the physicians, the schooling required to have such a job, and everything else all the way down to the drab white walls and unstainable floor tiles.
One thing the ponies certainly do better than humans is using such resources as best they can. A hospital visit in Equestria is usually in-and-out quickly and with little fanfare unless there is good enough reason to stay longer. It also helps that the doctors are serious about their jobs. There's no fooling around in the hospital.
Even if it's a huge step up from human healthcare, you could certainly do without the reminder of your childhood’s bane. Hospitals are the worst…
Bright leads you past other doctors and the rare patient towards the larger patient rooms near the back of the infirmary, which seriously begins to worry you.
“Bright?” you question hesitantly. “Why exactly are we back here? I’m not hurt or anything…”
The vampony looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. “I see you did not put the date down on your calendar like I said. Tell me, how long has it been since you've been here for an ailment we were unable to remedy in the front?”
You knit your eyebrows together as you think back. You've seen the castle's medical unit far more than you would have liked, but being pals with guards has the annoying tendency to get you banged up. Even then, there wasn't anything that happened to you that a doctor simply couldn't patch up in the reception area. It’s been…
“About six months?” you guess with the slightest bit of hesitance.
Bright smiles and nods. “Hmhm! Looks like your memory isn't as faulty as I believed it to be. Now, what procedure took place back here six months ago?” she prods as you're led to a minotaur-sized room.
Damn. Why can’t she just say what she is going to do? Is it really that much of a hassle to be straightforward?
Then you remember that you're talking to a vampony
“I think it was just a physical and a few…” you shudder as you take a seat on the table, “vaccinations…” Pony needles, why did they insist on making them so big?
“Exactly!” Bright exclaims. “It’s been a full six months since you've last been here. I figured it prudent to, how do they say, ‘kill two birds with one stone’ and do this whilst you are with me today.”
Fuck. Oh well, it's not like this could be worse. Right?
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t exactly like that you waited so long to tell me what was going on, though,” you say with your face screwed up in irritation.
“Oh?” she asks with mock surprise. “Forgive me. I was under the impression you knew what we were doing since you made no bother to protest.”
Your glare could reduce steel to a bubbling, molten puddle.
Bright’s mocking expression fades, replaced with the disarming serenity that most professional doctors seem to have perfected. “Hmhm. No need to be upset, Anonymous. We are doing a simple physical, nothing more and nothing less. I apologize for antagonizing you; it was rather immature on my part,” she says sincerely.
And just like that, your annoyance is squished under a fat brick of guilt. You really did doubt a medic, of all people. That’s a pretty scummy thing to do.
“Chin up, Anonymous,” Bright says with a smile, “I know it was nothing personal, and I also know how you detest hospitals. We’ll have you out of here soon.”
You smile back, but feel your stomach tighten with a residual pang of regret.
Both you and she wait for several minutes within the room. The only sounds to be heard around are the nurses outside walking about and the occasional moan of pain from some unfortunate pony. Finally, a vampony nurse walks and with a clipboard and paper held in her mouth that she passes to Bright.
When the nurse notices you, she freezes and blinks incredulously as her mouth slowly falls open.
You can't help but squirm as the nurse’s surprised expression slowly begins to morph into hunger.
“Don’t you have something to be doing?” Bright asks the almost salivating nurse with a clipped tone, making the nurse turn and leave.
“Apologies, Dr. Night!” the nurse hastily calls behind her.
Oh yeah… Looks like everyone knows by now…You facepalm with a groan.
Bright glances back at the empty doorway before turning her attention to the clipboard held in a magenta glow. “Let’s see here… No currently outstanding or lasting injuries, no dental work done since the last visit, no notable allergies, and not on any current medication. Is this right, Anonymous?”
“Sounds so.”
Bright nods and flips to the second page. “Alright, if you would get on the scale, please?” She points to a floor scale with an electronic display in the corner of the room. Right next to it is markings on the wall to indicate height.
You do as you're instructed and stand on the little metal pad as Bright records the numbers while nodding and muttering to herself.
“I must say, you've lost quite a bit of weight since last time,” Bright comments. “You did say you were in the unhealthy range for your species last time, didn't you?”
Oh man. Unhealthy is an understatement. ‘Diabetes pending’ would've been closer.
Okay, it wasn't that bad, but it was still pretty nasty.
“Yeah, I always had a nasty gut that I could never seem to get rid of,” you tell her as you pinch what little of your midsection you now can. “I’ll be honest, coming here was probably the best thing for my health. I bet I would be doubly wide by now if I was still on earth.”
Bright snorts and holds and a few laughs. “Let’s not focus on what could have been, but rather what will be.” She flips to the last page on the clipboard. “Now, let's check your vitals. Then we can say that it's over. Since you’re obviously in no danger, I think I can just fill out the rest and call this a success.”
In the furthest back reaches of your mind, you idly wonder if you should be worried that your doctor, who is also a military officer, should be cutting corners on her job. But that tiny voice gets the raw end of the deal as the greater part of your mind just wants out of the infirmary before someone can bust out the supersized needles.
A small ring off magenta magic surrounds your bicep as Bright’s horn begins to light up.
“First off, blood pressure.”
The ring gradually begins to tighten, constricting your arm just to the point of being uncomfortable before it stops and holds. While you see Bright recording her findings onto the paper, you also notice that she’s focusing very, VERY intently on the pulse your arm makes around the ring of her magic. Despite your earlier decision to trust Bright, a small worm of doubt begins to wiggle its way into your mind.
She holds the ring for just over a minute, then blinks and gives her head a slight shake before dispelling the magic.
“Hmhm… Alright, blood pressure seems normal compared to the baselines we have…” she says distractedly. Looking further down the paper, she levitates a stethoscope from the nearby counter and places the buds in her ears.
“Heartbeat and lungs now. I’m afraid that your shirt is going to have to come off,” she says while hopping up onto the hospital bed behind you. At the same time, the door to the infirmary hallway closes with a familiar magenta glow around the doorknob, shutting out the view of several too curious staff members.
Again, worry gnaws away at your conscience.
“Um… Bright..?” you question nervously. What the hell is going on here?
“Well, I did recall that humans do not like to be seen unclothed. So I figured you would feel more comfortable like this?” she tries to state, but it comes out more like a question. Even then, it’s hard to deny the genuine look of innocence she sports.
Damn. You’re getting jumpy over nothing. You eat your apples every day, so that keeps the doctor away, right?
“Sure, that’s right,” you tell tell her while slipping the thin t-shirt you’re wearing off with slight trepidation, “but that’s only for when… you know… stuff downstairs is concerned.”
“Ah…”
As you sort of expected, she isn’t really fazed. But then again, what CAN faze a century-old pony medic? Though her eyes do linger on Umbra’s bitemark longer than you liked.
“Alright, this is going to be cold. Be sure to take deep breaths.”
You do as she says and breathe deeply as the ice cold stethoscope slowly wanders around your back, making you shiver some. Ick, it’s sensations like that no one can ever get used to. Why don’t they ever warm these damn things up before a patient visits? Is it really that hard?
While she’s listening to the sound of your lungs, you note that the doctor sniffs deeply a few times, as if trying to locate some elusive smell. You really hope it isn’t you. You cut corners with your shower the other night, but it shouldn’t be that bad.
As you ponder on how to clean yourself, the stethoscope makes a final stop right behind your heart… and doesn’t move. The unicorn isn’t doing what you think she’s doing, is she? No… Bright must have a Hippocratic oath stopping her from doing anything rash. You didn’t just get yourself locked in a room with a hungry vampony, did you?
She must have noticed the sudden spike in your heart rate, because the stethoscope is quickly pulled from your back.
“One last one, then we’re done… Please turn around so I can gauge your front.”
She sounds almost disappointed, making this all the more nerve-wracking. But you don’t have much choice at this point.
You turn around on the hospital bed and sit crosslegged facing the unicorn, who seems to be shaking.
For a split second, your eyes dart to the door behind you, but your attention is pulled forward again when the still icy cold stethoscope touches your chest. Bright does the usual routine with the instrument, waiting one breath in each area then moving to the next without interruption. Again, she frowns and subtly sniffs at something.
Slowly, you calm down, then almost soundlessly groan and mentally beat yourself up for doubting the integrity of an Equestrian doctor. This isn’t some b-horror flick. There’s no way you’re going to get jumped like that. Why did you even think that?
Then you feel the oddest sensation where the stethoscope was just a moment prior.
...When was it replaced with cool fur?
Looking down, you feel yourself go pale with what greets you.
It’s Bright Night, cuddled up in your lap and rubbing her cheek and side over your bare chest almost mindlessly. You are so shocked that you can’t even react.
The doctor lets out a throaty, literal purr and looks up at you with glazed pink eyes. “Hmhm~! You smell wondrous… do you know that, Anon?” she asks, still doing the purr as she trails her head up to kiss and nip at the nape of your neck.
“B-bright! What are you doing?!” you say, barely stopping yourself from yelling. “You can’t do this! W-we-!”
You try and push her off, but her vampony strength lets her latch onto you tight.
In response, she trails her tongue up your neck, across your jaw, and stops at your mouth, where she mashes her furred lips to yours with a giggle and drunken fervor.
So much for an apple a day keeping the doctor away.