//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Unexpected Symptoms of Tatzlwurm Flu // by novianprincess //------------------------------// When Discord awoke, the cottage was bathed in the orange glow of sunset. ‘How long was I out…?’ he wondered, rubbing at his eyes. He was disturbed to find crusty mucus in the corners. He grimaced but it dissolved into a great yawn and he stretched across the floor, catlike, as far as the quarantine bubble would let him. He smacked his lips and took note of how dry his mouth was. He glanced around him and spotted the glass of water Fluttershy had left for him. Not caring that it was room temperature, he downed it. The sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen caught his ear along with a soft humming. He smiled, and curled back up on his blankets and pillows, resting his chin on folded arms. She was no doubt preparing meals for her other charges. Angel was nowhere to be seen, so the little devil-rabbit was surely ‘supervising’ the construction of his salad. The chimera yawned again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so tired. Generally he only slept out of boredom, it wasn’t usually a necessity, but now he felt his eyelids grow heavy again. The nap he’d intended on resuming, however, was interrupted by a fresh bout of wet, ragged coughing. For a moment, as he was seized in convulsions, his chest tightening, he worried he wouldn’t be able to stop. A wave of relief washed over him as it passed and he took in a deep, shaky breath. When he let the air back out, it had turned into a pitiful moan. He slumped back down on the floor. Fluttershy’s head popped out from the kitchen doorway, “Oh, you’re awake! I’m so sorry. Can I get you anything?” “…How about a shotgun…?” he grumbled into his pillow. “What was that?” “Just some more water, please,” he said, lifting his head up slightly, “When you can.” “I’ll be right out,” she said, then disappeared. From the kitchen he heard her speaking in stern, hushed tones, only to be answered by a high-pitched squeak-chirping. This back and forth continued for a moment, escalated in volume, then ceased altogether. As she trotted out into the living room, a canteen around her neck, she called back, “You don’t have to be so difficult you know! And you don’t have to hide in there. You won’t get sick.” A small white head topped with long ears peeked out, glaring daggers at the draconequus. Discord smirked back, waving. “What’s the matter, Angel? Scared of germs?” The rabbit chattered something that made Fluttershy gasp and then ducked back into the kitchen. She sighed. “Sorry about that,” she said, unzipping the bubble just enough to slip the canteen through. “No need,” he said, taking a big gulp as soon as he could twist the cap off, “A bunny with the mouth of a sailor is just the sort of absurdity I can get behind.” She shook her head. “I hate to encourage him like that, but if it means you two might get along better, then I guess I’ll take it.” The pegasus began a slow lap around the bubble. “How are you feeling?” “Dreadful,” he said, setting the canteen down, “Absolutely awful. My snout is a faucet, my throat feels like it’s been raked with a garden tiller, my head’s throbbing, heck, my whole body’s aching, and I had crusties in my eyes!” He made a point to embellish the last bit, making sure to point them out for her before collapsing in yet another heap on the floor. “I don’t know how you ponies stand it! Being impervious is such a preferable state.” “Poor baby,” she said, half-teasing. “You know what? I think this is a good opportunity to learn a little bit about empathy.” He snorted. “I’m well aware of what empathy is. ‘Walk a mile in another’s horseshoes’, ‘learn to be a better pony’, yadda yadda…” “Come on now, you know that’s not what I meant,” she said, “I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that it’s not every day you get to feel, in a way, like every other pony.” He raised a hand, but she continued, “And I don’t just mean being sick. You not having your powers–” He cringed, but she plowed on, “makes you a lot more like, well, more like me right now. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t think being more like me is a bad thing, do you?” “Honestly?” Discord asked, reaching for his handkerchief, “Yes. Now before you get upset,” he said, wiping his snout, “Let me explain. You said earlier that my…current handicap…” (he still couldn’t say the words) “…was like you losing your wings. I don’t think that’s a fair analogy. A better one would be if you lose you innate ability to communicate with animals. That’s something that’s an essential part of who you are – it’s how you got your cutie mark, after all. If I were the sort to have a cutie mark, well…I actually have no idea how you’d depict ‘utter chaos and reality bending’ on a flank, but you get the idea.” He paused, and was grateful to see her remain still, waiting for him to finish. “Without your wings, you’re still able to do what you love, what you were meant to do. Me? I’m just a freak of nature with a twisted sense of humor and only one real friend.” He waggled his lion paw at her. “Alright, I’ve said my piece. No more soul-baring for you today.” “Discord…” Fluttershy said softly, placing her hoof on the bubble wall, “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to trivialize what you’ve lost.” He closed his eyes, shutting in the wetness that threatened to make an appearance. ‘You’ve gone far too soft, old boy…’ He raised his head, smiling at her. “Water under the bridge, my dear. Now…if it’s not too much to ask…I, er, I’m not sure how much of it I’ll hold down, but I am a bit hungry.” She nodded, “Sure. I can heat up vegetable broth and bring you some crackers. How’s that sound?” “Completely boring,” he said, still smiling, “Thank you.” She smiled back and started towards the kitchen. Halfway there she stopped and turned back. “Discord? What did you mean ‘only one real friend’? What about all of that yesterday with Twilight?” “Ah, ah, ah!” he held up both hands, “I told you – no more soul-baring for you! I’ve had quite enough mushy stuff for today, thank you.” “Alright,” she giggled, “Maybe tomorrow.” She left the room and the draconequus dragged a paw across his face. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid…I swear when I’m better I’m turning the Tatzlwurm into a ball of twine.’ * * * Evening passed uneventfully. As darkness fell, Fluttershy lit a fire in the fireplace. She settled down on the carpet, one of Twilight’s books open in front of her. Before she began, she turned toward her houseguest. “Would you like a book too?” “Hmm?” Discord, opened one eye, “Oh, no, thank you.” His second eye opened as a thought struck him. “What are you reading?” “A history of constellation creatures,” she said, “We had a run in with an Ursa Minor a few years back and I didn’t have much luck trying to reason with it. I know it’s rare that they come down from the sky, but I saw this in the pile and thought that now’s as good a time as any to learn a bit more about them.” “Read it out loud, won’t you?” he asked. “You…you want me to read to you?” she asked, smiling. He pouted, “I didn’t say it like that… It’s just my eyes are tired. And I might have had a hand in bringing those constellations to life in the first place. It’d be hilarious to hear how the historians got it all wrong.” She scanned the Index. “Hmm…looks like they forgot to mention you…” “Of course they did. No one ever wants to give credit where it’s due. Go on; let’s hear what the revisionists have to say.” He rearranged himself so his head was closer to her. She cleared her throat and began. Sure enough, the creatures made of patterned stars had apparently formed through sheer chance, or out of the ‘dreams of ponies’ some speculated. Discord chuckled, letting his eyes close again. While the outlandishly false tome was certainly good for a laugh, he found himself paying more attention to the sound of Fluttershy’s voice than the words she was reading. She was sure in her wording, and knew just when to emote and how. It was soothing, listening to her, letting the words wash over him. He was suddenly struck with just about the most sentimental thought to ever cross his mind, ‘She’ll make a wonderful mother someday…’ He raised his head, startled at himself. It made sense, of course, being nurturing was her essence, but since when did he concern himself with those types of things? The paths of ponies’ painfully short lives had never given him pause before. He glanced down at his hands. With his powers gone, the constant swirl of endless possibilities that usually filled his mind had quieted, barely a hum in the back of his brain. He supposed something had to fill the space. He just hoped it wasn’t going to be all so saccharine. With Fluttershy it was one thing. She was so sweet, even when she teased him he felt the sincere affection behind it. But the others? He set his head back down, praying that they’d steer clear. It would be bad enough if they found out about his predicament, but if he let slip something (ugh) kind or genuine to them…he knew he’d never live it down. He let out a low growl, ruing his lot in life. How had he been brought so low? He didn’t mind being ‘good’ (most of the time), not really. Generally he could still do as he pleased, so long as no one got hurt. But he mourned bitterly the loss of his dignity, especially at the present moment. For a being who had once inspired such fear, that was what was taking the longest to get used to. He rolled over onto his back, now watching the little pegasus silhouetted against the fire upside down. The all-too serene tableau was given a much-needed does of ridiculousness and he smiled. She glanced up. “Not bored, are you?” He chuckled. “Only eighty-five percent,” he said, “But I suppose that comes part and parcel with the quarantine. Speaking of which…didn’t you say you were going to research this disgusting illness of mine? If this thing isn’t any more or less dangerous to ponies than any other virus, I’d appreciate being set free of this thing.” He gave the bubble wall a sharp jab with a talon and it jiggled, making the outside world appear as if underwater. “I did say that,” she said, “And I’ll go over to the library in the morning. I’m surprised Twilight didn’t leave me any books about Tatzlwurms, but I guess she was just in a hurry.” She put a hoof to her chin, thinking. “Maybe I should have Spike send a letter to Princess Celestia too. She might have seen this sort of thing before.” The chimera spun around so he was right-side up again. “Oh, no, there’s no need for that, really. Besides, she’s got so much on her plate as it is, after all. She shouldn’t waste her time on–” “Discord,” Fluttershy said, giving him a knowing smirk, “You wouldn’t be, oh, just a tiny bit embarrassed if the Princess knew you were sick, would you?” He spluttered indignantly, and then, staring at her cheeky smile, couldn’t help himself from snickering. It was such a ballsy question; he was actually impressed she dared ask it. “Look here, you incorrigible marshmallow,” he said, waving a talon at her, “I told you no more getting personal tonight!” She laughed, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She rose to her feet and stretched, yawning. “Ok, I think I’m going to turn in. Will you be alright down here, or would you want to roll up to my room?” “No, I’ll stay here,” he said, “At least one of us should get a good night’s sleep.” “That’s very considerate of you,” she said. “Hardly,” he grinned, “I need you well-rested in order to better take care of me.” “Sure you do.” She trotted over to the bubbled and gestured for him to hand his canteen back. “You just keep pretending you're selfish if it makes you feel better.” “I am selfish!” he said petulantly, shoving the container through the magically zippered opening. “Of course you are,” she said, her tone maternal, taking the canteen off to refill it. He slid down against the bubble wall, arms folded. What a preposterous conversation! Where had this passive-aggressive sass come from? It was insulting! It was aggravating! It was…just the sort of thing he’d do. He watched her retreating form. It never occurred to him that, while her sweetness was rubbing off on him (loathe as he was to admit it), his sarcasm might be rubbing off on her. ‘Is that something that happens when you’re friends?’ he wondered. He couldn’t ask her, of course, but he made a mental note to observe the little ponies more carefully in the future. This new path he was on was an untrodden one and he still had a lot to learn.