Appleloosa was bustling with life as always. Some of it was screaming, fainting or trying to escape the un-life that crawled out of the recently opened coal mine. It was a busy noon with clouds of dust flying about, kicked up by panicked earth ponies desperately seeking shelter from the decaying, animated corpses of various species.
If anyone paid any attention, they’d notice a few griffons shambling about, a couple of buffalo dragging their rotten hooves through the dirt or the occasional changeling, its cracked carapace reflecting the warm afternoon sun. Despite the diverse minorities, none of them felt left out or unwelcome - no harsh moans or mumblings were heard, noone pointed out missing limbs or exposed meat. The Princess of Friendship would really appreciate the special bond the shaggy creatures shared, should she be even aware of the outbreak.
On the other hoof, the townsponies displayed prejudice greater than during the great Buffalloo Showdown at Noon, way back when the town was but a budding sore spot in the lands of buffalo. Everypony boarded their doors and windows with whatever was at hoof, some even dropping onto their knees and straining to remember the exact words of a prayer to the Sun and Moon. All in all, in that day alone, the piety of the community sky-rocketed straight through the roof, destination Moon. Father Gregory prayed the loudest, his booming voice accented with a shell loaded into his trusty shotgun every verse.
Pretty soon, the noon rush died down, everypony busying themselves with shivering, wetting themselves or meeping at the slightest rustle. The newcomers were confused at first, mostly just standing around and taking in the view. Those that lacked the eyes to do so took long, solid whiffs of the dry air, faintly smelling of apples. The unfortunate chaps who could do neither of the above perked their ear(s) listening to the gentle creaking of boards and wind blowing in the technically lifeless streets. The few that couldn’t do even that felt sad.
* * *
Braeburn, one of Appleloosa’s most upstanding and friendly citizens, finally arrived home, having spent the weekend over at his dear cousin Applejack. He enjoyed the mild climate of the plains, the closeness of the Everfree contributing a slight chilly breeze every now and then. The cowpony still couldn’t get over Granny Smith’s signature apple pie, the sweet taste incomparable with anything he ever had in his life. It made for nice contrast with his earlier ‘helpings’ of Big Macintosh behind the barn.
The stallion trotted cheerily into town, tipping his hat to every passer-by as he always did. Maybe it was the wide-brim of his stetson hat or the still vivid memories of his visit, but the pony didn’t notice a figure step straight into his path, effectively driving him muzzle-first into a bunch of feathers.
“Oh my, terribly sorry there pardner,” he apologised, shuffling away with a wide smile and red cheeks. He looked up along the shape, the sun in his eyes obscuring the face of the gryphon he butted into. “Didn’t quite see ya there. No hard feelings?”
The mighty predator lowered his head, the vacant, milky eyes looking past the earth pony. It slowly opened its mouth, a slight moan escaping its beak alongside a few maggots.
“Uh, think you dropped something pardner, heh,” chuckled Braeburn, backing off enough to not feel the odor that could peel paint off of walls but not as far as to be considered rude. “Anyway, heh, a nice day to you!”
The cheerful pony bowed slightly, took a step to the side and continued trotting onwards. For some reason he felt uneasy - there seemed to be an awful lot of newcomers and all the ponies he knew were nowhere in sight. Granted, it was a rather lazy hour for the town, nopony but curious tourists wanting to stand in the scorching sun. He himself looked forward to a nice, cold bath and perhaps a refreshing glass of some harder cider before resuming his normal routine in the apple fields.
With relief he entered the cool interior of his cozy home. He popped a window open to let some fresh air in, heading to the small room where his bathroom was. As always, the stallion poured some water into a kettle to warm up, taking his time to relax on his rocking chair while the tub was being filled. He had a pretty good view of the apple fields from there, a most satisfying sight to behold.
He was impressed to see several figures moving about in the distance. Even under the relentless heat of the western sun, Appleloosans did their part in honoring the traditional Buffalo Stampede that would occur in just a few days, picking the best apples to make pies for the procession to munch on. Ever since their treaty was signed the native western tribes have been helping in broadening the apple fields, their prodigious strength invaluable in plowing and maintaining the hard and cracked ground for more crops.
Braeburn’s musings were cut short by the familiar whistle of his trusty kettle, announcing the long awaited bath-time. Carefully and with the help of a cloth rag the pony moved the hot water next to his filled tub, pouring little by little and testing the temperature. Satisfied with it finally turning mild, he dipped in with a groan, his hot fur instantly drinking up the cool liquid.
The stallion relaxed, casting back his head, letting his signature hat fall to the floor as he revelled in the sensation. He had quite some room to move around in the tub - being the friendly fella he was, he sometimes did some get togethers with his friends, sipping cold beverages to the cheerful sounds of conversation. Not to say these wooden walls didn’t hear all manner of ‘cheerful’ noises.
Right now, a small ‘plump’ could be heard, a bunch of bubbles sliding across the otherwise undisturbed mirrory surface.
“Oh my, whoops. Didn’ feel that commin, heh,” giggled Braeburn, frowning slightly as the pockets burst. “Whooowee! Brae, the buck were you eatin!”
Just as the vile smell begun dissipating, a fresh batch of not-so-fresh bubbles emerged, not bothering to linger around, cutting straight to the point and releasing their load.
“Mister, you gotta see a doctor, pronto,” he mumbled through the hoof that shielded his sensitive nose and mouth from the smell, his other leg batting at the unwelcome fetor. “Gotta open a window now before it bites into the wood!”
Just as he was going to stand up, he felt a pressure in his stomach. Fearing for the worst, he jumped as another weight pressed him firmly against the metal tub. He quickly realised that it wasn’t his guts churning, but something touching him. To reaffirm his suspicion, the water around him stirred, a dark shadow slowly emerging from between his nethers. Normally he’d be pretty happy with that, but with all the unusual factors taken into consideration...along with the simple fact that he wasn’t nearly as blessed as the surfacing shadow suggested…
If Braeburn could jump out his skin and stand beside the tub, he would notice that the scene unfolding before him reeked of cheap horror movies. First, a wet tuft of hair breached the water. The tar-black surface was glistering, slowly but surely moving up the stallion’s barrel, followed by a pair of eyes. They were silvery, unfocused, and drilling past Braeburn’s skull. A maw followed, slightly agape, revealing a pretty impressive set of slightly jagged teeth.
The petrified stallion observed as the pony crept up his torso, never blinking or looking away. There wasn’t a single spot on the intruder that wasn’t terrifying - there was a vague outlining of red around his lips, some more crimson permanently etched to his side and snout. What he assumed was dried blood was pretty much sprayed liberally over his features and mane.
The pony took a deep sigh, breathing straight onto Brae’s unprepared face, almost melting it away with the potent odour. He couldn’t decide if he should faint from terror or pass out from the vomit-inducing aroma of his tub guest, so for the time being he was pretty aware and frozen in place. Expecting the worst, he did not anticipate that the intruder would...lick him.
It is worth noting here that Braeburn was no stranger to licking. He’s been on both ends of the activity, in various positions and circumstances. He licked and got licked in affection, as a friendly gesture, during passionate nights, even as a dare when he was younger and girls were the ‘EWW’ on the childish scale of gross. This particular lap was a whole new world of sensation. It started with a firm press to his cheek, the tongue slowly settling on the flat, short-coated surface. Then the muscle moved forward in a single stroke, as if a painter was putting down the very first line on a fresh canvas. Considering how it felt, Braeburn had no doubt that the slimy wetness left behind was at least saliva. Hopefully, only saliva. The motion came to an end near the back of his jaw, where the tongue flicked away abruptly, tickling him just a little bit.
If the stallion had to rate the lick, it would be a ‘I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE’ out of ‘HELP I’M BEING EATEN ALIVE’. He’d have to deduct some ‘OH MY GOD NO’ simply due to the lack of any nibbling, biting, tearing or ripping that would typically follow such a lick. He did however add a few ‘JUST STAY STILL’ in good-will due to the cheek brush that was used instead. The added bonus of hooves around his body was a nice touch, but not taken into consideration in the art of applying saliva to the face in a creepy and death-omeny way.
“Uhh...H-H-Hi t-t-there p-p-pardn-n-nerrr...” rattled out Braeburn, feeling his body finally make up its mind about the flavour of fainting.
It would settle for the good old regular blackout.
* * * 2 YEARS LATER * * *
“...and that was it ladies and gentlecolts, we just witnessed the very first trans-existence wedding in the history of Equestria,” declared the newspony, turning away from the large crowd that filled Canterlot Castle’s throne room to capacity. “For all our viewers who joined us just now, we are standing outside Canterlot Castle’s Throne Room, where Princess Celestia of Equestria, Princess Luna of Equestria, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire, Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria and Princess Eternal Peace of the Neequis Underworld presided over the wedding ceremony of earth pony Braeburn of Appleloosa and necropony Ash Dust from...” The reporter pony paused to take a deep breath, squinting at a piece of paper in his hoof. “KhaagrllddklBRAGHtysmont. Hundreds of ponies, both alive and otherwise, gathered to witness the two vow eternal love, which would not do them part upon death, making it the longest mutually agreed upon, legally binding contract in the history of the world. And here they come ladies and gentlecolts, the newly wed couple! Taking it slow on account of Ash Dust’s shambling manner of locomotion...they’re coming down the alley...and yes! Please, Mr Braeburn, a word of commentary! How does it feel to be wed to a corpse sustained by residual magic that is, as you confirmed in an earlier interview, over six hundred years older than you?”
Braeburn, turned away from his partner, flashing a warm smile to the reporter and camera. “I believe the politically correct term is ‘unliving’,” he giggled, leaning back to Ash to nuzzle him briefly on his crimson-stained cheek. “And yea, it feels pretty great. We’ve been together for quite a bit now, and while some will say we didn’t get to know each other too much before taking such a serious step, I believe that our love is true and strong. Isn’t that right, darlin’?”
The necropony turned his head slowly, pressing it into Breaburn’s neck with a barely audible groan.
“Awww, you’ll have to excuse him, he’s a bit camera shy,” giggled the living half of the relationship, putting a hoof around his mate and squeezing briefly. “I would still like to thank the Princesses for accepting the living-impaired amongst us without prejudice and for allowing ponies such as me and Ashy to be happy together. While we were the first ones to make it official, I bet there will be tons of other couples who will decide to get married as well. To those of you that do, all the best wishes and love! Now, if ya’ll excuse us, we gotta train to Las Pegasus to catch! Bye!”