//------------------------------//
// 39 - It's OK to Be a Religious Pony 
// Story: It's OK to Be a Pony 
// by David Silver 
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"She's down this hall, ma'am." The doctor gestured, levitating his clipboard with a sigh. "Room 213, minor burn wounds... well, they would be if she'd let us treat her. I'm not sure if she's part of your group, but she mentioned things about 'god's earth' and claimed she'd been cursed into being a pony..."

He rubbed his forehead. "Unfortunately, we can't legally help her injuries until she signs a waiver, which she refuses to do. I don't know if you'll be able to get through to her, but I'm at my wit's end. Remember, no casting--she freaks out at that."

Lyra's expression fell a bit, filled with concern and worry. "This sounds more serious than most of the others, but I'll try my best. Uh, I hate… to ask this, but is she safe? She sounds very agitated."

The doctor frowned. “Safe for others? I’m not sure, but she hasn’t intentionally attempted to hurt anypony. Safe for herself...?” He shook his head. “Definitely not.”

Lyra nodded and took a slow breath. "Alright. Let's try to help her. She definitely needs a friend right about now." She flashed a bright smile, a little false and quickly falling to a more naturally friendly but not giddy expression. Trotting down the hallway, the unicorn reminded herself to not reach for things with her horn despite the natural inclination to do so. On reaching the right door she softly rapped on the door before attempting to open it. "Hello there?"

The voice that came through the door was clearly and very forcibly restraining itself from panic. “Not another one--Look, I’m going to be very clear, I’m not going to allow any of you so called specialists to hex me!” There was an odd bang and a groan. “Just let me out of this--this... place and I’ll be fine!”

Lyra opened her mouth to object to being called a specialist, or someone that would lay hexes, but came up short. She was a specialist in a few fields, and could turn somepony into a frog for a while if she really really wanted to. Yep… "Uh, hello. I'm not here to hex you, promise. I just want to get to know you, as a po--person. I hear you're having a very tough time right now and just want to hear about it." She gently pushed into the room, looking around curiously.

The mare on the hospital bed might have been beautiful, if her face wasn’t contorted in terror and her flanks weren’t covered in the twisted flesh of burn scars just visible from under the very tussled bedsheet. “You just want to hear about it? What are you, some sort of--of tabloid reporter?” She quickly adjusted the blanket to cover most of her green body, her blue eyes darting about warily.

Lyra approached with a hopefully encouraging expression. "Nothing you tell me leaves this room unless you want it to, promise. I'm not here to get a 'big scoop' or anything, just for you. What's your name? I'm Lyra Heartstrings." She pointed at herself, then sat beside the bed, looking over the green pony curiously and taking note of the subtle difference from her own coat.

The mare did seem to calm down slightly at her introduction, but it was clear from the way she absently tugged at her brown mane that she was still incredibly wary. “...If you’re going to try to get me to join your cult, I’m afraid I’ll have to turn you down. I have enough to worry about without, well... I’m sure you’re a very nice person, miss Heartstrings, but the answer is no.”

Lyra nodded softly. "Well alright, but I'm not sure what cult we're not joining, but it sounds icky. I don't generally 'do' cults if I can avoid it." She rolled a hoof slowly. "What do you like to do? I don't think I ever caught your name, miss…?"

“...Worthington.” The pony took a deep breath. “Amanda Worthington... I’m terribly sorry for the presumption, but you do have one of those cult marks on you. I shouldn’t be so quick to judge, not all past mistakes can be erased...”

Lyra looked herself over for marks before she quickly realized she was being daft and settled on her cutie mark. "You mean this?" She pointed at the golden lyre adorning her flank. "That's a cutie mark, not a cult mark. Do you know what a cutie mark is?" Not that she expected the most-likely once-human to know, but she hoped to build rapport.

“The... well, the people who found me informed me those marks were magical.” Amanda spat out the word in disgust. “I don’t know why they allowed themselves to be imprinted with such perverse mockeries, but I for one don’t believe in attempting to alter the grand design of the world. Even if...”

She trailed off, looking at her own hooves quietly.

Lyra followed her eyes to the end of the mare's legs. She decided to be bold. "Missing your fingers?"

The mare’s eyes snapped up. A moment later, the hooves here pushed against the mattress, clearly ready to shove her out of the bed in an instant. “How did you know--?!”

Lyra spoke slowly and carefully, lest she further alarm her patient/friend, "You're not the first once-human that I've had to give a hoof to. Some are happy, some are very sad, but you seem angry at yourself, and I want to help. I can't get your fingers back… but maybe we can figure out what to do with what we have?"

Very slowly, the tension began to leave the mare’s body. “So... you know who’s responsible for all of this, I suppose?”

"It's not a who." Lyra made a vague and wide gesture. "Just like that mark, the universe as a whole does things, like saying 'Hey Lyra, you really should get into playing a mini-harp, that'll be fun', and 'Hey Amanda, surprise, no fingers'. The universe has a sick sense of humor at times."

Amanda narrowed her eyes. “So you’re a cynic, then.” She let out a slow sigh, relaxing back into the bed. “Well, at least I know you’re not associated with whatever brought me here, if you’re so... dismissive. I take it that you chose that mark of yours after you started your... mini-harp lessons?”

Lyra tilted her head. "I'm afraid I don't entirely follow, but no, definitely not part of the reason you're here. I found the instrument on my own, as a wee little filly. It felt right, and bam, there it was." She pointed down at the flank. "I played it for years, even in a philharmonic. I didn't bring it with me today though."

The mare frowned. “So... one moment you were an innocent child, and the next you were cursed with that magical mark for all eternity?”

Lyra shook her head a little. "That's a little… extreme don't you think? Ok, see, I called it 'the universe' before, but most ponies call it 'Harmony'. It keeps things moving nice and smoothly. I mean, I've stopped playing the lyre professionally, but it's still part of my life, a good part. I don't regret being directed at it."

“Wait.... you think that your magic mark just happened naturally?” Amanda frowned. “That God himself simply descended from on high and said, ‘Here, have an image on your body that will forever alter your destiny, thanks a bundle’ and then just left you with nothing else?”

Lyra tapped her chin. "Well, he, er, she, whatever, didn't come down and point in my face. The mark was enough for that. It's up to us to figure it out. Sometimes the symbols aren't so obvious." She smiled at Amanda. "For instance, I like to think I help soothe people one-on-one by talking with them, just like the lyre does, and help even out sour notes in ourselves."

“I.... see. And... every one of you, ah, horsefolk simply gains these guiding signs... as a matter of course?”

"Most of us," agreed Lyra easily. "Once we find something that comes close to what we're good at, the mark just makes it a little more clear. There are a few exceptions, but hey, in what world don't po--people get lost sometimes?"

Amanda was silent for a moment. Her eyes shut as she tapped a hoof against the bed, ears flicking on occasion. “...A whole culture with such... Tell me, miss Heartstrings, when you think of... ugh, magic, what exactly does it mean?”

Internally, alarm bells rang, and Lyra made a dismissive gesture with a hoof. "That can mean a lot of things. There's the magic of harmony, for instance, that nopony really has a say in, then there's a unicorn's magic, which, while natural, is controlled by the pony and can be used for good or bad. What do you think, Amanda?"

“I think... that you’re using a word I recognize in a way I don’t, because your entire culture has that same usage. I suppose that you call the ‘magic of harmony’ is what I would call ‘miracles’.” She absently rubbed at her flank, letting out a sharp hiss of pain. “This magic of unicorns, though... what exactly is it?”

Lyra took a slow breath. "First, I want you to know that I want to be your friend, and I will never, ever, force you to do something you don't want to do. If I do something that bothers you, just tell me, and it stops, no ifs, ands, or buts. Alright?"

Amanda’s expression grew confused, but she gave a slow, hesitant nod.

Lyra reached up and gently poked her horn. "A pony with a horn is a unicorn. Our horn gives us certain magical abilities, most common of which are light, and levitation." She let her magic flow and her horn shone a bright cyan shade, showing off her power.

“Levitation? As in... you can fly?”

Lyra shook her head quickly. "Oh no, I never practiced levitation enough to carry myself around. I'll leave that to the pegasi." She looked around a moment, then pointed at Amanda's blanket. "May I borrow that?"

Amanda blushed for a moment, crossing her forehooves protectively over the sheet.

Lyra scratched that idea and a better idea came to her. She nuzzled open her pouch and out came a chocolate, held in her power. She floated it towards Amanda. "Would you like a treat? It's chocolate."

The mare frowned for a second. Then, very cautiously, she reached a hoof up to the hovering candy. When it brushed against the glow she pulled it back, but then she paused.

After a moment, she brought the hoof back up and under the chocolate treat. “Ah... thank you, I suppose. This... isn’t magical chocolate, is it?”

Lyra leaned forward a little. "Does being magically delicious count?" She released the chocolate, letting it settle fully in the hoof underneath it. "I'm joking. It was made by an earth pony, that is, a pony with no wings or horns, entirely without any magic besides growing crops, or in this case, making mighty fine chocolate."

Amanda was examining the brown object on her hoof as though it were a strange and possibly venomous new creature taking a nap. “Magically grown crops, you said... exactly what does it take for a pony to earn a horn?”

"Earn? All the unicorns I know of were born with theirs, mine included." She reached up to tap at it lightly. "It got a bit bigger with the rest of me, but it was always there. What would a pony do to earn a leg?"

“Oh, I assumed...” The mare trailed off for a moment, bringing the candy closer to her snout and giving a wary sniff. “When you say earth pony magic, you don’t mean that they... imbue their foodstuffs with it, do you?”

Lyra tilted her head. "No more than a, uh, human imbues things they make with their hard work and dedication. Ponies work hard to do what they do, and that can show in the result, but I don't think that's 'magic' like you're thinking."

Very slowly, the tip of Amanda’s tongue reached out and lightly brushed the confectionary.

After a moment, she nodded. “This does taste... very good.”

Lyra's smile became quite wide. "Go on, eat it. It's perfectly safe."

An amused smirk flickered for a moment on Amanda’s face. “Wouldn’t the doctors object? I am still recovering from....”

She trailed off, her expression becoming melancholy.

Lyra perked an ear. "You haven't done anything that chocolate is going to hurt. You don't need stuffy rooms and overbearing doctors."

Amanda absently flinched as her hoof rubbed at her flank again. “I... don’t know about that. The doctors suggested they... knew a spell. For... burns.”

Lyra nodded. "They probably do, but, if you don't like spells, then they can't make you have it. They can't even make you stay here if you don't want to be here." She sat up then stood up on her hind-legs. "If you want, I can show you where some other once-humans hang out. You could make some new friends with people that know what you're… where you're coming from, you know?"

The mare didn’t look at her at first, absently putting the candy in her mouth and chewing.

“...do... cutie marks, you called them? Do they... grow back?”

Lyra blinked softly. "Uh, well, they're part of the fur there. So long as the fur grows back, the cutie mark comes back with it." She tilted her head a little. "Is it… that bad? I mean…" She struggled with a better way of phrasing it. "They'll happily treat you when you're ready, if you're ever ready."

Amanda swallowed. After a moment, she nodded. “I... suppose it wouldn’t hurt to meet other victims... and maybe do some research on what exactly these spells entail...”

She almost pulled the blanket off of herself, but paused at the last minute.

“Ah... you wouldn’t happen to have some sort of basic, um, gown in that bag of yours, would you?”

Lyra shook her head quickly. "Not something I carry on a day-to-day." She pointed up at her tophat. "All I have in terms of clothes, but let me go check with the ponies here. One moment, alright?"

“I guess I can wait. I mean, I can see you’re comfortable enough parading yourself about like that--” Amanda brought a hoof to her mouth. “Sorry. That was a rude assumption for me to make. If your society is so... free, I shouldn’t judge.”

Lyra snorted softly, but looked more amused than offended. "You'd do just fine in Canterlot, but I should warn, sometimes the ponies up there still don't wear pants, like a shirt or coat covers everything in their minds or something. Be right back." And off she went, quickly locating some coverings.