I walked to the laboratory alone, Crackshot was still in sick bay, and Belle hadn’t left his side since the accident. Opening the door to the dark lab, I sighed heavily. The weather reflected my mood, cool, drab and grey, with overcast skies. The royals in Canterlot were not pleased with the progress I was making. By the guidelines of the grant, I was supposed to be studying Pegasus magic, not inventing flying machines.
I frowned to myself as my paper airplane swished post my nose at that moment. I had invented the auto-aeronautical spell, what more was there to offer except new and useful applications of it? With a weight in my chest, I turned towards my desk to gather the mail deposited there. Without looking, I collected it and proceeded towards the sofa and cabinets in the corner.
Before settling heavily into the plush cushions, I gathered a tumbler of my favorite scotch from the cabinet and began to sort the mail. A few postcards for Bomber from some old squad mates, legal mumbo jumbo for me, hmm, a letter for Crackshot. He hadn't received any mail before. I was curious, but resisting the urge to look at the return address, I set it aside.
On the bottom of the stack was a thick, heavy parchment envelope bearing the royal seal. My hooves froze as I hesitated to open it. Why would the princesses be contacting me now?
With an overwhelming sense of foreboding, I broke the seal and unfolded the parchment within.
"From the Royal court of the Twin Thrones,
To Mr. Delta Wing,
We would like to take this time to express our gratitude to you for your advances in the scientific pursuits of Pegasus flight magic. However, considering the lack of progress in the past few months, despite vast expenditures, it is with great regret that we must inform you of the impending termination of your grant...."
My mind went blank as I stared.
"....termination...."
Breaking my stupor, I returned to the letter:
".... However, due to the highly meritorious nature of your studies, we are willing to postpone the termination of your grant for the duration of one month. Should you make significant progress in that time, we are willing to hold a hearing discussing terms of extension and continuation. We hope this finds you well.
Sincerely,
Etc. etc.....
I sat, numb, scotch forgotten. How could this be happening? I had made so much progress in the study of flight, I had made prosthetics and devices to allow flight where there had been none before.
Suddenly I became angry. Leaping to my hooves, the mail slid to the floor and I stormed from the lab and back to the hospital. It had begun raining during my short respite inside.
"BELLE!" I shouted, bursting through the door with a loud bang and an accompanying clap of thunder. The Griffon on duty in the corner jumped to his feet and Belle whipped her head around in surprise, an expression not often seen on her features.
"Belle," I said again, a little softer, but still quite firmly, "we have work to do." Without waiting I turned and began striding back through the downpour towards the lab.
“Delta?! What is going on?” she exclaims catching up to me, “What has happened?” she cuts in front of me blocking my path. Rearing my head back, I look down on her.
“Nothing,” I snapped, breaking my glare, “we’ve just spent too much time and energy on frivolous pastimes. It’s time to get to work.” Brushing past her, I continue my course to the lab, Belle following at a distance.
Upon entering the lab, I went straight to my drafting table and cleared it with a sweep of my hoof.
"Delta, what is going on?" Belle inquired again, more forcefully this time. I could hear the concern in her voice and elected to ignore it, laying fresh paper across my desk. She walked up to me, gripping my shoulder, she jerked me around to face her, "Talk to me." She said softly.
I hesitated a moment, expression softening, before silently plunging myself back into my work as determined as before.
"It's time we made some progress," I said tersely. Animated by my magic, pencils flowed across the sheet before me in an erratic ballet. Defeated and falling silent, Belle stepped back, prepared to come to my aid.
I continued to lay my brain child on paper. Every last detail and minutia, not a thing forgotten.
"Belle," she snapped to attention at the sound, "Go to Crackshot's desk and retrieve the blue leather pouch from his top right drawer."
I turned and crossed the room to where a small carpentry station stood. Lathes and planes sprang to life under my control.
"But..." Belle hesitated, "That's Crackshot's stuff, are you sure it's alright?" I could tell she was thrown off kilter by the events that had taken place thus far.
"Yes yes," I snapped,"It'll be fine." I was only half paying attention to her as I moved back over to my drafting table with a few bolts of fabric and the scraps of wood I had just lathed. Belle returned to her position behind me, blue pouch in hoof.
From the fabric, I cut two large swaths and a few basic straps and belts. Binding them with magic, I affixed the wood to the fabric and stitched the straps into place.
Leaving the jumbled mess on the table, and a still confused Belle in her place, I walked to the liquor cabinet and retrieved a bottle of the gunpony's clear moonshine. Half filling a small glass I returned to my desk.
"The pouch, Belle." I held out a hoof and the mare deposited the satchel in it. Sprinkling a few dry leaves in the fluid, I turned to Belle and extended it towards her, eyes cold and calculating. "Drink."
"What?" she cringed away, "Why? What is it?"
"DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!" I bellowed, seething with pent up rage. Belle cowered before me, but I felt nothing except for the anger that had been pushed below the surface for so long. Reluctantly, she took the glass and drank. Satisfied, I watched the tide of magic within her. It was a strain, but I could do it.
I watched it ebb and flow, like a heartbeat. Then it began to slow, and recede, as the drink took effect. I watched it, traced it to its source as the final wavering light flickered out, but just before it did, I extracted it in a thin stream of glittering aura. It clumped between us like a glob of mercury.
Belle gasped and fell to her knees, "What did you do?" She whispered weakly. I turned to my table, guiding the shining liquid sphere. Slowly I allowed it to sink into the amalgamation of wood and cloth. It shimmered slightly before returning to normal.
Breathing with heavy anticipation, I strapped it on. Every piece fell into place. Two, four ribbed wings folded themselves against my sides, they shuddered slightly. Though their weight was unnatural, the sensation felt anything but. It felt as though this is how I should have lived. Turning, I exited the lab, deaf and blind to Belle's faint whimpers and weak movement.
The rain had stopped, but the sky was still drab and dull. I looked up and my new wings snapped out. My heart fluttered in ecstasy and my breath caught in my throat. Crouching low, I felt the muscles in my haunches bunch, springs loaded to fire, and they did. Before I realized what had happened, I found myself accelerating upwards towards the clouds. My new wings stroking swiftly, powerfully, gracefully.
I sighed in deep relief and with great joy. I had done it. I had captured the magic I needed.