It's cold in this room.
Sterile.
I feel encumbered by greens, blues, and turquoises.
There are too many old ponies in this place... this town.
The shivers come and go, and yet I stay put.
I made a promise to Capricorn.
This is a small price to pay... if I can even call it that.
It turns out that I don't have to wait long.
The door opens, and a pony in a white labcoat trots in. The air ripples with the golden bleeps of heart monitors and intercoms from the hospital ward outside. Then the door shurts, and I'm alone with a doctor I barely know.
"Alright, Ms. Scratch. Sorry for the wait," she speaks with a slight drawl. The doctor adjusts her coat and sits in a stool across the room from me. "I know we've met briefly before, but in case you need a refresher—my name is Dr. Terra. I specialize in unicorn pathology. And—I must say..." She chuckles slightly, flipping through a clipboard in her grasp. "I'm so very glad you were able to provide me with these records. The esteemed Ms. Capricorn didn't exactly give me much to go by. Heheh..."
I nod, shuddering slightly.
She squints at me. "Squeamish around hospitals?"
I blink.
Yes, actually.
I nod.
"You know what? Me too." She smirks. "If I could practice from the home, I could. However, it would seem that hospitals are where the patients are." A tiny laugh.
I smile. If only slightly.
"Alas..." Dr. Terra leans back. "Life can never be that simple. That's where ponies come in to help. Like you with your music and me with... well... helping ponies get better. And that's precisely what I would like to do with you." She flips to another page. "You're a lucky mare, Ms. Scratch. I happen to be quite familiar with Acute Schism of the Inner Alicornia. I interned on a similar case while in medical school. We saw major improvements in a unicorn stallion who followed the regiments of the chief medical practitioner. If you are willing, I would like to prescribe similar program for you."
I lean forward, listening.
"They are essentially a series of scheduled therapy sessions designed to help you adjust to the mana feedback caused by the broken leylines in your horn. After all..." She flips back a few pages. "...the symptoms that you experience are indicative of chronic Alicornia Schism. And yet, you are capable of practicing magic with very little difficulty. Is this correct?"
Immediately, I levitate a paper and pen and write the word "YES" on it.
She smirks slightly. "As I thought." Her brow furrows. "Hasn't that ever struck you as peculiar? That you can practice magic with your horn like any other unicorn and yet you are still highly sensitive to producing vocal commands?"
I shrug.
She reads off a page. "I see that your medical exams have been... highly irregular over the years." A slight sigh. "Miss Scratch, I'm no psychiatrist, so take this as a plain observation." She leans back in her stool. "It's quite common for ponies in your condition to develop a sense of lethargy—as if they've accepted the debilitating symptoms of their affliction without question. And while there are many unfortunate victims in the medical world, I've seen just as many instances of positive recovery. Now... I'm not claiming to be a miracle worker, but it appears to me that Ms. Capricorn has insisted you tackle these therapy sessions with your best interests in mind. Understand that I too care for your well-being. If you are willing to have faith in the processes, then I think we can make some headway in your condition. I won't make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. But if you remain where you are now in regards to the Alicornia Schism, I can assure you that no positive changes will come to you. Now... can I have your full cooperation in this matter?"
I swallow a lump down my throat. After a magenta exhale...
...I nervously nod.
"Splendid." Dr. Terra scribbles on a fresh new sheet and gestures. "First thing's first... a basic physical will be necessary so that we can properly gauge your overall vitals at the start of the sessions. So, if you wouldn't mind taking a seat on the table..."