Journeyman's Journal

by Journeyman

Fluttershy's Dream 1 [Grey Hat] [OC] [Fluttershy] [Gore]

Author's Note:

I cut this from Grey Hat's Chapter 2: It's Cold Out Here for a pretty simple reason: I didn't like the Baron.

The Baron, a character you can read about in detail in earlier entries in the journal if you'd like, was a character I made for some horror-themed fanfictions. Now this is not the same character; I only adopted certain mannerisms and his general description. Still, I didn't like the way this turned out, as even I couldn't get a good frame of reference for why he was doing what he was doing. He was kind, yet cruel, and it clashed in a way I didn't like. I couldn't justify it with regards for later plot elements, so I axed it and rewrote it from scratch.

Mild gore warning for you right now, and so here's the original cut.

The scent of warm earth and animal fur was pleasant and welcome to Fluttershy. To her it reminded her of the forests and plains, of the running animals for which she shared her affinity for compassion. The foods and kibbles stored behind oaken doors sustained them, and the heat of sleeping bodies hung in the air.

The hearth in Fluttershy’s cottage was alight with flickering flames. Two large, overstuffed armchairs were pointed towards the fire, but one of them was filled. Looking back towards the door nervously, she swallowed, steeled her shaky nerves, and hopped into the adjacent chair.

He was a rather dignified looking unicorn dressed entirely in white, although red stitching along his lapels and tophat seemed to glow in the firelight. His charcoal fur made his red eyes stick out all the more. He was currently nursing a wineglass with some unidentified amber liquid. Without even shifting to greet his guest--it wasn’t even his house--he pushed an identical glass across the tabletop between them. Fluttershy stared at the fireplace. The heat and warmth of it or the presence of her home was no comfort at all.

“Back so soon?” he asked politely. He had a very calm, soothing tenor. “Come now, my dear; no need for bad manners.”

“This is my house,” she replied.

“In more ways than one.” He tipped the glass to his lips and drained a portion, sighing contently. “Are you afraid of me?”

The smells. The warmth. The sense of peace and calm. Everything that she could hold onto and form a bastion of comfort vanished into smoke and disappeared into the evening. “Why do you keep coming back?”

“That is not an answer.” She could feel his eyes staring at her. The side of her face began to itch. “You’ve never asked me to leave.”

True. Without looking for him, she grasped the wineglass and sipped. It reminded her of the wine at Cadance’s and Shining’s wedding, pleasant with a peach aftertaste. “Will you go if I ask you to?”

“No.” The bluntness finally made her look at him. He did not mock her, and the aged lines on his face relayed no sense of amusement. Before she could even protest, he set his own glass down and added, “You must understand, love, I--”

“Please go,” she begged. That careful mirror of calm she’d shown Applejack developed a crack. Voice quavering, she said it again, “Please leave me alone.”

The stallion sighed, his demeanor that of a parent who must unpleasantly punish a child despite how necessary it may be. “I cannot. I want something in return, Fluttershy.” He adjusted himself, leaning in closer. His eyes bleed the warmth and friendliness he’d shown just moments before. The hearth cast his face in shadows so only red gleamed through the darkness. “You wish every little thing that you don’t like away. I want you to need me gone, and I’m not leaving so easily. You invited me here of our own free will, you allowed me to stay, and I know you have a few more guests wandering about.”

No. Not nice. Not nice at all. “I hear them, my dear.” He leaned in closer. He seemed to loom over her, eating all the light in the room. “I hear them clawing at the walls. You think you can just run from your friends and wish them all away?”

Just like that, he was back in his chair, sipping a glass. “What makes me different from them is that they’re unwelcome, and I am not. They won’t leave no matter how far you go, little one. I am here because you need my help.” He turned back on her, waiting for the impending response.

“Why?”

The stallion chuckled plainly. He tipped his wineglass. “You’ll have to deal with him, for starters.”

White-hot pain spiked through her heart. Warmth bubbled around her throat and chest and she called out for the stallion. He only stared at her as nothing but a stuttering gasp pierced her lips and wetness flew from her throat.

Her hooves flew to her throat and came back warm and stained red from hemorrhaging blood. She was staring at the ceiling now, her back now wet with her own blood. She had fallen off the chair at some point and could only gurgle weakly as strength left her limbs and the light began to fade. Just as the darkness came to ferry her to death, a reptilian face came into view, in its scaly hand a dagger stained crimson.

“I’ll be in touch, Flutters.”