Les Accidents

by Indulgence

Réaction

Coco Pommel ached. There was not really another word to better describe how she felt; her pain was a tired and yet relentless one. Although in of itself not severe it had been her unwanted companion for too long now, coming very close to agonising through its persistence. What was funny (although perhaps not the best adjective in her state) about this was that the source of her relentless tormentor did not stem from any injury, but rather came from her being immobilised in the same position for innumerable hours. Not that she lacked wounds to be hurt by, far from it, the cocoon of bandages set about her hind legs standing (or rather rigidly hanging in a web of rigging) as testament to that. At any rate if her internally fractured limbs were in fact screaming at her she was far too dosed up to notice, leaving her instead with just the ache.

The pale brown earth mare had no idea how long ago she had awoken, gasping surprised into consciousness, as the wall clock had stopped. This was in one way an annoyance, creating a form of stagnant limbo about the place, although ultimately it was a blessing in disguise, after all time always passes at its slowest when it is visible. Whatever the case may have been in reality, she was definitely sunk in boredom where she was.

The space was the very epitome of a void, in impossible contradiction to its limited size. She lay on a white clothed bed, static on a white floor, surrounded by white walls, beneath a white ceiling. One closed white door lead to a white corridor and the plainness of the ward beyond, whilst a white framed window was veiled by colourless curtains, adding to the timelessness in hiding the manner of the day behind them. The only colour in this emptiness came from its sole painting, hung up lonely and listless, depicting a seemingly random basket of fruit.

What the buck is that even supposed to mean?!

From nowhere her mind suddenly awoke, until then still comatose, latching onto this singular standout target for her annoyance.

How is a pointless assortment of fruit supposed to make anypony feel better? In the best case scenario it could maybe induce hunger, except that it looks like a foal with no motor control vomited water colours at a canvas, so that’s a tad bloody unlikely! So why bother? Why try and pretend that this is anything other than what it is? It smells like a hospital, it sounds like a hospital, it feels like a hospital and if you were to lick the walls it would probably taste like a bloody hospital, so why try poorly to make it look any different?! It’s not a bucking bowl of fruit!

Seemingly without provocation Coco found herself transported to the tallest heights of apoplexy before crashing back down, barely suppressing a laugh on realising how irrational her inner voice sounded. ‘What the buck did they give me?’

Something obviously deliciously strong, the bright coloured pills kinda should’ve cued you in to that, I mean you can’t even feel your hooves.

‘Not true.’ Her hooves ached like the rest of her, so she could definitely feel them even if she could not move the two hind ones. Confused, Coco’s eyes panned down to prove her point, but stopped in surprise on finding a forehoof that was indeed unaccounted for on her chest. As further evidence of how out of it she likely was it took her a double take to work out that the alien limb was not actually her own, despite its obvious tonal difference to her coat. At the same time as this realisation she became aware of a presence at her side, following the length of the puzzling appendage to its owner. ‘Oh, yeah, right…’

She was greeted by the infinitely comforting sight of a snowy mare curled up on her right, possessively holding her in an enfolding hug. Fleur’s breathing was heavy, carefree, obviously asleep as she lay on her side, inclined towards the one she held. The pure white unicorn (somehow set apart from her monochromatic surroundings) had evidently tried to bury herself in Coco’s mane and now was pressed up close, her face in a nest of unkempt hair. There was some security in this unconscious visage, its proximity speaking of its cares, whilst in being blank it could almost convince that everything was alright with the world.

With this new awareness memory also struck, coming unpleasantly as scattered and broken images. She was rushing (nothing new), there was a road and it was busy: traffic. She was talking, or rather mostly listening to somepony: distracted. Then there was nothing. Suddenly she was on her back with crowded faces peering down at her, then black again. She blinked and then Fleur was there. The unicorn was talking quietly, yet with a determined almost angry undercurrent behind her words, defiantly brushing aside any interjection made by a group of medically dressed ponies. Finally there was more nothingness until she awoke.

Coco’s eyes roved absently further over her partner with whom she shared her bed. It was an awfully weird comparison to draw, but her not entirely lucid mind made the parallel anyway: that it was kind of like they had been out drinking. She was very much the novice when it came to such nights out on the town, in marked contrast to the other mare, but the unicorn was nothing if not good at tempting her out of her shell. Like such occasions the absences in her memories were in the same way disconcerting without a doubt, both as an unknown and in their peculiar powerlessness, yet she found herself largely unconcerned by the featureless shadows. In them at intervals there was Fleur, like some constant safety net or guardian angel, and with her she felt safe. It was hard to imagine that anything truly bad had therefore happened; after all, the said same protector remained at her side.

‘No…’ Creases tied themselves in Fleur’s brows as they turned to frowning, a stream of low whispers at the same time escaping her lips. Although unconscious the unicorn’s look was one of concern, almost fearful, pushing her grip to tighten about her charge.

To this Coco could not help but be drawn in, loathing even more so her restrained state, only really able to turn her head with any effectiveness. She strained both her neck and against her tethers, bringing her muzzle to the other mare’s cheek in what she hoped was a reassuring caress. Simultaneously she felt both useless and responsible, as the cause of worry, if not hurt (to which her own pains paled in comparison), yet prevented from combatting it. That Fleur being there helped was a severe understatement of what her presence meant, though at the same time however it brought with it guilt.

Who would’ve been here otherwise?

‘Good question.’ In actuality her still randomly drifting mind’s words were the exact opposite, initially catching against an exposed nerve. Her inner voice after all had a point. If she thought about it the city could be and had been a lonely place, from which the unicorn was her obvious rescuer, but the other’s ever-presence struck far deeper. With her disabled state Coco had been forced to a halt and in pausing she was presented with all that she now had.

From Fleur Coco’s continued nuzzling succeeded in coaxing out the faintest of smiles, breaking through the other’s features to affect the earth mare more potently than any medicine. The unicorn’s hold loosened, calmed, but obstinately refused to let go, although no force actually willed her to and equally it was doubtful that one strong enough to do so even existed.

Coco still felt off kilter: she still ached, her mind was still far from settled and empty questions about what accident had actually befallen her were still unanswered. And yet she was unfazed by it all. Although the drugs could maybe claim some small part in this, the far greater sedative was the slender framed accident laid beside her. In spite of all the great many other competitors for her attention she was focused only really on Fleur, with a foremost want to excise any lingering pain in concern from the unicorn’s features. The two therefore remained, each even unknowingly as an infinite comfort to their precious other.