Cleansing The Grime
Cleansing The Grime
The soft pitter-patter of hooves on tiles.
The dried rustle of curtains ruffled by a gentle breeze.
The heavy, scraggly scribbling of a quill on paper.
The deep, muffled groans of a tired, weary unicorn.
The loud, rumbustious snores of a sleeping, black haired human.
The hearty swish of the night sky air on shining white windows.
Band Aid, the humble beige unicorn doctor sat on his plush, stain dotted, white chair behind the large, brown oak desk of the Canterlot Infirmary, reading up on the latest issues behind the new medical practice of magical heart procedures with tired, drooping eyes.
He had been at the job for days now, hardly ever getting more then a few, sparse hours sleep in his relatively roomy Canterlot Castle chambers, mind constantly buzzing with a mixture of curiosity and fear towards the new arrival, intent on being the most prominent doctor to lead the research behind the strange, bipedal looking beast.
He did have two other assistants to back him up, one little green coated and orange haired filly named True Heart and the other a rather obese brown colt with shining silver hair who had adopted the name of Cherished Trickle, a rather feminine name really. True Heart had of course been chosen for the job because of her special talent, a nurses red cross with sparkling hearts around it whilst Cherished Trickle had been chosen because he had a certain way with ponies that enabled them to forget all their troubles and worries,
Both were currently dozing in their beds no doubt, slumbering under the protection of Luna's moon whilst Band Aid had to once more fight to stay awake in case any incidences occurred, not that that was very likely considering the guest was battered badly, both mentally and physically.
Soft, waxing candlelight cast a protective glow around the partially reading, partially dead to the world unicorn, illuminating the area around him but leaving enough darkness for his visitor to sleep peacefully. With a gentle flick of beige magic that flared from his horn, the book turned yet another page, crinkling along the spine.
He wasn't really paying attention to the book, its meanings or its findings, it was a mere distraction from the ever consuming void of sleep that threatened to tear his mind from his body. He needed to stay awake, he simply had to.
His mind turned to thoughts of great discoveries, of the fame he would acquire through his investigations and research behind a creature that not even the Princess in her long years of life had ever seen before. Thoughts of riches, thoughts of his name put up in all of the great scientific and doctoral books and magazines in the world, thoughts of taking any filly he wanted for his own rushed through his head like a waterfall, temporarily cleaning it of the worries of sleep and idea of slumber.
His thoughts of fame, fortune and fillies was interrupted quite suddenly by the loud, deep moaning that spewed forth from behind one of the rustling green curtains, the only secluded area that currently housed any patients, the one secluded area that housed the beast.
It was mumbling to itself, quite loudly so that the sound just reached Band Aid's flicking ears, the gloomy, muffled voice full of twisting fear and shivering fright. The voice itself was filled with a dark, corrupt tone but the words were muzzled and incoherent, drawing the attention of the beige unicorn once more, who, with a slight scrape of his chair, leapt out from behind his desk and began to trot quietly towards the groaning creature.
As he drew closer and closer to the concealing curtains, as he drew closer and closer to the incoherent babbling, words began to distinguish themselves, letters and disjointed sentences began to taint the air around the unicorn, chilling his blood with their unholy message.
“No...I can't...I won't...you...no-no...NO!”
The last word was a shriek that penetrated the silent night to spiral around the hospital like a phantom, causing Band Aid to jump and freeze up in fear at the anger and the horror behind that voice. It sounded almost like the beast was fighting somepony. Its voice spoke up again but this time the voice sounded different, like a hissing serpent mixed with a purring cat. It sounded, for lack of a better word, evil.
“Yes...oh you will...Soon...Friends...Love...Betray-Chaos.”
And once more, the timid, frightened voice piped up, significantly less loud this time to roll around the air.
“No...please...no.”
Band Aid moved forward now, scared but intent on finding out who was behind that green curtain, intent on finding out who was scaring his patient, intent on dealing with whatever may be behind the shrouding, darkened fabric. With a great tearing noise and the skittering of metal rings on metal bindings, the green curtain was flung open, allowing moonlight to pierce the dark area with stabbing white beams.
His gaze adjusted to the dark gloom rather quickly, green eyes darting around to find the perpetrator of the fear and the frustration that had been brought down upon his patient but he found no one else in the room but the twisting, turning, shivering form of the creature.
Just for a second though, as the wind rushed by, he could have sworn he heard dark laughter.
The beast was shaking, churning and dispelling the white sheets around him with reckless care, whimpering under its breath, sweat coating its body in a shimmering, sickly glow. Its mouth was moving, teeth shining outwards, but no sound escaped its lips, just the occasionally moan and whimper penetrated the air.
Band Aid sighed to himself, staring at the twisting beast with apprehension and pity, realizing that those twin sets of voices had, of course, belonged to the creature that was in the thrall of a nightmare. The beast must have kicked off part of its sheets in the night for its chest was exposed to the air, the lack of fur causing the creature to shiver in the breeze of the night, cooling the sweat on its body. With a light beige tug of magic, the blanket resettled on the beasts body, it letting out a light sigh as the chill around its chest vanished, replaced by a warm and soft feeling.
Band Aid continued to gaze at the whining, mewling creature for a few more seconds, content with gazing at what would be his sure fire ticket to fame before he turned around with a little sigh, trotting quietly but quickly back to his book, desperately blocking out the whimpers and ever so quiet sobbing of the sleeping but tormented creature.
The sound of fear, of weeping and sobbing did not leave him for the whole night.
[.]
Jonathan was roused from his diseased, sickening, monstrous sleep by the sound of bird song and laughing voices outside of the light streaming window. His eyes were full of dried, crusted tears that he could not remember the cause of, his brain groggy and dazed so that instead of remembering his current predicament, he turned to his right searching for his digital alarm clock, only to be met with a wheeled tray of multiple foods.
It was at that moment, for the second time in two days, that he remembered fully where he was and he flopped back onto the bed, head sinking into the pillow and eyes brimmed with sadness, confusion and fear. He should accept this, his fate, his duty and yet he couldn't for he knew that if he did, if he agreed to be the pawn, the fool, the avatar of chaos then he would lose himself forever.
Depression nearly overcame him as he felt the pulsing, seething monstrous influence in the back of his mind push into his consciousness, tears trickling down his face and heart hammering before he steeled himself, no longer willing to show the deep-set weakness, no longer willing to cry and sob for that sick creatures entertainment.
He breathed deeply, steadying out his inhalation and exhalation of air, heart slowing to its normal beat as he sliced his hand across his puffy, golden and red eyes, sending the tears flying across his secluded zone to splatter against the green curtain, spots of dark appearing on its surface.
With a deep growl of anger at his fate and with rebellion at his cruel keeper, he turned to face the displays of food that he had glimpsed before, forcing his attention onto the bundles of edible objects, trying to drown out the chuckling mass of evil with fresh information for his mind to ponder over.
Great, bulbous, glistening red apples sat upon a gentle silver plate, brimming over with crispy skin and delicate, juicy insides. His mouth watered at the sight of them, his hunger lust kicking in, drowning out his previous anger within mere seconds as his stomach roared. Beside them lay a large platter of what appeared to be dried, yellow hay, looking unappetizing and almost decaying in the bright sunlight so that the human immediately shifted to the next source of food, struggling to keep the small smile of humour off of his face.
A peculiar, white bread sandwich sat upon a little, tiny tray, a small white flower poking out of the side. It looked like quite the refined dish, carefully crafted so that no innards lay outside of the bread or on the exquisite plate. Jonathan looked at the daisy sandwich for a second, struggling not to laugh before he turned once more to the next bit of food on his obnoxious looking, wheeled, brown wood table.
A selection of fine, glittering, multicoloured jewels hung together in a great heaping pile, making Jonathan's eyes widen not in hunger, nor in fear but in astonishment. What kind of country was he in when jewels, rubies, amethysts, diamonds would be classified as an edible source of food? Each one was roughly the size of his closed fist, causing the humans eyes to widen even further at the sheer size of them and at the fact that, were he in his world, he would be rich by selling even one of these jewels.
His gaze, after lingering on the sparkling, would-be expensive jewels for another half a minute, finally rested on the last piece of food upon the widely varied platter of “edibles” and when it did, his eyes narrowed to dark slits and his breath hitched in disgust.
It was a slab of bleeding, raw red meat from an indescribable animal, crimson red juices soaking into the small, white tissue it had been daintily placed upon. The heavy smell of death and raw animal hung around it like the plague, forcing Jonathan to gag and his eyes to water in repulsion. It smelt rotten and wrong, as if meat in this world was the ultimate sign of corruption and evil, the look and smell of the mystery meat adding to the effect that were he to take a bite of this, to swallow even one inch then he would be judged for the rest of his life.
Jonathan turned away from the meat in aversion, mouth twisting into a grimace and one weighted hand coming up to clutch his nose, acting like a peg as he turned back to the end of the table to set his eyes on a cool jug of sparkling, dripping water, his parched throat suddenly kicking back up to roar loudly at him to drink, to quench his hefty thirst.
Jonathan flipped himself onto his side slowly and with a series of loud grunts, pain flaring up from where his bruises, scars and scabs rubbed against the bed before he reached a shaky, still exhausted hand over to grab the jug of water, his once bone-deep exhaustion that had pierced him to the marrow now replaced by a lighter weariness that still left him surprisingly weak.
His golden eyes raked the wheeled, mobile table once more as his hand reached out for the jug of gracious water, shining orbs falling down onto a single, smudged piece of yellowing, crinkled paper emblazoned with inky scribbles. With curious eyes, he leaned over further to read the elegant writing across the page and as he did so, a larger smile spread across his face, dispelling all thoughts of Discord.
Dear Jo-Nath-On
I did not know what the regular “Humane” eats so I provided a collaboration of common foods that we serve in Equestria to one table which I am sure Band Aid will deliver to you.
The meat, however, is not something we Equestrian's eat and, whilst we do not prohibit it, we do look down on it. Therefore, if you are to eat meat, I would ask that you do it in private.
Yours faithfully
Celestia
Jonathan felt a single, solitary tear fall from his eye, one of happiness and joy at being cared for, one of such unrivalled bliss at knowing he was not alone, that there was some creature out there that could, and was helping him. After all he had been through, torture both mental and physical, he seized the sparking flame of the hope that the compassionate letter brought, willing the small fire to never die out, to never leave him.
His thoughts very nearly turned to darker ones, egged on by the whispering voice in the back of his mind telling him that if Celestia knew how he had lied, if she knew the truth then this whole operation, of gifts, food and protection would simply crumble away like sandcastles at a beach.
He soon returned his thoughts to the water though, fearfully trying not to let this monster in his mind, this Discord, find out how truly passionate he felt about the turn of events in case the demon tried to use it against him, tried to taunt him with it.
His hand seized the cold handle of the jug and with visible strain he pulled the abundant beaker over to his body, tilting his head back and bringing the container to his dried, cracked lips to take a deep drink.
The water was freezing, crisp and clear, so pure, so free of pollution or disinfectants, so different to the water on Earth that Jonathan instinctively took a trio of deep gulps out of lust for the liquid before his eyes bulged and his throat gagged, pushing the jug back as he spewed up the excess, choking water from his throat onto his sheets, his draining of the water too quickly leading to his suffocation of the dangerous liquid.
As the final splutter of water dribbled down his front to soak into the sheets of his bed, dampening them and turning them a dark shade, Jonathan brought the jug back to his throat, refusing to be beaten by the violent liquid. With much more refined, slower gulps, he drained the contents of the glass beaker and turned over, hissing once more as his bruises rubbed along the bed, to place the jug with a gentle clink back on the table.
His throat wet, his thirst quenched, Jonathan turned his head to choose from the massive display of snacks what he would devour.
His gaze swiftly fell upon the apple with lust and hunger, reaching out one quivering, excited arm, causing the bed to creak under his weight as he snatched up the relatively small but gleaming red apple, wrapping his fingers around its smooth surface to pull it back up towards him.
With craving, eager eyes, Jonathan pulled the apple up into it rested just before his lips, its tantalizing taste tingling his nose with sweet scents of the country, its freshness pouring off of it in great rolling waves. With a deft flick of his wrist and a rapid opening of jaws, Jonathan took a great, cavernous bite out of the flesh of the apple, tearing through skin.
His eyes widened in glee and surprise at the fantastic, captivating, beautiful, wondrous taste of the delectable fruit before him, mind marvelling at its sheer bounty. The skin was crispy and ripe, no hints of the soft mould that an apple may acquire if left upon the tree for too long or if said apple had been bruised upon falling from the tree. The taste itself, the juice that ran down his face in great rivulets, was sweet and brimming with love and care, the signs of a brilliant apple farm, the juices flowing were not too sour and not too sweet.
The apple was, to put it simply, an elegant beauty upon the face of the culinary world.
Before Jonathan could truly fathom the serenity and awe that the was the apples flavour, he had fully devoured it, leaving naught but a single speck of apple core, a smattering of seeds and a small pool of juices along his chest.
With manic, greedy eyes and a large, beaming, happy smile across his face, Jonathan stretched out one arm, muscles aching and straining, as he clasped the silver plate of apples in between his fingers and brought all five remaining orbs of sweet, tangy goodness over to him.
The resulting mess that remained of the apples could be told simply as a massacre.
Jonathan laid back into his soft bed once more, head drifting into the pillow, throat quenched and stomach full of food, allowing him to let out a quiet but apple tinged burp that still managed to echo nearly silently around the room. His eyes closed with a deep sense of calm that he never thought he would ever feel again, his mind and body fuzzy and warm with contentment, his needs sated for the time being.
Well, nearly sated.
It was only when he caught a whiff of the apple scent laden across the air, it was only when he caught a tinge of purity and sweetness on the wind that he truly, truly understood how awful he must smell, how poor his stench must have been and, to his horror, how dishevelled and dirty he must have appeared to Celestia.
Jonathan visibly cringed as the smell of blood, sweat and other bodily fluids suddenly hung in the air around him in a much more prominent way. His eyes watered somewhat with his horrid stench, as they had with the meat except this time there was nothing he could do but grin and bear the stink until some one arrived to help him with his current smelly predicament.
Mind rustled and brought back to life by his own smell, free of the comforting blanket of warmth that had once surrounded it, immediately commanded him to return the silver plate that he had so carelessly chucked onto his own, dirty bed back to the wooden, wheeled table that it had arrived on and with a low sigh of aches and pains, his body complied.
With numbed, happy hands he gripped the plate and moved to place it gently back onto the table before a heavy wind tore through the curtains, before a deep, cawing voice shrieked through his head, before a piercing pain erupted behind his eyeballs that forced him to drop the plate with a startled yelp of agony, hands instinctively reaching up to clutch his head, believing that when he pulled back his hands they would be covered with shards of his own skull.
The plate slammed into the tiles of the floor with a loud ringing sound that smashed and shattered the relative silence of the infirmary, causing the birds outside of the windows to fly off with angered caws.
Vaguely, Jonathan heard the startled, awakening sound of some creature being brought back to life due to the antagonizing sound of the plate impacting with the floor but at that moment he didn't care. The pain in his head was spreading from his brain further and further down his face like the marching of biting army ants.
The sweeping pain reached his eyebrows and almost instantly a deep, burning, gorging pain tour through him, as if someone was stabbing into the sensitive area above his eyes repetitively with blazing needles.
He cried out in pain, feeling the scream pour from his throat like liquid fire, hearing the sounds of his agony mix with the feared panting of breath and rapid hoof clopping that issued from somewhere past his curtain, the sound drawing closer and closer but he no longer cared. He needed the pain to stop, he needed it to end. He didn't care how or why he just needed it to stop, stop, stop.
That crawling, shifting pain continued to spear into his the skin above his eyes, the feeling not leaving but tendrils of pain leaking downwards to meet his mouth and nose, his tongue and inner mouth instantly burning hotter and hotter, his nose clogged with the metallic smell of rich blood as Jonathan bit down on his tongue in unsuppressed pain. Dimly he heard the curtains being drawn back and a strangled gasp of shock but nothing mattered any more except his horrible agony.
He shrieked out in a horrible, pitched wail that stabbed into the air with unbelievable agony, causing the freshly awakened Band Aid to cringe and shudder in pity for the beast and fear over the source of the pain. Jonathan felt trickles of liquid run down his face and at first he couldn't decide if it was salty tears or blood leaking from his shattered, screaming head.
The rolling wave of agony soon reached the humans chin and from there on out memories began to become blurred, tinged red and unrecognisable.
It felt like his lower jaw were being ripped from his mouth, it felt as if his chin was being stretched like putty and burnt like coal. It felt like his skin was being pummelled with a hissing, steaming cattle prod, it felt like the endless, banging, shrieking, drumming voice in the back of his head that was pouring molten lead into his veins would never stop, never cease. Everything was red and blotched, the only feeling the tearing agony, the only memory that could be relieved the burning pain.
Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours, hours to days, days to weeks, weeks to years and yet the pain never seemed to give up, never seemed to let go, never seemed to desert him. His life was pain, his life was suffering, his life was flaring, pulsing agony and it never, never seemed to end.
He was not sure how long he stayed in that seemingly endless, abysmal void of agony and pain but he knew that when he finally pulled his head from his hands, he knew that when he finally managed to take a stuttering, shaky deep breath, he knew that when he cleared the pain entwined tears from his eyes that the sounds of laughter had stopped, that the sun had rose higher in the sky and that one soft but strong beige hoof was gripping his shoulder in a comforting manner.
He turned his tear soaked, puffy eyed, red faced, pain tensed face towards the owner of the hoof who looked both scared and pitiful over Jonathan's current predicament, emerald eyes sparkling with sadness and contemplation, body tensed but beige horn pointed in a non-threatening way to the human, high above Jonathan's greasy black hair.
With a forced, choked, shuddering smile the agonised, cramped, fearful human spoke up in a hushed, cracking, pain wrecked voice.
“Thanks.”
The little beige unicorn nodded sharply, eyes roaming over the humans body, searching for an injury, an illness, a symptom before his gaze rested on the humans face and his eyes widened slightly, not in fear but in bafflement. Jonathan could hardly miss that deep, bulky look and, with a frightened, aching whisper, he spoke up once more to the unicorn.
“What? What is it?”
The beige unicorn swallowed a gulp at the sound of the humans panicked, wary voice before he spoke up in a deep voice for ponies but a strangely high pitched voice for humans, tone filled with worry and fascination.
“Its...its your face...”
Jonathan was on the verge of becoming manic now, fearing for any changes, fearing for his own body, fearing for what would become of him in the future.
“What!? What is it about my face!?”
The unicorn staggered backward in fright at the force of that voice, making Jonathan feel a jolt of guilt that was swiftly replaced by terror.
“Your...your eyebrows. Right at the ends, they're...they're pure white. The rest is black but those ends...like snow.”
Jonathan swallowed an icy ball of fear, bile rising to his throat as he spoke up again in a strangely calm voice that briefly suggested with a small tremor how close the human was to falling into hysteria.
“And...and my chin?”
The cream unicorn squinted hard at his chin, curious at his strange request but free to go along with it if it meant that the beast didn't freak out or cause a ruckus. His emerald eyes passed over his chin once, twice before they settled on a single, almost hidden figure.
“There...there's a single, white hair. That's all.”
Jonathan fell back hard into his bed, eyes glazed and thoughts racing, fear threatening to spew forth from him. That pain, that horrible pain had blurred out every feeling, thought and emotion from him, such power, such suffering that it had broken his mind down. He couldn't go through that, not again and yet he knew it wasn't over. Nothing drastic had been changed about him, not yet at least and still he couldn't help but ponder questions, desperately trying to battle the bubbling terror and force it to the back of his mind.
What was happening to him? Why the pain, the suffering, the agony?
Why the pain? Oh dear Jonathan, the pain is there because your screams are like music to my ears.
That cold, deathly, decaying serpentine voice whispered through his mind like waves rolling across a beach, spreading terror and fear from it like oil in the ocean. It made him want to scream, to cry, to sob and shiver and shudder but he couldn't. Once more, his mind and body were being subdued and crushed by the repressive, demonic hand of the mismatched monstrosity that would not, could not be spoken about.
His mind and body were swiftly released though, followed by a cackling laugh as the beige unicorn lightly shoved the human in the shoulder, trying to draw his attention and to extract him from his own, poisonous thoughts.
Jonathan turned his head in a detached manner to stare into the emerald eyes, deep fear unsettling him from his own body almost like the powerful, beastly God. What he saw in those canopy, leafy green eyes though drew him back to the land of the living fully and it filled him with such hope, happiness and joy that he felt the fear diminish, the pain reduce to merely an ache and his heart lift in his chest.
Those green eyes were full of such care, such compassion, such a need to help and comfort that it drew the terror and the pain out of Jonathan like a splinter from a wound, making his head throb and his heart hammer with joy. He grasped that feeling, of love and comfort before it could flee and with it he dragged himself out, once more, from the dark hole of depression, struggling to regain his will and his composure.
The little beige unicorn seemed to feel that Jonathan had returned for he pulled his hoof away from its resting place and spoke up in a curious but pitiful voice that made Jonathan's heart swell.
“Do you need anything?”
Jonathan swallowed hard, eyes focusing on the little pony with such a deep look of gratitude that shook the tiny unicorn to his core with the strength and the passion behind those golden eyes.
“I need...”
What did he need? There was nothing, nothing that could stop the torment and the horror that was going on inside his head. There was nothing that could dull his mental turmoil or drown his inner-most fears. There was nothing that could subdue the animal in his mind or put down the chaotic demon that resided inside. No, he needed something though, something useful, something helpful, something physical that he could feel and grip, something that was real, not false and lying, deceitful and whispering.
“...I need a bath.”
[.]
The warm, washing, cleansing water pooled around his body, forced into the confines of a large, shining silver bath, slipping over the edge occasionally to splash against the orange tiled floor. Jonathan sighed with relief and relaxation as he sunk lower into the bubbled, pure but now grimy water that purified his body, washing away the smell of sweat, blood and urine.
It had taken the unicorn, who had introduced himself as Band Aid, exactly fifteen minutes to locate and drag a royal sized bathtub back to the infirmary chambers, huffing and moaning down the corridor, horn straining under the heavy weight, more used to detailed, fiddly surgery then heavy lifting. When he had arrived in the infirmary, puffing and panting heavily, cheeks and face flushed Jonathan had begun to drag himself out of bed to offer his assistance, only to remember that he was completely naked and in no case wanting to uncover himself to the innocent looking pony.
The unicorn had then turned one of the taps on, completely unconnected to any water source and much to Jonathan's amazement, clear, crispy, flowing water had spewed forth like a geyser. He had briefly asked Band Aid how it had worked and the obscured reply of “magic” had certainly not left his appetite for knowledge fed. Before he could enquire further into the subject though, the water had cut off and Band Aid had poured a strange yellow mixture into the bath, bubbles spewing forth from where the dust hit.
Without a single word, Band Aid had left the room, giving Jonathan some much needed solitude as he clambered out of his dirtied bed, aching legs shaking on the floor and the soles of his feet freezing on touch with the tiles as he painstakingly made his way over to the glimmering, rounded, silver, golden tapped bath, reaching one finger in to touch the water before he withdrew it hissing at the heat.
Soon enough though he had allowed himself to drift into the bath, first his legs, then his torso, his chest, his arms and then the bottom of his neck had been submerged, washing away the dirt and cleansing the grime.
There, in that bath, he had begun to ponder his rising fears and then, just as swiftly he came to a realization that brought a smile to his face, a realization that allowed him to relax and to sink deeper into the bath, bubbles swirling around his eyes in a glittering dance.
There were ponies out there, Celestia and Band Aid who cared for him, who comforted him, who loved him, who felt compassion for him that should have been reserved for a member of their family, not a random, mismatched, desecrated minded creature that had awoken in the bed of a deity. He felt happy, relaxed, carefree, knowing that out there, right now there were ponies who would help him, who would understand him, who would make sure that no matter what happened, he could never give into his fear, his worries, his doubts.
He felt safe knowing that as long as they were around him, he could not be drawn away, singled out and then corrupted.
And what happens when they are not here for you Jonathan? What happens to you then?
That purring, wriggling voice wormed through his mind once more, shattering the joyous and happy realization as though it were made of glass.
The bathwater no longer felt warm, the air no longer felt clean, his body no longer felt numbed, his mind no longer felt carefree as he asked and tried to answer that question, that simple question that scared him, that terrified him to the point where he curled his head into the crook of his elbows, resting his forehead upon the edge of the bathtub as he allowed himself to weep in fear and the horrid realization that his epiphany could not save him.
He had felt the flame of hope for a second and then it had been snuffed out.
His eyes glanced down at the rippling, tear plopping water of the bath and just for a second he saw a separate face, golden eyed, snaggle-toothed, white bearded, mismatched horned, black maned, brown furred and twisted with a sickening, sadistic smile before the pool of liquid rippled and his own reflection returned, his gaunt, horrified face now visible.
From somewhere behind him, he heard the soft whooshing of wind and the quiet giggling of a maniac.
A/N: I know I said he would get a beard, meet Harmony and talk to Celly a bit more next chapter but I didn't quite realize that this chapter would be so long and, as such, I have had to split it into two parts.
Do not fret, I shall (hopefully) have the next chapter up tomorrow.
Anyway, tell me what you think of this chapter and I know things are a little slow but I want to increase Discord's fear factor because in the future there won't be so much time to work on it.
Also, rickrolled.
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holy shit, almost no dialogue
it's... taking too long for me i guess.
so little is happening over such a long period of time i'm growing bored D:
still enjoy it though, don't get me wrong
I think the pacing is great so far. It seems slow, but the content is so good I wouldn't want you to speed it up and risk leaving anything out. Just keep doing what you're doing.
Damn it, poor Jonathan... keep fighting! There's bound to be a glitch or loophole somewhere. He's a Spirit of Chaos... he can't be that organised.
"rumbustious snores" You sir have taught me a new word. Interesting word choice.
Looking pretty good. That did seem like a lot of pain for just some more hair. Although the horns probably hurt.
No grammar mistakes this time. Coo' beans.
wait he dosnt eat meat dang discord really messed him up
he needs to start causeing some chaos
Ponies don't like meat but they can still serve it, I guess it makes sense since they have griffons living here, but still they didn't bother cooking it so no one is going to eat that. ^^; Sometimes I just kind of wish that Discord would at least give him 'SOME' sense of freedom in a way that he could have a straight conversation with a pony about other things than the changes happening.
876113
but free meat
877694 I'm just annoyed that there wasn't any bacon...
What? Seriously...
-Jorofrarie
879765
havnt had bacon in a while ive mainly been eating chicken gotta get e some bacon now
meat eaters for the win yaaah
Rick rolled... just lol
Discord if you keep torturing him he won't be able to help you diabolically petty revenge. All he will get is pity and a permanent stay in a psych ward.
Very last word of the chapter you forgot the. "Laughter"
And holy cow!
Do you know what the mark of a truly great story is?
Its when after the reader is done reading, they cant help but think about whats going to happen next.
I cant help but dwell on our poor protagonist and hope he finds a way to defeat the devil in his head.
Then again, i have never seen someone so thoroughly destroyed in one of these fics, maybe it should end tragically. That would set this fic apart from the all the other, "happily ever after" endings out there and IMO would make this just that much more awesome.
873454 It would be blasphemy if he was organized.
876113Um, me for one. If it's that damn fresh, you bet your ass I'd eat it. Not many people know this, but blood enhances meat's flavor. It tastes good by itself even. And before you say anything, no I'm not a vampire. Just a guy who likes the taste of blood.
That Discord... He's one evil son of a gun...