Magical Medicine

by yellowbastion

Chapter 5 Part 7

You’ve done this more often than you care to count. So often, in fact, that you have developed a systematic approach. Once again, from the top!

You take stock of yourself. Breathing is good. Heartbeat is steady. You’re not cold or too warm. You remember the birth name your parents gave you and the pony given pseudo name you use. Memory seems to be a-okay.

You wiggle each digit slowly, counting each one in your head. Four fingers and one thumb on each hand. Two hands, one attached at the wrist to an arm, and two arms total. No noticeable inflammation, tenderness, or pain. So far, so good. You flex your toes in your shoes, then roll your ankles a little. They’re just like you remember them. Carefully, you curl your legs up, pivot your weight, and using your arms, gently push yourself up to a kneeling position to rest your bum over the back of your legs. You’re steady in this position. Knees and legs seem to be good. No balance issues.

What is the last thing you remember? You were summoned by Twilight to her pink crystal castle of friendship and evil. Secret agent Bonbon and her teal weirdo brought you down to the swankiest, well lit dungeon you’ve ever seen. There, you were overcome with emotions and did your due diligence to provide sanctity for a corpse. You took the thin blankets and draped them over the changelings body. That’s when it… attacked you?

You’re forgetting some small detail. That’s very unlike you. You’re normally much better at remembering everything with perfect clarity. You are able to remember that you didn’t have a chance to eat breakfast before coming to the castle, and that you still have laundry to do when you get home, but you can’t remember why you’re waking up on the floor.

“Huh.”

“Eee!”

Oh, that’s right! That corpse wasn’t dead but not in the fun zombie kind of way. It was just the normal, boring kind; alive. That was the small detail you forgot. Maybe it was sleeping? Or laying in wait? But now it’s awake, and so are you. And it just squeaked? It squoke, kind of. It was a simple sound. It wasn’t much more than a single raspy note. That means… something.

You’re still missing something, the bigger picture. Maybe you can get some answers from your guest. You finally open your eyes to search for them.

You let out a “Ffff…” sound. You wanted to say ‘fuck’ so fucking bad. Your head was pounding like Michael Flatley was rehearsing an adaptation of Riverstomp on your frontal lobe. But you didn’t because manners are still important, even in times of crisis like this.

Opening your eyes was a mistake. The soft pink glow of your cell stung your face lookers which you immediately had to close again. Sore eyes but no complementing headache or dry mouth, so this isn’t your usual hungover state. It’s all starting to add up.

“You doing okay?” You asked your guest. Your throat wasn’t parched and voice wasn’t raspy. You couldn’t have been out for very long.

You got a short, soft buzzing noise as a reply. Not exactly a helpful noise, but it’s a start.

Right. Let’s try the eye thing again, but this time you cover your eyes with your hands. You don’t feel any swollen sore spots or scabby dry blood around your ocular orbits. It would have been a shame if you damaged your money maker when you fell.

You peer through the cracks between your fingers. It’s an arctic survival trick you learned when you used to spend your misspent youth watching Discovery Channel. You wanted to make a timely reference about Bear Grylls drinking his own pee but you have more pressing issues at the moment.

Your cellmate had managed to push themselves into the farthest corner of the room. Far away from the cell door and away from you. They were curled into a lumpy ball and was either shivering, hyperventilating, or both. You couldn’t really tell from this distance with your eyes still bothering you.

“Just, uh, be more careful next time. I’m not a pony. Human, actually. Not really from around here. Or anywhere. Pony magic doesn’t work the same way on me.”

You were using small, simple words. You were trying your best not to spook the potentially dangerous creature that backed itself into a corner. You had seen many YouTube videos of what a fluffy kitten could do with its tiny fangs and claws. You woulden’t want to imagine what a 150-pound bugpony could do with those pointy hooves. A swift hoof to anywhere, let alone the face or groin, is something you never want to experience.

“My name is Anonymous. You may remember me from such things as the time when I was kidnapped by a dragon. Or the time when I became an Alicorn and was crowned prince.”

There was that buzzing wing noise again. Maybe it was a changeling signal of acknowledgment? Or could it be disagreement?

“Were you in Canterlot the day of my crowing ceremony?”

You received no reply from your guest. Signs were starting to point to a wing buzz to meaning ‘yes’. Good, you’re making progress. As a wiseman once said: a step in any direction, even laterally, is progress.

“When I arrived I Equestria I was human, then I was an Alicorn at one point, but that’s a long story for another time. So, there I was, kneeling in front of Celestia, golden crown hovering above my head, when, poof, I got better. Maybe someone will write a book about it. I dunno. Anyway, the transformation magic that made me an Alicorn wore off and I was human again. Cellie still managed to drop the crown on my head, ending the ceremony and making the whole thing official. Twilight was super angry that she never got to back to being normal. That poor little bookworm.”

The grisly disfigured changeling seemed to not completely hate the sound of your voice and maybe even liked your story. It’s even stopped shaking, which is a good sign. Time to sweeten the pot a little bit.

Author's Note:

Fun Fact:
The changeling is trembling in fear because it attacked Anon and fed on him until he died, and it just watched him come back from the dead.

In my head cannon, changelings and Pegasi weigh around 150 lbs, earth ponies like Big Mac weigh around 250 lbs, and Celestia weighs around 450 lbs.

Comments

[tsaukpaetra]

Mission failed! We'll get him next time!

[Sir Science]

Second to last paragraph, I feel cheated! Still gonna read though.

[yellowbastion]

11448052
If you read a part Magical Medicine and thought to yourself, "hey, just that would make a cool story", know that each of those parts are from failed story ideas I've tried to write that never got published. This story is all of the most useful bits and pieces combined into a single narrative.

[Prince Leviathan]

"You died!"
"Well I got better"

Sunbutt is 450 lbs?

Das alot of Cake.