Sisters of Willowbrook

by Starscribe

Chapter 11: Pomegranate Seeds

She had the attention of this little pony. Derek didn't know how long she could keep it. Just how old were they, in equivalent human years?

His voice didn't sound young to her, any more than he looked short. She was taller, but not by very much. Less than an inch. "How can I do what you're doing?" she asked, pointing to where he'd dropped the meal tray.

Risk didn't react for several seconds. He lifted the tray hastily from the floor, glancing nervously between it and the meal set out before her. She'd barely even given that thing any attention. Maybe she should?

The table had room for four—she could host guests here, if she wanted. The chairs didn't look as much like Earth furniture as the bed—they were really just cushions, suspended high above the ground. Their backs were empty wire, with huge openings behind them. They wouldn't actually do her any good giving support, then.

"Delivering food?" he asked, taking another nervous step away from her, and towards the open servants' tunnel. "There really isn't that much to learn, honest. You just need to know where the rooms are. I guess I am pretty good at remembering them all. My dad says I'll be a great steward when I'm older."

He puffed up his chest a little as he said it. That was no idle compliment as far as Risk was concerned. He really cared about his generational position in service to the Vale family.

Assuming he even understood it that well. "I don't mean bringing people food. I worked food service when—" and in that direction there were dragons. Her whole body started to tense with pain at the mere suggestion of exploring it. "You're making things fly. My dinner, that bowl. How do I do that?"

Even as she asked, the smell of what he'd brought finally reached her nose. This wasn't a bowl of slop. Finally she even turned to see what he'd brought.

A fresh salad, or something like one, with a light dressing and lots of fresh fruit and veggies mixed in. It came with two glasses—one tiny red one, and a much larger pitcher of water. There were grains too, a bowl of thumb-sized berries with little shells of thin brown fiber. The appearance was entirely unrecognizable, but the smell was perfectly familiar.

Barley. Whoever had prepared this bothered to wash the grains before serving them to her as though she was supposed to think they were a meal. A feast fit for a farm animal, no mistake.

No bile came rising to her throat. Instead, the smell reminded her of something that should've been obvious. She was hungry. More dried food from the little building she'd been trapped in with Charlie could never compete with this.

Risk was still staring at her, looking more confused than any of her questions had yet made him. "I don't know, uh... I'm not... I don't know what that means."

"You're doing it right now!" She scurried over, turning her back on the fine meal only reluctantly. She poked at the tray lid, and it tumbled right out of the air, clattering at her hooves. "That thing!"

"Levitation?" He glanced to her forehead, then back again. "You're an earth pony."

"I... what?" She kept pace with him, following him as he backed partway into the tunnel. That caused him to stop in place, as though horrified that she would dare step onto that sacred ground. "You have a name for that? A pony from—"

She dropped to one knee, crying out with pain. The word was there, drowned in her screaming. Her eyes clouded with water, and she took almost a full minute to recover.

"Earth pony," she said. Nothing. Not a hint of pain. "Is called that because they are a pony from—" Nope. There it was again.

Who made these stupid rules?

"You're weird, Purple," he said. "Do you know the difference between ponies?"

"No," she said weakly, stumbling to her hooves again. "I don't know much of anything. I barely, uh... I barely remember anything. Not even my own name, remember?"

"Right." He nodded knowingly, closing the distance between them. He helped her to her hooves, then held still to give her something to lean on. He wasn't exactly much bigger or stronger than she was, but even so. It was nice not to be alone since Charlie was gone.

"Listen to me. There are three real tribes of ponies, then all the little cousins and other spawn nopony talks about. I'm one—like house Vale, and my family. Unicorns. We do magic."

He guided her gently back into the room, and she was still so pained and disoriented that she followed, stumbling along beside him until she'd reached the chair. She climbed up into it, following the strange scent that was also delicious.

"Then there are pegasus ponies. They have wings, and they can fly. They make the weather that other ponies depend on."

She glanced backward at her sides, ears flattening again. "I don't have wings. I'm not one of those either."

He nodded sharply, annoyed. Apparently she wasn't supposed to interrupt. "Lastly are the earth ponies, like you. You don't cast spells, and you can't do the weather. But you're strongest. And you can... grow things? Most earth ponies farm. I guess it's fun for them. I've never tried farming. Seems like hard work."

"Neither have I." She slumped forward onto the table, head landing right next to the meal tray. "So what you're telling me is... I can't even do magic. Friend and I come all the way here, and I don't have the tools to fix my mistake? I'm just supposed to grow things?"

She wasn't still looking at him, so she couldn't see how he would respond. He did answer, eventually. "I, uh... don't know that one. Lady Vale says you're a distant relative. You must come from a far, faraway part of her family, I guess?"

If you were older, you'd probably think I was a bastard. But you're too innocent for that. At least she still remembered what words meant. Just because she'd lost most of her confidence didn't mean she'd lost everything. Derek would still get through this.

The smell of her meal was too much to ignore, and finally she sat up. There were utensils here, as she'd seen played out in fancy restaurants. Several forks, different knives—she didn't know how to use them, or much care right now. Maybe later she could worry about making herself a little less barbaric.

She chewed eagerly, reveling in something both familiar and different. She'd enjoyed plenty of salads before, even some quite nice ones. But she'd never had barley quite like this, separated and washed into grains right out of a bowl.

She was so invested in her meal she almost didn't notice as Little Risk retreated back the way he'd come. He was most of the way through pulling the door closed behind him before she raised one hoof in his general direction. "Wait!"

He stopped, expression annoyed. "What is it now?"

"Are you sure about all that?" she asked. She leaned a little closer to him. But the chairs weren't meant for that, despite their similarity to Earth furniture. It wobbled on its legs, then toppled backward, taking her with it.

Derek screamed, her voice a shrill squeak as she fell painfully to the floor with a thump.

The shock was loud enough that she kept screaming for a few seconds later, long enough for him to rush over. But by the time he reached her, she realized that it didn't actually hurt. She shook herself free of the chair, climbing off. It wasn't damaged either.

"Are you crazy?" he asked, exasperated.

It was like he'd flipped a switch in her. "Technically? Yes. I have no idea what the DSM-5 would say about me. I'm showing signs of neuroticism, clinical anxiety, depression, gender dysphoria, and that’s all assuming the things I think I'm seeing are real!"

She leapt to her hooves, circling nervously around him. "Maybe this whole place is a hallucination! Maybe I drowned and this is hell! Maybe I'm in an institution right now, with doctors watching behind mirrored glass! But whatever happened to me damaged my brain so thoroughly that I can't even see their lab coats."

She stopped beside the window, flinging open the blinds. It was mostly too high for her to see through, requiring her to lean up and squint to get any glimpse outside.

There was little light outside. The grounds had only a single gaslamp, lighting the path into the house. The attached stables were mostly in shadow, though even that was enough to see what had changed.

The large carriage she'd seen parked beside it when they arrived was missing. Hadn't Iris said she preferred to travel that way? I wonder where she went.

Something clicked behind her. By the time she turned around, the door was fully shut, and Little Risk was gone, leaving the wall practically sealed. Derek winced, stomping her way back to the door.

She almost started screaming through it, demanding that Risk come back. But about halfway there, she realized how stupid that would be, and came to a stop.

What was she thinking? The kid had answered all her questions thoughtfully, it was her fault for not knowing what to ask.

She stumbled back to the window, under the light of flickering gaslamp. Maybe she'd finish eating in a few minutes, once she'd had the chance to catch her breath. But just now, her appetite was gone.

What would I tell one of my patients? she wondered, hopping up onto a padded bench beside the window, and looking out at the grounds.

The answer was obvious. She should focus on the things she could control, be grateful for the things she liked. She should try to find a healthy coping mechanism, one that would help her avoid the things she couldn't think about.

But I don't think anything in the DSM was written for someone with a magical gun to their head.

Things could be worse. She could've been killed. Or maybe something terrible could've happened to Charlie—something terrible that couldn't be reversed. She could've gone blind, she could’ve been stuck into prison, or with someone who wanted to do terrible things to her.

If anything, Iris Vale was a pony who would be too kind to her. There'd be no need to fear abuse here. If it was possible to get back, she would find the resources in this house somewhere. Or maybe she would cajole them out of the unicorn, and whatever group she represented.

I can't waste time worrying about things I can't control. Right now our life back home is out of reach. I can't help Charlie while I'm here, so I'll have to trust that she can handle herself. She's stronger than I am.

The best thing I can do for both of us is find the fastest possible way back.

To do that, she'd have to stay sane, and not be rejected by Iris. She could manage that, couldn't she?

Derek curled up atop the cushions, staring out into a world she didn't understand. Far away, past the fields of grain and the road leading back to Willowbrook, was a scraggly forest of tangled oak and ash trees.

Her eyes lost focus as she stared between them. Shapes moved in that distance, maybe animals, maybe not. Faint lights shone in the darkness too, like pale lanterns of starlight that vanished as soon as she looked in their direction.

It was the same kind of unsettled she'd felt when she first walked here, past the farmers' fields. What had Iris said about not wanting to be caught after dark?

Derek flopped abruptly off the seat, practically galloping over to the swinging blinds. She shoved them into place so hard that wood splintered, and paint chipped. But they stayed, concealing her from the eyes that watched from darkness.

I'm not scared of the dark. Just getting ready for bed, that's all.

Given everything she'd been through, she'd permit herself a few white lies.

Comments

[erictheblue]

HUH?!
i thought Derek and Charlie got turned into baby Alicorns...

[Level Dasher]

Hmm. Innnnnteresting.
One thing I'll admit is kind of confusing me— I think I'm in Derek's boat about the rules of this spell. It's preventing Derek and Charlie from saying any Earth-related things out loud— that much is obvious. We also know it's preventing Derek from even thinking certain things (dunno about Charlie, but I'd assume it's the same with him). But then why can he remember his and Charlie's names? That's something he obviously can't say aloud, but their names are practically the biggest tie to Earth that they have. I would think even trying to think his name would make him pass out from the pain. I can see the narrative just switching to calling Derek 'Purple'—his new Equestrian name (until/unless he gets a new one)—and Charlie 'Orange.' Oh well. Let's see if we learn the specifics of this spell later...

10954722
No, the ponies in the cult that brought them there were expecting gods that likely would have taken the form of alicorns (if I remember correctly). But instead they got a little Earth pony (Derek/Purple) and pegasus (Charlie/Orange).

[FanOfMostEverything]

I have no idea what the DSM-5 would say about me.

Interesting that that, of all things, didn't get censored.

But yeah, Derek's making the most of this as best she can. I can only imagine what Little Risk and the rest of the servants will make of the crazy earth filly who wants to cast spells.

[minibox]

More testing will be needed to find the limits of the spell. Not everything with an origin in Earth would be censored which means Derek might be able to piece some info about the past. It'll be a painful endeavor, but real progress is possible.

[Cedric Bale]

10954912
Remember in the very first chapter, when we were following Iris's perspective while she was helping her coven cast the spell that brought them here?

Horns lit up from around the circle, but the coven was made of more than just unicorns. This was no mere parlor-trick, like unicorn levitation. Real magic cared far more about will than it did about biology.

I suspect at least some of Lady Iris's servants know better than to believe that magic is the sole domain of unicorns. There's no way Derek isn't going to learn some of that "real" magic before this is over.

[djthomp]

X zx ¢

[Amos Anon]

It was like he'd flipped a switch in her. "Technically? Yes. I have no idea what the DSM-5 would say about me. I'm showing signs of neuroticism, clinical anxiety, depression, gender dysphoria, and that’s all assuming the things I think I'm seeing are real!"

Interesting. So something like the DSM-5 isn't a suppressed part of their mind, yet their names and personal identities are. Even something like reading seems to be suppressed, though we still don't know if the writing system is the same in this world as it was on earth. It seems there are chinks in the spell.

[NetherWalker]

10954722
Um... Whoopsie?

[Enderstorm]

There are three real tribes of ponies, then all the little cousins and other spawn nopony talks about

What is it with ponies and their casual racism?

[Ralanost]

Even if Derek is an earth pony, he is still a filly unused to his new body. Splintering wood already? Seems a bit much.

[tsaukpaetra]

11728007
It's an old house. Even little kids can break things when slamming them shut. It didn't shatter, just splintered. 😎

[tsaukpaetra]

Sometimes it's easy to forget he was an experienced therapist before this.
It can be hard to self practice when you haven't established an anchor...