The trials and tribulations of managing your own personal pony village.
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Thread 33113449 Post 33119556

!F9CBa509ak 2018-11-01 11:23:37 No. 33119556


> It takes you a few moments, after opening your eyes, to realize exactly what has changed in the hospital room.
> The shades lining the far side of the room have been drawn open, flooding the room with late-afternoon sun.
> It spills in to fill the room like liquid gold:
> Revealing details that had been lost when you had dozed off.
> Stirring, you manage to heave yourself upright.
> Though your eyesight was failing, it was still plenty good enough to spot a mottled pastel blob at the side of the bed.
> Especially when her horn ignites, magic surrounding your chest and laying you back down.
> “It’s okay. I'm here now; it’s okay.”
“My glasses - I need my glasses, please.”
> Your voice came out as a croak, and so first came a glass of water - drifting up to your lips to let you sip from it.
> Only once it has gone do your glasses settle across your nose - turning a blurry blob into a proper pony again.
> A pony who smiles at you, again gently lifting your body to re-fluff the pillows beneath you.
> “There, now - isn’t that much better?”
“Much, thank you.”
> She smiles, and so do you.
> One hand - skin brittle, thin, and pale - rises to brush her cheek; she, in turn, leans into it and nickers gently.
“Ah, you’re looking well. The years have been kinder to you than me, I think.”
> It’s true - her coat is faded, pink turned dull, and mane shot through with silver hair.
> Not that she’s grown homely.
> If anything, compared to your mottled skin and sparse hair aging has given her an appearance of grace and elegance.
> She only smiles, though, and climbs up onto the bed to nuzzle you.
> In response your hand slips around her neck.
> Though your fingers ache with arthritis, her mane s as soft as you ever remember it being.
“You didn’t have to come out for me, you know. I know how busy you are…”
> “Never too busy for you.”
“Are any of the others going to be here?”
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