GREEN
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3286 18.54 KB 267
3286 18.54 KB 267
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>Bronze Accent was a proud earth pony from a long family line of proud earth ponies.
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>She had just discovered her special talent and her cutie mark.
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>Bronze learned that rough and ugly things like iron machinery and tools had their own beauty with good use and careful maintenance.
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>Then everything changed when the biped nation attacked
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>The Guard didn't put up much of a fight.
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>Little Bronze remembers stories of a few exceptional or powerful ponies like the princesses able to prolong the struggle.
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>Some ponies remained free for entire months after the first contact.
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>Bronze Accent and her family were mining in the mountains the bipeds first appeared in.
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>She never even got a cute-ceanera.
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>One minute she was gasping at the bright flash of her mark appearing.
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>The next, she was gasping from the flash and noise from a strange smoking can that landed next to her.
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>Ponies never could understand the bipedal invaders' speech, and the bipeds never seemed to care what ponies said.
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>The bipeds were just here for Equestria's snake and cheese mines for some reason, as far as Bronze could tell.
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>She didn't care about any of that, though.
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>She didn't care about anything, after her proud earth pony family became not-so-proud collared slaves.
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>Ponies were kept in pens, split up, and each one taken away to somewhere else.
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>Her Mama and Papa barely had time to tell her, "Be strong, don't give up, don't forget who you are," before they were taken away.
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>She never saw them, nor her brother and sisters, again.
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>Bronze herself was collared, leashed, (Leashed! Like an animal!), taken to a huge room full of bipeds, and onto a stage.
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>A dozen other ponies she didn't recognize were lined up with her.
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>A big biped on the stage and a bunch in the crowed yelled back and forth at each other.
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>Every thirty seconds or so a pony was taken away, with another brought up to replace them.
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>She stood under the bright lights in terrified confusion for only minutes before her leash was tugged and she was back off the stage.
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>Over the following years and through conversations with other ponies, she realized they'd been auctioned off like some sort of Canterlotian art exhibit.
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>Things.
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>Mindless animals.
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>That.... It hurt.
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>She was not a proud earth pony any more.
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>Bronze Accent was a slave, and she couldn't make anything about that ugliness beautiful.
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>Years pass
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>Your name is Bronze Accent, and you feel like re-fried road apples taste.
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>Not that you know that taste.
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>Thankfully, there remain some indignities you have not yet experienced.
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>Seriously though, you've been sick in the past but this is a whole new level of awful.
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>You take a moment to smear greenish and chunky mucus from your nose and across the blanket you're bundled in.
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>Owner gave it to you the first day after he bought you.
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>It's the softest thing you've felt since you were a filly.
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>Well. It was.
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>Now it's half crusted with snot and foul smelling sweat and lather.
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>Your eyes are all but gummed closed from the constant thick, runny tears.
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>You're pretty sure your tail and dock are an odoriferous nightmare at this point, but you refuse to check.
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>The back seat of Owner's carriage isn't contoured for pony comfort, but at least he recognized you're too exhausted to stuff into the pony crate.
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>You couldn't make a break for freedom right now if your life depended on it.
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>A small lurch as the carriage hits a bump has you choking back thin bile and vegetable broth.
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>Owner has been feeding you broth for three days, even when you try to weakly fend him off.
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>You want to hate him for the indignity, but his un-bipedly compassionate care reminds you too much of Granpapa Gild when you had a cold.
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>Your misery continues interminably, punctuated only by gentle jostles that feel more like tumbling down a mountainside to your pounding head and queasy tummy.
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>You don't notice when the carriage quiets and the bumps end.
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>You do notice the rush of cold air and momentary plummet as the door your head is leaning against opens wide.
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>Owner catches you in two arms before you're fully horizontal and makes quiet, calming sounds.
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>You can't muster the energy to be upset anyways.
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>You're carried through a lot of coldness, then a door opens and the wind stops.
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>You squint your eyes back open.
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>[spoiler]HORSES![/spoiler]
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>Ponies!
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>You're in a wide room with biped chairs, and it's packed full.
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>Not only are there bipeds on every one of the chairs, but many are standing in the little free room as well.
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>Ponies sit shivering and sniffling at the feet of almost every Owner.
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>Guess you aren't the only one to catch this.
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>From the line, you'll wager you've got another long miserable wait ahead, too.
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>This lollipop is pretty good.
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>Any sugar is good when you haven't had any in years.
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>Even if the rolled paper loop sticking out one side is soggy and the cherry flavoring tastes more like floor cleaner than fruit.
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>Pretty good.
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>You can taste again.
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>And smell, a little.
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>The doctor, (or would she be a vet here?) looked in your mouth and nostrils and stuck something in your ear for a few seconds.
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>With a single scritch behind your ear, she began her assault.
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>She held you by the jaw, turned your muzzle to point at the bright ceiling panels, and poured something straight down your throat in a single practiced maneuver.
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>Then she gave you shots in both cutie marks.
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>Then she stuffed this candy in your mouth.
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>Before you even managed to grow upset at the rapid barrage of liberties taken with your body, Owner lifted you and you were back out in the waiting room.
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>After a minute of Owner exchanging his bits, (Paper bits! How did such a stupid people conquer your's?!) you were toted on your way back out to the carriage.
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>Something changed halfway back to Owner's house.
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>Your snot was suddenly thinner and your eyes cleared.
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>You don't feel like you're about to puke at all now.
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>Stupid money or not, they definitely know their medicine.
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>You have the energy to sit up and look out the window.
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>It's still a tremendous effort.
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>Your head feels like it's barely connected to your shoulders in a surreal reversal of the leaden misery from before.
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>Are you drunk? Is this what being drunk feels like?
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>Can you get drunk off medicine?
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>Wait, was that even medicine?
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>Maybe you just feel better because you're drunk.
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>Did you get drunked against your will?
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>Oh no! This is how Aunt Chastity said bad fillies lose their virtue!
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>Evil stallions put... medicine in a drink?... make you dri--wait, wasn't it pills in a glass? Why would pills go in a glass?
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>Something something the lime goes in the--no that was Uncle Nilly--but there was a doctor in that story too, so maybe?
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>Gravity is broken right now, and that absolutely does not help things.
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>Pretty sure your head should be above your flanks, but your view is full of dirty carriage floor carpet and your legs are tangled in those heavy ribbons up in the back seat.
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>Snotty blanket is piled on top of your head, and you think you hear Owner laughing over the noise of the carriage.
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>So close to the road, you notice that the carriage stopped, this time.
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>You hear the door open and feel hands on your withers pulling you out of the pernicious pony pit.
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>Same hands are gently untangling your hindquarters from the heavy seat tiedowns or whatever those ribbons are.
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>You look up into Owner's bemused face before something just past him catches your eye.
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>Skeletons! [spoiler]You aren't scared. If you were scared you'd say you were scared and you aren't scared.[/spoiler]
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>Biped skeletons, which are only creepier for being inequine and alien.
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>They're in all the windows and hanging from the eaves of the house you've stopped in front of.
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>Also, they're made of paper.
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>Also, some spiders that don't look like spiders at all, which also aren't scary.
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>You vaguely remember Owner spending a bunch of time outside with those things.
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>Kinda reminds you of Nightmare Night decorations but you're pretty sure bipeds don't celebrate pony holidays.
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>Gravity's broken agai--nope, it's Owner picking you up.
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>This being luggage thing is actually pretty swanky.
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>You should get sick more often.
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>And there's your nose working again.
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>Turn it off, turn it off!
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>You smell even worse than you thought.
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>You clench your eyes and flatten your ears in a desperate attempt to close your sniffer with them.
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>While you do that, the universe moves around you and you're deposited on a hard cold surface.
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>Plainly, you're not the only one with a working nose right now.
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>Owner is visibly disgusted by everything that is Bronze Accent right now.
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>You're in the bath tub and Owner is taking an only slightly pukey and snotty shirt off.
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>[spoiler]Those are some uncomfortably long nipple hairs and you can't look away.[/spoiler]
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>Here come the hands, straight for your plot!
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>You were right, you've been drugged in the coconuts and your virtue is about to be stolen!
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>This is it, then.
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>You had a good run, Bronze, but you'll never be a wizard now.
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>Be strong Bronzey! You come from a long line of proud ear--SHITTING LUNA'S HEAD NIPPLE COLD COLD COLD
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>The water just turned on and both you and Owner are flailing about for the temperature control and the shower lever respectively.
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>Okay, so you aren't being molested.
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>You dip your head under the water and blow bubbles out your snooter while fingers work into your withers and not in your pooter.
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>You have to quickly pull your head out of the soapy water to keep from choking when you giggle at the thought.
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>There's a lot of grime and ick to wash from your week of sick.
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>You could barely fight or kick if he tried to give you [spoiler]tickles[/spoiler]
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>You are so bucking high right now.
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>Owner is too nice and washy and scritchy and picking-uppy-and-carryey to do anything like that.
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>You feel amaaaaazing.
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>Owner is getting it allllll.
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>One floofy furry poof atta time.
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>You feel warmer and comfier and high as a kiter than you can remember ever feeling before.
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>.... Yeah, you should probably not pee in the bath.
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>Stop thinking about peeing in the bath.
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>You are an adult, Bronze Accent, and adults do not pee in the bath.
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>That's not pee.
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>Owner gave you two baths today!
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>Maybe this isn't so bad.
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>Your name is Bronze Accent.
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>And right now you are angry about doors.
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>It SCREAMS when you get close.
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>And you're sitting in front of it.
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>And you can't NOT be close.
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>So it's screaming at you.
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>Owner put something on the door knob that makes an obnoxious screeching noise if something moves near it.
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>You don't remember much of the last few hours.
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>After the second bath, [spoiler]which you are mortally ashamed to have needed now that you're sober,[/spoiler] you were thoroughly dried.
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>Then owner smeared some sort of white foam around your mouth that tastes like raw sugar, used a nasty alcohol-smelling gel in your mane that spiked it with red streaks, and painted what you think are supposed to be angry black eyebrows on your forehead.
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>That was kind of weird.
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>But worse is the rest of what you assume to be a costume.
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>You are currently wearing a ridiculously thick black collar with oversized rubber spikes painted to look like metal
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>And fake dog ears on top of your real pony ears.
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>A comically thick plastic chain runs from the collar to an equally pointless grey plastic anchor sitting, not attached to anything, on the ground.
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>You're almost positive that you've been dressed up as a rabid dog.
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>Again, not the most humiliating thing you've ever done, but that doesn't mean you're happy about any of it.
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>Owner sat you outside the front door on a cushion and wrapped you in a warm blanket.
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>You're pretty sure that ruins the entire effect, but you're not high enough anymore to have the energy to care.
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>He was running about as the sun sank in the sky, obviously gleeful about whatever nonsense he planned.
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>You've been napping on and off with your comfy cushion and warm blanket, exhausted from being sick.
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>The last time you saw him was when he woke you for another pill and bowl of water before you dozed off again.
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>When you look around, you have a few small bales of hay on either side of you now.
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>There's a cloth with a hole for your head laying across them so only your head protrudes.
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>Great.
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>You're not a rabid dog.
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>You're a rabid dog's head.
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>Definitely something stupid enough to be for Nightmare Night.
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>It's... kind of nice to have an owner who's worst crime against ponykind is dressing them up as a cute spooky decoration.
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>Oh, hey.
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>There's a bowl of water with a straw next to you just within pony mouth range.
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>That was considerate of him.
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>Take a sip and the cold water soothes your throat and dry mouth.
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>On the hay bale closest to the door is a plain metal bowl filled with, you're guessing, candy.
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>Smells like tart flavored sugar bits and shokeolate.
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>You don't feel like wrestling with a candy wrapper made for biped fingers right now.
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>Instead, you take a nibble of the hay bale.
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>Blech, more like dry straw than hay.
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>Owner totally got ripped off, no matter how much he paid for this.
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>Poor idiot.
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>Out of all the reasons you want to talk with the bipeds, you most wish you could tell them how many things they do completely wrong.
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>That garden clipping compost heap is pathetic, and why would anypony grow a garden with nothing edible anyways?
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>The whole plot of land is just bitter green ground covering that he cuts short and throws away.
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>Baffling.
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>Well, obviously not eating anything while you're out here on the porch.
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>You notice a new prop sitting across from you mostly out of the range of the porch light.
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>Some bipedal work coveralls or something similar obviously stuffed with more hay.
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>It has a carved pumpkin set on top like a head and the whole thing is lying limply across more straw bales.
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>Kind of lazy, but whatever.
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>You'd have at least hung it standing over the candy dish so foals would have to brave its creepiness to get their treats.
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>If you lean forwards You can see a couple of plastic biped skeletons spooping out on the corner of the carriage parking lane.
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>So this is your life now.
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>Scary dog head for a biped's cliche Nightmare Night rip off diorama.
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>Good thing you got this expository text out of the way already, here come some biped children.
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>Wait, midget bipeds, plus you can hear the unmistakable clop of pony hooves!
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>You twitch around in your blankety prison to see.
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>It looks like a group of five tiny bipeds, but one is RIDING a white, blue-maned unicorn stallion.
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>Both are done up in a ridiculous parody of Mild West settler garb, complete with matching cowpony hats and tasseled leggings.
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>You hold in a snerk as the pony meets your eyes and speaks in a low and miserable voice.
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>"Please kill me."
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"Sorry. I'm a decapitated dog. Nothing I can murder you with here. Buuuut, if you get a little closer and let me breath on your face, I can get you sick."
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>It's nice to talk to somepony again, but you probably shouldn't have propositioned him so lewdly right away.
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>He's staring at you in awkward embarrassment.
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"I'm married. Was married. Not interested, either way."
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>Ouch. Your pride.
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>All of the children, on the other hoof, are staring at you in disgusted delight.
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>Maybe the makeup is more convincing under the dim porch light than it was earlier in the setting sunlight.
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>Or maybe you're just jaded from being behind the mask.
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>One of the bravest, wearing a bright red and furry costume you don't recognize, says something that was either bravado or inspirational and slowly approaches you and the stainless steel bowl of temptation.
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>The herd, [spoiler]Do bipeds make herds? Gaggle? Gang? Apocalypse? Wait, no, that's dragons.[/spoiler] of children follows hesitantly.
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>The pony keeps pace with a resigned plod.
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>You suddenly realize Owner's evil plan.
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>The children will approach while staring at you.
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>You, being sick and sleepy, will be distracting but non-threatening.
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>Then the doorthing will scream and everypony will jump.
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>They'll laugh, you'll laugh, Owner will hear from inside and laugh, the door will laugh.
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>Hopefully the door doesn't laugh.
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>You know you have a toothy grin growing across your face.
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>Maybe the ringleader realizes something isn't what it seems.
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>Maybe your half-nauseous grimace is scarier than you thought.
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>Either way, the whole group stops behind him as he eyeballs you with grim suspicion.
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>The effect is somewhat ruined by the fluffy costume with giant googly eyes on top of his head, but he gets points for the attempt.
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>You grimace innocently as a line of snot oozes out one nostril.
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>Probably getting to be about time for another pill....
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>You break his gaze to slurp a drink of water from your handy bowl.
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>When you turn back, the whole gaggle collectively gathers their courage to walk up in front of you and the candy bowl.
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>They're all watching you.
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>You're waiting for the door to scream and watching them.
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>Time slows.
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>Something is wrong.
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>Something is very wrong.
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>Their eyes are on you, but you can see movement BEHIND them all.
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>Your heart stops as some terrible THING rises from the straw bales in the shadows.
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>A baleful evil wail peals across the neighborhood as the overalls and pumpkin thing leaps to its entirely-too-animate feet.
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>The children scream.
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>The stallion screams.
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>You scream.
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>The door screams.
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>The pumpkin head screams louder.
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>You're going to murder him.
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>You're going to murder your owner and go to the meat farms they send bad ponies that murder their owners to.
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>All of the children ran out to the street and all the way to the corner.
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>The stallion almost flung his rider off in his white-eyed panic.
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>That was kinda funny in retrospect.
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[spoiler]>Silly boy, acting like he's never been ridden before in this day and age.[/spoiler]
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>But you froze solid, certain you were about to die.
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>You were trapped in the cozy blanket and impenetrable cloth-with-a-head-hole draped across straw bales with nothing securing it down.
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>No escape possible!
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>Abandon all hope!
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>Then the pumpkin thing fell back against the bales again laughing its head off.
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>Literally, the head fell off while it laughed.
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>Obvious in hindsight, it was your owner the whole time.
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>You are a strong, proud, angry, pouty, sulky earth pony mare.
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>You will never forgive the indignity of his transgre--Ooh, candy!
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>Owner gives you a whole roll of tart sugar bits and one stuffy-head-go-away pill, along with a long sip of pulpy orange juice.
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>Okay, it WAS pretty funny.
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>In hindsight.
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>And you are kind of looking forwards to the next group of children.
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>And hey, if none of them stick around long enough to get candy, that means somepony will have to get rid of all the leftovers.
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>You're going to slobber all over the bowl so Owner knows it's yours now.
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>Well... maybe this isn't so bad.
by BadTouch