GREEN
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2852 15.55 KB 246
2852 15.55 KB 246
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Prompt:
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>Sanguine Stagnation
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>Likes to cut herself, lots of little scars across her forelegs
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>Very skinny
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>Tried to summon a succubus for sex but is an earth pony so it just made her apartment smell like sulfur for months
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>Likes to order creepy and "haunted" dolls from mail order catalogs
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>Believes in ghosts
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>Believes in skinwalkers
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>Schizoaffective, but not to the point where she's entirely dysfunctional, just mostly
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>Has tried to kill herself before but some sort of entity stopped her from going through with it, stating that she was needed for a ritual involving the end of the world. She's still unsure if this was real or a hallucination
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Story 1:
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>The little men in the wall brought you some things today, it's the highlight of your week when it happens
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>Your father says that your foodstuffs, toiletries [spoiler]and medication of course[/spoiler] are delivered by a grocer service, but you've seen them come out of the walls
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>In any case, the basket has a note on it
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>"Happy birthday my dearest Sanguine, I wish that I could share it with you but I'm afraid there has been a business emergency. Please enjoy this 12000 moon aged marelot, and please don't drink it alone"
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>Not gonna happen, sorry dad
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>Next time make it to your place for celebrations and you can discuss it
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>Abbadon... how old even are you now?
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>After it registers that this is a birthday package, your mood improves just a bit
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>You dug through the assorted processed hay products, dried flowers, soaps, and shampoos; discarding them in a pile beside you
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>Eventually, you reach the bottom where your prize awaits
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>Well, two prizes
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>There's the promised marelot, and an ornately packaged box
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>You grab it with eager hooves and unwrap it with the care one might unwrap a bag that contains a pastry
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>You recognize it immediately and look at it in wonder
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>"A.. Dybbuk box?"
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>Hm, so in essence the box was the present
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>Surely your father doesn't know what this actually is and just knows it's expensive, which of course it is
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>Nothing yiddish ever comes cheap, first lesson of business
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>It'd be dangerous to have around for certain if you had a roommate
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>Luckily you're well-educated in such things and know it isn't to be trifled with
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>You carefully set it up on the shelf next to some of your more expensive dolls that were claimed to be haunted
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>You keep the ones that can have interesting properties near you at night, all the ones on your shelves are little more than paperweights that guests find unsettling
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>You wonder if your father even really had business to attend to this year, or if he simply didn't wish to see your domicile or appearance
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>You were always expected to take over his business when he was gone
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>Promising grades throughout school, decent social life
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>Things turned for the...
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>Things started down the intended path for you when you became marked.
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>Acquired after a dare to spend the night in a haunted house was completed with zero fanfare
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>Your father...
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>You focus on the wine
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>It's getting late, might as well
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>It has calories in it after all, you've heard
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>You know you're supposed to get a certain amount of those per day, you usually don't
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>You uncork the wine with your teeth, you know with something fancy like this you're supposed to swish it around, sniff it, smell it, etc.
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>You just tilt it upwards and let gravity do the rest
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>You can only take a bit before coughing and sputtering a bit, you manage to avoid spilling too much of it on the carpet but what does avoid spillage from your mouth is deposited directly back into the bottle
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>Well, out the window goes any pretense of sharing it you suppose
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>You set it on the floor and go grab one of your softer dolls, the one with the plush skin over the porcelain
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>You look at her as you wait for the buzz to kick in
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"What's going to happen to me, Sunflower?"
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>"I think you're going to die."
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"That would be a happy birthday indeed."
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>You let out a giggle and hug her, about as hard as you dare lest you crack her skeleton
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>She's your favorite, after all
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>You set her down on the table and take another swig, maybe tonight really is the night it's all going to be over
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>It's almost poetic, a near perfect loop from birth to grave
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>You hum a little tune and retrieve your blades while you're still sober enough to
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>You set them out on the table before Sunflower and then take another generous swig
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"What's it they say in school? 'Across the stream for repaired seam, down the river family quivers?'"
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>"That'd be about right"
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>She has the cutest voice, almost like a school age filly
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"Alright, let me just finish this and then I'll start"
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>You're feeling a bit queasy already, but the alcohol doesn't scare you
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>You've never liked being alive much anyways, and considering your significant mental trauma as long as you give yourself a death in anguish there's a good chance you'll return as a vengeful spirit
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>Though you don't particularly intend to avenge anything, just have a comfortable afterlife free of judgement and pain
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>But...
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>For that to work, a great deal of pain is ironically first in order
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>You retrieve the serrated knife from your kit
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>You've used it once, when you were doing wood-burning and needed to shave off a bit of a plank to work on
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>Taking it in your mouth, you set down a forehoof on the dark red translucent table that Sunflower is sitting on
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"I'm sorry my friend, but I'm afraid you're in the splash zone."
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>You drive the leading edge of the serration in, dig in with as many teeth as you can muster, and pull directly along what you believe is a vein or artery
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>The blood begins to immediately gush, soaking you and your surroundings with warmth
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>You know you're going to be getting colder soon, something about thermodynamics...
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>You stare at the fountain for what must be a good minute before you remember that you can get this over with quicker if you also drive it in the other forehoof
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>So you take the knife between your teeth once more and split it open like a baked potato, all the way down to the bone almost
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"That's the spice"
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>Sunflower isn't there
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>You look behind you to see that she's scaling your shelves
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>You...
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>You haven't seen her move before
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>Could be the cut
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>Could be the booze
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>Could be the fact that you flush your meds down the toilet half the time
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>She reaches the Dybbuk box
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"Eh?"
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>Well, worst it can do is give you a painful death
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>You lay back and watch the two tumble to earth, Sunflower's fragile skeleton shattering on impact
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>Oh...
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>You liked her, you really did. Such a pretty white mane and dark blue eyes
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>That sucks
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>The box has been opened and is letting out a hissing sound
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>"Sanguine."
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"That's only half the name, you forgot the last bit"
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>"That isn't your true name, only your birth name."
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"Funny they named me that with such high hopes, huh?"
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>"Your family matters little in this. It is only you and the great forces from beyond. You are not yet permitted to die."
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>You laugh, the ridiculousness of the situation is catching up to you
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"What are you going to do? Get me a blood transfusion and a team of medics? As a jewish ghost?"
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>"I was trapped here by a conniving... the details are not important. I am not what you think I am, and am far more powerful."
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"Prove it, then. I've seen a lot of spirits and you're mostly all full of it, the one that knew how to trip breakers was the last one that freaked me out a bit"
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>"Very well. We will see each other again soon, Sanguine Stagnation. You will help me bring this world to its knees."
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>You can't even put your hoof on what a knee is, maybe you should've paid more attention in biology
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>You blink
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>It's morning
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>The wine bottle is full again, but your box is still unpacked
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>You find Sunflower in her spot
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>So it was all a dream, then.
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>Lame.
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>You start making some breakfast, eggs and a bowl of oats with brown sugar
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>You don't think you can stomach another real attempt for a while, you'll do a few small cuts for release tonight before bed to make things feel a bit more bearable
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>You carry your dishes into the living space and nearly drop them
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>The Dybbuk box is on the floor in the same spot it was in the dream
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>and its doors are wide open
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Story 2:
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>You've placed a bunch of wards around the apartment, hopefully it's enough
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>You're still not sure if what you saw was real
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>The box was closed immediately after you observed it open, even though you're well aware it would serve no purpose
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>But it induces slightly less severe anxious feelings to look upon it resealed than otherwise
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>You let out a deep sigh and put down one of your favorite blades, a little royal guard utility knife, its blade coated in fresh wet life
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>You habitually produce a small bandage and apply it with a small amount of healing salve
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>You always feel a little bit clearer after you cut, like you aren't an alien dropped on this plane with no home or connections
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>You wipe the knife on your coat from edge to spine, leaving your coat essentially indistinguishable from before but cleaning the implement almost entirely of any sort of act
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>You... need to go do something
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>You pause and think on it
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>Of course
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>If you venture into the forests and collect some witchhazel, you'll be able to strengthen your wards and feel safer
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>There's a pop-up tent in the closet, a relic from your university days out in Canterlot
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>Back when you were trying so hard to be normal, though you're a mess it's still comfortable to not have to pretend
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>It's already getting late, but that doesn't stop you from retrieving the pack and stuffing the tent, fly, and poles into it
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>You pack raw hay, no sense in being fancy and you're already disgusting in the mirror
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>Small pockets of fat hang off of your clean bones, you wish you could be perfect
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>Skinny just like the mares in the magazines that model those pretty swimsuits
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>You get out of breath quickly, after all it's been about a day since you've had a meal
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>But you push on, you know a trail where you can find witchhazel
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>The trail winds deep into the woods northwest of Ponyville, your "home"
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>Large mountains poke out through the various clearings and meadows you're afforded views of as you go, you manage to just catch a glimpse of Celestia's grace peaking over a shear mountaintop before vanishing completely to Luna's excellence
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>There's love and appreciation for both of them in you, your duotone mane and eyes both in part sunlit yellow, representing the sun
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>and the other, more significant part of your mane in violet-
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>There's a crunch behind you
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>You stop and turn your head around
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>There's a young bear behind you, watching you with dubious eyes
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>You notice that one of its legs was caught in a trap, it somehow managed to pry it free but there's matted fur and plenty of gore there
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>You laugh internally
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>A unicorn could pick up a stick and swat it away
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>A pegasus could fly out of its reach
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>And a physically fit earth mare could easily outrun it
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>But you...
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>Don't want to be held down and eaten alive by a wounded scavenger
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>You bolt, following the path of the trail
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>Initially you make good progress, but your muscles are underdeveloped and you've eaten almost nothing today, so fairly soon you're relying on pure adrenaline to keep up the pace
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>A quick glance back confirms your efforts are not misguided, the bear is chasing you, and its expression is now clear
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>Hunger, somehow you didn't notice it before but it's almost as thin as you are
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>The difference is that there are still coils of muscle over its bones
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>You're indifferent to death of course, but this is such an unpleasant fate that you carry on, pushing yourself to your absolute limit
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>Rivulets of sweat run down you even in the cold winter night air
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>It's gaining on you
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>Shit, this isn't going to work
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>You clumsily fiddle with your pack, you brought a small pocket knife for cutting, as you always do when you're forced to go somewhere
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>If it doesn't work, oh well
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>You scream loudly and stop before charging the thing with the knife in your mouth
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>It seems bewildered for a second, not expecting prey to run right at it
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>What is prey, stupid?
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>Maybe.
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>You use the moment of shock to drive the knife into its eye
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>It swats at you, cutting your side down to the pelvis but luckily avoiding anything important
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>It's not that deep for you from skin to bone anyways
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>You don't move due to shock
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>It apparently takes this as an intimidation tactic, because it scampers off into the underbrush
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>Fuck, that was your favorite knife...
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>Oh, right, you're bleeding
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>Hopefully he won't come back for you now
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>You sit down to rest for a second and laugh aloud at the irony of the situation
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>Right before you is a generous shrub of witchhazel
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>You planned on having the knife to remove what you needed from it, you feel a bit bad just crunching off bits of it with your teeth but you do need this if you're to continue living with the spirit from that box
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>You're feeling a bit light-headed, but you manage to get just enough
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>Can you make it back to Ponyville?
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>Guess it's time to find out
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>You're careful now, checking your surroundings for predators as blood slowly drips down onto the ground as you go
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>If you could walk on two legs this wouldn't be such a problem
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>But you like being like this, if it kills you
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>You were glad to be born a pony, even if it was terrible
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>Your vision is getting spotty
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>You feel like you're still so far
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>You're fading in and out
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>Meadow
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>Trail
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>Stream
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>Meadow
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>Rock outcropping
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>Hunter's outpost
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>Empty
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>Trail
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>Trailhead
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>You can't physically will yourself to move anymore, this is where you die
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>There can't be much blood left in you, you're so lightheaded but there's no sharp pain
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>Just a heavy, dull throbbing in your side
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>You almost sigh in relief
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>This is the kind of death you can get behind
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>No teeth, no mauling
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>Just a pleasant view of nature bathed in moonlight while the soil beneath you slowly turns red
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>Oh yeah, you should probably start putting some compression on that now just in case somepony comes
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>You try, but you can't will your closest forehoof well enough to do so
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>What a life
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>Yeah, you know it now
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>Why is it that you only don't have trouble sleeping
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>When you're drunk or dying?
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' ' '
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>Muffled screams and words perforate your dreams
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>A mare's voice, panicked and screaming
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>Picked up
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>Fresh air on your face
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>Another mare, slightly more composed but still panicked
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>Cold
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' ' '
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>"Can I stay here with her until she wakes up?"
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"Are you family?"
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>"No, but I'm not sure she has any"
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>"After tonight you'll need to obey visitation hours. No exceptions"
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"Thank you"
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>The door closes, your head pounds like you've got one hell of a hangover
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>You slowly open up your eyes
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>A white pegasus is in front of you, reading a book
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>Golden mane
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>She's Heavenly, from that old book with the serpent and the bleeding rock
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>The title is...
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>Your eyes can't focus well enough to make it out, and then you're out again
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>When you wake up, she's gone and it's just you alone
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>Three full blood transfusion bags lie empty on the table before you
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>You're hooked up, one forehoof to an IV drip and another to something else
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>Probably a painkiller
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>You hope the nutrient drip doesn't mess up your diet, cheat days are for losers
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>A nurse walks in and is startled to see you awake
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>You stare at her and just kind of nods
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>"I'm supposed to brief you on what happened, you were saved by-"
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"An angel."
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>"No, her name is Shuttering Heights. She's very worried about you and she'll likely be back in a few hours as soon as visitations open"
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>You look down at your hooves
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>"You're Sanguine, aren't you? The daughter of Major?"
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"Y-yeah..."
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>"He's coming to see you later"
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>Your stomach drops through the floor
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>First the angel, and now something even less likely
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>Your father
by SinewSkyline