Biochaotic [Chapter 3]

>A subtle clamoring rouses your brain from the deep reaches of rest that it so desires.
>With the fuzziness of sleep still lingering over your mind, your eyes slowly drift open to allow the brightness of your surroundings to creep in.
>Amber rays of light gently filter through the arched windows of the living room you find yourself in.
>While rather unremarkable, the room itself can only be described as 'inviting'.
>Every wall is warmly decorated with a pleasant shade of brown that reminds you of the bark of trees, as well as scattered picture frames filled with various figures that your vision is still too blurry to definitely discern.
>From the ceiling, which consists of fine wood, hang a few birdhouses of varying styles, and even fewer bird cages scattered about in a similar fashion.
>A number of mouse holes pierce the baseboard of the room, leading to the indiscernible darkness of the space between the walls.
>The floorboards are wooden; stained a vibrant hue of jade that resembles the color of spring itself.
>A few colorful rugs decorate the floor where it might otherwise be considered too blandly decorated or empty.
>The couch you’re lying on is only one of the many pieces of furniture that can be found along the borders of the room.
>There is a small table sat next to you, and immediately beyond that a small armchair.
>On the wall, directly beside you is a widow, though it’s too high up for you to see anything other than the purples and oranges of the shifting sky above.
>Whether the sun is setting or rising, you can’t be sure.
>On an adjacent wall is a small stone fireplace along with a bookshelf and a window with old-timey wooden shutters that steadily creak from the scent of fresh forest gently wafting in through the opening, giving the room a very lively feeling, even though you’re the only one here.
>The far wall’s window assists in that aspect in the exact same way, as well as giving you a view of a somewhat far-off town, barely visible from this distance.
>It also has a door that allows a small amount of light to leak through its cracks.
>You can only assume it's a front door.
>The adjacent wall opposite of the last also has a doorway -- albeit, with no door -- but in addition it also has a staircase with a built-in bookshelf in its side.
>There is also other furniture strewn about, though most of it is ordinary and none of it particularly stands out to you in any meaningful way.
>Altogether, the abode is mostly ordinary, though 'ordinary' is a relative word.
>As humble as the space may be, even this is far more than you could ever hope to afford for yourself back on Tetra.
>You remain deathly still as your gaze traces the edges of the room, the only movement from your body coming from your ears, which are perked up attentively.
>...
>......
>.........
>Strange…
>You've been conscious for a solid couple of minutes now, and you haven't had anything blow up in your face.
>No transforming into random inanimate objects.
>No obnoxious chimeras to spoil the silence.
>You can hear some shuffling sounds and humming from the adjacent open doorway, though you wouldn't dare say it detracts from the atmosphere.
>The sounds of hundreds of thousands of people traveling from here to there, hurling indecencies at one another, delaying the inevitable; the unintelligible droning of the masses.
>A horrid auditory pollution you might even rank above that cancerous smog that plagued those streets day in and day out.
>But this…
>The sound of a single soul.
>One going placidly about their day in their own home, undisturbed by the complexities of society that might otherwise weigh them down.
>There’s something about it that’s soothing…
>...
>It’s quite amazing that the subtlest of sounds, on such an otherwise quiet day, could seem louder than the prattling of a million people.
>And even then, it only adds to the serenity of such a temperate atmosphere.
>A deep breath and a sigh force you to loosen your posture and ease your head back down onto the pillow below you on the couch.
>As nice as the rest you got was, you’re still far too energy deprived to do much of anything in your current state.
>Though, at this rather comfortable juncture, you’re not sure you have any real reason to complain…
>You just let your gaze wander before settling on staring at your own hoof resting in front of your face.
>Such a strange color for fur to be…
>Green…
>Though, you suppose it’s not the worst color from a camouflage perspective.
>The less knowledgeable might call it a vomit green, but it's much closer to an olive green than anything else.
>...
>You lift your head to glance around the room once more, this time looking for something in particular.
>And luckily for you, you find it rather quickly.
>A mirror, positioned right next to the built-in bookcase, in the corner.
>Even more fortunately, it’s pointing directly at you, allowing you to peer into your own eyes.
>A set of shimmering, crimson ovals stand out amongst the sea of green, obscured somewhat by long, jet black bangs that hang messily from your head.
>Your mane is, in fact, so long that you can use your hoof to pull it around your head and view it directly.
>Of course, it’s nowhere near as long as that mare’s mane, but it is longer than you’re used to.
>Speaking of…
>It sounds like whatever she was doing in the adjacent room has been wrapped up, on account of the shuffling and quiet clamoring coming to a satisfying rest.
>The clip-clop of hooves on wood resounds through the house as the yellow mare rounds the corner of the doorway.
>On her back is a platter or tray of some sort, delicately balancing in its place with the assistance of her wings as she makes her way to you.
>It’s just high enough for whatever is on it to be obscured from your view.
>She quickly takes notice that you're awake and meets your glare with a warm smile.
>"You're awake! That's great, because I just finished getting everything ready."
>As she reaches the couch, she tilts her body to the side, elegantly sliding the tray down her wing and immediately in front of you on the couch.
>The platter is decorated with quite the assortment of food items.
>There's some sandwiches, a handful of sliced vegetables and fruits, a mini platter of crackers with slices of cheese on them, as well as a teapot with a pair of matching cups to go along with it.
>"I know it's not a lot, but it should be enough to get you back up on your hooves again."
>...
>You stare at the platter, simply in awe of its glory.
>When you had heard talk of food, you imagined some bread and water.
>This, however, is a step above.
>While the skepticism towards this mare is still present, that feeling is left completely in the dust by the overwhelming hunger that overcomes you at the sight of such a glorious banquet.
>You instinctively reach out with a hoof to grab a sandwich, as if that would actually-
>Holy shit, it worked!
>You're somehow securely holding a sandwich in your hoof.
>What kind of physics defying bullshit is this?
>You run diagnostics specifically on that area just to sate your curiosity.
>The answer is… far from what you expect…
>To sum it up, it's very similar to how geckos stick to things.
>Though, while those on gecko's feet are soft pads, these are hardened keratin plates.
>The science behind how something so ridiculous ever evolved into a species baffles you beyond caring.
>The only note you can be bothered to make on the discovery is the obvious implication of possibly having the ability to walk on walls.
>Further testing on such a thing will be required in the future…
>Anyways, now that you've been sitting here holding a sandwich and just admiring it in silence for a couple minutes like a fucking psychopath, you should probably stop listening to your brain and listen to your stomach…
>You munch down on the sandwich currently in hand (or hoof, or whatever), carefully taking in the variety of different flavors that emerge from the singular bite alone.
>Freshness from the various leaves carefully folded amongst each other.
>Savoriness within the meld of cheeses between the delectable sourdough.
>A pleasant bitterness lended by the radishes rounds out the entire thing by balancing out any otherwise overpowering flavors offered by the other components.
>It’s…
>Soooooooo good…
>You almost want to cry…
>But you won’t…
>You’re a man!
>...Well, a colt at least…
>Either way, you’re sure that you’re not supposed to cry over a sandwich.
>You do, however, settle on scarfing down the rest of the sandwich before moving on to the next one.
>As you lay waste to the tray of delicacies before you, Fluttershy takes a seat on the opposite side of the couch, carefully pouring herself a cup of tea once she is comfortably situated.
>She takes a sip, admiring the steam billowing from her cup being lightly pushed to and fro by the gentle breeze flowing through her abode.
>She seems to suddenly snap out of her absentmindedness, looking towards you.
>”Oh! I’m sorry. I don’t think I ever introduced myself. My name’s Fluttershy!”
>She smiles brightly at you as she extends a hoof in your direction.
>”What’s your name?”
>At this point you’ve absolutely destroyed three and a half sandwiches, and it is possible that any and all inhibitions of yours are being eradicated along with your hunger.
>Without a second thought you blurt out a response.
“Flux.”
>You do the only thing you think would be appropriate and bump her extended hoof with yours.
>Luckily enough, that seems to have been a well estimated guess, based on her positive reception.
>It’s not like that matters to you though.
>You’re already back to stuffing your face, albeit this time with crackers and cheese.
>She lets out a small giggle at the sight of you practically vacuuming food into your mouth.
>”You must've been really hungry."
>You swallow possibly 12 crackers with cheddar on them all at once before speaking.
"Yeah, I haven't had anything for a couple days now."
>Fluttershy giggles once more, waving a hoof as she speaks.
>"Well, I suppose that would explain… wait…"
>Something seems to slowly dawn on her before it finally clicks.
>"A couple days!?"
>She springs into the air and hovers in place, nearly spilling her cup of tea in the process.
>For as surprised as she is, her voice is still far softer than anyone you've ever met before.
>That being said, the sudden, albeit mild, jump in volume does somewhat snap you out of your gluttonous stupor.
>"Were you in the Everfree all that time?"
>The Everfree…
>Must be the name of the forest.
"No, I was in a city before that."
>"A city? Which one?"
>Fuck, now you're being careless.
>This mare is also asking far too many questions for your liking.
>Get your shit together, Flux.
>You quickly finish up what food is left in your grasp, freeing yourself entirely of its unyielding hold on your mind.
>With your faculties now reigned back under your control, you focus on the situation at hand -- or hoof or what the fuck ever.
“I don’t remember. It’s not important anyways.”
>You take note of the amber stream of sunlight fading from the windows around you.
>Perfect!
“It’s getting late. I should get going.”
>You nonchalantly hop to the wooden floor below, now invigorated by the satisfaction of a rather hearty meal.
>Slowly, you meander your way towards what you believe is the exit.
>”Wait! Where will you go?”
>Without breaking stride, you respond.
“Wherever I need to.”
>The phrase rings more true to your experiences than you wish it did.
>Suddenly, the mare drops in front of you from above, leaning her head down to your level to meet your gaze.
>”Are you sure? I have an extra room that you can use! You could at least stay until it’s light out. It wouldn’t be any trouble.”
>The look on her face…
>It’s a pleading type of expression.
>Is she…
>Is she really concerned?
>...
>No, don’t be stupid Flux.
>This is what gets you hurt every time.
>Well not this time.
>The thought fills you with resentment for this mare and her charade.
>You respond rather sternly.
“No, I’ll be just fine on my own.”
>As you always have been.
>You weave your way around the mare and continue along your path.
>Only a moment of peaceful walking passes before she runs up in front of you once again, this time with the half-finished platter of food balanced on one hoof.
>”There’s still some food left. Why not stay and finish it before you go?”
>There’s that desperate smile again.
>One meant to hopefully convince and placate.
>All it does for you, however, is fuel your rage at the attempt.
“I’m fine.”
>Your voice edges on malice this time.
>Once more you move around her, towards the door.
>Why be so incessant with her pleas at this point?
>You’re giving off every social cue that your mind is made up at this point.
>You’re almost at the door when you hear the platter rather haphazardly hit the floor as the mare suddenly appears immediately between you and the door.
>”W-well, before you go, how about I wrap up those scra-”
>The mare falls quiet mid-sentence.
>...
>The blanket of silence between the two of you is deafening
>Your minor wounds from earlier have no doubt healed on their own by now.
>Far faster than they should.
>You’re certain she must know that as well…
>Your head hangs somewhat, your mane blocking her face from your view.
>You don’t have the courage to see what she may be thinking.
>Your heart starts to race and your stomach churns.
>You need to leave.
>You edge your way beside her.
“I said I'm fine.”
>Your voice barely amounts to a whisper, hoping to simply slip by undetected at this point.
>”But, didn’t you-”
>Both your current circumstance and her insistence to go on with her act finally get to you.
>You can’t take it anymore.
“I SAID I’M FINE!!!”
>You dash past her and barge your way through the door, sprinting into the now-cool night.
>Your head is spinning.
>Your stomach wishes to relieve you of your meal.
>A path stretches over the distant hills toward the town ahead.
>You don’t follow it though.
>You veer off toward some lonely plain.
>That’s what you need.
>You need to be alone.
>You run for maybe minutes, though to you it might as well have been an eternity.
>Right about now, you’re meager reserves of energy once again deplete.
>This time, however, you don’t have the will to push forward.
>You simply collapse into the dewy grass, sliding slightly across its sleek surface.
>You come to a rest on your side.
>You don’t even bother to lift your head or take in your surroundings.
>You’re very familiar with your current situation.
>In a ditch.
>Driven away.
>Being hunted.
>Alone…
>The only way you’ve ever lived.
>You pull your legs in towards your chest.
>It usually helps you calm down.
>But this time, it does little to soothe you.
>Tears inevitably trickle down your face as the errant chill of a gentle breeze passes over you.
>Twenty-something years of this…
>Each day you have to convince yourself it’s gonna get better, but it never does.
>Each day, you’re forced to look at someone else who’s figured things out.
>Someone else who knows where they’ll sleep that night.
>Someone else who knows what they’ll eat the next day.
>Someone else who’s happy…
>Shallow breaths are all you can manage at the moment.
>...
>And that mare…
>Her face flashes through your mind.
>That pleading face…
>It can’t have been real.
>You refuse to believe it.
>But the feeling in your chest…
>It says otherwise.
>You don’t even know what to think anymore.
>The stars of the night look like dull blobs through your tear-clouded vision.
>If anyone were around to care, you’d be considered inconsolable at the moment…
>But that’s not something you’d ever have to worry about…
>Who would ever care?
>If you…
>...
>Such ideas have crossed your mind previously.
>You’ve always snuffed them out.
>But maybe this time…
>...
>Maybe it’s time…
>You barely have the control to focus your energy at the moment, but struggle through your grief.
>You put a hoof on your chest and feel around.
>There it is.
>If you could see it with your eyes, it would be a perfectly smooth metal sphere.
>Inside of it: a small amount of energy.
>If you remove that energy…
>...
>You prepare yourself.
>Deep breath in…
>Long breath out…
>...
>Maybe you’ll find your happiness in rest.
>3…
>2…
>1-
>Just before you commit to the act, you feel something soft drape itself over you, providing a shelter of warmth against the frigid night air.
>Your concentration is thrown off by the touch.
>Something then shifts itself up next to you, pressing itself against your back.
>It too is soft and extremely warm.
>The energy that then comes into contact with your own is very familiar.
>The sound of a breeze.
>The smell of flowers.
>The feeling of ease.
>”Shh. It’s alright.”
>That gentle voice…
>You continue to sob; for how long, you’re not sure.
>Though, however long it is…
>The energy at your side never leaves.
>It’s patient and soothing.
>The feeling washes over you and through you.
>”Everything’s gonna be okay.”
>...
>Why…
>With some effort, you manage to voice your thought through the crying spasms currently overtaking your lungs.
“W-why… a-are y-y-you here?”
>There is no hesitance in the voice as it responds.
>”Because I saw somepony in need, and I wasn’t going to let him sleep in the cold by himself.”
>A long silence permeated only by your whimpers and the night breeze fills the air.
>...
“I-I-I d-don’t believe y-you…”
>You can’t.
>”You don’t have to believe me. That’s fine. I’ll still be right here either way.”
>...
>You somehow begin crying even harder than before.
>Even if you wanted to say more, it would be impossible for you at the moment.
>You roll over onto your other side and bury your face into the mare’s pristinely soft coat, soiling it with your tears.
>You simply embrace both the warmth of her wing covering you and her energy embracing you.
>You feel her crane her neck around and rest her own head on top of yours.
>You simply stay like that.
>You don’t know for how long.
>Maybe minutes…
>Maybe hours…
>But this mare-
>But Fluttershy stays with you all the while.
>Eventually the proverbial ball does, in fact, stop rolling.
>You settle yourself into sparse sniffling and wiping your eyes slightly.
>Not only your energy reserves, but YOU are now totally exhausted.
>Nothing left to give physically or emotionally.
>You simply rest yourself into the side of Fluttershy, listening to her rhythmic breathing.
>In…
>And out…
>...
>...in…
>...
>...and out…
>...
>The last thing you hear is a distant rumbling…
>...
>......
>.........
>As your mind slips away from the darkness of sleep, you wipe the crustiness out of your eyes.
>Your surroundings are comfortably dark for having just woken up.
>You’ve always hated bright mornings.
>It’s a much better start to the day when the sun isn’t in your fucking face.
>Speaking of which, it’s strange that it’s so dark.
>Is it still night or something?
>Looking about reveals a few cracks in the veil of darkness covering you, letting a small amount of hazy light reach you.
>Wait…
>You reach a hoof out to your side and come in contact with a fluffy surface.
>She’s still here?
>You gently wiggle your way out from underneath her wing, squinting at the misty morning glow surrounding you.
>Sure enough, before you lays Fluttershy, your movement having done nothing to rouse her from her sleep.
>She looks worse for wear.
>Her mane and coat are messy and sleek, as if she was sprayed down with a fire hose.
>The ground beneath you is also quite moist and the smell of petrichor permeates the thick morning air.
>Then you think about the thunderous sound from last night.
>Hold on…
>Did she stay out in a fucking rainstorm over night?
>Why?
>You can't understand until something strikes you as odd.
>Your side and stomach and part of your mane are fairly damp from being on the ground, but otherwise you're almost perfectly dry in the midst of this now-rather-swampy plain.
>Did she stay out here…
>To keep you dry?
>Why would she do that?
>...
>Wait, holy shit!
>Nevermind that, it’s still cold out here and she’s fucking drenched!
>She must be freezing!
>You quickly squirm your way back under her wing and to her side once more.
>You lie as close as you can to her, attempting to have as much contact between her body and yours as possible.
>Indeed, underneath her fur, she’s as cold as a stone.
>Once you’re nestled as closely into her side as you can manage, you focus, willing your body’s core temperature to rise.
>Slowly but surely, you begin producing a large excess of heat, so much so that it radiates from you.
>You bury your head into her neck to assist with warming her faster.
>As your body temperature eventually caps out, you simply focus on your breathing, attempting to vent heat out from yourself by whatever means you can.
>You force your heart to work double time in order to meet the demanding needs of the rest of your body under such heat.
>It’s difficult, and uses up a significant amount of energy, but you manage all the same.
>Now, all there is to do is wait.
>Minutes pass by, and your current situation comes into question.
>Should you just go?
>...
>Well, even though you’re critically overheating at the moment, and you’re pretty sure she would be fine without you at this point, you don’t really feel the need to leave.
>Or even to cool yourself down as a matter of fact.
>It’s not because you feel indebted to her, even though you do.
>It’s stranger than that.
>Basking in her energy-
>No.
>Just simply being here next to her…
>It makes you feel…
>Safe.
>And if you were to leave now, you fear that feeling might never return.
>But even beyond that, for some reason you can’t quite explain, you simply want to stay.
>You can’t leave.
>You won’t.
>For as long as she was there for you…
>You’ll be here for her.
>And as long as you’re here, you at least owe her the warmth you denied her last night.
>With nothing more to do until she wakes up, you just focus on your breathing and keeping her warm.