Uh... Huh...
I don’t know how long I slept for. All I know was that I woke up, aching slightly and feeling miserable. I’d woken up a few times already, but then gone back to sleep. Finally, though, I had to get out of bed so I could use the toilet.
Gar-kun, I thought you’d like to know... Twillie came down and knocked a few times. I didn’t wanna wake you because I felt you needed the rest - your brain chemistry was really messed up.
Thanks Katherine, I replied with a tired sigh. How long was I out for?
You slept for a whoooooole fifteen hours.
I grimaced sharply at that. That was a new personal best for me, not counting the few times in my life I’d been really sick.
Ugh, it sure feels like it. Local time?
It’s 4:13 in the morning. The sun’s not gonna come up for a while.
I had to admit, I did feel somewhat better. Just... tired. Lethargic.
But I knew I had to start moving around, so with great reluctance I began to haul myself out of my bed, causing the frame to creak as I clambered down.
At the very least, I didn’t feel too sore. Instead, I felt clumsy, as though my body was still asleep. I trudged to the bathroom turned on the faucets, filling the deep basin of my pedestal sink, and then scooping the lukewarm water up into my face. I looked into the mirror. My face with its renewed youth looked back at me, facial hair and all.
It was time for a change, I decided then and there.
First I grabbed my beard trimmer and set about cutting all the hair on my face down to the skin, which didn’t take long. Then came the razor - normally only used to keep the rest of my face clear, I now lathered my face and went to work, leaving my skin shorn clean.
This task finished, I looked once more in the mirror thoughtfully. My fresh face framed by long, dark hair stared back at me, and I found it somewhat wanting. But I know what was wrong.
I combed my hair, dampened it, then combed it out again before going for the scissors. I started by trimming the long strands down to my neck and then went from there, carefully shortening each section a little bit at a time.
I had never done this before, but with the care I was taking it was not an impossible task. I worked in layers, keeping them parallel to the floor, working them down until I had a long, layered and feathered crown that covered the tops of my ears. It had a natural look to it as it tapered down to a shag carpet at the base of my head.
I then cleaned up the entire mess I had made, and then took a shower to get rid of the remaining loose hairs and wash away accumulated dry sweat and body soil. I then came out and looked at myself in the mirror one last time.
I felt different. Almost like a whole new person. I looked young, but hard. Constant activity and training had left their marks on my body - muscles rippled under a healthy layer of skin - I was nowhere near having the cellophane-skin look of a body builder. I knew better than that. Instead, the definition of my muscles was blunted by a layer of fat. And yet I looked every bit like the triathlete I had aimed to be in the past.
I had the look of someone with a potent balance of speed and strength. But most of all, the hard look in my eyes and the sharp features of my narrow face combined with the rest of my physique gave me an air of intimidation - I looked dangerous.
Oddly satisfied, I went to get dressed.
##
I spent the next few days hammering down the basics of the local language with Twilight, though this was mostly done in the confines of my C-Space where I didn’t feel quite as cramped. Besides, the austere setting of my space helped blunt the pangs of home that Twilight’s tree induced. Even if sometimes I felt like I was about to walk out into Tenchi’s home every time I went to the door.
It was hard the first few times, seeing only the bleak basement that Twilight kept instead of the bright and airy rafters where Ryoko would nap.
With Katherine’s help, I soon had a solid enough grasp of the Equestrian Language that Twilight felt comfortable enough to send me off to see the Princess with only Spike as an escort - Twilight herself being too occupied with local affairs to come with us.
Of course, I didn’t think that was a good idea, but the fillie was insistent... in the same sort of way that only an absent-minded researcher can be.
Thus, Spike glowered at me suspiciously from the far end of the private car on the train that the Princess had arranged. Unicorn guards stood at the doors on either end. For my protection, I had been assured.
And I believed them. I was an item of curiosity amongst the ponies, in both a good and a bad way. Ponies had been calling on poor Twilight for everything from photo ops to hair and tissue samples. There was even a mint-colored one that wanted to know everything possible about my hands.
(The ones being of pure academic interest, I authorized Twilight to disseminate all kinds of anatomical and medical information on humans that Washu-chan had packed into my library, just in case. Of course, they still had to be translated, but Twilight was also giving out primers.)
For my part, I simply tried to ignore Spike by trying to read a copy of the Ponyville gazette for practice.
“How can you be so calm?” snapped the little dragon suddenly. “You know that the Princess is just gonna banish you to the moon.”
The guard-ponies all snorted - whether in irritation or amusement, I wasn’t sure. For my part, I simply raised an eyebrow at the dragonet.
“How you is be knowing this?” I asked in my broken Equestrian - I swear I must have sounded like their equivalent to the stereotypical Russian-speaking-bad-English.
“Why!? Because you made Twilight cry, and she’s the Princess’s favorite student!”
I simply shrugged. “Good. If on moon, maybe get peace and quiet. Sleep away sad feelings is being difficult when all pony is wanting to be knowing things.”
“Big deal!” huffed Spike.
“You is thinking this not being small matter?” I asked caustically as I held up the copy of the Gazette that I was reading. On the front page was a candid photo of me making arrangements to pay for my stay at the hospital while a headline screamed luridly over the top, “IT LIVES!!!”
While these ponies can be affable folk, you have to get through a layer of sensationalism about a mile thick to get there. Good thing it was about as substantial as as cotton candy - all fluff and hot air.
Spike sneered contemptuously and decided to leave me to my own devices. As powerless as I felt at the time, that was fine by me.
##
By the time we had arrived at Canterlot, the capitol that hung off the mountain cliffs, the sun was long-gone from the horizon and the moon hung large and picturesquely in the night sky. I admired it for a time before we pulled into the station - at the detail that stood out so sharply since the air was so clear and the moon was so close.
Even though it was late, a crowd of press ponies awaited. Pegasi toting folding cameras with their signature accordion bellows flitted around, their flashes igniting in brief, sun-bright starbursts as they lined up and snapped pictures. Unicorns and Earthponies contented themselves by getting as close to the roped-off path to the carriage that waited for me with heavily curtained windows. They shouted questions at me that I didn’t really understand too well.
Spike apparently tried to stop so he could spin some yarn or other for the press, but a guard simply interposed himself between Spike and the press, huffing sharply as he gave the little dragon a meaningful look.
Spike got the message and despite his irritation, accompanied me to the carriage.
Who’s escorting who here? I wondered to myself wryly.
The capitol was not a big city, at least as I am used to them, and the streets were relatively empty once all the gawkers and rubberneckers were cleared away. Within fifteen minutes, I was already disembarking to the pleasantly quiet castle-keep, isolated from the ruckus of about a hundred-strong crowd of pressponies that had followed us, but were denied access to the keep.
I sighed in relief and the guards seem to echo my sentiment as they politely guided Spike and I into the castle-proper.
The interior was about what you’d expect - white marble and sandstone, all polished until it gleamed, and tapestries and stained glass windows all in a riot of colors that put Peter Faberge to shame.
Now this here, folks, was a Royal Palace.
Soon I was being walked through a long passage lined on both sides with stained glass windows, all of them seeming to tell one story or another. I briefly recognized the one that showed the Elements of Harmony healing Nightmare Moon and restoring her back into Princess Luna.
Another pair of large doors opened, and I entered a cavernous and airy throne room. At the far end, she sat in her throne, glowing radiantly as was her divine right.
Princes Celestia.
I don’t know how long I slept for. All I know was that I woke up, aching slightly and feeling miserable. I’d woken up a few times already, but then gone back to sleep. Finally, though, I had to get out of bed so I could use the toilet.
Gar-kun, I thought you’d like to know... Twillie came down and knocked a few times. I didn’t wanna wake you because I felt you needed the rest - your brain chemistry was really messed up.
Thanks Katherine, I replied with a tired sigh. How long was I out for?
You slept for a whoooooole fifteen hours.
I grimaced sharply at that. That was a new personal best for me, not counting the few times in my life I’d been really sick.
Ugh, it sure feels like it. Local time?
It’s 4:13 in the morning. The sun’s not gonna come up for a while.
I had to admit, I did feel somewhat better. Just... tired. Lethargic.
But I knew I had to start moving around, so with great reluctance I began to haul myself out of my bed, causing the frame to creak as I clambered down.
At the very least, I didn’t feel too sore. Instead, I felt clumsy, as though my body was still asleep. I trudged to the bathroom turned on the faucets, filling the deep basin of my pedestal sink, and then scooping the lukewarm water up into my face. I looked into the mirror. My face with its renewed youth looked back at me, facial hair and all.
It was time for a change, I decided then and there.
First I grabbed my beard trimmer and set about cutting all the hair on my face down to the skin, which didn’t take long. Then came the razor - normally only used to keep the rest of my face clear, I now lathered my face and went to work, leaving my skin shorn clean.
This task finished, I looked once more in the mirror thoughtfully. My fresh face framed by long, dark hair stared back at me, and I found it somewhat wanting. But I know what was wrong.
I combed my hair, dampened it, then combed it out again before going for the scissors. I started by trimming the long strands down to my neck and then went from there, carefully shortening each section a little bit at a time.
I had never done this before, but with the care I was taking it was not an impossible task. I worked in layers, keeping them parallel to the floor, working them down until I had a long, layered and feathered crown that covered the tops of my ears. It had a natural look to it as it tapered down to a shag carpet at the base of my head.
I then cleaned up the entire mess I had made, and then took a shower to get rid of the remaining loose hairs and wash away accumulated dry sweat and body soil. I then came out and looked at myself in the mirror one last time.
I felt different. Almost like a whole new person. I looked young, but hard. Constant activity and training had left their marks on my body - muscles rippled under a healthy layer of skin - I was nowhere near having the cellophane-skin look of a body builder. I knew better than that. Instead, the definition of my muscles was blunted by a layer of fat. And yet I looked every bit like the triathlete I had aimed to be in the past.
I had the look of someone with a potent balance of speed and strength. But most of all, the hard look in my eyes and the sharp features of my narrow face combined with the rest of my physique gave me an air of intimidation - I looked dangerous.
Oddly satisfied, I went to get dressed.
##
I spent the next few days hammering down the basics of the local language with Twilight, though this was mostly done in the confines of my C-Space where I didn’t feel quite as cramped. Besides, the austere setting of my space helped blunt the pangs of home that Twilight’s tree induced. Even if sometimes I felt like I was about to walk out into Tenchi’s home every time I went to the door.
It was hard the first few times, seeing only the bleak basement that Twilight kept instead of the bright and airy rafters where Ryoko would nap.
With Katherine’s help, I soon had a solid enough grasp of the Equestrian Language that Twilight felt comfortable enough to send me off to see the Princess with only Spike as an escort - Twilight herself being too occupied with local affairs to come with us.
Of course, I didn’t think that was a good idea, but the fillie was insistent... in the same sort of way that only an absent-minded researcher can be.
Thus, Spike glowered at me suspiciously from the far end of the private car on the train that the Princess had arranged. Unicorn guards stood at the doors on either end. For my protection, I had been assured.
And I believed them. I was an item of curiosity amongst the ponies, in both a good and a bad way. Ponies had been calling on poor Twilight for everything from photo ops to hair and tissue samples. There was even a mint-colored one that wanted to know everything possible about my hands.
(The ones being of pure academic interest, I authorized Twilight to disseminate all kinds of anatomical and medical information on humans that Washu-chan had packed into my library, just in case. Of course, they still had to be translated, but Twilight was also giving out primers.)
For my part, I simply tried to ignore Spike by trying to read a copy of the Ponyville gazette for practice.
“How can you be so calm?” snapped the little dragon suddenly. “You know that the Princess is just gonna banish you to the moon.”
The guard-ponies all snorted - whether in irritation or amusement, I wasn’t sure. For my part, I simply raised an eyebrow at the dragonet.
“How you is be knowing this?” I asked in my broken Equestrian - I swear I must have sounded like their equivalent to the stereotypical Russian-speaking-bad-English.
“Why!? Because you made Twilight cry, and she’s the Princess’s favorite student!”
I simply shrugged. “Good. If on moon, maybe get peace and quiet. Sleep away sad feelings is being difficult when all pony is wanting to be knowing things.”
“Big deal!” huffed Spike.
“You is thinking this not being small matter?” I asked caustically as I held up the copy of the Gazette that I was reading. On the front page was a candid photo of me making arrangements to pay for my stay at the hospital while a headline screamed luridly over the top, “IT LIVES!!!”
While these ponies can be affable folk, you have to get through a layer of sensationalism about a mile thick to get there. Good thing it was about as substantial as as cotton candy - all fluff and hot air.
Spike sneered contemptuously and decided to leave me to my own devices. As powerless as I felt at the time, that was fine by me.
##
By the time we had arrived at Canterlot, the capitol that hung off the mountain cliffs, the sun was long-gone from the horizon and the moon hung large and picturesquely in the night sky. I admired it for a time before we pulled into the station - at the detail that stood out so sharply since the air was so clear and the moon was so close.
Even though it was late, a crowd of press ponies awaited. Pegasi toting folding cameras with their signature accordion bellows flitted around, their flashes igniting in brief, sun-bright starbursts as they lined up and snapped pictures. Unicorns and Earthponies contented themselves by getting as close to the roped-off path to the carriage that waited for me with heavily curtained windows. They shouted questions at me that I didn’t really understand too well.
Spike apparently tried to stop so he could spin some yarn or other for the press, but a guard simply interposed himself between Spike and the press, huffing sharply as he gave the little dragon a meaningful look.
Spike got the message and despite his irritation, accompanied me to the carriage.
Who’s escorting who here? I wondered to myself wryly.
The capitol was not a big city, at least as I am used to them, and the streets were relatively empty once all the gawkers and rubberneckers were cleared away. Within fifteen minutes, I was already disembarking to the pleasantly quiet castle-keep, isolated from the ruckus of about a hundred-strong crowd of pressponies that had followed us, but were denied access to the keep.
I sighed in relief and the guards seem to echo my sentiment as they politely guided Spike and I into the castle-proper.
The interior was about what you’d expect - white marble and sandstone, all polished until it gleamed, and tapestries and stained glass windows all in a riot of colors that put Peter Faberge to shame.
Now this here, folks, was a Royal Palace.
Soon I was being walked through a long passage lined on both sides with stained glass windows, all of them seeming to tell one story or another. I briefly recognized the one that showed the Elements of Harmony healing Nightmare Moon and restoring her back into Princess Luna.
Another pair of large doors opened, and I entered a cavernous and airy throne room. At the far end, she sat in her throne, glowing radiantly as was her divine right.
Princes Celestia.