Chapter 3: Better than nothing, really.

It was rather odd, floating in and out of oblivion. Not an entirely uncomfortable feeling come to think of it. That fact, though, frightened him more than anything else. He had been in scrapes before, and it had never been comfortable. Usually it was rather the opposite of comfortable. There was usually pain, or some sort of burning somewhere, some feeling of nausea. Something that told him that at he was still there, that he wasn’t dead.

Dead. Now there was a thought he didn’t want to dwell on for long. Not that it was easy to dwell on anything for long while floating through nothing in your own head, not with everything all fuzzy up in there and everything feeling pleasant. He couldn't focus, couldn't keep his mind together, but he had to. The journey he was supposed to be in the thick of was just beginning, and there was absolutely no reason for him to be down and out this early in it. Usually it was at least half way through his journeys before he did something that stupid.

*Thump Thump*

Suddenly, a throbbing pain started to surge through his head, eliciting a mental sigh. This, he noted with some relief, was something that he could work with. Gathering his strength, he focused on the pain. And with that, brought a vague sense of awareness of what was going on outside of his head. He could hear things, vaguely. A mumbled voice, the scratching of a quill. Then, a cooling sensation on his head. This was a nice feeling in contract to the pain, but at the same time it was a curse, as he felt his senses dulling again. Focusing again he tried to bring his body into action. Something small to start, just opening his eyes a bit would be enough. Darkness slowly became light, which became blurry disconencted shapes. Maybe a bit of movement, and one purple blur that appeared to be the source of the mumbling. With great effort, he slowly blinked, and the forms solidified a bit more, but other than general shapes, he couldn’t make out much of anything. It appeared that the purple one above him did recognize that there was some awareness there, as the cloth once again came up to cool his head, and the blanket that was around his... well his whatever he had on now, he couldn't quite tell yet... was replaced. The voice became a bit more soothing, and he found himself sinking yet again into the void. This time, he felt a bit more relaxed about it; the moment of partial clarity was enough to know that he was at least still around, and he certainly didnt plan on going anywhere anytime soon. For now, though, it was best if he rested. Letting the oblivion flow around him once more, he fell back into nothingness, and began to dream.

--oo00WW&&WW00oo--

“... the subject’s fever broke several hours ago, and he appears to be resting now. The number of random occurrences relating to the subject’s rather unique effect on magic have reduced significantly and his metamorphosis seems to have stopped as well, leading me to believe his current form is more likely his true form.”

He regained awareness again, and this time, the voice was clearer, and though things were a bit fuzzy, he could clearly make out both her words and the scratching of a quill, along with the subtle ring of magic, which he supposed was hers. There was a few moments where he could hear the rustling of paper and the scratching of another quill, until she spoke again.

“The medicine Applejack brought for Delta seems to be working quickly, I would expect him to be healthy enough to be up and about by this time tomorrow...”

Delta. She had named him Delta. He could appreciate the irony in that, even in his semi-comatose state. He might have even expressed his appreciation if he could do more than mumble. As it is, mumble was what he did, quickly drawing her attention and sending her rushing over to him.

“Oh! you’re awake! Are you alright? Do you feel better? Can I -- OH stop writing you stupid quill!” she turned around and sent a pulse of magic stopping the quill from scratching out her questions, causing him to chuckle a bit, which dissolved into raspy coughs. She turned back to him with a concerned expression. “Oh dear, are you alright?”

He controlled his coughing enough to rasp out a request for water, which Twilight quickly provided. after taking a few sips, he settled down a bit, frowning.

“Thank you.” he said, coughing a bit, then looked up at her. “How... how long?”

She looked at him confused for a moment, then it hit her. “Oh! Um... it’s been about two days since you arrived. You’ve been sick the whole time.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement, then laid his head back down. “Tired. Feels like I've been run over by a railroad.” he said. Twilight smiled.

“I bet. Get some more rest, we can talk some more later.” she said, causing him to look back up at her. As their eyes locked, he seemed to stare past her eyes for a moment, as though he was looking for something. She noted, for the first time, that his eyes were heterochromatic. His right eye was a typical green, but his left was actually a pale silver. After a moment he nodded with a small smile, that fit very well on his face, and laid his head back down. As she went back to her desk to continue her research work, she heard him whisper, just barely.

“Thank you, Miss Sparkle” to which she turned around and gave him a smile.

“You’re welcome”

--oo00WW&&WW00oo--

It was dark outside when he awoke next, but the fact that he felt much healthier than before made things inside considerably brighter. Sitting up on the couch quietly, he noted that Twilight had decided to get some rest. The fact that she was sleeping with her head on the work table, face in one of the open journals on the table, a bit of drool pooling under where the magicked quill still hovered over the page, told him her choice to sleep wasn't necessarily voluntary. A small smile on his face, he carefully stood up and took a quick inventory. Mind, check, and much less fuzzy than it had been for a while, thank Luna. Body, check. Stretching out his hooves and twisting around to get the cricks out of his muscles he winced a bit. It seems that between his illness and the weeks before, he would need to get out and move a bit, he hated being out of shape. A look out the window at the still blowing snow storm told him that wouldn’t be happening for awhile, so on to the next muscle. Magic, check.

Taking a deep breath, he focused and called upon his magic. Softly, and slowly, his horn started to glow a sim silver, that wavered in and out, pulsing slowly. He chuckled to himself.

‘Well, it seems you were up and about while I was under at least. Well, no sense in overdoing it, lets just go with something simple’ He looked around the library looking from his resting place, to Twilight’s sleeping form, to the bookshelves. Then he grinned, rolling his shoulders, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and pushed.

It was just a bit of a magical nudge, but it was enough. One of the books on the shelves slid from its space on the end of a stack and bumped into a small globe sitting on the shelf nearby. The globe quietly and gently rolled towards the end of the shelf until it tipped just off the edge, bouncing twice on books hanging out of the overhangs from the shelves below before coming to rest on a pillow that Twilight had set in the corner earlier that day. Upon bouncing, each book flew in a different direction, the first bounced off a cushion on his sleeping space, flipping the blanket on it up in the air and right over Twilight while the cushion itself came to rest right on the other side of the table across from her. The book then landed with a soft thud on a stack of books on the ground in front of the couch, while the second one went right into the unicorn’s waiting hoof. The blanket fluttered through the air and came down to drape itself over Twilight, who let out a soft moan and stirred just a bit, before settling down with a smile. The observer noted the success of his magic and went to sit down across the table from her, but not before picking up another pillow and very gently replacing the journal under her head with the much softer object.

‘Yep’ he thought to himself, ‘I’ve still got it.’ He then opened the book and turned to page one.

Showmanship: The practice, perils and pitfalls of plethoric performances, by Spotlight Flash Chapter one...

Of course. He rolled his eyes, looking up with exasperation.

He looked at the clock, noting it was still an hour or two before sunrise. With a sigh, he shook his head and settled down to read.

Author's Note

Chapter, with little to say about it. Shorter, but this time I had a bit less time to write. More later! Thanks for listening!