Zane's Zaney Adventures in Ponyville

The Morning After

When I woke up, my throat was hoarse, like I had been yelling. Twilight was standing next to the bed, along with a rather put-off Spike. I wish Spike would’ve spoken first.

“So, who’s this Deliah? Rather strange name.”

“She’s my, uh.. stepmom. It’s complicated,” I replied, looking down. The covers were tossed, as if I’d been in a fist fight with an invisible assailant, “Lots of things in my life are complicated.” Subconsciously, I flapped my wings. The feathers felt weird, like I needed to brush them.

“New to wings? So is Twilight. It sure gave HER nightmares too.”

“Spike,” she said, in a mix of indignation and reproach, “How could he be new to wings if he’s a peg-”

“HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” cried the voice of certain pink earth-vixen. It bore into my skull like a drill. A drill that helped me figure out what the fudge was going on, why a pony might assume I was new to wings, and just how screwy my wings were. You see, I had tried to fly in my sleep. My blue-grey feathers were all over the room, and it looked as though my wings had fully molted them back over night. Judeging by the pile I was laying on anyway, because the bed was on the other side of the room. The reason the covers around me looked so distraught was because I’d gotten tangled up in them, trying to take off from my back. That also explained why I felt like I could use another three hours, and why the feather on my wings now were so crooked. I wanted to preen them, but I wanted to preen them in private.

“Umm, Twilight… can I have some, umm… privacy, please?” I managed, through my embarrassment. She seemed to understand, what with her own wings and all. I added, “I promise, we’ll talk later about… this.” She left me to smooth my ruffled feathers. One problem; Pinkie had somehow gotten inside the room without the realization of either Twilight or I. She does that sometimes; she pulls off the impossible.

“So, how you doing?”

“GAH!” I practically jumped into the ceiling, causing my strained shoulders more pain. “Pinkie, what a surprise. This is supposed to be private!” I held a wing to my chest and tried to kind of hide what I was doing. It was like she was looking at me naked, though I knew that was stupid.

“Funny,, Rainbow Dash gets the same way when she’s preening. I got you a brush! I got you lots of brushes! Wing brush, mane brush, tooth brush, coat brush- Oh! And a saddlebag, for your things. When you, uhh, get things.”

I felt like saying, ‘Dun dun dun DUN! you have gained an (item) inventory! You have place inventory on (floor),’ but I decided I liked glaring more. “Uh, thanks Pinkie. Can I get, uhh… Privacy, please?” The pink mare nodded and turned around. “Like, real privacy?”

“Okay,” she smiled and bounced upstairs. I sighed and grabbed the wing brush. It came with a note on how to use them, to my surprise. It was fairly simple: ‘Line the tongs up with the roots of your topmost feathers and stroke down. You’ll dislodge some loose feather, especially if it’s your first time, but that’s perfectly normal. These feathers only clog up your wings, making it harder to fly. Be sure to brush daily!” It was in hoofwriting I didn’t recognize at the time, but I felt that, whoever it was, they knew about me.

I took a single stroke and oh my god.It was like… if heaven were an ice cream flavor, and a single bit of it sent blasted your mind with a sense of sublime so strong you might have lost your virgin kiss to it. Like that, but… better. I can’t describe what preening feels like without talking a little dirtier than I’d like. But it was awesome. If I had wings, I’d sit here and preen and preen my feathers all day long, and I think I’d be the happiest man alive.

But, because it felt so good, at least the first time, I couldn’t do it for long before spasming on the floor. You know what, I will describe it; it’s like being tickled and massaged at the same time. There you go. Best combination you’ll feel ever. Anyway, it took me thirty minutes. For just one of my wings. But, that wing felt perfect in every way.

After I finished preening myself, I set myself to work on cleaning up my feathers. It actually wasn’t too hard because most of it wasn’t my feathered down, but was very time consuming. By the time I’d finished, it was closer to lunch than breakfast. I strode out of my room feeling beautiful and ready for the day and- I was reminded that skipping breakfast is never a good idea. As the cold dredges of hunger tore at my belly, my mood greatly depreciated into a kind of shallow, defensive grumpiness. Twilight was sitting with Pinkie at the table, and Spike writing something or other. I caught the tail end of Pinkie’s statement, “And he’s HUMAN! Can you believe it? I finally managed to SNAG ONE~”

“Pinkie,” Spike warned, “He doesn’t look to human…”

“But remember what Twilight said about crossing dimensions? Our forms can change! I watched his change when I pulled him through his laptop screen! He just looked so sad, staring there at his research paper on Renaissance medicine.”

I cleared my throat, “So then, telling people who I am ISN’T going to cause a space-time rupture?”

Twilight interjected before Pinkie could say anything, “I don’t THINK so, but I don’t know. While it hasn’t happened yet, I would keep your story to yourself. Even if it doesn’t mess with time, I’m sure you’d want your privacy. I’m going to send a letter to Celestia. Pinkie, show Thunder around. It’s Thunder, right?”

“Actually, I think I’d prefer a different name. I’ve been thinking, and Thunder Chaser doesn’t really suit me. Could you just call me… Quill, for now? As a nickname, or a pseudonym, or something?”

“Okie dokie lokie, Quilly it is!” Pinkie took my hoof and carted me off, right as I was about to grab one of the delicious looking cookies on the table. Such, I suppose, is my luck.