Broken Dawn

Receiving a name was the start to his first genuinely nice day since he had been found.

A lengthy examination later that morning by the Jar Bearer and unicorn stallion of his wound, reflexes and balance concluded with them giving each other a quick, satisfied nod and presenting a large sheet of paper with a pony's skull drawn on it. The unicorn held it aloft with his magic, droning on for a moment before rolling his eyes at Dawn's lack of comprehension. He sighed and finally jammed his hoof through the skull's sagittal crest; Dawn blinked and thought for a moment for nodding in return. "Open skull fracture" was a grim diagnosis, but evidently one that he had somehow survived. The (he must be a) doctor made one last sneering remark, and he and his assistant went on to speak with the ponies waiting outside the room.

The stallion peered into the hallway that the others were gathered in. A few ponies he recognized well enough; the colorful blue pegasus, the yellow one who had woken him that morning, and the robed purple unicorn that had broken whatever grip (the abyss) had held him scribbling intently on a scroll of parchment. The other three made him hesitate, and then he understood: his ghost had been real. The orange mare from earlier had an unusually dense blonde mane tied back behind a flat brimmed brown hat with a rounded crown. A disorderly pink puff of feminine vigor trembled beside her, barely able to keep any hoof on the floor for more than an second or two. The stunning (ghost! HA!) pure white unicorn nearest the door looked dully with half closed eyes at the physician, toying idly with her oddly spiraled purple mane. Worn around her copious croup was a complicated magenta number, embroidered with tiny gemstones and standing out from her compatriots' simply hued skirts.

Dawn blinked at this, and swallowed involuntarily. Realizing that each other pony present wore garments that covered their nethers, teats and marks filled him with a bizarre sense of self-consciousness at his own exposed flank and tender bits. The pale unicorn must have noticed his awkward attempt to wrap his bedclothes around himself and was by his side in a heartbeat, her light blue aura grasping the sheet and adjusting it expertly into a makeshift toga. The stallion took a half step back and bowed his head as she examined him critically from multiple angles. Her eyes suddenly lit up and with an excited squeal escaped her lips as she clopped her hooves together and produced a measuring tape from her dress. "Personal space" lost all meaning as she started noting the lengths of his wings and limbs, calling out to the other unicorn who trotted in, quill still taking notes in front of the increasing annoyed physician. A pen spontaneously appeared with a pad and the purple one began to jot on it as well, listening intently with a facial expression that hovered somewhere between mild annoyance and curiosity. After a few minutes, the tape snapped back into its case and the white mare addressed him and prattled on brightly about sometime. Blinking, she interrupted herself and furrowed her brow. She then retrieved a gorgeous diamond from her garments and spoke to him again.

"Dawn.." she stated, pressing a hoof against his shoulder, before bringing the gem to her own barrel and saying her name.

He nodded and repeated it back to her. The word was foreign to him, but it must have meant "Diamond." Visually pleased with the recognition, Diamond gave another delighted squeal and trotted out towards the stairway, continuing to spout on over her shoulder as she disappeared from his sight. Her associate shook her head with a tiny smile, and introduced herself with a hoof to her barrel. Without context, the stallion decided her name must simply mean "Purple," and addressed her by it with a dip of his head. She beamed and returned to the hall and her supernatural writing arrangement.

With a moment to himself, it was finally a good time to survey the bedroom he had been occupying. It was the elegantly simple design of a rustic cottage; wooden framing over plastered walls, themselves a light beige. A conventional paned window  was situated in a far corner and faced over the same garden he had seen that (Dawn) morning; closed now, it had been the one that had served as his clock before. Two more round and segmented portals punctuated the wall behind his bed, too high to see anything but the sky from his previous position- but still, he lamented, such a view might have been enjoyable during his immobility. Or, it may have been torture; he sighed and shook out his wings to find them stiff and heavy from disuse. This brought him to his uncourteous addition; the air had fallen still, but not languid, the cool smell and firmness of autumn made him yearn for the sky. The wall itself was badly crushed where the section had torn away, and bracketing near the ceiling showed where the piece of furniture that had assailed him belonged.

It wasn't as though the impromptu renovation was intentional; he had just needed to move, and suddenly reacquiring the ability so unexpectedly had...

...had what? The stallion wasn't sure. He shook his head and finished his survey. Beams crisscrossed the peaked ceiling, studded with an interesting assortment of pegs and hangers. The scant decor that graced the walls was bright and simple, themed around nature and the sky, with the exception of the cityscape that had been added recently. Floorboards meticulously stained green led up to... holes in the baseboards? Blinking, he bent down to observe one more carefully, only to step back from the smell of vermin. The tiny passages were obviously hoof carved and even marked with tiny engravings; truly a peculiar contrast to the otherwise immaculate setting.

Dawn sighed and settled onto his belly by the breach. The crisp air felt amazing on his plummage; the delicious scent of grass and flowers relaxed him with it's easy familiarity; the firmness of the flood beneath his rump comforting- he couldn't remember the last time he had been able to just rest naturally. Stress from something so simple as standing and thinking had sapped the energy from his underused muscles and misspent mind, and his head settled on his forelegs as he accepted sleep openly.

It was the scent of a farm that woke him some time later. The sawing and scraping he had accepted in his dreamless slumber, but the rich smell of soil and healthy sweat was apparently too enticing for his mind to ignore. He opened his eyes to see the orange mare working on his improvised frame, shaping the splintered edges into something far more presentable.

Dawn couldn't help but admire the pony's build. Taut muscles shifted smoothly under a rugged but kempt coat, her poise practiced and solid as she labored. She was simply striking.. and seemingly perceptive as well, as she noticed his appreciation and turned to him with a rather informal wink.

"Des sotora vuin, sugarcube!"

He gaped. He stared. He salivated unexpectedly, and swallowing, repeated the name of the succulent treat back to her.

The mare snorted, then laughed openly. "Sugarcube! Pe erj breomf!" Dawn watched as she trotted to a green saddlebag with an apple on it, retrieving one of the bright red fruits from it and coming back.

He actually drooled.

The pumpkin hided pony gave a shake of her head and said "Wa sugarcube, hep..." She held the delicious globe aloft and shook it once for emphasis. "Apple!"

He didn't know the word, but repeated it back to her. The mare grinned and then pressed it to her flank. "Apple kmer!"

Dawn blinked and just parroted "Apple" back again. He knew she was following suit to Diamond and Purple from earlier, but the exotic treat in front of him had make him keenly aware that he hadn't eaten in forever.

Apple Something smirked, and glanced around conspiratorially before another short trip to her bag produced a brown glass container, corked and marked with her namesake and a smiling cartoon stallion. She uncorked it and held it under his muzzle for a few seconds before pressing it to her barrel. "Applejack."

Present a starving pony with delicacies the likes that royalty can ill afford, who has no context whatsoever for custom and courtesy, and you WILL find your croup nipped and hooves emptied.

To her credit, Applejack merely responded with a laugh and a quick clop to the floor with a hind hoof. Dawn bit greedily into the fruit, the sensation causing his vision to blur for an instant. Some deep part of his mind knew (those treats are only for royalty) he should feel some shame, but he was just too hungry to care. Three bites downed its flesh and the core followed, washed down by a single swig of the intoxicating (know your place, chattel) beverage; Dawn collapsed back to his croup, the unabashed look of a stallion satisfied on his face. His expression was the last straw for Applejack, who's hoofsteps out to the hallway were almost covered by her honest, open laughter.

Dawn settled back onto his forelegs, blissful and unsure as to why he felt unashamed. It didn't matter; he was smiling (you never smile), the knife of hunger he had forgotten in his belly was dulled, and he felt as comfortable as he had ever been.

...day and night, dawn and dusk, sky and earth...

sun and moon...

GIANT BLUE EYEBALLS

His pulse racing, the stallion found himself awake and alarmed, balanced on a rafter.

Looking down, he gaped at the pink mare from before. She was inexplicably perch on the beam next to him, quivering with excitement. With a smile that could peel paint with its radiance, she launched into an outpouring of excited babble.

After several seconds she inhaled sharply and exclaimed something, poking at herself. And said it again, and again, with increasing intensity. Furrowing her brows, she began to present him with a series of objects, dropping each one off of their support- a pink toy, a pink button, a pink mane brush, a pink figurine of herself- where was she getting these?- until he finally addressed her in her word for "Pink!" Another gasp, and Dawn was hit by a smile that literally knocked him off his hooves.

Falling straight backwards was completely unexpected, and before he could try to right himself he landed inexplicably with an audible grunt on the back of the smaller statured Pink. The irrational mare gave him no time to recover as she resumed her stream of  and merrily hopped across the room and out the hole in the wall with Dawn still draped over her back.

Finding himself on his hooves, the stallion blinked and was promptly dragged into a slow trot by Pink's grip on his mane. Letting go, she resumed the inane babble and Dawn was able to process the area around him. The house in which he had been kept was an utterly bizarre design, seemingly grown out of the ground itself and yet studded with clearly artificial additions. There were bird houses ranging from tiny structures to a full fledged chicken coop to accommodate the unseasonal amount of bird life that flitted about. A small brook babbled through the property, flowing from the forest (many here lose their lives) on to points unknown. Rounding the home revealed a well trod dirt road that peaked near the main entrance with a natural bridge, shaped and tended by obviously talented hooves. The flower garden he had admired earlier faded seamlessly into wild foliage; the transition between manicured and unkempt was gradual and visually impressive. Unimpressive in size, the structure nevertheless called to both the eye and heart with its obvious dedication to leaving the natural order undisturbed in the face of civilized habitation.

The pair made two laps, the contrast between loquacious and taciturn far less subtle than the development in the wilderness before Dawn slowed and stopped. His muscles weren't stressed, his breathing wasn't labored, and yet he was exhausted. His carnation companion had anticipated this and switched to an actual sentence directed at him, complete with spontaneous bran muffin. The stallion accepted it as well as its existence, and ate it slowly from her hoof. His languor seemed to affect Pink, for she waited until his last bite had been swallowed before pressing herself into his barrel in an open frontal hug. She spoke a soft something to his crest, squeezing and rocking him softly for a moment before standing back with a significantly saner smile.

Pink began back to the house, but soon turned and looked over her shoulder at the drained stallion. His want to retire in the grassy shade behind the home was clear and she smiled again, trotting back over and giving a gentle nudge to his rump. Dawn took the hint and returned an appreciative nod before settling back onto his haunch, croup pressed to the cool grassy slope of this new home.

...crystal and wind, ice and fire...

...duty and love, growth and acceptance...

A glimmer of light from the setting sun between distant anvils awoke the stallion, the distant promise of rain felt in his feathers. Eight bars were being hummed quietly nearby as the yellow pegasus that produced them tended to her flowers. She worked methodically yet without purpose, centered in her task. Her relaxed wings and posture betrayed more than words ever could; compared to the nervous intensity the stallion always observed in her, she seemed completely at peace, as though having escaped for the moment a world she couldn't truly be a part of. The quiet melody was disorganized, shifting in tone as the mare eased between murmur and song and back again.

Dawn soon found himself lost in watching the mare, his thoughts drifting as her serenity affected him. It occurred to him that this was the pony who had retrieved him when he had first awoken, and evidently the one who had chosen to provide him a home. This mare that he had seen glimpses of so frequently, watching over him and granting him safety and recovery (...order and friendship...) when he was on the verge of death, without knowing him, and with no possible expectation of the act being repaid in kind.

This mare who had named him.

Dawn's heart dipped briefly as he realized that he didn't know her name.

Laboring to his hooves, he approached her, the crunch of grass as he walked strangely clear to him. As he reached the edge of the flower bed a kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight. Hearing their silken wing beats drowned out by a rumble of faraway thunder highlighted how still and quiet everything had become, and the stallion refocused on his target, realizing that he had been staring the entire time but hadn't noticed when she had stopped her song to gaze back at him. The colorful insects descended around them, many settling in her mane and on her raised cannon. The mare brought her hoof to her barrel and smiled, the name "Butterfly" spoken as softly as her namesakes' flight as another of the tiny creatures settled onto the cloth concealing her mark.

...generosity and laughter, magic and loyalty, honesty and *kindness*...

A butterfly burns in a crystal field.

The stallion shook his head and looked down at the hoof on his shoulder. Butterfly cowered slightly in front of him, still holding her foreleg to his body as a gesture of support. The swarm of insects was gone along with the daylight, and as he looked up he could see that the storm clouds had drawn considerable closer as twilight enveloped the sky. A chill breeze rustled his feathers as he tried to shed the daze that held him. A gentle wing wrapped around his own served to dispel this strange sense of disconnect and he allowed himself to be led up the simple staircase that had appeared under his 'door' as he slept. The frame had been finished and a plain oaken door was installed as well- the first small drops of cold rain gave light to just how timely these additions were. The room itself had been rearranged; in place of the raised bed, a mattress- thinner than the old one, yet still comfortable- lied, large enough to rest comfortably on. Dawn nodded internally in approval; the lateral position he had found himself in before had felt awkward and uncomfortable. A low table had been brought in as well, with a number of floor pillows surrounding on it. On its surface resided a bountiful salad, which was wolfed down before too much could be observed about it.

Dawn gagged a tiny bit and let out a most undignified belch. It would be some meals later before his system had fully adapted to and received enough solid food to be less voracious towards it.

* * *

Life settled into the rhythm of routine. Dawn was permitted as much sleep as his body required, settling into a warhorse's pattern- naps throughout the day as inactivity allowed, and a longer respite at night when ( the horrors) dreams would come. Meals became more regular, as did his response to them; the sheer variety and quality of them was almost overwhelming, with carrots, apples, and a variety of uncommon flowers frequently incorporated. The rare and mind blowing sugarcube  was somehow a frequent offering, and he often indulged in them as succulent snacks during the afternoon.

As time passed, he became increasingly familiar with the roles the ponies who had come into his life. Butterfly was naturally his most persistent companion, preparing his meals and tending to his everyday care. She introduced him to the rest of the home, and his initial observation of the rodents was explained- this mare was obsessed with animals, from the conglomerate of small mammals and birds to tropical beasts Dawn could not recognize, and what would appear to be a completely domesticated bear. His first reaction to the ursa was no better than his initial encounter with the shower; Butterfly learned quickly that baths were the better approach to his hygiene. When not attending to her other duties, she would talk to him, sometimes for hours; not being able to understand her didn't stop him from enjoying the interaction. For whatever reason, this was the closest he had to feeling like part of actual conversations, and the sense of normality and acceptance this brought was most welcome.

Pink and Applejack shared a role in his convalescence that Rainbow soon joined- physical therapy. Dawn required little coaxing to stretch his legs and start bringing strength back to his languid muscles, but the direction (and more importantly, company) they provided brought purpose and direction to his actions that would otherwise have been lacking. Sometimes independently or as a trio, usually in pairs, they worked with him through an assortment of activities that ran the gauntlet from swimming to physical games and clumsy attempts at flight. In his weakened state, the sensory nerve damage was too much to overcome on his own; his first short 'flights' would consist of Applejack carrying him to nearly flight speed, Rainbow scooping him up and elevating him through simple maneuvers before releasing him to glide clumsily to his infallible landing pad of Pink. Dawn's slow improvement weighed upon his mind; a pegasus' flight is centered around their innate magic with their wings providing more control and stability than actual lift... and it was the overall lack of propulsion that made him worry that there was damage to his being that no amount of work could repair. It was rare that these concerns were allowed to  fester when the team was present, however- daily gifts of impossibly sweet baked goods and beverages of various strengths were effective diversions and their upbeat confidence could not be resisted.

Nor could Diamond's obsession with his mane. Often accompanied by Purple (apparently for company; she rarely did anything other than scribble away at scrolls and journals), she began on a quest for fashion that the stallion could barely comprehend. What started as providing him appropriate attire in the form of a robe of festive golds and greens turned into a veritable parade of pants, coats and haircuts. Although Dawn had retaken control of maintaining his feathers and coat, his mane and tail were another matter altogether; literally nothing could tame them. Diamond would reach states of complete indignation, stamping her hooves and making the most ridiculous expressions when she would return a day or two after a styling to find that his hair had practically regrown.

He sometimes worried that Purple had some compulsion with rolling her eyes and planting her hoof squarely over her face. Dawn couldn't quite get a good bearing on the strange unicorn. Her bearing and appearance were humble and yet almost (royal) regal. The other ponies always looked to her as though she were their leader, yet she gave no impression of being in command of anything. She always stood back and kept to herself, while being warm and friendly to the others when they approached. A curious enigma, Dawn accepted her as socially awkward and perhaps the mostly mentally gifted of the group- it was natural for ponies to flock to the intelligent for guidance, and this was the only conclusion he could reach that fit the situation.

It was a crisp autumn afternoon when she would once again prove herself as a catalyst for change and tear down another barrier between the stallion and the world around him.