Your Family and You

It wasn’t long before Ebony returned with a few clumps of crushed up charcoal and a bright blue potion. Mixing the ingredients together, we managed to stop Pyresteed retching long enough to swallow the concoction. It stopped her heaving, but the bubbles of greenish soap kept coming.

In the end, Ebony had to take her to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. Taking up the cooking, I assured her that I’d finish making breakfast and leave her portion in the fridge for later. Completely lost in thought, I barely tasted the food as I ate silently at the table. Washing everything down with a glass of orange juice, I left the dishes in the sink for later.

Upon exiting the kitchen, I noticed that the library wasn’t empty anymore. There, splayed out on the couch with her wings flared wide open, was Primrose. Bandages still covered her body, the largest concentration being around her chest and neck. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot and unfocused as she stared into the distance. Smoke wafted from her lips as she sighed heavily.

Her ear twitched as I entered the room and she slowly turned her head in my direction. It seemed to take a few minutes for her to focus, but when she did, her glazed eyes narrowed.

“You, uh… you shouldn’t be up… and about yet?” she said, although it was more of a question. Her words were slurred as if she was speaking with a swollen tongue. “You’re supposed… supposed to be resting. Twilight’s… not going to be, uh… happy?”

“Neither will I if I have to stay cooped up much longer,” I said. Minding my leg, I limped over to the occupied couch. “I’ll take any annoyance from Twilight over my own boredom any day.” I leaned down and tapped her hind leg. She blinked once before sliding over and allowing me to collapse back onto the cushions with her.

“Besides,” I continued, “it’s not like I’m out hiking or roughhousing. I think I’m allowed to move around my own house.”

“I suppose…” Primrose hummed, and more smoke trickled from her nostrils followed by a sweet-yet-heavy scent.

I glanced over at her and crinkled my nose. “Geez, that’s stuff is strong. What the hell is it?” I paused before adding, “How high are you right now?”

She was silent for a moment before lifting a small smoking joint up in her wing. “The Healers prescribed it,” she said slowly. “Before I left Canterlot. It’s… it’s supposed to help… deal with the pain.” She stares at the smoking tip before a small frown touched her lips. “But… I think they might have… might have prescribed too much.” Rolling it around in her wing-fingers, she studied it before taking a pull. “It’s good though,” she sighed, smoke billowing from her lips. “Makes me feel less like shit. Don’t like feeling like shit.”

“Sonofabitch…” I muttered as the sweet-smelling smoke filled the air. Waving a hand in front of my face, I tried to stave off the haze. “That’s some strong stuff. If I’m feeling light-headed just from the contact high… fuck!”

“Sorry,” Primrose slurred, giving me a lopsided, apologetic smile. “S-sorry. It’s only until the wounds… the wounds have healed. Okay?” Lifting a hoof, she ran it gingerly over the bandages on her chest. “Just… just a few more weeks, right?”

“If you say so,” I said. Letting my head fall back against the couch cushions, I stared up at the ceiling. Silence filled the room as we both sat there, listening to the faint noises coming from outside—bird song, pony laughter, and the sounds of foals playing.

We stayed that way for a few minutes before Primrose suddenly shifted beside me. She winced, a hoof pressing against her chest, before inhaling slowly. Her nostrils flared and some spark of cognition returned to her gaze.

“Oh, um… I never… I never did get to thank you… for what you did,” she mumbled.

Rolling my head around, I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. “What?”

“I never did thank you,” she repeated, slightly louder but just as slurred as before. “For, uh… saving my life and all. With the whole ‘drinking your blood’ thingy.” She fidgeted and one of her wings twitched against my side. “I… it’s just, um… t-thanks, I guess.”

I stared at her for a few seconds before returning my gaze to the ceiling. “I wasn’t going to let you die,” I said. “I wasn’t just gonna let you bleed out there in front of me. You needed blood, I had blood.”

“Yeah, well, still…” She frowned. “There aren’t many… ponies out there who’d be willing to, uh… go to that sort of length. Especially… especially not for a sang, uh… sanguinarian.” She takes another hit before continuing in a cloud of smoke. “Blood drinking makes them nervous. Takes more than just drinking your blood to turn you into a sanguinarian, but other ponies… just can’t see it...” Her ears splay back and she sighs. “Tried to bring it up to an old coltfriend and he just clocked me in the mouth and ran off, screaming. Hard for sanguinarians to be themselves around non-sanguinarians.”

“Don’t label yourself,” I huffed. “You’re not just a ‘sanguinarian’. You’re Primrose. You’re a pony, with strange parts… just like the other ponies, who also have strange parts. Like horns, and wings, and horns and wings.” Reaching up, I placed a hand on her head and weakly began to scratch behind her ears. “But most importantly, you’re a friend… and if it came down to it, I’d be willing to do it all again.”

I felt her wing twitch again and she slowly draped it over my leg. “I… still, thanks…”

“Eh, what can I say,” I shrugged. “I’m greedy. I didn’t want to lose a friend.”

“...just accept the damn gratitude.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “You’re welcome.”

We lapsed into silence again. A warm breeze snuck into the room from an open window, stirring Primrose’s smoke and dissipating it around the room. I was able to get another good whiff of the sweet smelling aroma, and the smell left me feeling light-headed. The room spun slightly.

God damn it! I grimaced. That stuff is strong, and that’s just the smell alone. Primrose is the one over there smoking the stuff. Another waft tickled my nose. I’m surprised she can even have a conversation right now. I pause, and the grimace turned deadpan as I continued to stare up at the ceiling. The gears in my head turned, and slowly a smirk worked its way across my face.

Continuing to gently scratch Primrose’s head, I spoke up. “Hey, Prim?”

An ear twitch and a hum was the only response I got.

“I’ve got a question for you,” I continued. The ear twitched again and this time she turned her head in my direction. Glancing down, I saw she was giving me a curious look.

“Yeah?” she slurred.

I smiled. “I was just wondering… if you drop the soap on the bathroom floor… does the floor get clean or does the soap get dirty?”

There was a moment of stillness, but then I felt her tense beneath my hand as her mind finally registered what I asked. Her bloodshot eyes widened. “Max, no, don’t…”

Ignoring her pleas, my smile grew. “Which orange came first? The color or the fruit?”

“Max, don’t do this. Please… I… I can’t right now…”

“Okay, okay, okay,” I said, sighing dejectedly, only to then ask. “Who put the alphabet in alphabetical order?”

Primrose jerked slightly, trying to get away from me but failing. Instead, she ended up draped over the armrest. “Max, please. Don’t do this to me. I thought we were friends.”

“But… why is there a ‘d’ in ‘fridge’ but not in ‘refrigerator’?”

“Nooo,” she whined weakly, reaching up and putting her hooves over her ears. “No, no, no! Why… why do you do this?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said as I scratched my beard. There was a pause. “If you get out of the shower clean… then why does your towel get dirty?”

“Nuuuh!” Rolling onto her side, Primrose wrapped her wings around herself and began to rock back and forth. Unable to hold back any longer, I burst out laughing. Primrose pouted, her ears folding against her head as she glared at me.

“I hate it when you do this,” she huffed. “It’s… it’s just… gah!” Unfurling her wings, she flailed her hooves at me, slapping me weakly on the arm. “Gnah! No! It’s in my head, you… you bucker. It’s in my head! I was enjoying myself, but now all I’m going to think about for the next few hours is why towels get dirty!”

I paused my laughter during her tirade, only to start laughing again after. However, it quickly turned into a gasp of pain and I placed my hand against my chest.

“Serves you right,” Primrose grumbled as I wheezed and coughed.

“Yeah, whatever,” I grunted. “I guess I deserved that.” Rubbing at my chest, I took a deep breath only to wince in pain again. “Ugh, mother fucker…”

“Your ribs?” Primrose asked.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. Grabbing a pillow, I held it against my stomach. “Still bruised.” The first few days had been the worst. Back then it had hurt to even breathe. Now though, everything was fine so long as I didn’t laugh or cough. Or yawn. Or breathe too deep.

Actually, it was still fucking annoying.

It took a minute of so to get control of my breathing again. Settling back down against the couch cushions again, I blinked in surprise as Primrose proffered the blunt to me.

“Helps with the pain,” she said with a shrug.

I stared at the smoking joint before taking it in my fingers. Giving it one last look, I sniffed before slipping the butt between my lips. A small pull on it and my mouth was filled with a heady, earthen flavor. It trickled down my throat and quickly spread through my chest. I held my breath for a moment before exhaling in a burst of smoke.

Almost immediately, I could feel a tingling sensation sneaking up my arm. Lifting it up, I stared at the hand, only for my eyes to widen when my vision doubled. “Oh boy…”

~ ~ ~ ~ > > < < ~ ~ ~ ~

“Nooo, no, that’s just... you’re… you’re lying,” I slurred. My eyelids felt heavy, and there was a pleasant fuzzy feeling in my brain. Lifting an arm was hard, as the limb felt several pounds heavier than it should have been. “You’re just, uh… you’re just making shit up. Yeah, that’s it.”

“No, I swear. I’m telling the, uh… truth!” Primrose said, making placating motions with her hooves. “It’s totally true.”

“No, it can’t be,” I giggled. “You’re lying!”

“No, really,” Primrose whined. “I swear I could taste more… things before I became a san, uh… sangu… sanguinarian!”

My brow furrowed. “But… that doesn’t make any sense!”

“I knooow,” Primrose said, pressing her forehooves against her cheeks, “but it’s truuue. I swear to the Maker, everything had more flavor when I was a normal pegasus. Like, salads actually had taste to them. Tomatoes… sweet Celestia, I used to love the taste of tomatoes.”

“But tomatoes don’t have a taste!” I informed her, rather loudly.

“Mare, I don’t know how to explain it,” Primrose grumbled. “I just remember that one day tomatoes tasted like tomatoes, and now they barely have any taste. Like at all. It’s like biting water.” She sighed heavily and fell back against the arm rest. “It’s super disa… disa… disappointing. Yeah. It’s like I have a wax coating on my tongue. Nothing has that wonderful flavor anymore.”

“Except for blood?” I offered.

“Except for blood,” she agreed with a nod.

Silence fell for a moment before I asked. “Wait, so… why don’t you, you know… put blood in your food then?”

This caused her to pause. “What?”

“Well… you know…” I waved my hands about in front of me animatedly. “Just like those weirdos, right? The ones that put ketchup on everything to… to give it ‘flavor’. Or those people that need to put hot sauce on anything bland. Just, you know…” Running a finger over my wrist, I made an exploding noise as I mimicked blood flying everywhere. “Just, uh… season your food with blood, right?”

“It… it doesn’t work… that way?” she says, although it’s more of a question than a statement. Her eyes darted back and forth lethargically before she shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t work…? Like, if you put ketchup on some fries, it doesn’t make the fries taste more like fries. It just makes them taste like ketchup.”

“Oh…” I scratched my head. “Well, what if… what if you used blood instead of water when growing tomatoes?”

Primrose blinked. “W-what?”

“Like, you know… what if you made a tomato garden, right?” I asked. “And what if, instead of water… you used blood to water them? Blood them? Um… but, yeah… wouldn’t that, like… put flavor in them? Because instead of tasting watery… they’ll have blood… which has flavor to it...” My fingers wiggled strangely as I spoke, and it took me a moment to realize I was also signing in hoof language. Not sure what to do with them, I just sat on my hands to silence them.

“That…” Primrose said slowly. Her eyes narrowed before suddenly opening wide. “That’s brilliant!” Her wings fluttered, bony fingers twitching and jerking about sporadically. “That… that would be… w-we need to get tomato seeds! And a garden. A-and some blood!”

“B-but… where do we get tomato seeds?” I asked.

“We, uh… we need a pony who’s good with plants,” Primrose hummed.

At that moment, the front door clicked before swinging open. Ebony stood in the doorway with Pyresteed perched happily upon her back, holding her ears. She had on a small medical smock, and a hospital band was around her wrist.

Ebony made to step into the library, only to pause upon seeing me and Primrose staring at her. Her eyes widened. “Oh no. No, no, no. I’ve seen that look before. No. Buck no. Whatever it is, no. I’m out. No way. Not going to happen.” She trailed off, gaze darting back and forth between our grinning faces before sighing. “I’m going to regret this…”

Primrose and I tried to hold it in, but within seconds, we both dissolved into painful laughter.