Blight of The War Horse (Reforged)

Did I wash the dishes with Sparkle last night?

That was the first thought entering Storm Breaker’s groggy mind, fluttering sluggishly into the waking world, a soft groan escaping her. One eye blinked; the other stayed shut. Where is she again? A soft bed and impossibly warm sheets beckoned her to resume slumber, and the smell of varnished oak, everything lacked the sterile sting that the hospital funnily stabbed her sinuses with—no hoof steps, no chattering, no annoying nurses coming to bring their breakfast slop.

Then she opened her eye.

Oh, that’s right, she moved out of the hospital a month ago. How could she forget?

Upon waking in the hospital following her venture into the Everfree, the doctors were surprised to discover the magic-hating mare requested specialized unicorn healing. It’s funny: maybe they thought she hit her head as well. Yet, the ordeal soon after felt vile, like toxic sludge flowing through her veins in a flow of relaxation and comfort Storm Breaker had to endure for her health. Some would question her reasoning; she never wanted to interact with magic in any form before. In truth, she didn’t care anymore. And going to the bathroom with those wounds would’ve been a nightmare.

Due to her size, magic cast on her by mages or practitioners of magical arts varied from pony to pony, requiring a larger output to even affect her. Think of filling a mug with a teacup's worth of liquid and expecting to be refreshed when drinking it. Example: the element of generosity wouldn’t be able to lift her hoof even if she poured every ounce of magic into the action, but Celestia, who has a greater mana output, would throw the muscle-bound mare like a rag doll in her sleep.

So a dozen and one doctor wore themselves to the bone, but she thanked them nonetheless for the help despite the bad taste it left on her tongue.

She tried to ignore the taste around Sparkle.

Sighing, Storm Breaker rubbed her eyes as she swung her lower half over the bed, blankly staring at the near-empty guest room she had slept in for a month before standing.

The tired mare bit down and retrieved her eye patch from a nightstand by her bed, quickly leaving the room and yawning quietly as she shut the entryway. Walking along the raised walkway of the main space, Storm Breaker passed by two other rooms: another guest room and Sparkle’s. Narration of a power ponies comic provided by an enthusiastic Spike rang in the room neighboring hers, and the third room was dead silent. Neverminding both, with her sights settled on a door at the end of the walkway, she closed in and entered what awaited on the other side: a bathroom, locking the entrance behind herself. Compared to the one in Canterlot, Sparkle’s area of relief and cleanliness seemed cramped for somepony like Storm Breaker at first, but she adapted; tis’ the way of a Knight…or whatever.

Drawing back the shower curtains, Storm Breaker turned the knob for the cold water and let the frigid substance wash over her scraggly form as her forelegs supported her leaning body against the fronting wall. Lavender, coconut, vanilla, Fiji, obsidian, and a decent array of scented soaps sat expectantly in a rack hanging from the shower head, none of which she bothered to acknowledge. An old mares tale: washing your mane too much caused it to fall out.

So, it was okay to soak her mane for today. Right?

This morning was one of the few where she hadn’t awoken drenched in cold sweat.

Ten minutes in the shower, on the dot, starting at the mane, then rubbing a soft sponge soaked in sea-scented body wash to clean her scar-riddled body. Stepping out, it took roughly fifteen minutes to dry herself by sitting on her flanks and lightly scrubbing her drenched fur with a green towel, repeating the earlier process. Don’t use the brush on your mane and tail; don’t care if the mane brush Rarity gave you to ‘purge’ the unkempt style you liked sat on the counter. Use the right hoof to pat down the mane until acceptable. Use the left to straighten your coat with the brush. Finish off by wrapping the patch around your blinded eye and push the strands of mane over to hide any straps.

The idea for Storm Breaker to temporarily live with Sparkle came from the bookworm mare herself.

Walking was still a slight challenge, having laid in bed for two weeks straight following her Everfree encounter for the spells to take effect, and the doctors still advised her to refrain from physically demanding tasks to ensure their treatment worked. But the doctors discharged her regardless- more ponies needed care, and she could do basic actions. So, being technically homeless and unable to return to service, she accepted Sparkle's offer, seeing no other option.

It was a nice gesture.

Sadly, Twilight was barely around, distracted by helping rebuild Ponyville.

A dead-eyed stranger stared back at her in the hanging mirror above the counter’s sink, a thin frown adorning their muzzle, a droopy eye staring daggers into Storm Breaker’s head. It disappeared rather quickly. Opening the mirrored door, she pulled out a small jar, took a small white tablet, and swiftly ate it, a taste of mint coating her tongue. Chew three times on each side, ignore the agony of healing chipped teeth, rub the leftovers against the roof of your mouth, and then swallow. Replace, close, and step away.

As quickly as she arrived, Storm Breaker left the bathroom refreshed and cleaner, passing the unchanged state of the other rooms and down the stairs to ground level. Every step felt like lead. Or was it her heart? No.

Everything about her body felt heavier; hopefully, sickness hadn’t found her again.

Disregard the living room, enter the kitchen, and stop before the fridge. Leaning down, Storm Breaker cracked open the wondrous cooling box’s door, scanning several food items. There was leftover takeout, a half-eaten hay burger, a half-full gem bowl, fruits, coffee creamer, and a six-pack of hard apple cider she bought yesterday. She took a bottle of cider. Storm Breaker never liked drinking a lot, in all honesty. The titanic mare popped the bottle's lid off using a flick of her hoof, throwing her head back soon after with the bottle’s lip firmly pressed against hers, letting the salty-sweet flavor of apples burn her parched throat.

No, she didn’t like it.

Parting ways with her drink, she longingly gazed at the cider for a second before setting it on a counter to the stove’s right. That’s when something caught her eye: a coffee maker. Yeah, it sounded better than morning alcohol. And gathering the supplies took two minutes, figuring out the machine took five, and starting it took one. Place two filters upfront in the compartment closest to you, coffee grounds centering them, and fill the rear tank with water.

Closing the lid, Storm Breaker wordlessly observed after she flipped the coffee maker on switch, the sounds of roaring brew failing to get a reaction.

Drip. Drip. Drip. it went, each droplet of the caffeinated beverage making her ears flick.

Olive Branch returned from business in Canterlot to check on her and Ponyville weeks ago; he sometimes visits to chat and catch up or sends gifts of baked goods or cards. It was a nice gesture. Sadly, he couldn’t stay around. Maintaining and overseeing the additional recovering soldiers sucked any chance of her spending time with the old coot for longer than a few minutes.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Was she what ponies called depressed? It was a silly thought. Not in the slightest, she believed. The night of the Nightmare Night Ball, what happened when Celestia left, was more akin to what Storm Breaker knew about depression from the books she read in her spare time. She had lots of it, not depression or crying. Then why was this feeling of emptiness in her chest, and why wasn’t she more concerned? Is it also a condition? Had a demon stole a part of her in her sleep and took it back to Hades? It felt like something was missing.

A sensation of anger would be her usual reaction to this situation, calling it nonsense and burying herself in work or any other available distractions to keep busy.

No, that was the warrior. She wasn’t like that anymore.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Hoof tapping against the floor, Storm Breaker returned lost attention back to the machine half filled with dark-brown coffee, biting her lower lip. Eyes switched to whatever was close by. A calendar untouched since winter time. The trash can needs to be changed. Those salt and pepper shakers were in the wrong order, as well as the sugar cube and flour jars.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Spike, the unusually observant infant dragon he was, noticed when Storm Breaker’s ‘erratic’ and brash nature dulled in the waning days of her stay in the Golden Oak’s Library. It’s not like she tried hiding it. He was the only one who stayed in the Library for most of the day, and he spent it trying to enact ‘friendly’ conversation with her over any topic, even if she barely responded beyond grunts and mumbled replies.

It was a nice gesture. Sadly, Storm Breaker didn’t feel like talking then and now.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Grounding her teeth and tightening her jaw, Storm Breaker’s breath barely kept its composure as she dug her tapping hoof into the hardwood floor.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Idiot didn’t describe how brain-dead she was. Her stupid heart didn’t work like it was supposed to when her comrades did nice things. Her stupid brain never stood still, nagging and clawing the inside of her skull with equally dense thoughts and worries nopony cared about. Her stupid stomach tightened when she felt unwarranted fear. Her stupid legs always felt weaker since fully recovering. Her stupid eyes couldn’t stop fogging up!

Drip. Drip. Drip.

COULDN’T THING FUCKING HUNK OF SHIT WORK ANY FASTER?!?!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Caught off guard and flinching in surprise, the startled Storm Breaker unknowingly released a withheld, quaking breath and returned her sights to the coffee maker. Coffee wasn’t a terrible drink- it helps make a pony's morning easier.

Grabbing a mug out of the top cabinet above the coffee maker with a trembling hoof, filling it, and leaving the kitchen took about five minutes, abandoning the remaining brew behind while she moved to the living room, blinking hot wetness from her eye. Sitting on the couch, Storm Breaker set the steaming mug on a table beside her, steadying her breathing, failing, and deciding to seize a book about the history of cooking equipment and techniques resting on a larger table ahead of her.

Her bookmark saved the portion about the early years of the toaster: a marvelous invention for sliced bread, cooking it on both sides to perfection.

Storm Breaker sank into the couch and rested the open tome in her lap, taking the mug's handle in her hoof and lifting it to her muzzle.

This emptiness wasn’t because of a stupid condition. Storm Breaker wasn’t stupid, but this persistent feeling of forgetting something important was. That’s what she told herself…weakly. Nevertheless, it had to go away at some point; maybe it was homesickness, and she was missing Canterlot's more familiar environment. Yeah, it was fine. She was fine. Everything was fine. This second life of hers had boundless positives she never had before. There was nothing to get angry or sad over, and it would be better if she ignored her dormant anger like many things she couldn’t recall. Don’t be stupid and make those ponies whine over you; you never had a reason to cry- a Knight doesn’t show weakness in the face of enemies and allies. Today was like any other, peaceful and perfect, so she needed to reign in her pathetic sniffling, tight-lipped muzzle, and tight chest before Sparkle wo-

The coffee tasted bitter.

She had forgotten her sugar and cream.

Remaining stone-faced, she put down her mug and looked to the upper floor toward Spike and Sparkle’s rooms. Sparkle wasn’t awake; she slept an hour later on weekends like this one. Storm Breaker woke up overly early, and the miniature drake was always there to greet his boss first prior to her. The titanic mare stayed quiet to avoid alerting either of her morning presence. They wouldn’t leave their rooms for another two hours.

So Storm Breaker curled into a ball and silently wept.