Ink

by Peregrine Caged

Rating: teen
Tags: Owlowiscious, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 2211

Twilight's discovery of a unique trait of Owlowicious' feathers leads to some very drastic consequences.

Though Spike is often the most dependable of assistants, he can have his off days. His accidents.

On the day he spills ink all over Owlowicious, Twilight will discover something that will change all of their lives forever.

Now with its own Audio Reading by konfics, here!

Part one of the Pony's Best Friend series.
Part two: In progress.
Part three: Planning.
Part four: Planning.
Part five: Planning.
Part six: Planning.

This started out as my response to the One Word Prompts thread on the Collab Cage. The response is just supposed to be 100-500 words, but it just kept going. So here is. Thanks to Therizzen for the word, which was Ink.

Preread by KartalTheWriter, Lapison, Therizzen, and TypewriterError.

Not canon to my fanonverse.

Published 2013-02-25 05:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-02-25 05:10:01 UTC

Ink

In all her years, through all her research, every request she had ever made, Twilight Sparkle had never--not once--been truly disappointed with Spike.

Well, there was a first time for everything she supposed.

It had been a comedy of errors leading to the current predicament: Owlowicious the owl, her nighttime assistant, pet, and friend, was dripping black, his normally fluffy and tawny feathered coat soaked to the skin in one of her most expensive black inks. Though few would have been able to tell you the difference, Twilight certainly understood the deeper, cleaner black of a proper Fine Print’s No. 1 Priority Black and the more utilitarian of a cheap well of Splotch’s Scribble Ink.

“But look at it this way, guys--now he doesn’t need to dress up for a fancy party or anything. He’s black tie, all the time!” Spike said, trying to find a positive spin on his accident. “Er, or black feather, I guess. Either way, you look good in black, buddy!”

“Hoo-hoo!” cried Owlowicious, clearly not thrilled. He lifted both his wings and gave them a small shake, sending drops of ink flying all over. Twilight jumped back, barely avoiding the mess.

“Owlowicious, please, don’t do that!” she pleaded. “I know you want it off, but not on all my nice, clean books! We’ll get you clean, just give me a moment...” She darted over to the nearest bookshelf, looking for anything about cleaning or spot removal spells.

She had already skimmed and abandoned four or five books when she heard a sharp hoo behind her. Turning, she saw the owl giving Spike a glare, rubbing his tail, as Spike held up an ink-soaked feather.

“Spike! What did you do that for?” she said tersely.

“Hold on, I’ve got an idea,” he called as he went to the next room. After a moment, he returned with a piece of paper. Setting it on the center desk, he took the quill--ignoring the fact that ink would get on his own claw--and started writing. “Look, Twilight! It’s an automatic quill. No well needed!”

She raised a quizzical eye. “Spike, that’s ridiculous. You’re going to make a mess.”

“No, seriously, you can touch it and it doesn’t come off. I think we’ve really got something here!”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Twilight said, taking the quill with her magic. She turned it round and round--nothing dripped off of it, the barbs having completely absorbed the ink. It must soak in and travel through the rachis to the tip, she thought. Magicking up the paper, she began writing. It worked just as well as Spike said it did--in no time at all, she had easily written more words than she normally could before having to dip the pen.

“See?” Spike said, his voice eager for Twilight’s recognition.

Setting down the paper and pen, she turned to Owlowicious. He was sitting there, now calm but watching them both curiously. He was no longer dripping. Twilight had to admit, he did look good in black.

“Spike,” Twilight said quietly, “run on down to City Hall and get the required forms for a patent request.”

“Right away,” the young dragon said with a salute. He turned and quickly left.

Leaving Twilight and Owlowicious in the library together. Alone.

She grinned and singsonged, “Oh, Owlowiiiiiciooooous.” She approached him slowly, a wide and--she hoped--disarming smile on her face. “Can I, um, borrow a few more of your feathers?”

“Hoo!” he cried, taking wing and flying as far away from the unicorn as he could. But he was limited by the constraints of basic physical reality and could only go so far, so fast.

Magic, on the other hoof, had little such restraints.

The panicking owl was soon engulfed in a bright magenta aura, his wings flapping uselessly as Twilight brought him back to the ground within her reach. Though he didn’t drip, she could tell he was still a bit damp, so she used her magic to pull out another quill.

“Hoo!” cried Owlowicious indingnantly. He gave Twilight a sharp look.

“Oh, it’ll grow back,” she said, shaking her head. Bringing up the sheet of paper, she tested this one and found it working just like the first. She gave a triumphant, “Hah! Amazing! I’ve never seen feathers act like this. Something must be special about you, Owlowicious. Oh, we’ll have to do some research--don’t worry, I’ll find the feathers you’ve molted in your nest for that.”

She let the owl go as she continued to talk to herself about the possibilities. Upset, he flew off to his perch, turning his back to Twilight.

The door crashed open, revealing Spike. He was out of breath, but had a huge grin plastered to his face. “Twi... Twil--” He sucked in a deep breathe. “Twilight!”

“Oh, that was fast Spike! Well, did you bring the paperwork?” she asked. He was holding a rolled up scroll, which she looked at curiously. “That’s not right. They don’t put forms in scroll form.”

“No, this isn’t the paperwork--you’ve got the patent!” he said, thrusting the scroll into the air. “They loved it so much, they’ve already placed an order for a hundred auto-quills!”

Twilight goggled. “A h-h-hundred!? But my current hypothesis is that only Owlowicious’ feathers are capable of this! There’s no way there’s anything close to a hundred feathers in...his...nest...” she trailed off, turning to his perch with a thoughtful look.

“Twilight? What are we going to do?” Spike asked, looking thoughtfully at the sullen owl as well.

Quietly, she replied, “What we have to, Spike. What we have to.”

Grinning conspiratorially to one another, they quietly crept up on the solid black owl. When they were within just a few feet, Twilight cried, “Now!”

Owlowicious turned and gave a sharp shriek as the duo grabbed him and took him to the basement, flapping his wings uselessly and hooting to the empty library. There was nopony to hear, nopony to help, as the basement door slammed shut, silencing the library to stillness.

Twilight awoke with a start, throwing off her blanket and sitting up. Her fur was matted with sweat, her mane a tangled mess. She looked side to side, relief to find Spike in his usual spot on the pillow in his solid gold basket.

Pausing, Twilight shook her head and thought, Wait, solid goldbasket? That’s not right...

Her mental reverie was broken by a sleepy Spike, “Twilight? You OK? Have a bad dream?”

“Uh, yeah... Yeah, it was bad, but uh, hey, Spike?”

“Yeah, Twilight?”

“Since when did you sleep on a giant pillow in a basket made of gold?”

He chuckled. “Since the auto-quill became the biggest thing since sliced bread.”

“What?!” she cried. That’s when she noticed. Instead of her simple sheets and economical bed, she was in a massive four-poster, with a thick, clearly down-stuffed comforter. Her room was far removed from her simple accommodations at the library in Ponyville. This room was massive, with wooden furniture all over, tapestries along the wall, and thick rugs on the floor.

“Yeah, remember? Owlowicious had a lot more feathers than we thought. They sold well and, since they were such a unique item, for a great price!”

“B-b-but Owlowicious...”

“He’s in the basement, like usual. Just a few more days and we can harvest some more feathers. So don’t worry, Twilight, everything’s just fine. Go on back to sleep...” It didn’t take long before she heard Spike’s usual snoring.

She shook her head again. No no no no, I did not turn one of my friends into a money making scheme!

Getting up, she rushed down unfamiliar stairs in an unfamiliar house. She quickly updated that to ‘mansion’, after passing through the third large room.

Finally, she made it to the stairs down. It was here she slowed, her heart beating fast, her mind racing with worry. Deliberately, one by one, she took each step with a pause. With every descending step, the fear in her heart grew. Alongside nauseating guilt.

Making it to the bottom step at last, she followed a short hallway to a solid steel door. There was a sign, marked ‘No Entry’ in bold, red letters.

Magicking the door open, she entered. It was a dark, small room. It smelled oddly of hospitals, all disinfectant and stale air.

In the center was a stand with a purple cloth draped over it. It was clearly birdcage-shaped. There was a large pipe leading from the ceiling to a small hole cut into the cloth. Below it, she could see a drain, stained black but clean otherwise.

“Owlowicious?” she said, hesitantly.

There was no reply.

Twilight’s heart felt like it would beat out of her chest at this rate. Swallowing, she caught the cloth in her magic and lifted, slowly at first. But soon she couldn’t take it anymore, so she ripped the whole thing off.

It was terrible.

It was a birdcage, of solid steel if she wasn’t mistaken. Inside, with only a few inches to move, was Owlowicious--or what was left of him. She could only tell that he was alive by the small rise of his body and the whistle of his breath. His eyes were open, but empty, permanent tear streaks leading down his face. She could see his skin in places, red and raw and horrible. In others were patches of feathers, some nearly full grown, others only just coming back.

There were various tubes and wires in place, she could see now. Some led to a machine monitoring his vitals. They seemed weak but steady. The others she guessed seemed to remove his waste. She about threw up.

It was the pair of tubes leading to his beak that were most terrible. One for food and one for water, it seemed. Some seemed to have leaked, leaving trails of rotting food from his mouth to the bottom of the cage.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stepped back, horrified at the cruelty and depravity she was apparently responsible for.

For an instant, a flash of recognition passed through one of the owl’s eyes as it looked back at her. Very weakly, more a squeal than a true animal noise, he let out a whistling, “Hoooooo...”

Again, Twilight awoke violently, this time falling off her bed. Spike awoke at the crash, saying, “What? What’s going on?”

Twilight curled into herself on the floor, her body shaking, her mind reeling.

Kneeling beside her, Spike said, worried, “Twilight! Twilight, come on, you’re scaring me!” He rubbed at her forehead--she was burning up--and whispered, “It was just a dream, Twilight. Just a dream, I promise.”

One wide eye turned to him, and she croaked, “A...dream?”

He gave her a warm smile and nodded. “Well, a nightmare I guess. But it’s all OK now.”

“Oh, Spike!” she cried, wrapping her hooves around him in a tight embrace. She gasped and let him go. “Owlowicious! Where is he? He’s not... He’s not in the basement, is he?!” Again, the dream played in her mind, the images still so fresh and real.

Spike just looked confused. “What? The basement? Why would he be in the basement? He’s in the main library, on his perch.” Crossing his arms, Spike grumbled. “He kept pecking at the window till he woke me up. Seemed to cut his hunt short tonight.”

“Oh, thank Celestia!” Twilight cried, relief flooding her, bringing her back to the floor. “It was terrible, Spike. We--I did some terrible things to him. Things I’d never do, I promise!”

He patted her on the shoulder. “There there, Twilight. It was just a nightmare. We all know how much you love Owlowicious. Now,” he said, yawning, “I’m really tired, so let’s both get back to sleep, yeah? You can see Owlowicious in the morning.”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve got to see him now. You go on back to bed.” She gave him a smile of her own. “I’m fine now, honest.”

Looking a little doubtful, Spike replied, “If you say so. Goodnight, Twilight.”

“Goodnight, Spike,” she said, heading down the stairs to the main library. Just like Spike said, she could see the telltale silhouette of Owlowicious on his perch. Breathing a sigh of relief, she trotted over to him, saying, “Oh, Owlowicious! You’re alright! Thank goo--”

She noticed then, as she got close enough to discern his colouring, that instead of his sandy brown, he was solid black. It was no trick of the light--the moon had broken through a window and shone on him, making it clear to see.

And from head to claw, he was most definitely black.

Screaming, Twilight turned and ran back upstairs, the terror she felt and horror at her own atrocities returning, overwhelming her.

Owlowicious turned his head, wondering what was wrong with his owner and friend. Settling it down to just a night terror, he shrugged, then began trying to clean the mud off of his feathers. It had been ungainly of him, missing that mouse and landing right in a mud puddle. He had been covered completely with dark, nearly black, mud.

Oh well, he thought. Twilight will clean what I can’t in the morning.

She is such a good owner, after all.