Author Topic: A Stitched Past  (Read 63 times)

Offline Patches

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 32
  • A stranger I remain.
    • View Profile
A Stitched Past
« on: January 07, 2014, 10:18:30 am »
I am a blade in the dark. My movements are mere shadows to my true intentions. I strike without remorse, but mourn my opponent's memories. I take up my blades to cast down those who would seed Equestria with evil, and nopony would hear my name or deeds uttered in even the most remote locations. I am a Samareai...

I am alone.


----------------------

Forty years earlier...

A long way for a mare to come, but it was nothing to Patches. The years melted under her as she continued her life in sad solitude and grief that she had become accustomed to. Her dramatic life story that plagued her conscious day in and day out had to begin somewhere, and sometimes, she would relive certain parts of it, even though when she woke up the memories would escape her again, leaving her wondering if the visions were really her memories, or more conjurations of her frail mind to help fill the void left from her lack of closure.

A very young light grey mare sat on the doctor's table, patiently waiting with her parents for the doctor to come in and see them. It was a very barren room, even for a family doctor. The only interesting thing the now two year old mare could look at were the colourful and graphic diagrams of various body systems. They were vibrant, but Patches could barely see them. The room was lit by very harsh fluorescent lights, and she had to squint incredibly hard to be able to stand the bright light. Getting to the clinic was an entirely different story, the young mare had to balance atop her father's back, covering her eyes with both legs, whimpering from the shocking pain that her sensitivity to light caused her. This was the entire reason they were there, to figure out why the young filly could not go outside in the sun.

She sat on the thin paper sheet that covered the doctor's table, looking nervously at her two parents as they sat together on the couch, smiling reassuringly as they looked back at her. Even in the dream world, she could not remember her parents' exact features, and at most, she saw two vaguely pony shaped blobs with horns jutting from their heads. The three of them looked toward the door as a knocking was heard and the doctor stepped in, also very indefinite in his own features. He trotted into the room cheerily, putting on a smile for the child that sat on the table. She did not smile but instead, shrank away as far as she could. This was entirely new to her, and she did not know how to react. The doctor only continued to beam at her before he turned to face her parents to talk.

He flipped open a blank page on his clipboard and dipped a quill in some ink, poising it at the ready as he asked the parents several questions. To Patches, it sounded as though it were white noise. She did not pay attention as she continued to try to make out a poster about the digestive system that hung on the wall by the door. She could not understand any of it, but it was more interesting than the talking the grown ponies were doing. Finally, the doctor stood up and Patches looked at him fearfully as he approached.

"It's okay Patches, let's see if we can figure out why it is so hard for you to see." He gave her a reassuring smile as he dimmed the lights. It was darker, and her eyes opened comfortably now. She could see as well as anypony in the day when it was dark like this, and the room was suddenly interesting again. The doctor noticed this pique in interest as she became more alert, giving a curious and light, "Hmm..." as he started with a regular checkup. Ears, mouth, heartbeat, lungs. He saved the eyes for last, looking into them carefully before warning, "Alright hon, I want you to be very brave and try to keep your eyes open as long as you can." She nodded quietly and the doctor smiled again as he reached over to the lights and started to slowly brighten them again.

He watched her carefully, noting how little her pupils dilated as they were exposed to the light. Finally with a pained squeak, she closed her eyes and started to rub them with her hooves, trying to get the sharp pain out. The doctor gave a more serious, "Hmm..." this time as he frowned, doing the experiment again to make sure he was going to give a proper diagnosis. When he finished, he turned to the parents again after writing a few more notes on his clipboard. He looked up to them and said, "This is indeed very strange. This isn't photophobia like I originally thought when you described her behaviour to me. She doesn't avoid the light by choice, but rather because it physically pains her. As I brightened the lights, her pupils should have begun to dilate to adjust to the gradual change. Her pupils did not dilate at all. I must say that while this is often a sign of more serious ailments, she checks out completely and is as healthy as a horse. I have honestly never seen this before. The only thing I could suggest for this is magic eye surgery, but she is still young, she still has a chance that she may outgrow it. All I can say is give it time."

She remembered her parents gave her just that.

Four months after the the doctor's visit, Patches sat in her room in the dark, staring out the window from the shadows. It was a bright and sunny day, and the window of the shophouse that her family lived in overlooked the playground. She sat quietly, sadness and longing in her sensitive emerald eyes as she watched the other fillies play together, running around and shrieking in delight as they enjoyed the sun. Not Patches.

She sighed in sorrow as her eyes welled up with tears as they always did when she realized that she would never be able to have fun with other ponies like that. She could barely leave the house without crumpling to her knees in a fit of pain from being exposed to the light. She could only sit in the dark, only a single stuffed mare was her friend, and she had seen better days. As Patches sat in the window, she finished stitching up the stuffed mare's chest that was ripped open when it caught on something. Fixing cloth came naturally to her, and it helped to pass the lonely hours that she had to herself while her parents worked the shop during the day.

She pulled the final thread through the rip and tied it shut. Thirty seven stitches. Patches smiled sadly and pitifully as she hugged the stuffed mare tightly to herself, quietly sharing her pain and grief with it as the cloth soaked up the tears that she now quietly cried. She was a prisoner of her own body, not able to leave the confines of her forced darkness during the day, and not allowed to go outside during the night. She had no friends... save for the false one.

She didn't glance up as the door to her room opened. She didn't feel like showing her face to the world as it was buried in the shoulder of the stuffed mare that was almost as big as her. She could hear the hoofsteps of both of her parents walk up to her, and she could hear her mother give a sad sigh as she saw her daughter like this. She spoke up softly, "Patches, did you want to try something for us? We couldn't help but notice how sad you are up here, so we decided to make something for you that we hope will help you go outside..." Patches didn't saw anything, but instead glanced over to what her father was levitating in front of him.

It was a very shallow cone shaped wicker hat. The wicker was woven skillfully by her father in a strong and sturdy fashion. Two lengths of cord ran down from under it, meant to tie under her chin to secure it to her so she wouldn't have to worry about balancing it. It had a very wide brim, almost as wide as she was long, but her father had made it big enough for her to grow into. He held it towards her and her mother motioned with her hoof to her daughter to come and try it on.

Patches set the stuffed mare down and walked towards them. Her father set the hat atop her head and carefully, but firmly tied the hat to her head. She tried to look up at them, but as soon as she lifted her head, the hat slid off of her head and rested comfortably on her back, held onto her by the cords. Patches carefully replaced the hat and followed her parents out of her dark room into the dimly lit hallway, to the brightly light shop house that was closed for lunch. Normally she would have to squint to see here, and she almost did out of habit, but she slowly opened her eyes, able to see clearly as the shadows cast by the hat shielded her eyes from the harsh lights. She gasped in surprise and her parents smiled heavily as she slowly made her way to the front door.

She pushed her way out of it and stepped outside, looking around with wide eyes. She had never seen the world from this perspective before, and it was a whole new world of wonder to her as she wandered about in a shocked stupor, admiring the colours from the shadows that her shader cast on her face. She turned around and looked back to her parents with wide, gleaming eyes, no longer red with tears but glimmering with joy as she ran up to them and hugged them tightly. They laughed lightly to each other and her father turned to her mother and said, "See, I told you she'd like it. Now she can actually enjoy the world like the rest of us. Say, why don't we celebrate by going camping for the weekend? I hear the Everfree Forest is very nice this time of year." Her mother nodded in agreement and smiled lovingly as her child embraced her, happy that she had cured Patches of her tears. Patches soon ran off to play with the other children, joining in immediately as she ran around, happy as could be.

Share on Facebook Share on Twitter


Offline Patches

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 32
  • A stranger I remain.
    • View Profile
Re: A Stitched Past
« Reply #1 on: January 08, 2014, 02:46:59 pm »
They were gone.

In nothing but a few seconds, they were gone from her life. By some wicked twist of circumstance or stroke of luck, whichever one seemed to favour the mortified filly, she was caught up in a tree instead of on the ground. Whether more mercy was offered to the young filly, whose young and sensitive eyes now stared widely at the grisly site of her parents getting ripped limb from limb, was debatable. With the screams of her beloved mother and father, and the hungry barks and howls of the timberwolves, her life had changed.

Patches stayed up in that tree for several hours until the timberwolves left, dragging what little was left of her parents' bloody and broken bodies with them. After that, her mind that still refused to believe that this was happening, finally cracked. The filly buried her face in her legs and cried, her soft cries and sobs punctuated with vain calls for her mom or dad, in some small hope that they would come back and console her with a warm hug and tell her it wasn't real. No such comfort came.

Eyes still bleary with tears, she climbed down the tree and looked around the camp, hunger forcing her to search for something. The cooler that was already broken open was mostly empty, but she did find a sandwich. As she ate it between her choked sobs, she was constantly reminded of her parents and how they were no longer there. She didn't stay at the camp, she was too terrified of the monsters returning, so she ventured out into the forest, wandering aimlessly. She did not know the way to civilization, and it hadn't yet dawned on her that she was doomed to fall to either hunger, thirst, or injury.

The filly wandered for several days, hunger, thirst, sleeplessness, exhaustion, and sorrow being the dominating factors of her journey. She was without hope, and every so often she would choke out a quiet, teary cry for her mommy or her daddy. When the pangs in her stomach became unbearable, and she cried dry tears, she curled up at the base of a tree, nuzzling up next to it as she used her hat as some sort of blanket, trying to imagine her parents embracing her and tucking her in for bed.

They weren't coming back. Patches was to die there. That realization only gave her a sad hope, at least she would see her mommy and daddy again. With a sniff and a final session of strained tears, she rolled onto her side and closed her sensitive eyes for what she thought was the final time. She did not hear the pony that approached her, slowly so as not to startle the little filly, and her head lifted in surprise to see the one she would soon call teacher.

"Now, now child, it's alright... What is your name? Why are you so far away from home? Where are your parents?"

Offline Patches

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 32
  • A stranger I remain.
    • View Profile
Re: A Stitched Past
« Reply #2 on: January 09, 2014, 07:39:11 pm »
"Now, now child, it's alright... What is your name? Why are you so far away from home? Where are your parents?"

Patches looked up at the strange brown stallion, too weak to cry, only whimpering lightly from the pain in her empty stomach. She was terrified again, she was lost, and her parents were still gone. She wanted to start crying all over again, to embrace this stranger's leg and just cry away her pain, hoping for something better than what had already become of herself. She could not move though, her legs were too weak to even stand on their own now.

So she answered him, speaking in a tiny voice that was dry and hoarse from not having anything to drink in a long time, "P... Patches..." The stranger gave her a friendly smile once again and knelt down beside her, looking the emaciated filly over with concern in his eyes as he continued in his oddly gentle voice, "Patches? That's a very pretty name. Tell me, young Patches, where are your parents? Are you lost?"

The light gray unicorn filly opened and closed her mouth to say something, but as she thought about her parents once more, she nearly broke down into tears again, and she choked up once more, only nodding in answer to his question, managing to meekly whisper, "Mommy and daddy... they're go... g..." Taking another deep breath, she started sobbing once more and she choked out, "...gone..."

The stallion looked at the emotional wreck of a child and gave a sad and sympathetic sigh. He sat there with her for a second, watching Patches cry before he pulled her close, giving her a gentle hug and gently shushing her to try to get her to calm down. The filly only clung to him, as he was the first one to try to comfort her in the past three days since her parents died. Her tears soaked into his coat, and after a while, she could not cry tears anymore, and simply whimpered loudly, until finally she just trembled against him.

He lightly brushed her head and stood up, picking up the weak filly with his magic and placing her on his back, giving her a smile as he said, "Come along then, young Patches, let's get you something to eat then, and you can tell me what happened. My name is Edge. You need not fear me, I am your friend, and I am a Samareai." The filly stirred a bit, ears perking up slightly at the mention of food, her stomach growling loudly as it demanded it. Her shaky and weak voice asked the brown unicorn stallion, "What is a Sama.. Sama... Samamai?"

He let loose a throaty chuckle at her adorable butchering of his title, explaining back to her, "A Samareai is a defender of the weak, young one. We are trained from a young age to defend ourselves so that we may defend those who can't. We are a blade in the dark. We take up our blades to halt others, and strike down those that would seed Equestria with evil, and inherit not a single deed to our names. That is what a Samareai is, and that is what you are to become... young apprentice."

Offline Patches

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 32
  • A stranger I remain.
    • View Profile
Re: A Stitched Past
« Reply #3 on: January 10, 2014, 11:55:56 pm »
"... and this is where you will be sleeping, Patches."

The young filly looked around the barren room wide-eyed. Where were the toys? All there was was a bed, a table, and a picture of some mountains on the wall. It was so much different than the colourful room she had before, even if it was incredibly dark all the time, and it almost always had something in it to keep her occupied. Not this room. There wasn't even a single stuffed mare that she could call her friend...

"Do you have any questions, young one?"

She looked up at the stallion, and then over to the door that he did not point out yet, and he followed her gaze to it. His friendly voice took a unexpectedly cold turn and he looked at it for a few seconds before apathetically addressing the young unicorn.

"That is my study. You must promise me that you will never set hoof in there without my permission. Ever. Do you understand? If you disobey this, there will be consequences, child."

The filly backed up slightly, whimpering a little bit from the sudden change of his tone, managing to stammer out, "I-I promise, M-master." He stared her down for a good ten seconds and she waited, terrified of what he would do, until his face finally softened once more and he gestured to her room.

"Good. Now get some sleep, student. Tomorrow, we will begin the first steps of your long journey to becoming a Samareai, a warrior like myself."

Patches walked into the room obediently and he shut the door behind her, leaving her standing in the barren and dark room. It was eerily quiet, and already she was afraid of things in here. It was too foreign, it was too quiet, it was too dark, it was too blank, it was not a room fit for a child, it was a room built for a minimalist, no place for a child.

After a few more seconds of standing there, she sulked over to her futon, her stomach now full with all the rice she ravenously ate to satisfy her three days worth of hunger. She wriggled under the covers and rest her head on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling and around the room before she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. Almost immediately, she could see her parents being gruesomely ripped apart, and tears started to form in her eyes once more. She couldn't sleep. Not after witnessing that horrible event. She just wanted her mommy and daddy back so they could all go home together. She didn't want to be a Samareai. She didn't want to be a warrior. She just wanted to be Patches.

Tossing and turning a little bit more, wishing that she had her stuffed mare with her to hold onto, she finally resorted to bunching up her sheets in her legs and holding onto those. She closed her eyes and hugged them tightly, wishing that she had some sort of friend that she could talk to, some sort of friend that could protect her, a friend that would listen to her troubles and always tell her that everything would be alright.

Patches hugged the blanket tighter the more she thought of this friend, what they would be like, and what they would look like, what they would sound like, becoming lost in the absent-mindedness of a child's imagination until sleep finally took her. The last thing she thought of was what this imaginary friend's name would be. She couldn't figure out a proper name before she was finally unconscious.

Offline Patches

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 32
  • A stranger I remain.
    • View Profile
Re: A Stitched Past
« Reply #4 on: January 11, 2014, 09:07:32 pm »
Patches woke up at the crack of dawn, a time beaten into her to wake up at. Almost without hesitation, she sat herself up and shook her head lightly to wake up. She had to wake up quickly, otherwise she would miss her breakfast completely and she would go hungry until lunch. Her master wasn't so lenient with some late risings, and she had to adapt her internal clock quickly to wake up on time.

Quickly, she grabbed her shader and pushed onto her head before walking over to the wall where her new training katana was. She struggled to wrestle the belt around her waist, finally getting it on after a few sighs. The slightly dulled sword was still a little big for her four-year old body, but she was growing quickly in both stature and strength, thanks to her master's training.

Ever since her episodes of magic impulses were over, and she had established control over her own unicorn powers, her master had given her this dull katana that was meant for her training. She was a little hesitant about getting such a weapon, and it kind of scared her, but her friend calmed her down and told her that if her master thought that she was ready, then she was ready.

Since her first night in her master's care, when she was sent off to bed, sore from the day's exercises, she would climb onto her bed and go back to imagining about her friend that would tell her that everything would be alright. Just imagining a conversation between the two of them with Patches either crying, venting her frustrations, or pondering her confusions seemed to make anything better, almost as though she was talking to a real friend, especially when she was scared about her sudden surges of magical energy and she could not control what she did, she would just focus on her friend, and what a hug felt like when she last felt it.

Walking quickly out of her room with her katana dragging behind her comically, she walked into the kitchen just in time to see her master sit down at his end of the table, just starting his bowl of rice. "Good morning, Patches," he said flatly between bites of rice, to which she responded just so, "Good morning, Master." He then gestured to the seat across the table where another bowl of rice was set, and she eagerly crawled onto it, eating the rice quickly so that her master wouldn't be upset with her for dawdling.

When they both finished, she washed the dishes as she always did, as she was still too young to cook yet, and she followed her master quickly and quietly out the front door to the small field outside the shack. He turned to look at her, and she stared straight ahead, standing up straight and respectfully, just like he shown her. It was at this time that she would learn her lessons, and knowledge would pass down to her from generations before.

"Alright student, show me what you have learned yesterday."

All hint of softness and gentleness left his face as he said that, and he took on the stern look of a teacher. Patches bowed and drew her practice katana, and went through bit of the form that she was taught yesterday, the katana wobbling in her weak magical grasp as her steps struggled to go where they were supposed to go. When she finally finished, she looked at her master, waiting for orders on what to do next.

"Sloppy. Try it again, one stance at a time. You will get this right before I let you go for lunch."

And so she dutifully resumed her training with more focus, trying her best to get it to her master's standards. She wasn't going to miss another meal, that she was sure of. She was still young, and as a result, her training had yet to become intensive.

Offline Patches

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 32
  • A stranger I remain.
    • View Profile
Re: A Stitched Past
« Reply #5 on: January 15, 2014, 01:17:57 am »
Patches stumbled into her room, broken in both body and spirit.

She was fifteen now, and training had started to hit its peak in difficulty. Most of her day was spent practicing her forms and running the exercises that her master would plan out for her, seemingly without end. These exercises left her sore, and sometimes with broken limbs if she wasn't careful. They were demanding, challenging her strength, dexterity, and endurance every day in some new way and she always ended the day tired, collapsing in bed and falling asleep immediately.

The mare could put up with challenge, she had been training for thirteen years of her life now and she expected some sort of twist to her exercises, they left her body broken. What broke her spirit however, was her master. He did not tolerate failure well. With every time that she failed one of his tests, he would hit her and tell her to do it again, and again, and again until she got it right. For the first few days he started acting like this, it took her completely by surprise, and she wasn't sure how to react. That night, she spent in her futon, silent tears streaking from her young face as she tenderly poked at the bruise, asking her imaginary friend why this was happening.

Her friend would say nothing as she sat beside her on that futon, the gray mare seeming to be off in her own world reading a book with an oddly familiar title as Patches silently cried, clutching at what little warmth she could find as the pain caused by her mentor made her remember just how alone she was. It was harsh, and the pain stabbed through her soul like an icicle made of razors, slowly burning its cold way through her insides, shredding her to pieces almost gently. The more this happened, the more she relied on her friend to fill in the gap, talking to her more and more to try to give herself some form of comfort. She would listen, offering her a smile every so often, but she just seemed so distant all the time as though she wasn't listening even though Patches knew she was, she was her friend right?

Tonight was no different. She simply collapsed on the bed, her head hitting the pillow, wincing as her aching side throbbed once more in dull pain.
"Another rough day Patches?"
Patches simply nodded, not turning over to look at her friend. She was probably just reading another book, maybe "Lost Hearts in the Everfree" or something along those lines. She could tell just by the passive tone in her voice. Patches knew her friend inside out, it wasn't that hard to imagine what she was doing.
Perhaps not. She felt an unexpected pressure on the other side of the futon and a hoof graze over her side in a comforting manner.
"How long has this been going on for now?"
Patches opened her eyes, rolling her head over to look into the apathetic face of her only friend. What kind of question was that? She had been with her this entire time, she must have known how long. Patches sniffed and said in a weak and tired voice that was hoarse from crying, "I don't... know..."
Her friend simply arched her eyebrows, giving her apathetic face a somewhat sarcastically amused look.
"You don't know? Alright then how about this then, you spent all of this time here, thirteen years by my count... and what do you have to show for it?"

Patches paused for a second in thought. Her friend seemed to be acting incredibly strange with this sudden interest in what she was doing. Patches opened and closed her mouth a few times before laying her head back on her pillow in defeat, not saying a word. She knew she had nothing but bottled up pain and misery to show for it, and that was just as good as nothing at all. There was silence for a long time, until Patches opened her eyes and saw her friend in front of her, holding a particular book in her magical grasp, ghostly white just like her own, and set it down in front of her, flipping the pages open to a certain page.

Patches opened her emerald eyes and sat up, looking over the book. She recognized it as one of her master's spell tomes, taking a quick peek at the cover to find out that it was "Advanced Blood Magic and Practical Applications". Patches frowned and looked up at the blank and apathetic face of her friend who was now seated beside the futon and asked, "What is this for?"

The mare stared at her unblinking and said flatly, "Patches, I have known you since you were two years of age. I have seen you sad, I have seen you angry, and I have seen you happy. The later however, seems to be happening less and less often now." The mare tapped a hoof on the page she left it open on and added, "Read."

So the unicorn took the book and started reading, muttering along under her breath, "'Come to Life' and it's uses in smithing..." After a few minutes of reading, she looked up in shock, realizing what her friend wanted her to do as she met her gaze, only this time, she was smiling a mischievous half smile. Patches looked at her, unsure and somewhat shocked at the thoughts running through her head, "You... you aren't suggesting that I... MAKE this!?"

Her friend nodded and said once more smoothly, "Yes, Patches. I know you are perfectly capable. You have so much raw emotions flowing through you, I would know. You can put those to good use by making yourself a weapon that reflects your anger, your rage, your grief, your sorrows, and when the time come for your final test, you will use it against your master. Beat him with the cruel irony and the suffering that he inflicted upon you. Show him that you are more than what he thinks of you."

Patches looked from her to the book again. It sounded too simple, but she knew it wasn't. The reagents for this weapon would be painful and draining on her very soul to acquire, and enchanting something with 'Come to Life' can have dire consequences if it isn't done right. What she had in mind required her to cast it so many times she would lose count. She was so unsure of herself that she started trembling lightly at the very thought of creating something like this and the hardship and pain she would have to go through.

She felt that comforting hoof on her shoulder again, and she knew her friend was behind her once more, hugging her tightly like she always did whenever Patches came to the bed in tears or frightened, as it had been since she was young. She could hear her friends smooth voice whisper softly into her ear, "Trust me Patches, I have been your friend for so long now, don't think that I don't know you are capable of this. You must try, these emotions are killing you, they have to be vented somehow. Think about it, but for now, you must sleep."

Patches let out a sigh and rested her head back on the pillow, accepting her friend's warm and comforting embrace as sleep seemed to almost force its way into her mind, taking her away from her pain for the night.

Offline Patches

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 32
  • A stranger I remain.
    • View Profile
Re: A Stitched Past
« Reply #6 on: January 29, 2014, 02:20:31 pm »
Patches stared out one of the lone windows by the kitchen table, listening to the dead silence as she sat there, bored out of her mind. One of her hind legs was in a splint after she broke it during one of her master's excercises, and now she was stuck until it healed. She could not continue her training until it healed, and she couldn't even keep herself occupied with chores around the house. She had nothing to do, and she had already read all of the books that her master kept in the shack.

So she sat there, just waiting for her leg to heal. She had been like this for about a week now, and her master said it should take about two or three months to heal on its own, and then it would take a few more weeks to get used to it again. It was its own kind of torture, to be confined not by a room but by your body's physical limitations; and it was something that she knew all too well.

It was just about time that her master would finish working in the forge, and she could hear him starting to tidy it up. Rubbing a hoof across her face, she looked at the door just as her master walked in. She looked at him with a apathetic yet somewhat downcast look on her face as she said in as even a tone she could muster, trying to hide her boredom, "Hello Master."

He looked at her and cocked his head curiously. There wasn't much that she could ever hide from him, he just seemed to know what she was thinking most of the time, so she could never really surprise him. After a few seconds of looking at his crippled and bored student, he sighed and a more concerned look crossed his face as he asked, "My student, how are you faring? Be honest with me."

She looked at him again and took a deep breath. She always tried to hide her discomfort from him as complaining was a sign of weakness and disrespect, but he was asking what was bothering her, so she figured it was okay to answer, "Master, my apologies, but since I broke my leg, I have been confined to either this chair or my bed. You have forbid me from doing any training or doing any of the chores around the house so that my leg can heal properly, but I feel helpless. Is there nothing I can do while I wait for my body to heal?"

Her master hummed in thought as he stroked his chin, looking from the floor to the ceiling in thought before finally looking at her and narrowed his eyes, as though deliberating whether what he was thinking was good enough. Finally he spoke up again and said, "I will be back, my student."

She watched as he disappeared into his study, the one that was forbidden to her for a few minutes. Her eyes were glued on the wood of the door as she strained to listen to what he was doing in there, but she couldn't hear his silent hoofsteps. When he finally stepped back out from it, he was holding something that she had never seen before, and she looked at it curiously as he walked over to the table, setting it down on it for her.

Patches looked from the object to her master and asked, "What is this, Master?" He smiled and answered in kind, "It is a violin, Patches, an instrument that is used to create music. I'm sure you have noticed how quiet it gets in here, so why don't you take this time to learn how to play it?" He must have noticed how unsure she looked, because he stood up and levitated it towards her chin and said, "I will show you how to use it. Hold it here like this..."

He then showed her the basics of playing the violin, showing her a few simple notes and how to glide the bow across the string properly before he left her alone with it, going back outside to finish cleaning up the forge. For the following weeks, Patches strung together and experimented with all of the notes on her free time, creating a few songs that gave the silence of the shack something pleasant to listen to in its stead.

When the three months were up, and her leg was fully healed and out of the splint, she sadly went and fetched her violin, offering it back to her master since she no longer needed it. When she did this, he laughed and said with humour in his voice, "Patches, you can keep it! I have not the time to play the instrument, let alone as well as you. You have shown me that you have the dedication and patience to learn it, and I do not wish to take the ability to take something so beautiful as music away from you." His smile widened as he watched the smile on his student's face grow wider. He patted her on the shoulder and said, "Now go put that in a safe place and come along outside, we must see if your leg still remember your forms after all its time spent healing."

 


Feel free to drop into our chat room below and say hi. We don't bite :3

Any questions or issues with the chat room below? Check here. Alternatively, try messaging an admin, who will do their best to help.



Meanwhile, enjoy animated pony shenanigans.