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File 142743427015.jpg - (86.89KB , 600x394 , board.jpg )
40833726 No. 40833726
#Closed #Canon: 6A #Chill #Dark #Violence #FiM-only #Semi-serious

Now, this someone had a name...but finding it, that was the hard part.

TODAY IN THE NEWS
HELICOPTER CRASH OVER VIETNEIGH DMZ KILLS FOUR, INCLUDING PROMINENT PRODUCER


Disaster struck during an Equestrian military flight today, when a helicopter suffered a severe electronics malfunction and crashed in the Vietneigh DMZ. The flight's passengers included two Equestrian soldiers, as well as prominent film producer Hoss Wheaton, who was scouting the DMZ for his new film. It was the first chartered military flight since the dissolution of Lonestar's federal defense contract, and pundits are already pointing to the crash as a symptom of the Equestrian army's incompetence. Grand Magister Winterscar is already allegedly accelerating negotiations with military contractors, while assuring representatives that he will not consider his own company in the proceedings...

There's a war coming. For now it's a whisper in the wind, a scrolling headline, a squeak at the very edge of perception. But it's coming. The shadows of this city seem to come alive, now: things that haven't moved in ages are stirring now, and old tensions are flaring up again. You can't walk down a street these days without hearing how the end is near—either from those new augments on the market, or those new people in the streets, or those new TV shows on the airwave.
People have started wearing longcoats in daylight, now. Bright blues and reds and greens and golds. There's a bank robbery every other day. Corpsec ranks are swelling. The Onyx age has come again; and with it, the promise of bloodshed unparalleled.
Will you be ready?
1445 posts omitted. Last 50 shown. Unspoiler all text  • Expand all images  • Reveal spoilers
>> No. 40863324
File 142974994396.png - (26.72KB , 329x374 , Conch Shell, Nervous.png )
40863324
>>40863314
"Ow! Ow, fuck! Bad idea!"

A sharp, intense pain suddenly cuts through the anesthetic, causing Conch cringes like a bitch. His legs lock in place, as if deciding not to let him do any more damage to himself. He lets out a series of pathetic whimpers and squeezes his eyes shut, silently praying to whatever might be listening that he didn't do himself permanent damage.

"...mmmmngh..."
>> No. 40863326
File 142975012289.png - (421.65KB , 1280x893 , relaxing.png )
40863326
>>40863320
He was left quietly contemplating this for several seconds, his expression betraying his evident enjoyment of the treatment, if that wasn't obvious enough before, but also, a certain amount of bittersweetness. He still felt some shame in his earlier actions. "...I'm inclined as I ever was to question and pry at your motivations. But for once, I think I will leave that to your discretion. I am...Not so averse to this."
>> No. 40863331
>>40863324
"...Damn it... That looks like it hurt."

Doc hobbles over and yanks out the needle quicker than she'd rip off a band-aid. "...Eugh. Lie back down. Damn it, now I have to stitch that up..."

She grumbles again, taping the needle to a rack on the IV and shaking her head. "And don't get up unless I tell you to. Also, try not to bend that foreleg very much. Pinch it, if you can. You don't want to get blood anywhere. Luna knows you've lost enough already."

>>40863326
"Just... Stay quiet for a minute, dear. Let me finish."

In a minute, the brush moves up from his jawline and moves up to his mane, doing the same thing as it did before. It got behind his ears, as well, and went all the way down his neck, assuming he lifted his head enough. However, it was much slower than it was earlier -- almost slow enough to bother Poet, and leave him wanting more.
>> No. 40863333
File 142975087136.png - (27.67KB , 406x361 , Conch Shell, Sad.png )
40863333
>>40863331
"Ow! ...O... Okay...

Conch whimpers again and slowly climbs back onto the table. He closes his eyes, rests his forehead on the table, and lets out a faint sniffle.

"...ohhhh... What am I doing here, Doc?"
>> No. 40863336
File 142975124256.png - (793.31KB , 1728x1728 , Swimsuit token.png )
40863336
>>40863331
"What're you...?"
He did at least go along with the motions for now, but his confusion was almost palpable. He remained still as best he could, and managed to suppress the quiet vocalizations of satisfaction, but his eyes were beginning to flicker about in the usual way.
>> No. 40863339
>>40863333
"You were getting your MMCS installed. Now, you're probably going to need stitches for your foreleg," she grumbles, trotting over to the side of the bed again. She gives it a glance over, and is clearly dissatisfied.

"...Yep, that's... That's nasty. Hold on a minute..."

She then leaves the bed's side to run over to the counter yet again, opening a drawer and rummaging around inside.

>>40863336
"Hush, now, quiet, now," she murmurs, finally standing up from whatever she was sitting on. Slowly, she makes her way over to Poet, but stops only a few feet away. Her incessant brushing slows even further, and she takes in a deep breath. Eventually, it almost comes to a halt, scratching behind Poet's left ear.

"...You really are a colt, at heart, aren't you?"

It's unclear whether or not that question was rhetorical.
>> No. 40863345
File 142975247927.png - (26.72KB , 329x374 , Conch Shell, Nervous.png )
40863345
>>40863339
Conch takes a moment to examine his injury, then whimpers softly.

"I've... had worse. But I don't... I don't mean like that. I mean... What am I doing here? I-- What are we doing here? I used to be a cop, for the princesses' sake. Now I'm getting cyberware shoved inside me so I can be a better Operator. I don't..."

He says something else after that, but the cotton makes it difficult to make out. After a few moments, he sniffs loudly, takes off his sunglasses and stares blankly at his injured foreleg.

"...how did I get here, Doc?"
>> No. 40863348
File 142975258741.png - (2.16MB , 1680x1050 , fragments.png )
40863348
>>40863339
"Doctor...?" he murmurs, tensing up slightly. He was never very good at dealing with this sort of thing. He didn't exactly have practice, nor a ton of inclination to find much. He was watching her every move intently now. "What brought this on? You know if you want something, it's better to simply ask..."
>> No. 40863350
>>40863345
>> No. 40863353
>>40863345
"Shit happens, Conch, and life is unpredictable," she grunts, pulling out a needle and thread. "I don't know how you got here. Maybe finding actual employment was tough. Maybe you got sick of it. Who knows? Only you do. All I know is that whatever happened must have been insane."

Then, she trots over, grabbing his foreleg roughly and rotating it to get a better look. "Me? I'm here for a number of reasons. Employment and family issues, mostly. Makes me wonder if it's even worth it to stick around on this planet at all. But then again, I don't really have that much of a say in the matter."

"Now, do you want me to numb this up, or can you handle it?"

>>40863348
"Perhaps it is better to ask. But, then again, my voice goes unheard more than it should. That, and actions speak louder than words," she murmurs, emphasizing her sentence with a few strokes of the brush. "Words couldn't rightfully speak enough for what I'm feeling right now, to tell you the truth."

"I'm sure you don't mind a more warm-hearted approach, do you? You seem to be enjoying yourself," she says, taking another step closer.

Last edited at Wed, Apr 22nd, 2015 18:57

>> No. 40863354
File 142975370588.jpg - (169.21KB , 623x765 , horror.jpg )
40863354
>>40863353
"Oh?" he inquired, quirking an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading over his face as he rolled over once more, now right side up. "Try me. You might find yourself rather surprised. That being said, the brush is rather nice. I think I would not mind it more often. Though you'd have to be rather late to bed, I think...Though...perhaps you're used to that..."
>> No. 40863356
>>40863353
"...I can handle it. And... well... I don't have anything sweet to say, but for what it's worth... I'm glad you're here."

Conch whimpers softly and just stares blankly ahead, gritting his teeth and steeling himself. From this angle, the Doc has a very good look at the profile of Conch's face. And... she can see his eyes. Or one of them, anyway. It's a bright and vibrant blue. Conch stares off into the distance for a moment... but then, something else the Doc said registers, and he lets out a short laugh.

"...Insane?"

He turns his head to face the doctor and looks her square in the eyes. His other eye, as the doctor can see now, is... different. His iris is split neatly into thirds, like a pie chart -- one red, one yellow and one green.

"You could say that."
>> No. 40863358
>>40863354
"I'm used to late hours, yes," she starts, sitting down on her haunches. "Late nights and graveyard shifts aren't abnormal for me. The emergency room needs to be open twenty-four-seven, after all, just in case something stupid happens. Like the day you came in, actually -- one or three in the morning, if I remember correctly," she says, thinking. "It was... Not the best time. But you didn't have much of a choice."

"Much like I didn't, at a time."

She sighs, working the brush behind Poet's ears like a scrubber. "I just wanted to talk. About what happened not too long ago. Even though you're not one to express emotion, I figured you felt horrible, since you called me."

>>40863356
...Peculiar.

Doc has seen some interesting shit lately. Vampires, nigh-immortal Ibexians, dragons, and... Some sort of dragon-pony hybrid. Needless to say, it was getting more and more difficult to actually surprise her. Though she did take a bit of interest, at first, she quickly goes back to work.

In a moment, she starts stitching away, grimacing a little. "...I can understand," she says, biting her tongue as she works. "Odd, odd things happen. I take it your eyes have something to do with it? I've only met one other person that made such a fuss about hiding their eyes, and they... Heheh, well, they had good reason."
>> No. 40863360
File 142975680691.png - (25.42KB , 328x383 , Conch Shell.png )
40863360
>>40863358
"Yeah, my eyes have something to do with it. I mean, I don't wear sunglasses at night because it looks cool."

Conch slipped his sunglasses back on and let out a heavy sigh.

"And yeah... my eyes have something to do with it. However... I am neither sober nor drunk enough to tell that story right now. Let's just say 'I suffered an injury in the line of duty' and leave it at that."
>> No. 40863361
>>40863358
His smile seemed to slowly fade, till he was left sitting there quietly amidst the books and pillows. "A fairly accurate observation," he noted with a short nod, before turning the motion instead to press the working brush more firmly into his scalp, in much the same way as, perhaps, a particularly contented house cat might. "But I suppose I cannot blame you for any hard feelings. Anyone in their right minds would be in shock after such a close encounter."

He rose to his own haunches, tilting his head inquisitively. "...Go ahead, doctor. You know I am not so fond of keeping secrets."
>> No. 40863367
>>40863360
"Respectable."

She makes rather quick work of the wound, and before long, it's almost done. "I could never be in the line of fire. Ever. ...Well, I was once. That didn't end too well," she groans, looking behind her. "I still have bulletholes in my back from the encounter. And I probably would have died if not for my teammates."

"I'm lucky I had teammates. I almost lost them, too."

>>40863361
In response to Poet's actions, she presses down harder with the brush, digging into his coat even deeper as she moves along.

"I felt I needed to explain a little. I... Understand you need to feed. And I wouldn't have had much of a problem with it afterwards, had it not been for the way you grabbed me," she says, moving to Poet's left ear. "And I wanted to make sure you understood exactly what happened."
>> No. 40863375
File 142975799986.png - (85.41KB , 286x408 , Go on.png )
40863375
>>40863287
Salsa eyed curiously and then sighed sadly. So much for that sweet training montage.

"Alright. Seems simple enough. Just stab them with the pointy end."

Another sweet reference.
>> No. 40863378
>>40863367
"I can make a few educated guesses," he said delicately, torn between his usually so thickly veiled sympathy, and his enjoyment of the deeper strokes of the brush. "...I am sorry. I did not mean to bring back any unpleasant memories. And I think I continue to feel that way." Either Poet was decidedly exhausted, or the brushing had done something very peculiar to him. Naturally, he was usually inclined to dig as deep as possible, almost by any means necessary, if he was not already aware of the going ons of a person's mind. But that sounded an awful lot like him telling her she needn't bother, if such was her preference.
>> No. 40863418
File 142975986586.png - (25.42KB , 328x383 , Conch Shell.png )
40863418
>>40863367
"I'm... sorry to hear that."

Conch winces softly, then returns his face to normal.

"...Well... do you think it's going to happen again?"
>> No. 40863426
>>40863378
"I know you didn't," she says lightly, taking a small break from the brushing to let her horn cool down. "You had no way of knowing it was me, and what you were doing. And I just want you to know that I might be... Touchy, or afraid around you. I'm not going to be able to help it much, since trauma isn't very easy to deal with. But, I'll... Try to suppress it, the best I can."

"In the meantime, just try to avoid talking about it very much. I might go into shock, I might hyperventilate... I'm prone to panic attacks, as well. And, please, don't tell Driftwood. Not that you'd want to, but."

>>40863418
"Not if I can help it, no," she says, finishing up the stitch and pulling it shut. "...Annnd... I think that's... Well, it's not good, but it's on its way to recovering," she says, grabbing a gauze pad and wiping up the blood.

"Also, I ordered an SCS Mark Three, so I should be far away from the front lines in any hazy situation. That, and I find the best medicine is preventative, so I don't plan on getting in very many fights anyhow. You saw what I did at the skater bar."
>> No. 40863435
File 142976070951.png - (26.72KB , 329x374 , Conch Shell, Nervous.png )
40863435
>>40863426
"I did. And for the record, I... Well, you did good. I... don't think I could've done the same if I was in your position."

Conch hesitates for a moment, rolls his shoulders and shifts his weight.

"...Jeez... this is not going to be fun in a combat situation."
>> No. 40863439
File 142976093980.jpg - (313.27KB , 1280x800 , big city.jpg )
40863439
>>40863426
"I can do that. Sure."

Another period of silence, in which he spent the better part of his time staring at the floor, or one of his pillows. "...The obvious question of why you did all of that just then, however, remains. It's a bit too late to say I did not enjoy it, but...It is certainly an intriguing method, to say the least." To demonstrate, he took the brush back into his hoof, but as he began to reach up to stroke his ears, he seemed to hesitate, leaving it still, and hanging listlessly in his grip.
>> No. 40863452
>>40863435
"Thank you. I like to think I have a way with words," she says, turning around to trot towards the door.

"You can hop down, now, since you seemed so anxious. Now, again, be careful, let your jaw heal, and don't hurt yourself any more than I've already hurt you. I know that's going to be difficult for someone like you, but I know you can do it, if you set your mind to it," she says, chuckling.

>>40863439
Doc took the hint and grabbed the brush again, working at his mane once more. She was a bit faster this time around, and she seemed to be tidying it up more than she was actually brushing. "...Mmm. A number of reasons. Maybe it's because you looked so adorable on the ground like that. Maybe it's because you looked vulnerable, and it eased my anxiety. Maybe it's because I wanted ammunition for blackmail."

She tried to keep a straight face, but after saying that last one, she couldn't help but smile.

"...I'm just kidding. I won't tell a soul. I figured you'd be willing to listen more, too. Truth be told, I wasn't planning on doing this. It just... Happened. I saw the opportunity and took it."
>> No. 40863462
File 142976229513.png - (25.42KB , 328x383 , Conch Shell.png )
40863462
>>40863452
"Thank you. I'll try."

Conch slowly gets up and climbs down from the table.

"...I'll see you around, Doc."

And without another world, he turns to leave.
>> No. 40863466
File 142976251569.png - (421.65KB , 1280x893 , relaxing.png )
40863466
>>40863452
He evidently did not mean to hint at much, for he seemed mildly perplexed when the brush vanished from his grip. Nonetheless, he was quite happy with the sensation, if nothing else, and once more returned to what appeared to be a strangely feline tendency of nuzzling against the floating brush's stiff hairs. "Opportunists aren't so bad," said he, immediately after a murmur under his breath that he most certainly was not adorable, "And grooming, I've found, brushes especially, is also rather nice. I was going to recommend you try the experience for yourself. It's always been...comforting, for me. Maybe you'll know what I'm talking about. That, or I am ever so slightly weirder than I thought. Both seem equally plausible."

"Well, thirty-seventy."
>> No. 40863480
>>40863462
"Yeah, see you next time."

As soon as he leaves, Doc lets out a sigh. It wasn't from exasperation or impatience; it was a happy sigh, from a job well done. ...Well, almost well done.

Doc, after cleaning up the station the best she can, trots out of the room a bit happier than she was this morning.

>>40863466
"Oh, I know what it's like. I can understand. Though, I... Can't say I enjoy it as much as you do," she admits, cocking a brow at his feline affinity. "You must be an odd case. Unless I'm just that magical with my touch. Which I wouldn't doubt, but... I'm not sure it would merit the response I got from you."

Finally, the brush is dropped again, and it sticks into Poet's mane with a muffled thud. "That was something else. I've never seen a stallion so desperate for a belly rub in my life. And that's saying something. I have seen some desperate stallions in my day."
>> No. 40863482
>>40863480
And scene.
>> No. 40863511
File 142976808160.jpg - (12.90KB , 182x192 , 138372436088.jpg )
40863511
>>40862531

Yea... yea we'll make it.

>Breathing a harsh breath, Carnage visibly steadied herself at Swiftwing's encouraging words and though she almost visibly flinched at the blue horse's touch, she nonetheless allowed it for the friendship it showed. After he removed it away, Carnage moved back to stare at the open wastes, not knowing where Frost was or what she was doing but knowing all the while that she wasn't with her group as she should be, knowing she was somewhere else, alone.

But I can't help but worry about the decisions some of my friends make and where it might take them.

>>40862555

I'm going to deck him in the schnoz is whats wrong.

>She told Umi, grumbling under her voice with resentment for what that old bastard had been pulling. Trying to manipulate her with old techniques that involved her mother and what could be a potential mate. Looking honestly disgruntled by the thought of being played so easily, Carnage visibly huffed up as she moved forward through the radioactive night, more eager then ever to get back to Last Chance.
>> No. 40863526
File 142976891070.jpg - (27.57KB , 329x271 , best OC eva.jpg )
40863526
>>40863511
"Well... if we, or rather, you can see the problem or things you find to be troublesome, you could try to talk to your friends, yeah?" Swiftwing asked as he looked at the side of Carnage as she herself looked out in front of her. "I mean, I'd like to think I could and help, but I'm not entirely sure if I'm fully filled in on what's going on, you may see something that I don't. But I'm not asking you to tell me, I'm just offering a suggestion." He continued, then looking out towards the wasteland as she did.

>>40862555
A grin that Swiftwing returned with, the way Umi explained that time was a much more clear message for Swiftwing. "We certainly have... though prison was a bit less about freedom, and more of the action and adventure... it was still a hell of a time, it all has been really." he replied, looking back out infront of himself. "It's hard to say if I would do it all again. I mean I've had fun with you all, made some friends which is what I probably value the most of this all, but oh well~ What's done is done, so I go with it."
>> No. 40863595
File 142977126401.png - (312.72KB , 1280x825 , Smile.png )
40863595
>>40863511
Umi chuckled, softly, a rumble from deep in his chest making it's way to his lips. He would have to see what happened. Maybe he could glean some information from whatever they did, be it a fight or a talk. He had a feeling that it might go back to the drunk talk that he had with the Old Man, before the mission with the EWE. He'd be damned if he could remember most of what they had talked about, save the bits he had written down. Even those were hard to decipher. Bulwark, saddle, Carnage. Those words had been easy enough to read. So had 'don't call her', and 'until she gives you scar'. The name in the middle had been completely muddled, but he had figured it out, eventually.

Blinking, several times, to bring his mind back to now, he looked towards her. He wondered, exactly, how the two would even get along, as a team. None in the group, as far as he knew, did anything near the same as what they would be attempting. Did she have the balance to remain on his back? Did he have the strength and speed to keep her out of danger, while absorbing enough damage to keep her from being injured? He looked back forward, eyes growing hard, as he looked towards the town. He would learn, and he would become. All he had to do, was buckle down.

"Shouldn't be long now." He said,softly. "You'll be beating the Old Man up in no time."

>>40863526
"The past is behind us, the future isn't here, we live in the now. It's a gift. That's why it's the present." He looked towards Andrew, shrugging. "I read that in a little paper that came inside a cookie..." He gave a small shake of his head. "Didn't like the paper though...who thought to put scrolls inside food...stupid idea..."
>> No. 40863636
File 142978138966.png - (75.32KB , 401x401 , alucard.png )
40863636
>>40862561
"Um..."

Senor Manos taps his hoof against his chin, as he struggles to find something relevant to say. After a few long moments he opts to simply shrug and wave his hoof in a circle.

"The usual. Don't be seduced by strange women, don't make eye contact with strangers, wear a sun around your neck...so on and so forth. You can honestly probably figure this out. The theory is simple, it's the execution that takes practice."

>>40863375
"And then they will die.

"Oh, and maybe invest in a flamethrower. Vampires can't kill you if they're on fire."

>>40863308
"O...oooooh."

This actually seems to visibly relieve him: apparently the idea of you being a post-nuclear mutant isn't as alarming as the prospect of you choosing to self-identify as a griffon. Possibly because mutants don't always feast on the flesh of ponies. Just...usually.

"<I see. I...think. Can you tell me more?>"
>> No. 40863860
File 142982055434.jpg - (8.69KB , 186x271 , Kira.jpg )
40863860
>>40863636
"I think it is better if I show you..."

There she is. There she goes again. Showing someone her pearly white scales, or as close as she can come to without stripping down in public. Frost seemed to be doing this more often than she should, but this was different. She leaned herself forward, taking her father's head into her legs. There she would place a kiss on his forehead before leaning back, though not without giving him a good look behind the shades....

"Here..." Frost took his hand and placed it to her chest. Smiling wide and affectionately, his leg pressed near the heart, though most importantly to the scales she hid underneath the fabric.

"This is all I can do right now. Maybe I can show you more later. Somewhere less public."
>> No. 40863999
>>40863480
"I think it is because I have never received one," he guessed, his expression flattening once the brush had fallen, and flattened his mane over his eyes, prompting him to reach up to take it in hoof, and brush out the damage. It'd almost seem vain, if not for the fact that he most certainly could not see his own reflection. It appeared instead to be a kind of tic, or simply a deeply ingrained habit of his. "Always made do with a brush of my own. As you might have guessed." Once he seemed satisfied, he proceeded to set aside the brush, and turn his searching gaze back upon her, evidently with little interest in elaborating on the fact.

In truth, he was, as always, pondering. Misanthropic as he was, and for all his deeply seated reasons to be, he could not help but wonder what her "game" was, so to speak. Lost lovers and a child, distinctly likely victim of rape. At odds with herself. Seeks comfort and affection, yet maintains misgivings on seeking it within those around her, either for fear of attachment or fear of being harmed by them. Par for the course, really, but it's not the whole story. Guilt? Ploy? Destabilization? Likelihood of attempted assault, 4%. Not the type. Sadomasochism seems more likely.
>> No. 40864028
File 142983142932.jpg - (18.60KB , 283x356 , image.jpg )
40864028
>>40863636
"Flamethrower eh?" Salsa said curiously. He thought about the idea of having one. It would be badass to have one. Burning everything that wasn't him or his allies.

At the same time though he didn't like the idea of burning someone. Salsa has seen videos of ponies being lit on fire. It wasn't to cleanest death and the screams. The screams were the worst part.

Then Salsa remembered that these were undead. Unholy vampires that had no souls. He wouldn't have a problem with burning them.

"Never that about investing in one but the circumstances require me to." Salsa said glance once more at the weapons. Having a whimsical look on his face seeing all of the weapons.
>> No. 40864170
>>40863999
"You've... You've never had a belly rub? From anyone? ...Ever?"

Doc raises an eyebrow, surprised and almost pitiful of this revelation. Then, she looks down to the ground, almost in guilt, scratching the back of her neck.

"...I'm so sorry, Poet, I had no idea," she starts, clearly worried. "I didn't have a clue this was your first belly rub. I wouldn't have taken it from you, if I had known."

The guilt on her face is palpable.
>> No. 40864172
File 142984383309.png - (677.88KB , 1024x1280 , Derp2.png )
40864172
>>40863526

Hmph... just talk about it huh?

>Carnage snorted, shaking her head from side to side at the notion that Frost would receive any such overtures as anything but opportunities for her to manipulate the other pony. No, that wouldn't do, if Frost was to take anything Carnage said to heart it had to be done indirectly and in a way she thought had come from herself.

That won't cut it with Snowflake, she's the closest thing to a real sociopath I've ever met. No sympathy for what other ponies feels with the sole exception of Sam.

I'm not sure what to do with her but... she'll get hurt if she keeps running around like she is.

>>40863595

Shut the fuck up Umi.

>She spat out, thoroughly disgruntled by his patronizing tone. Honestly, it was bad enough that she'd been played like a violing by the old codger without having this smug idiot rubbing in her face.
>> No. 40864178
>>40863480
He paused momentarily. Evidently, he himself had not really thought of it in such a light. He reached to gently rub at the back of his neck, averting his gaze again.

"It's alright," he said quietly. "It was nice. I suppose I was kind of waiting for it to happen. At least now it won't bother me."
>> No. 40864186
>>40864178
"Yes, I know, but..."

Doc groans, bringing a hoof to the bridge of her snout. "...It's... I was always told the first time should be something special with someone special."

She shakes her head, letting out a sigh. "...Nevermind. I suppose it was better now than never. And at least I wasn't some cheap bellyrub hooker."
>> No. 40864191
File 142984570322.jpg - (149.92KB , 814x931 , Hmmm.jpg )
40864191
>>40864172
Swiftwing responded to Carnage with a flat blink while listening to what she had to say. "Well... then you know her better than I do by this point, I've only had one real conversation with her. She's seemed nice to me but perhaps you could have a better idea of what to do about it than just to let it happen." he replied. "I just don't know how else if not with talking...." He was silent for a moment. "But you already said you don't know what to do with her, perhaps The Old Man could have an idea?... Or better yet, Sam would probably be the best way to get to her, yeah?"

>>40863595
"Oh! I think they were the Neighponese that did that." he replied with a chuckle. "Fortune cookies they're called." He elaborated. "And that's just about the extent of what I know about them."

"But yeah, you're right, and that's exactly how I like to go about things. What's happened has happened, no changing it, just look ahead in the future." He replied with a still grin.
>> No. 40864194
>>40864186
"That's the way I'd prefer to look at it."

Sighing deeply, the femstallion made an attempt, perhaps ill-advisedly, to address her concerns. He'd already ruined her night once before, it'd be unbecoming to have a repeat.

"I think you're special."

A moment's pause - he wasn't quite so quick on the draw with his words with this sort of thing. The urge to be an ass as a defense mechanism was hindering that much.

"You saved my life."
>> No. 40864196
File 142984613942.png - (660.51KB , 1024x1280 , Envy.png )
40864196
>>40864172
Umi blinked, looking over at her. He cocked an eyebrow, before shrugging, and smiling. "Fair enough!" He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. He may have been, well, less than well versed in modern society, but at least he had learned to let things roll off him. With a grin, he kept dragging, hooves digging into the soft sand.

The stallion was quiet, lost in his own thoughts for the time. As they neared the settlement, he finally spoke up, once more, speaking to everyone, in the group. "So...anypony know a good way to make this thing fit me? A way to stretch the plates, or a way to add onto the design?"

>>40864191
"Fortune cookies...what a silly thing to call them...A scrap of paper is no fortune." He shook his head, lightly, before shrugging. "What's the point in worrying about the past? You know...unless the past is going to send something to remind you of it...or kill you."
>> No. 40864199
>>40864194
"...And then I summarily ended it with a careless mistake," she says, shaking her head. As bitter as those words sounded, Doc had a smile on her face. "As if I could have known you were allergic. There was no way of knowing, especially under the circumstances. And you have no idea how much of a fit Drifty threw when he found out."

Doc takes a few steps back and plops down on her haunches, resting her back against the wall.

"You really don't know how much those words actually mean to me, though."
>> No. 40864210
>>40864199
"I imagine he did. Driftwood carries many a burden," he pointed out, relaxing in his small circle of pillows, taking to his knees and watching her over the edge of them. "As do you. As do we all," he finished under his breath, shifting himself till he felt more comfortable on his bedroll. Were he not so focused in these last couple of weeks, he might have purchased himself a nicer, more extravagant bed. It was well within his capabilities, after all. Among other things.

"I used to be like you in a few ways, you know. I wanted to be a doctor, as well. Medical school, however, isn't terribly fond of it when someone routinely breaks procedure, regardless of the validity of the results. Extrapolate, if you will, where such habits have placed me in life."
>> No. 40864224
>>40864210
"Driftwood has... A lot of burdens. He likes to find and take new ones, too. Even if he's told not to," she says, chuckling a little. "And not even death could stop that."

"I remember you bringing up medical school once before, too," she recalls, looking down at the ground and thinking back to when she was in med school. "No, they don't like it when you don't follow procedure. And as much as it can help when you're on the job, and as great as it is to know, it's... No substitute for true knowledge in a sticky situation," she says, looking at Poet.

"There was no way I could follow procedure when you came in, Poet. You had lost so much blood, and you were too far gone to follow anything they taught us. Same goes with the time not long ago where some Ibexian stallion came in with twenty two bullet wounds."

"...And the time that my former associate and de facto boss dumped molten lava all over himself, and I had nothing to work with but scrap metal and my hooves, all while trying to operate on a rumbling train in the middle of a snowstorm in the mountains, with myself having a broken horn, a sprained foreleg, and a number of broken ribs, alongside three bullet holes in my back and a plethora of other cuts and bruises all along my body."

She paused for a moment, extending the silence punctuated by the smuggest of looks on her face that pops up after a second or two.

"...I like to brag about that one," she remarks. "He's still alive, remarkably. Though he's eighty percent metal and about as sane as you would imagine. And a... Good colleague, and friend, overall. Even though he was a complete dumbshit at times."

"But yes. Procedure is important. But you can't rely on it at all."
>> No. 40864238
>>40864224
"The situation was dire, I am aware," he remarks, somewhat uncomfortably, as the vivid memories of bleeding out in that wretched place came to the forefront of his mind. The frustration and outrage he felt on the subject remained even after the pleasantry of the last few minutes, and in the light of that mindset, the past annoyance seemed even bolder by comparison. Still, he did not want to ruin his own mood, not when it was so rare to find such pleasant one these days. Thus Poet fell back on his own well cultivated discipline, and breathed an acknowledging sigh. "Your experience is both unenviable and appreciated, Doctor. I am very glad to have you with us. Even though you worry me about as much as I presume myself to worry you, if not in quite the same ways. Ah, I mean that in the best of ways, though."
>> No. 40864269
>>40864238
"I understand. I think."

With that, she stands up and makes her way towards the door. "...I think I've said quite enough. I'm glad I came to talk," she says, grabbing the brush with her magic and hovering it over to her own mane. Hastily, she brushes herself, and once all is well, she dumps the brush into her saddlebags. "It's been... Enlightening. And uplifting, even."

Before long, the doors swing open. "Have a good night, Poet. Sleep well."
>> No. 40864282
>>40864269
"You know that's my only brush," he pointed out calmly, perhaps even curiously, before she had quite managed to step out. Though he did not move to stop her, the fact she was taking it seemed to intrigue him enough on its own.

"I wonder..."
>> No. 40864283
>>40864282
"I know~!"

*click*
>> No. 40864338
>>40864283
A long time followed in which he considered the notion of following her, of interrogating her, perhaps even crippling whatever plans she had in motion by simply taking his brush back. It most likely would not take much more than a polite request, at that. But the doctor somehow did not register in his mind as simply another individual at this point. In his eyes, the capability she displayed eclipsed and predominated the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for her - All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise, albeit imbalanced mind. As a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer, excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a terribly strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there he stood, letting her walk away with a potentially damning possession.

It's just a brush.

He laid upon his side, and waited in the darkest corner for the sun to rise.

Only this, and nothing more...
>> No. 40864443
File 142985971824.png - (186.78KB , 540x411 , tumblr_nl4wja9J5b1uplvqvo2_540.png )
40864443
>>40863636
>>40864028
Amos simply nodded his head in agreement. Vampires were more straightforward than he originally thought. That probably meant there were some other tricks around them as well. He wouldn't want to risk anything, but this idea did bring much to mind.

As for Salsa: he listened on to his own take on dealing with this situation. He seemed pretty interested in the weapons and getting himself some better weapons while he was at it. Maybe there was a way to do so. They would need money, which would call for drastic measures, considering the situation they were in. It was all or nothing, Amos felt. They would have to make it big or die trying, and seeing how they were doing all of this for the sake of Celestia and business, it would sure be shameful to die over something like this- at least at the current time right now.

He continued to listen in on their conversation, getting pretty much all the answers to what they need now.
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