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Abby
by on February 5, 2019
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The lights in the room flicked on with a soft white-green glow, providing some light to the moist containment area-one that looks like someone has attempted to place a comfy greenhouse inside of a bunker, complete with large plexiglass windows blocking an enclosure from some equipment outside. The individual who had turned on the lights appears to be a brown-coated stallion with bleached-white hair, which fixes his monocle as he descends the stairs, eyeing the enclosure.
“Good morning Subject S076. I do hope I haven’t woken you from your sleep early.” he says politely as he moves over to the door. He has a rather cultured voice, his tone rather calming, which is a strong juxtaposition to his scarred face, a rather nasty gash having taken out his left eye in the past.
The enclosure seems...rather placid. It’s mostly full of dirt and moss, with plants here and there, and a couple of humidifiers providing moisture...what is in there? “Mmmmmmmorning...is it morning? And who are you?” comes a voice from inside. It’s...a mare’s voice, perhaps? It’s distorted and sounds...wet.
“It is indeed eight thirty-two in the morning my dear. I am the proprietor and owner of this facility. You have been here for about a day, I am afraid they tranquilized you to bring you here…” the stallion says as he moves closer to the glass.
In response to his approach, a green-blue mass of squishy, oozing...something...moves closer to the glass, pressing against it and leaving a slime trail. It’s….roughly shaped like a mare-but clearly not an equine fully. It looks like a mass of slime, ocular organs floating near its “face” and smaller organs floating here and there… “I...was outside…why am I in here? Where is here?” she says grumpily as her ‘eyes’ move about.
“This is Briarthorn Asylum. It is a place for those that can be rehabilitated by society are placed-there are no prisons in The Enclave my dear. “ the stallion places a hoof on the glass near her, looking at the floor. “According to the reports, you have a habit of consuming anything you come across that looks desirable.”
The slime creature puffs up, as if offended. “Well yes. What’s wrong with that? I am always hungry…”
“Well the problem is, many of those items are valuables that their owners are upset at losing.” he says with an apologetic smile at her. “While I’m sure losing a sandwich here or a bag of chips there is no stress, but according to your report you have been known to eat gold and jewels, walls, dropped limbs, and even weapons that assailants have turned on you. This has the capability of being vexing.”
The slime pony seems distracted by his monocle and coat. “Who are you? You look...shiny…”
“I am owner and head doctor here. I once was a psychiatrist and researcher in the overworld, a rather well-respected and ingenious one. However, I decided to set hoof in the experimental and be a visionary, and as a result...I was branded a mad scientist and run out of town. Became a fugitive from the law...and ended up here. Where I found my calling, looking after those who are not mentally well.” he nods at her. “I had a name once, but now I simply go by The Doctor. That’s all I need to be.”
The pony tilts her head. “So why am I here? Will you let me out?”
He shakes his head, looking around at the enclosure. “You cannot be allowed to roam around the town as you were before, you will anger people again and they may attempt to kill you this time-they already wanted to, but I assured them I could work with you.”
There is almost a hiss from her as she puffs up, pressing against the glass again. “So you’re just going to keep in a cage? I’m just a prisoner? You have no right….” she seems pretty angry.
The stallion raises his hooves, shaking his head. “Do not be angry with me, sweet child, I am just the warden here-it was made clear that they intended to simply terminate you, if I wanted to let you go it would be your death warrant. You are here for your protection. Is that what you want? Them to terminate you?” he presses the question gently.
“...so I have to stay here forever?” the slime pony says as she deflates slightly.
“No, my dear. As soon as we are able to get your feeding habits under control, so that you may rejoin society without any fear of you, then all shall be well. Is this fair and acceptable?” he says, putting a hoof back onto the glass.
The thing tilts her head back the other way, clearly thinking deeply about this, before shrugging. “Okay then….”
“Excellent sweet one. I think that perhaps we should start with your name? So I have something more than just a number assignment…” he says as he pulls a clipboard close, eyeing her. “It was confirmed that your plasmic makeup matches that of a smooze-but I doubt that is your name?”
“Oh….my name….” she trots about a bit, eyeing her enclosure. “I’ve never really had one actually…”
“Hehe...how about Soozey?” he says with a bright grin, cause her to tilt her head in question. “Like a Susan, the flower, but you are an ooze race. So Soozey.”
It takes her a moment to get the joke, but once she does, she starts laughing, her gooey body quivering as she quakes with mirth. “Oh! Oh that’s funny! I...like that. My name is funny, I like a funny name.” she says as she bonks her head against the glass.
“Good, Soozey it is. Now, what would you like to eat? I do imagine you might be starving by this point, and we can’t work on an empty stomach!” he says as he tucks the clipboard away.
“Nothing with salt, it burns.” she says with a little face scrunch. “I really like things with bones, can I have some ribs?” she says with a little excited bounce. She’s like a kid getting asked where they want to stop for drive-thru on the way home, it’s kind of adorable.
“As you wish my dear. I can grab myself an early lunch as well. Apologies in advance, by the way, my assistant my come in from time to time, she is quiet and will not talk to you. She does not hate you, I assure you, she is simply incapable of doing anything but listening.” he says with a little wave. “I shall return.”
Soozey watches him go wistfully, she’s starting to like him-even if he feels like a jailer. He’s...got some odd charm to him she can’t seem to explain. She can’t hate him. “Alright…”