A Blueberry and Her Greenery

[Gentian]

A Blueberry and Her Greenery

5 – Magical Realm

“Can you speak?”

He looks up from the dirt and rubble, squinting at the halo of sunlight shining around her head.

They called her Trixie, but something else too. Was it a title? Her demeanor says confidence, and the way those things treated her, says status; a noble?

“Yes, Great, and Powerful Trixie.” A smile plays across her lips.

“Good,” she says spinning on her hooves, bidding him to follow. Again he hoists the baskets to his shoulders, and hurries around the stage after her. But not just a stage: a wagon! With huge trumpets, little cannons, and colorful pennants fluttering in the air. Her horn glows and the door swings open.

“Put them in there.” she says, gesturing with her snout. No sooner have they left his hands than the door slams shut of its own accord. With a startled jump he turns to see Trixie's wisteria-hued eyes staring in to his with a frightful scowl. “The Great and Compassionate Trixie thinks you know how to behave.” With a haughty smirk, her horn tilts toward his feet, and fires out a brilliant golden beam. Instantly the chains blacken, and crumble to powder. “You would be a fool to prove otherwise.”

No doubt.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie wishes to depart forthwith.” Her horn glows again, its light accompanied by muffled whirring from the wagon. With surprising speed, the trumpets, cannons, and even the stage itself retract into ports, which close behind them without a trace.

“You will walk alongside.”

“Yes, Great and Powerful One.” Without another word she climbs aboard the wagon, snout to the sky. Her horn begins to shine, brighter than before, then abruptly stops. She lowers her head, and looks at him askance, then in a surprisingly soft voice:

“Are you injured?”

“No, Great and...Kind One. I can walk.”

“Good.” With her nose up again, her horn flares back to life, and the wagon lurches to motion. He looks back at the dark mouth of the cave, still silent and bereft of the stinking things. He watches the little blue pony, dressed like a fairy-tale wizard, drawing away atop her gypsy's wagon. The little blue fairy-tale wizard pony to whom he now belongs. For the first time, he's able to laugh at the absurdity of his situation.

“Hunh. Better her than them,” he whispers to himself, and with one last glance back at the cave, he turns to follow.

___________________________________


Hours have passed. The long shadows and brilliant, cutting sunbeams of the morning have changed to a diffuse emerald glow filtering from the branches above. The forest is thicker here, but the path is still clear, though it twists around boulders and thick dusty roots. It is also stony, and packed hard, so despite the aridity, the unicorn, wagon, and human kick up very little dust as they travel along it. They walk in silence, each stealing glances at the other, but unwilling to make eye-contact. It would be very difficult to tell, but the small, blue unicorn is very, very happy.

He called me kind. The silly thing. Isn't that silly? Feeling warm and fuzzy because the help complimented me? How silly!

A little “harumph” escapes her lips, but is lost in the sounds of the road: birdsong, wagon wheels, wind in the trees, hoofsteps, and footsteps. The thought brings a momentary smile to her lips, but it is small, and well concealed.

Footsteps. Hmph.

The wind shifts, and her nostrils flare subtly; yes, it's still there, that wonderful smell. At the cave, she'd thought one of the Dogs had worn an equine cologne to impress her, but once they'd passed back under the trees she'd realized it was him. He was dirty, to say the very least, but somehow, from beneath the layers of mine-dust a magnificent bouquet reached out to her.

More glances are exchanged. She doesn't bother concealing them, but neither does she hold them. Frustration builds inside her.

Oh, enough of this! I'm his employer, and his savior; I'll look at him if I want to! I have to take stock of him, after all.

She armors herself with a scowl, and runs her eyes over every bit of his body. She follows each movement of his awkward, bipedal gait, and nods in satisfaction; he really doesn't seem to be hurt. Good, adopting a lame servant would not be a wise business move. But those clothes!

“What's your name?” She asks suddenly.

“Anon, Great and Powerful One.”

“Stop, Anon. Let the Great and Powerful Trixie look at you.” He turns to face her with a sheepish smile. “Turn around, Anon.”

As she thought, they're nothing but filthy rags now, but, honestly, what else would you expect? Who drapes themselves head to hoof in cloth just to labor, anyway? Her eyes narrow in silent exasperation. As if he isn't odd enough, what would the other ponies say, if she allowed him to wear so much?

There's no way I'm taking him to town looking like that! They'll simply have to go, even if some that wonderful scent goes with them.

“Anon, the Great and Powerful Trixie has decided we will stop. There is a place not far ahead, it's off the main road, and very hard to find. In fact, Trixie has never seen another pony there before.” She pauses, an expectant look on her face.

“Yes, ma'am.” Trixie sighs, and continues.

“Normally, Trixie wouldn't bring anypony, much less anybody else to this place. It's very special to her, but today is also special. In her wisdom, Trixie can see you need to rest, and in her generosity, she will let you.”

“Thank you Great and Kind Trixie.” She narrows her eyes, and stares down her nose at him. She does it surprisingly well despite being so much shorter.

“This place is magical to Trixie, Anon. Do you understand? It's her magical realm, and she insists you treat it well. Dare you enter my magical realm?” Her eyebrow raises as a strange expression crosses his face. I wonder what that's about, she thinks.

__________________________________


Shortly thereafter, Trixie turns them from the road. Off of it's hard surface, the ground is raw, uneven, and covered in wiry grass. Her muscles strain as she threads the wagon this way and that, eventually drawing beneath a cluster of thick foliage, obscuring a cluster of house-sized boulders.

“From now on, Anon, whenever we stop, you are to chock the wheels like so.” She says, taking a set of wedges from beneath the driving board. “Now, follow me.”

The flowing white flag of her tail, leads him through the waist-high grass, and low-hanging branches. Up a steep rise they go, the scents of moss, wet stone, and faint sulfur gradually growing, until at last, he sees it: hidden amongst the rocks and grass, is a small pool.

“Here we are, Anon. The water's always warm here, so it's a perfect place to rest. You may do so now, as Trixie wishes to bathe. You will wait, then when she is finished, you will bathe, too.” Without another word she drops her cloak and hat, hips swaying smoothly as she makes her way to the water.

Nudity really doesn't bother her at all, he thinks, taking off his boots, and stretching back on the grass. With eyes closed, he soaks in the warmth of the sun. Sounds of splashing and dripping echo among the boulders. His mind wanders back to the caves.

How he had longed to see the sun, to see the sky. Images of white clouds and the clear blue expanse had danced through his mind every time he'd been able to close his eyes. Now, they were closed again, this time against the light, instead of the darkness, but they still floated through his mind's eye.

White and blue, he thinks with a smile. Like Trixie. The sound of her voice brings him back to the moment. Is she singing now?

“You'd better believe, I've got tricks up my sleeve...” He lays back again, hands behind his head.

The sun is so nice.

“...see me dominate...” A tugging at his foot draws his attention. It's glowing pink. “...'cause I'm powerful and bra-a-aaave.” He sits up. “Your turn, Anon.” She stands before him naked, and dripping, wet mane plastered to her neck, then shakes like a dog. Water flies everywhere. “What are you waiting for?”

“May I have some privacy, oh Great and Kind one?”

“You don't need privacy, Anon, you need a bath,” she says with a scowl, and touch of annoyance. “Strip.” He freezes, his mind reeling.

What should I do?

“Anon, the Great and Powerful Trixie is loosing patience! You are a servant, not a noble, and servants don't need clothes. Stop reaching above your station, and remove them at once!”

So that's it. Ponies don't care about nudity, and neither did the dog-things. They wore armor and vests, but those were for protection and pockets. They had no care for modesty at all. But I care.

“Pardon, Great and Powerful One, but humans always wear clothes!”

“That's probably why nopony has ever heard of them! Those are ruined, anyway; you'd look better naked.” She turns up her snout. “Strip!” She stamps her hoof. “Now!”

“But Trixie...” Her eyes widen in sudden anger, and pink light blazes from her horn.

Oh no.

“I am the GREAT and POWERFUL Trixie to you, and you will obey me!” Suddenly, he's airborne. “I, the Great and Powerful Trixie have had enough!”

Without warning, his clothes turn as pink as the rest of him, and do their best to fly from his body. His frantic struggles to prevent them from doing just that set him flipping and turning lazily in the air about his own axes, right at her eye-level. She doesn't look happy.

“Damn it, Anon, stop struggling!”

“Stop trying to take off my clothes!” Suddenly, he drops, stopping just shy of the ground. He freezes in surprise.

“Hah! That got your attention. Now listen here, from just how high up do you think the Great and Powerful Trixie could drop you before you get hurt?” Dead silence. “Would you like to find out?”

“No, Great and Powerful One!”

“Then take those gross things off right now!”

She's bluffing. She saved me from the monsters, she wouldn't hurt me now. Probably.

“I will, Great and Powerful One, just please give me some privacy.”

“AAAARRRRRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!” With renewed vigor, his shirt flies off before he can react. His pants, already open shoot down his legs. His underwear too, but he catches them just in time, holding with all his might, desperate to keep them from slipping the last few inches around his feet.

He rises higher, too, curled in a fetal position, spinning bare-ass over heels, cock poking back through his legs. Higher and higher.

She was bluffing, right? Suddenly, he's falling. Oh shit! And falling. She'll catch me! And falling. Right?

SPLASH!

The warm, faintly rotten-egg tasting water floods his mouth and nose.

Holy hell, hitting water does hurt!

He looks up at the surface, and swims, emerging to a very amused-looking unicorn. She looks down, smugly, arches her brow, and saunters off to the grass, her tail swishing behind her. Then she settles daintily onto its sun-warmed cushion, and laughs.