97blackbird
Medi awoke slowly and smacked her lips to try to work some moisture back into her bone-dry mouth. She didn't have much of a headache, but her mind was in a fog from the 'Back-on-Earth-bender' that Starlight had excitedly thrown after his trip back from the store. 'Real' vodka had gone on sale, and so he raised his red flag and the clear liquid flowed. Fruit infusions, iced tumblers, blended drinks, vodka sauce and vodka marinated tri-tip. Everything had been touched by the liquor of Mother Russia. The purple pony pulled all the stops.
She herself tried imbibing in moderation, but the vodka infused mango chunks were a slow build, and then testing the BAC levels of the participants pushed her over the edge. And so, drymouthed and trying to stave off a headache, she inched down, one step at a time, from her perch to the feather-soft towel below by feel. It was bright outside of her 'bed' the covered, doorless birdcage where she slept, and she didn't want to try seeing anything visually for fear bringing on the dreaded throbbing headache of over-indulgence.
"EEEEE!" She called, acoustically sensing the room and then leaping from the opening of her bed, she flew to the door of the room - which opened of its own accord with an unfamiliar hiss. Medi puzzled over the noise, but didn't pause, she really needed some water for her case of cottonmouth and so after a squeak confirmed that the door was open, she flew through.
"Medical officer Medi, on deck!"
The sudden, loud, announcement from right beside her threw her into an instinctive avoidance maneuver. A staccato of clicks and squeaks confirmed that there was nothing after her, but also that the room she was in was completely unfamiliar. In fact, it was beyond unfamiliar; it was utterly foreign in shape, furniture, and design. The shot of adrenaline due to that initial shock and her bewilderment regarding her location caused her to do the most awful, the most terrible, the most hideous action she could imagine.
She opened her eyes.
"AHHH! Medi squealed as daggers of light pierced her tiny skull. She covered her eyes with her hooves, but it was too late; the throb-throb, throb-throb, of an alcohol-precipitated, dehydration-induced, photo-sensitive, migraine pounded mercilessly against the back of her eyes and pressed spikes into her temples. Continuing to fly in this state was unwise, so she fluttered down to land on a... table, of some type, and curled into a tiny, grey fuzzball and moaned pathetic, high-pitched moans of torment.
"They got you too, eh?" A familiar voice asked.
Medi sat up and squinted in the direction of the voice. Then opened them wide in shock. It was impossible!
-more to come.
She herself tried imbibing in moderation, but the vodka infused mango chunks were a slow build, and then testing the BAC levels of the participants pushed her over the edge. And so, drymouthed and trying to stave off a headache, she inched down, one step at a time, from her perch to the feather-soft towel below by feel. It was bright outside of her 'bed' the covered, doorless birdcage where she slept, and she didn't want to try seeing anything visually for fear bringing on the dreaded throbbing headache of over-indulgence.
"EEEEE!" She called, acoustically sensing the room and then leaping from the opening of her bed, she flew to the door of the room - which opened of its own accord with an unfamiliar hiss. Medi puzzled over the noise, but didn't pause, she really needed some water for her case of cottonmouth and so after a squeak confirmed that the door was open, she flew through.
"Medical officer Medi, on deck!"
The sudden, loud, announcement from right beside her threw her into an instinctive avoidance maneuver. A staccato of clicks and squeaks confirmed that there was nothing after her, but also that the room she was in was completely unfamiliar. In fact, it was beyond unfamiliar; it was utterly foreign in shape, furniture, and design. The shot of adrenaline due to that initial shock and her bewilderment regarding her location caused her to do the most awful, the most terrible, the most hideous action she could imagine.
She opened her eyes.
"AHHH! Medi squealed as daggers of light pierced her tiny skull. She covered her eyes with her hooves, but it was too late; the throb-throb, throb-throb, of an alcohol-precipitated, dehydration-induced, photo-sensitive, migraine pounded mercilessly against the back of her eyes and pressed spikes into her temples. Continuing to fly in this state was unwise, so she fluttered down to land on a... table, of some type, and curled into a tiny, grey fuzzball and moaned pathetic, high-pitched moans of torment.
"They got you too, eh?" A familiar voice asked.
Medi sat up and squinted in the direction of the voice. Then opened them wide in shock. It was impossible!
-more to come.