Ask Sandy Shores

Historically speaking, it was only Sandy’s second serenade. 

He could be excused for struggling to interpret it; the first hadn’t provided any relevant insights, in part because he’d spent the weeks since trying his level best to forget it ever happened. Frankly, the most he’d gleaned from the whole experience was that he really wouldn’t have been bothered if he never had to go through that again. So, conversely, did that mean he ought to have been bothered by an encore performance?

Perhaps. Then again, it was awfully hard to call yourself a butt - in rhyming verse! - and not mean it.

“...apology serenade accepted.” He said, offering up an easy smile. “Nightmare Night was a, erm, tricky time for a lot of folks this year. A lot more curses ‘n such flyin’ around than usual. I’m happy t’start over again if you are, so.”

He stuck out his hoof to shake.

“Howdy there, m’name’s Sandy Shores, an’ it’s nice t’meet you. Just. Try t’keep from callin’ me ‘soulmate’ again?”

I mayyyyyyyyyy be getting another character of mine underneath the mistletoe later this month.

“I…don’t think that’d be the best idea in th’ world. Those pins are hard, an’ m’head didn’t get any harder when it got, uh, loose. Not t’mention it’d be a dizzy trip down th’ lane. If I’d even roll that far. It’s not often y’see a bowlin’ ball with a horn.”

As you take a swig of the potion you detect a hint of smoke taste hidden below the pleasant swirls and aromas of fruity flavors. It’s the last thing you experience before your mind once more drifts off. Lucidity returning in its fullest you blink open your eyes and let out a yawn. It seems you were dreaming about…something? But it’s all fuzzy and you can’t really remember what it was about. Shrugging it off you go about your daily routine. You get up…or at least you try to. No you definitely got up, you can even see your own back! Wait, somethings not right here. Your groggy sleep addled mind slowly comes to a realization as you stare forward and blink several times.

Then a moment later something occurs to you….your staring at your own body…your body got up, but it’s missing a head! Understandably spooked you jump out of bed…or at least…your body does, and you rush out the door, or at least you..try…to. There’s a loud thump as your headless body slams right into a wall, effectively blinded but still very much intact in every other way, including your sense of touch. That was pretty painful. After a few moments of reeling from the pain you carefully guide your body back to the bed and have it pick up your head. At first, you try to put your head back where it belongs…but with nothing to hold it there it threatens to fall again and most likely give you a concussion.

(The blue potion has bestowed upon you the Dullahan curse! This curse will lift once the clock ticks midnight on Halloween!)

———————————————————————————–

Weird. His lungs - over there - were straining for breath, while his throat - over here - ached from screaming. Never had that happen before.

Alright, okay, alright. He clamped his mouth shut. Deep breaths. He’d gotten it out of his system. Well, he’d gotten most of it out of his system. Probably. Where was he again? Okay, right, alright. It’s okay. Not great. Not really great at all. But it could’ve been worse. If he could wake up headless, then maybe he could’ve woken up a werewolf. Or a changeling. Or…really, a whole lot of terrible things. He wasn’t a danger to anyone. He wasn’t in danger himself. That is, provided he was careful with his noggin. He was okay.

Still not great! Still very much not great! And no clue on when it might. Y’know. Get better again!

Focus. Focus. Yes. First step? Get out of this room. Whatever…this was, he wasn’t going to fix it by sitting around here. Not to mention his belly - still over there! - was telling him a bit of breakfast wouldn’t hurt things. Or, would it? Could he even eat like thiiiiiiiiiiiis nope nope nope nope don’t look at your smoking neck-stump don’t look don’t think about it don’t think about it now. Think about escape. Think about leaving. That’s a much better think. His body could move. His head could, y’know, see. Somehow, he had to get his body a way to safely carry around his head, using only what he could see from his bed.

Hrmmmmmm…

***********************************************

Several minutes later, Sandy stepped out of his bedroom.

Several bruises later, Sandy stepped outside.

His head rested against his chest, tucked in a blanket-sling that he’d looped around his neck. It wasn’t perfect. His neck was already formulating a complaint at the weight. He didn’t really have a plan for if his head tipped sideways. Not to mention whenever he opened his mouth, he got a big bite of cotton for his trouble. But he could see, and he could walk. It’d have to do.

The question was, where to go? He needed help, but he couldn’t just walk down the streets of Ponyville like this. Not without causing a panic. He needed someone to go into town and fetch an expert in curses and other spooky magics. He needed someone who could keep an eye on him, keep him from getting too banged up in the meanwhile. If they could help him make a better head-carrier (ohhhhhhhhh gosh oh goodness oh gosh never say those words again) that’d be just great.

And he knew just the friends for the job.

Looking about to make sure nopony could see him, Sandy carefully made his way off the beach and down the road, heading towards the outskirts of town. He could only hope they were having a better morning than he was…

@askneonflight @fireboundmage

Slowly your mind gains a small amount of clarity and you open your eyes…or at least, you’re pretty sure you do. It’s hard to tell in the deep black abyss that you seem to be floating in. Your coherence is limited however, everything is warm and comfortable like there is nothing strange or off about the situation. Then you hear a voice, strangely this voice doesn’t have a pitch or tone, but it’s calm and quite alluring. A Smokey trail of mist accompanies the voice, swirling around the area in front of you and conjuring a multitude of small brightly colored potions held in glass spheres. The liquid swirls about, kept in place by a simple cork wedged in each bottles opening.

“Tis the season to have some fun. Are you feeling adventurous? If so, why not pick a color you like and take a sip? Something exciting might happen~”

- (This is an invitation to participate in my favorite holiday and some fun spoopy shenanigans! Each potion has a different effect and you won’t know it until you try. If you would like to, please post this with a reply of your characters reaction and I’ll send you a description of what happens based on which color is chosen!)

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

Sandy was at peace, and there was nothing at all unusual about it.

Unusual? This? Where would you even get such an idea? Silly pony. Had he not always been here? Had he felt anything but this? Only, memory depends on cruel time, with its “befores” and its “laters,” all those “beginnings” and “endings.” Pah! Without those unpleasant trappings, how could anypony dispute the obvious?

Sandy simply was.

There was no time here. No time, no fears, no sorrows, no needs, no wants, no danger. Even the very concept of danger could not exist in this place. No harm would befall him. No harm could befall him. He was free, free to idly float through nothingness, carried safely in the embrace of the void.

Peace. 

Then, a voice was. And with it, a misty cloud carrying a rainbow of swirling potions - and a rainbow potion! What fun! - was too.

“Tis the season to have some fun. Are you feeling adventurous? If so, why not pick a color you like and take a sip? Something exciting might happen~”

The voice wrapped tenderly all around him, passed through him, and nestled down deep, deep in his heart; all perfectly natural things for a voice to do. “I do like adventure…” Sandy mused with mock gravity, before falling prey to an attack of the giggles. He couldn’t remember if it was the season to have fun, but the voice sounded like an expert on such things, so it must’ve been true. “Y’know, why don’t I pick a color, an’ take a sip? That’s a great idea. Thanks!”

Now then; which one to choose?

Sandy tapped his chin and furrowed his brow, thinking his most thoughtful thoughts. Potions frolicked around him, as if to say, “Pick me! Pick me! Oh please, won’t you pick me?” Each one brighter, more dazzling, more inviting than the last. Quite the puzzle! Fortunately, the voice had already told him the answer: “I like th’ bright blue one. I’ll take that one, please.” How could he refuse? It was like the ocean on a sparkling summer’s day, and whatever that was, he knew it was something well worth liking.