trans_9 | Roosting [Open]

Getting some shut-eye aboard this...plantboat presented more of a problem than Applejack had first guessed. How was she expected to just tell time? And without time, how did you know when to sleep, when to wake up, when your work was supposed to start and stop?

She'd taken to just plain collapsing whenever she'd felt too tired to go on any further, but that sure didn't feel right. Every sleep time felt different, like she'd gone a few hours one night and many more the next. Was the work even going to get done on time?

So far, she'd done as much as she could whenever she'd felt alert. One of those apple trees was going to be ready for a bucking in a few days' time, and that would bring all kinds of work. Some of the apples would be kept raw for sale and trade, of course, and others would be baked and dipped into various sweets. She'd already promised a pie to Dean, and she was sure there would be more to follow.

At the end of this workday, though, Applejack carried just a few things on her back: one or two ingredients she'd begged for in her flankpack, a just-scavenged empty basket for future apple-carrying, and an old blanket for the pile of hay waiting for her back in Hydroponics.

It sure was uncomfortable to sleep there, though. The hay and outdoorsy breeze didn't bother her, no, but the lack of starlight did. How were you supposed to know it was night time? That the sun would come?

That was the problem, actually. There would be no sunrise to wake her up in the morning. Plant-boats didn't have suns, and even if they did, Princess Celestia wasn't around to raise it. There wouldn't be any more cock-a-doodle-doos announcing her gift of the mor. Her sister Luna wouldn't be bringing the night either. Out here, it was nighttime eternal until they found a way to pierce the darkness.

Applejack wanted to plan for that Ohm-bucking part some more, but the time to take on the darkness would come later. For now, the farm pony just wanted some sleep. Judging by the way she rolled, twisted, and huffed against the meat-couches in her current location, the only place with something that slightly resembled a starry sky, the time for sleep wasn't quite here yet.

"Consarnit, this just ain't working," she sighed. "How's a pony supposed to sleep on these things? A good bit of bedding's supposed to stay put."

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Then Applejack could do it. She nodded, searching round for a cloth.

"It can't hurt. Just gotta find a ground that won't move," she decided, gathering up her things and blinking back the sleepiness she felt. She only had to hang on for a few more.

"And preferably isn't too trafficked." After all, if he could wander in and find her here, what was to stop other people?

He rolled his shoulders, then lifted his hands to gently stretch his muscles through a few simple isometrics. To his own mind it didn't feel like he'd last done something like this more than a few days ago, but in actuality how long HAD it been?

"I think I spotted a little corner over this way," Applejack remembered, leading him over to a spot in the art hall. No one really lingered here to look at pictures, she'd realized, and the floor was mercifully flat.

There was a perfect little empty space, half-sheltered by one of the statues standing guard. "Think this'll do nicely. This place is always empty as a desert."

"Huh." Morgan slowed briefly as he looked at the art hall. He hadn't been to this place yet, and its contents distracted him briefly from the mission. "What a weird thing to have on a world-saving spaceship..."

Oh! Right! He donked himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand again as he picked up the pace to catch up. "Sorry!"

"I guess that's why it's so empty," Applejack added, patiently waiting in her little chosen corner. She poked her neck out to beckon him over, having slid her pack off and started rummaging through it with a hoof.

There, a cloth---one she tossed up and settled over her eyes as best she could. It would have to do for now.

"So I just lie down?"

"As comfortable as you can get for now." He dropped gracefully down to his knees next to her, shrugging off his coat as he did so. It thudded to the floor as if it weighed two or three times what it looked like, but he didn't pay it any further attention.

"The best thing you can do is simply calm yourself as much as possible. You aren't by chance familiar with meditation, are you?" He shut his own eyes, relaxing easily into the calm self-harmony that his art required.

"Can't say I am," was Applejack's answer, but she would try it. "But I can keep calm. Just gotta focus."

And that was what she was going to try. Breathe, breathe, focus...just like she was working, but on the process of trying to sleep.

"Relax, relax," he said, still smiling. It was hard not to appreciate her enthusiasm, slightly misplaced though it might be. "Think of -- think of something you like, something that feels like home." He'd nearly said 'think of nothing', but somehow he felt that would be a bit too much to ask.

He lifted his hand over her -- feeling slightly odd about this whole process, truthfully, since he'd never exactly done this with a sentient pony before. Before he made contact with her physically, he let his chi touch hers --

"Huh."

"Some apple pie should do the trick," Applejack thought aloud, recalling the scent to her memory. Just like Granny Smith made, she thought, imagining the cinnamon flavor and warmth of the surrounding kitchen.

She was only slightly jostled by the...feeling, whatever it was, and his surprise. "What's up?"

"You have an incredibly strong flow of chi," he said. "More so than I would have expected, even seeing that you're clearly in excellent physical shape."

"Huh. Well...what makes this chi flow strong? Is it just exercise?"

Applejack had to wonder about this, really. What a strange concept.

"I don't know," he said. "Most likely it's just natural for you. I admit I don't have a good base to go on, here."

"That's fine," Applejack whispered, not really needing everything to make sense. Not like certain ponies she knew. She was just fine accepting things as they were.

"Okay, got it. Apples..." Again, she tried breathing in and out.

Luckily, chi strength had nothing to do with how easy or hard it was to soothe. He gently lowered his fingertips to her body, sensing its flow through her meridians without sight. Not so dramatically different, as he'd thought. A living creature was still a living creature, after all.

The touch became a gentle massage, as his hand sought out the various pressure points where the flow of chi could be altered.

Applejack let out a soft sigh as she continued her idle meditation, her body slowly feeling heavier and heavier. It wasn't long before her head drooped with exhaustion, all the worries about the sun and stars so far away.

All through, the teasing scent of apple pie lingered in her mind.

Not hard at all. Well, of course not, he's awesome.

Still, he couldn't help but reach up to gently touch a spot behind her ear, a bridge for a gentle mind-to-mind contact. Nothing intrusive, just a little charm for good dreams. She probably needed them.

Morgan sat for a moment, hands on his thighs, till she'd slipped past all the transitional phases of slumber and into the full depths of sleep. Then he rose, whisper-quiet, picking up his coat as he did.

Things would get better for her once she adjusted to ship life a little more, he hoped, but for now he'd check back on her once or twice during her rest. Just to be sure.

Roosting [Open]

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