Title:           Warforged in Equestria : Chapter Eight - Washed away
Author:          PonyForge
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/TZHvvRrz
First Edit:      Sunday 8th of April 2012 07:51:05 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Sunday 8th of April 2012 07:51:05 PM CDT

> You snap back to reality when Fluttershy asks.
> "Umm did... you... say why?"
> You realize that you are staring at your icing caked hands, and you did voice your question to your audience of two.
> You keep staring at your hands as you answer.
"Yes... I did... These feelings of fear I have inspired are not new to me... To others... I wanted to know... Why?"
> But you already knew didn't you?
> You knew why the races that created you hated you.
> Feared you.
> They knew what your kind was.
> What they were for.
> What they were capable of.
> And you knew what you reminded them of.
> That terrible flash that blocked the sun and marked the death of millions.
> That horrid war and all the lives it cost.
 
> You suspect that these... P0nies... Don't fear you for the same reason.
> But damned if it didn't hurt knowing that almost everyone of them was to afraid to even leave there homes, all because you walked the streets.
> So you stare at your hands and think.
> Think about the way that blood had run over and stuck to your hands.
> The same way the blue frosting did now.
> Your kind has almost no need for personal hygiene.
> After all you don't sweat or get sick.
> But by all things holy do you feel the need to shower.
> To get rid of this blue gunk and get rid of the memory that clings to you with it.
 
> Another snap back to reality as Pinkie Pie taps your leg and speaks.
> "Anon... Is something wrong with your... Umm... Paws?"
> You finally lower your hands back to your sides and look down at Pinkie Pie.
"I just need to clean myself up a bit... I... Don't like being dirty..."
> Close enough to true
"May I have a bucket of water and a rag?"
> She looks up at you and smiles.
> You note that its not her ear to ear grin from earlier.
> "If you just need to clean up theres a shower upstairs. Don't worry about using it, it's my fault you're so..."
> She chuckles lightly.
> "Dirty anyway. Its right up the stairs, second door on the left, just use whhhhaaateeever you need"
> You nod.
"Thank you"
 
> As you begin to ascend the stairs you look back one more time at the wreckage the cannon wrought.
> You offer to help clean up downstairs before you shower.
> Pinkie just waves you off saying.
> "Don't worry about it, I'll have aaaallll this cleaned up by the time you're done."
> If her shows of speed and dexterity carry any correlation to her ability to clean, you don't doubt it.
 
> You reach the bathroom quickly enough.
> To your surprise while the shower head is too low to be of use to you, the tub is more then large enough.
> So you crank the hot water, mix the soap, grab a scrubbing brush and hop in.
> As you start to scrub away the icing you realize how much dirt you had covering you.
> Getting dragged through the sewers and dropped hundreds of feet into the dirt does that to you.
> You still aren't sure exactly how you survived that.
> ...Or the cannon.
> Three separate times in less then what felt like twenty four hours, something had nearly killed you.
> Never in your career as an adventurer has that happened before.
> Oh sure as a soldier it had happened a great many times.
 
> But you aren't a soldier anymore...
> Now its icing...
> Icing, not blood that coats your body...
> Not blood...
> But how long could that ever really last for you...
> For your kind...
> Always better not to think about it.
> Let the battles come, win them, and let them go.
 
> Let them go...
> Why was that always the hardest part?
> In another place and time the water would be red not blue.
> The water would be cold.
> There wouldn't be any soap.
> You'd be using a bucket not a tub.
> There would be hundreds of your kind doing the same thing.
> Only to have a hundred less then the day before, and a hundred more then the next.
 
> Stop.
> Let it go.
> It's over...
> It... Is... Over...
> There will be more wars but they won't be yours.
> Your kind was given the freedom to choose.
> To say 'Yes' or 'No' of your own volition.
> Then again...
> You may not even be in Eberron any more...
> You might never have to worry about it again.
> Even if the... p0nies... never get used to you, or even if you never get used to the... p0nies...
> You could always just live your own life.
 
> Suddenly killing that shaman seems like less of a good idea.
> Right about now it feels more like you'd rather thank him.
> You allow yourself some optimism.
> Maybe this will all work out.
> Worst case scenario this is still Eberron and you get the boot, but no one can really make you go back.
> You had a chance you suspect most would give up life itself for.
> A chance to start over.
 
> Luckily this time your thoughts didn't derail your actions and by now you've finished cleaning yourself up.
> You pull the plug in the water and let it begin to let it drain.
> You take a long hard look at the blue tinted water.
> You see it as red, all the blood you've spilled in your life.
> The crimson washes down the drain and with it you think...
> You hope...
> That your life of war goes with it.
> With any luck, something you must have a lot of honestly, it really is gone.
 
> You towel off quickly, and manage to not ruin the towel, much to your surprise.
> After you finish that you head down back down the stairs and quickly survey the area.
> It really should have surprised you, but it didn't.
> The room was spotless.
> Immaculate.
> Not a thing out of place.
> The counter was restored.
> The floor was restored.
> The display had all its goods back in place.
> And there wasn't a spot on the walls, ceiling or floor.
 
> It seems that there was a correlation.