This here's a Ghost Town (EEU)

One moment Fantasy was next to him and the next he was gone. For what seemed like an eternity, Wesson sat in the darkness. His head spun as he tried to calm his breathing, relaxing himself despite the fire running through his blood. Had his companion left him here alone to die? Was this the end of the line?

Then, despite the all-emcompassing aching of his body, Wesson could feel a tingling around him. Magic. The stones applying pressure to his injury suddenly forced his limbs up and got him into a standing position. With little effort from himself, the stallion was practically carried on the path out of the tunnels. As his limbs were moved, Wesson found the energy in the movement to start walking himself. He shakily began to trot as the rocks fell away.

Staggering from time to time, Wesson felt he was wandering in a dreamy state of mind. His focus kept drifting but he forced it to come back to the simple task at hand; walk. His hooves carried him up to the saloon and out the swinging doors. His thoughts remained cloudy as he continued trotting along into the orchard.

The earth pony carried himself along as he saw figures passing by him. At first, he thought there were just the trees until he noticed their faces, their manes, their cutie marks. They seemed faded, like Fantasy, but he could make out their forms amongst the black fog surrounding him. Of course, all of this was for Wesson's eyes only, an effect the lamia bite on his leg.

Gasping in surprise, the stallion stopped in place as one face stood out to him. An earth pony, sporting a red bandana around his neck, cloaked under his blond mane, was watching from a distance before smiling and trotting away.

"Ace?" whispered Wesson, starting to trot to his right, away from Appleloosa. "Where you goin' buddy? T'ain't no way to greet old friends..."

Fantasy was now nothing but a floating essence of thought. he could feel nothing. See nothing. hear nothing. but he wasn't 'unconcious'. The ability to go asleep was long long lost to him. He could only trap himself within his thoughts, isolated from the outside world. But something, something rung in his mind. He sensed something.. wrong.

He couldn't sense much besides unicorn magic in this state, and even that was very vague. it was like floating in a black, soundless area, where every bit of magic was a very dim and unclear blue glow. But... Fantasy saw something else. A dim distortion. Earth ponies had magic in their body, and Fantasy could feel something off. something wrong, like a uncomfortable ripple. Did he have the energy to continue...? He didn't know. He couldn't even sense his own stamina. He knew magic at this point was probably risky, but he felt like he had no choice. He gave himself one last burst of senses, seeing and feeling around him. He saw Wesson, staring off deep into the desert, away from Appleloosa. Wesson said something, but Fantasy couldn't hear. Fantasy had no idea how stable he was at this point... But one last illusion.

One last illusion is what he needed. he needed to spike adrenaline into Wesson or stop him onto the spot. He thought, although he didn't have too much time to think. He forced himself to decide upon a solution. With a final outburst of magical energy, he created sounds that Wesson would not want to hear, that might shake wesson back into his senses! or atleast, he prayed to celestia they would. a fearsome rattling, that of a rattlesnake came from the deep desert where wesson was looking toward. Fantasy hoped that the earth pony would be smart enough to go away from the rattling, to run into the orchard or to run back into the saloon...

Fantasy suddenly no longer felt the wind. The sound of shifting sands and hot winds left his senses. The edges of his vision went black. W-what.. if he just faints in the sun... oh no... i messed up... didn't i? Fantasy thought to himself, however... it was getting harder to even gather his thoughts. His magical essence was overdone, out of magic entirely. it slowly started splitting apart and spreading in the air. If a unicorn didn't gather this magic back to one spot within a day, it might have meant the end for fantasy. Fantasy would normally scream at himself, or ruminate on the last moments of his life... but the magic was his very ability to think, and his brain was basically being split into small pieces which needed to be put back together before Fantasy would be conscious again. Wesson wasn't the only one in peril, now.

Ace was here. Ace had never been here. Wesson hadn't set eyes on the stallion in front of him for years. A few letters a year, but the image of pony himself had been just a memory. Until now. His friend was looking young, in his best days when they had trekked the south together. A faint smile crossed Wesson's lips as he followed his old friend. The fog seemed to momentarily clear as the view of the desert extended before him. Ace stood on the horizon, beckoning him to follow. Wesson lifted a hoof, his mind heavy as he slowly took a step forward.

Hissing, unpleasant sounds suddenly penetrated his world. It took a moment to recognise the sound. The rattle of the rattlesnake plagued his mind as Wesson hurriedly retreated, almost tripping over himself as his hooves carried him backwards. Then Ace, his old friend, transformed in front of him. Replacing the earth pony was a pale cream unicorn. Vibrant green eyes, unnaturally bright and piercing, glared manically at him as the pony sneered. Beside him rose the form of several lamia, the rattlesnake and the witchdoctor.

Wesson fumbled in his waistcoat to withdraw his revolver and wildly fired off several shots. The bullets carried harmlessly into the desert, leaving the lamia and the unicorn foe undisturbed. Wesson growled as he turned to run, his steps uneven and clumsy as he ran. The fog seemed to close in around him as he suddenly lost his footing. The earth pony tumbled to the ground, landing on his back as his hat and gun fell to his sides.

Panting deeply, he could make out figures approaching him. He feared the lamia were closing in on him but a faint sense of relief hit when he recognised the form of ponies. The group were lead by a unicorn mare with a heart shaped cutie mark. Heart Beat. As Wesson was collected onto a stretcher and carried back towards town, his last conscious thoughts turned to the saloon and the unlikely friend he found there. Fantasy had gotten help. Fantasy had saved him. Wesson hoped he was alright.

Fantasy could not watch as his friend got saved. Fantasy could not think about it, could not feel it, could not hear it. No, right now, Fantasy was practically tempoarily gone. Incapabe of thinking or interacting with his surroundings, he may aswell not exist at the moment. if he didn't have to do that last thing, then maybe he could be watching now. Smiling as he looked from outside the no longer haunted saloon as he recharged his magic. But now, there were only a few motes of magical energy floating in different locations.

Highly talented unicorns, unicorns using magic into their eyes or other ponies using magical goggles would see these motes, each trying to regain their energy, futile collecting and dispersing of magic happening in the very air. Fantasy would not think, talk, or do anything until the moment he had been saved, so as far as he was concerned, the moment he became conscious was only a second after the moment he had overexerted himself to save Wesson. he was... 'asleep', sort of, needing a unicorn to 'piece him together' so he could 'wake up'.

*A Week Later*

The saloon stood as desolate as last he had seen it, and equally as quiet. It was all he could do to hope Fantasy was still here. He knew that his spectre of an acquaintance had strained his last magic to try and help him, and he had been successful. But it worried Wesson that the unicorn had done so, and that he had not appeared to him in the time since that eventful day.

Since healing, Wesson had called in a few favours from folks in town and a magic expert in the field of the spiritual and supernatural had arrived via train earlier today. Now accompanied by the unicorn, Wesson had decided to return to see if he could find any trace of Fantasy. He lead the way into the saloon, the familiar building giving no sense of danger in the atmosphere that it head previously held. It seemed they had rid the place of the lamia.

"I can sense a magic essence everywhere," the unicorn mage stated, his horn alive with light as he scanned his surroundings, "It should be one whole but it's divided. It's like it's been split into fragments. I'll see if I can bind them together again to summon your...friend."

Wesson nodded silently as the unicorn stallion got to work in casting his spell. Wisps of pink energy misspelled from his horn and floated around the empty saloon. Wesson turned in place to watch the flying trails as they slowly collected together in the centre of the room. What could this be?

The magical particles were indeed reunited, but it took a great effort on the unicorn's part. Some pieces were kinda the 'wrong' shape. A result of having been apart for a whole week. nonetheless, when everything was put together, the pieces started melding into one another. Eventually, the pink trails of magic were joined by a hazy blue aura aswell, Fantasy slowly pulling himself together, literally.

The two trails of magic slowly brought every part back together, eventually forming a magic ball. it was resisting, so it had to be kept together for a bit, but fantasy helped as much as he could. Eventually, the magical energy would remain on one spot, without extra use of magic. And shortly after, from a corner, walked a light cream coloured unicorn, with a blue shawl and purple blue eyes. "Thank you! it's good to see you are well, too, Wesson." he said with a smile, suddenly completely fine. Due to Fantasy's strange nature, he did not need time to recover and recoup himself. he was fine the instant that his essence was wholly gathered. "I hope you don't mind me showing myself as an unicorn illusion." Fantasy's illusion said with a bow. "I cannot thank you enough for saving me." The ghost's illusion said to the unicorn. he felt right again. And he felt good, very happy, for Wesson to successfully make it through the whole trip. Fantasy looked back to the room where the stairs down were. "How long has it been? Have the Lamias shown up again? anyone go in there with a team to doublecheck for stragglers?" he said, getting directly to the point, making sure the future is looking bright. Jeeze, Fantasy really just kept on talking. It seems he liked talking. that or being unconscious for a while left him a lot to say.

Wesson watched the strain on the unicorn's mages face as he did his work. The earth pony had no idea what the process was for this kind of spell but it was obviously taxing. Nevertheless, the wispy pink trails seemed to melt and merge together until a bright ball of magical energy formed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wesson spotted movement. Instinctively, his hoof reached for his revolver in preparation for another lamia attack but his fears were unfounded. Fantasy had retuned. The unicorn appeared more in physically than he ever had before as he looked almost like a normal pony.

"Boy am I glad to see you in one piece again," commented Wesson, a smile on his muzzle. He looked over the unicorn mage and nodded appreciatively. "Thank you partner. Would ya mind waiting' outside?"

The expert seemed partly bewildered and partly concerned as he stared dumbfounded at the ghostly pony. Unknown to Wesson, he had sensed an unpleasant level of dark magic in Fantasy's form. With a slight look of fear in his eyes, the unicorn muttered in agreement and exited the saloon.

With the room clear, Wesson spoke freely to answer his friend's many questions. "It's been 'bout a week since we took care of them lamia critters. Some townsfolk took a gander here a few days ago but no sign of 'em. Figured we got 'em all. As for savin' ya, well, feeling's mutual. If ya hadn't gotten help from Heart Beat, I don't reckon there was much hope for me otherwise." The stallion glanced down at his left foreleg, at the faint scaring of fang bites that now joined the other injuries of his past adventures.

Fantasy nodded. "Ah, right. you're welcome. it was pretty hard, considering ponies could hardly understand me and my vision was rather blurred. But with enough adrenaline and worry, you can get quite a lot done. Well, if this place is safe, we should probably go back to Appleloosa. That friend of yours looks exhausted, and there's better places to be than here. Not that i mind~!" Fantasy chuckled. Heat was indeed of little issue to him.

Fantasy was fit and happy again, a smile on his muzzle all the same. he wondered something though. "So, Is everything in Appleloosa and nearby environs fine at the moment?" fantasy asked Wesson, incapable of ignoring the call for adventure and helping, since he did not need any kind of formal rest. however... if all was fine, maybe he could socialize with Wesson a bit! it was rare for a magical entity like him to really be able to converse and relax with more normal ponies.

It was good to hear Fantasy so bright and chipper after what they had gone through. He suspected that this was not the first dangerous adventure he'd ever embarked on. Not to mention, Wesson was very curious about the pseudo-unicorn. It wasn't everyday he met and befriended a ghost-like being. He wanted to know more about him, like who and what he was. Plus he was right about taking the unicorn mage back to town.

From Fantasy's last question, he detected a sense of suggestion, like he too wanted to talk more. However, the mention of Appleloosa put Wesson's mind on edge. Ponies were generally rather accepting but the frontier town had seen rough days and were more suspicious than most. He didn't think they would take to kindly to Fantasy's presence at the Salt Block saloon.

"Things around town are fine as they ever can be," Wesson replied matter-of-factly, before gesturing to the door, "You fancy coming back to mine? I'd be curious to have a chat with you about some things. I'd offer ya a drink too, but I don't know if ya...ya know...drink."

Fantasy laughed at the notion. "Well, i can sorta drink. i can use magic to taste a drink, pretty much. I learned that because i love food and becoming a ghost wasn't going to stop me from enjoying delicious foods!" He smiled towards Wesson and left the saloon. he noticed the magical expert, and a slight sneer towards the ghostly illusion. He blinked, and took not of it, but decided not to bother with it. If the guy would ask or the three would talk while going through the half a day worth of travel through the orchard, Fantasy would be glad to explain anything.

"i don't think i've ever been inside Appleloosa itself. First time i've been in this environ. takes a long while to travel here from the swamps south of vanhoover." he mentioned ,turning his head to Wesson as they walked onto the dry ground. It didn't help the ghost couldn't travel by anything else, like train or over the clouds, and had to float his little ghostly essence everywhere at a somewhat above trotting pace.

Wesson grinned at his friend's laugh and assurance that he could indeed taste to a degree. It would be a shame for good whiskey to go to waste. The earth pony trotted beside his ghostly friend as they trekked through the orchard together. Casting a look over his shoulder, Wesson hoped it would be the last time he had to return to the saloon to deal with forces of magic and monsters again.

It was difficult not to notice the standoffish behaviour of the unicorn mage beside them. No doubt, he was troubled by Fantasy's presence. Wesson couldn't help but feel he knew more about his new companion's state than he would like to know himself. Still, he wasn't deterred from continuing to be friendly. It was his way after all.

"It's a quiet place most of the time," he told Fantasy, in reference to Appleloosa, "One of the reasons I settled here. Though I think we best steer clear of the hustle 'n' bustle. Don't wanna cause more of a commotion now do we?"

Fantasy lowered his head a bit and nodded. "A shame, but a fair proposal nonetheless. I don't think anyone's really happy with me scaring off those colts and fillies..." He said, face somewhat scrunched up. it felt nice to be able to express himself so naturally again, this magic coming practically by itself. He looked around at the apples. "Ah, you think anyone would mind if i took just one apple from Appleloosa's rich orchards?" Fantasy asked wesson, rubbing his chin with a hoof but still walking with ease, since the illusion didn't really abide to any laws of physics, so whatever.

The illusion of a unicorn looked at the real unicorn, his brow furrowing a bit. He'd love to just clear up the situation, but he didn't know if the real unicorn would accept it. he'd need a logical tie-in to explain it. Ah well. Such is life, he supposed. Atleast Wesson was friendly, despite having seen first hand of Fantasy's ghostly nature.

Wesson nodded in agreement. Despite Fantasy's good intentions, if the townsfolk figured out that he was the one putting the fright into the ponies who'd ventured into the old saloon and caused unrest in Appleloosa, they'd likely be hostile towards him. With himself present, he doubted they'd act brashly since his voice was often heard by many. At most, they'd run him out of town, but it wasn't what he deserved after actually helping keep them safe from harm. That was one thing Wesson could always respect; keeping others safe.

"I don't see why not. One missing apple ain't gonna ruin the crop, so long as you don't make scrumping a habit," he advised, "They're mighty good eatin'. In fact, I still got some apple pie left at home. Pretty good."

Wesson wanted to launch straight into more questions but he bit his tongue. Holding off while they were in the company of the unicorn mage was for the best. He stallion already looked unsettled around Fantasy, making a point to walk with Wesson between them. It probably didn't help that Fantasy appeared be half floating along the ground, as his hooves of his form passed through the occasionally tree root or stone.

Fantasy nodded and magically floated a single apple down to his illusion's mouth. He then carefully poked a few holes in it and let the seeds out, planting them shallowly in the ground before the illusion nuzzled the apple. Fantasy made a smile, but the apple wilted and rotted on the spot, until it was only a dry husk. Fantasy sighed as he once more looked at the apple. "It's quite a shame that happens. It doesn't give me energy to do it, so taste is really the only reason i eat. Wish it could be another way, but magic has it's strange workings." he sighed and walked on, crushing the apple since he had taken the seeds out anyway, and tossing it aside eventually. What had happened had happened, and there was not much more to be done about it.

"I could have a small piece of apple pie." he said happily, thankful for the offer, it was mighty kind of Wesson. Fantasy gave him a somewhat flat look, since he had recognized that Wesson wanted to say more but didn't. He had hoped to communicate this with his eyes so Wesson could subtly tell the ghost why he didn't continue.

Wesson watched with growing curiosity as Fantasy fiddled with his apple. He was confused for a moment before an magical illusion of growth sported an apple. It was a very intriguing and unique sight to behold. The earth pony could only nod in agreement at Fantasy's comment on the strange workings of himself.

"Yes. Dark magic is strange and disturbing," voiced the unicorn, loud enough to be heard.

Despite this reveal of information, Wesson shot the unicorn a look that voiced his concerns for politeness to which the mage pointedly looked away. Clearly, he was put off Fantasy by some level of dark magic at work. Wesson himself wasn't particularly comfortable at the thought either but it didn't call for aggression towards Fantasy. He had the right to explain himself, not to mention he had shown himself to be good and trustworthy.

He cast Fantasy an apologetic look about their magic companion's behaviour although it was clear that he too was intent to know more about this.

Fantasy actually didn't mind it. He nodded. "Yes, Dark magic is a deviled thing which should be kept to Tartarus and not leave it. I've made a... Mistake with it, a few years ago." Fantasy said with a sight. He looked at the two living ponies. "Perhaps one would ask of me to unmake myself because i was effectively created by dark magic, but that's a hard thing to do." He said, mentioning the tale of his creation. Turns out, Despite being a bit of a mystery, Fantasy didn't mean to hide anything or come off as dangerous. He actually did want to tell his backstory, but doing so unprovoked might come of as vain.

"Tell me, you weren't hurt or affected by the Dark Magic while saving me, were you?" he asked the unicorn with genuine concern sounding in his 'voice'. there was still plenty reason to be suspicious of Fantasy, but, Fantasy was doing his best to be nice. It was a shame that if the unicorn doubted him he had little to back himself up.

Hearing the slight reveal about his past and origin only made Wesson more curious. Before he had chance to ask, the unicorn spoke up.

"Thankfully not. Though I will be casting purging spells on myself for the foreseeable future," he answered Fantasy's question, before looking to Wesson, "I would advise you either accompany me back to Manehatten for similar treatment, or that I remain here with you for a while to see-"

"Thank you, but I don't reckon that's necessary," Wesson interjected, keeping his voice polite and courteous.

However, the unicorn simply cocked an eyebrow at this. "Are you sure? I would ensure the same is done for the whole of Appleloosa, for the good of the town after all."

Those last few words struck Wesson's core. His protective nature over Appleloosa instantly saw sense in the mage's point. However, it could mean serious problems for Fantasy. If dark magic caused his state, what harm would it do him if the town's area was purged of it? With an uncharacteristic look of uncertainty on his face, Wesson glanced over to Fantasy as he pondered on the correct answer.

Fantasy blinked at the suggestion. "If you can sense dark magic, can't you sense that i've done and am doing my best to prevent it's spread? I mean, i'm willing to stop and turn back on town now, We're not in Appleloosa yet. and if you think it's seriously dangerous... Fantasy had taken a lot of precautions the moment he had learned it was dark magic. That had been 3 years ago, and his ability to sense magic was still top notch, so he had hoped that he could at the very least stop any unnecesary spread. ofcourse, during his state of literally being split apart, he couldn't guarantee the same.

Basic magic theory says that certain types of magic are innately dispelled by their counterparts if present in enough abundance, and Dark magic is innately dispelled by friendship and love. I would hope that there's enough of that in appleloosa to protect itself from stray magic of the type. He said, in a tone and sureness that's also at the least a level of a magic expert, although seeing his cutie mark was one focused on magic itself, it was of no real surprise.

The unicorn gave Fantasy a guarded look. Wesson recognised it as him summing up the magical entity, and what truth might lie in his claims. Wesson could admit to being any kind of expert in magic - far from it really - but what Fantasy had said seemed to make sense to him. This seemed to be supported by the fact that the mage simple frowned and looked away without making further comment. Wesson got the sense that if he had any point for rebuttal, he would make it.

"Ain't no danger partner, just good to air on the side of caution I suppose," he voiced diplomatically, "Like you said, 'dispelling' of magic and all that. Besides, my house is on the outskirts of town so we ain't gonna be bothering no pony else."

From their position in the orchard, they could actually make out the outline of the frontier town in the distance. Wesson gestured to a structure on the edge of Appleloosa. To call it a house was to be generous. It was more of a shack, but it was his home.

((Timeskip to closer to town?))

Fantasy nodded, looking back at Wesson and looking at the place where Wesson pointed. The trip was a little on the silent side from there on, at least until the unicorn left his own way and the two started closing in on the shack near the edge of town. Fantasy looked further in town, blinking his magical eyes a bit before turning his head back to the shack.

"I take it you prefer the silence and time alone the furthest outskirts have to offer?" Fantasy asked, not thinking of much else reasons you'd live on the outskirts of Appleloosa, especially since it was in the middle of the dessert and the town itself was a much safer place to be. Undoubtedly, Wesson had to walk a long distance to town centrum every few days just to pick up water so he could keep hydrated out here.

"Somethin' like that," replied Wesson, reflecting on his isolated accommodation out of town. "In my younger days, I'd camp every day I could in the wild. Still do to this day. But, as I got older, it got easier to have somewhere to lay my head more permanently."

It was true that he preferred the peace and quiet of nature. He'd grown up on a ranch surrounded by the wilderness. In many ways, it was his home more than Appleloosa. Over the years, he'd grown more accustomed to looking after folk until he finally decided his age had caught up enough with him to warrant settling down.

Thinking about home and living, his thoughts turned to Fantasy. "What about you? You have anywhere you can call home?"

"Technically, yeah, although... The lack of need for anything besides Psychological needs and rest kinda makes it easy to wander. i think i've been home once ever since i became a ghost, my memory isn't the best, so i'm not completely sure..." Fantasy mentioned, while the two closed in on his home. Fantasy imagined Wesson camping out in the wild. It had gotten him curious, cause this was a dangerous and vast Equestria they lived in.

"Did you do your camping.. Alone? and on known safe areas, or were you the adventurer to step into unprotected territory where monsters are common?" he asked. If Wesson had been sleeping in unchecked wilderness often, from a young age and alone, it was a true miracle that he still stood here to talk with Fantasy.

"Everypony needs to speak to some pony now and again. Would drive ya crazy not to," commented Wesson, though he didn't comment on Fantasy's returning to home. With his admittance of memory loss, it seemed that it could be a metaphorical minefield of discussion. Probably best to avoid it, at least for now.

Instead, he focused on the questions given to him. They made the old earth pony reminisce back to his youth; the glory days, as some might have called them. When he was young, agile and full of vigour, the world seemed like such a large and exciting place full of potential.

"There was a long time I'd be sleeping with company. But asides then, sleeping alone ain't too bad, so long as you know the right methods. Sheltered cover, fire, avoiding or masking scents. T'aint' difficult if you know how. Same with foraging or camping."

Intrigued by wesson's story of his past, fantasy smiled, before a devilish thought entered his mind. He decided to test the old cod on his humour and mannerisms. The earth pony was unlikely to be capable of hurting Fantasy and fantasy preferred showing his true colours and thoughts anyway. "sleeping with... Company, eh~?" he said, magical eyebrows appearing above his eyes and slowly wagging up and down, consistently accelerating in pace as he made his illusions head get closer to wesson. He'd likely get some kind of hint if the joke went too far, as far as he was concerned, though... He could always come up with some less awkward way to continue the conversation topic.

If it wasn't obvious, Fantasy was definitly a speakaholic. He could talk and chatter and talk on and on, asking questions to somepony. But right now he kept silenct cause he just wanted to see the old geezer's reply to Fantasy's young and dastardly shenanigans.

Wesson's eyebrow raised in surprise at the sudden jab. His gaze turned to Fantasy to see the mischievous expression on his face. The earth pony let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

"Nothin' like that I'm afraid. Just a few buddies I used to travel with," he replied, his mind wandering to times gathered around a campfire with the ponies he called friends at the time. There was a little tonal shift in his voice, not devoid of humour but if noticed it would give the impression that Wesson was making light to cover a more serious topic. "That was a long time ago though. Nowadays, I make camp by my lonesome."

Still revelling in the humour of Fantasy's joke, Wesson grinned at the unicorn ghost before giving his own comeback.

"Don't you be getting any ideas now. I'm flattered and all, but I did just mean a drink and some apple pie."