The weirdness goes to eleven · 5:09am Nov 18th, 2019
“Processing?” asked Sundance as he was led into what appeared to be a mad scientist’s lair. There were machines here, odd contraptions that he couldn’t recognise, and the walls were covered in curious crystalline growths that pulsed with unnatural light that made his eyes ache. “Processed into what?”
“Twilight’s safety must be ensured,” was Moondancer’s clinical response.
“I assure you, I’m harmless. Well, except for maybe how I smell.”
“We’ll see.” Moondancer’s voice was a cool, emotionless deadpan. “First, you get to have your picture taken.”
“My picture?” That didn’t sound so bad, and Sundance was somewhat relieved. “Still a little concerned about this processing, uh, thing.”
“Thaumatography.” Moondancer whirled around suddenly, without warning, and now stood nose to nose with Sundance. “Vinyl Scratch and Sumac Apple invented several new types of cameras. One of them allows us to photograph magical fields and emminations. Spectral dweomer thaumatography allows us to see spells, illusions, illusory cloaks, fields of alterations, polymorphs, metamorphs, polymimetic surface alterations—”
“I don’t know what that means,” Sundance said.
“It means,” she said with great care, “that no matter what you look like on the outside, we can see what you look like on the inside. If you are a changeling, or a mimic, we’ll be able to see past your illusions, no matter how sophisticated and well-protected.”
“Is this whole processing thing really necessary?” he asked. “I didn’t come to be processed.”
“It is very necessary.” Moondancer’s monobrow formed a relaxed V; it rather looked like the colony of coarse hairs all decided to head south like a flock of migratory swallows who packed their coconuts for a trip to some distant far-off tropical beach.
“Are you going to, uh, probe me?” asked Sundance.
Moondancer, her head tilted off to the left, paused to consider this question. “Do I look like some dreadful space alien?”
Squirming, Sundance wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in this nightmare scenario. “Maybe just a little?”
“Do you want me to probe you?” Her monobrow V formed a somewhat sharper angle above her oversized, chunky glasses.
Before Sundance could think about his answer, his mouth betrayed him: “Yeah. Maybe. Kind of.”
“And ponies say that I am socially maladjusted and have trouble connecting with my fellow equines.” Her expression became rather deadpan, though her monobrow remained on fierce alert. “Look… you must be processed. We have to check for anomalies. Magical talents that warp or otherwise distort local reality in some way. These sorts of talents are distressingly common and subtly powerful. Twilight has encountered them before, and she makes every conceivable effort to avoid making the same mistake twice.”
“Also,” she added, “you’re not just a pervert, but you’re a smelly pervert. That’s going down in your file.”
“Oh.” Sundance restrained his reaction and withheld his need to express his regrets. When he got home, he was going to tell River Raider that he was a pervert, and that it was now on his permanent record. Why? He didn’t know why, but he hoped that maybe it would temper her opinion of his sickening, disgusting goodness.
“Once, a long time ago, Twilight encountered a pony whose magical talent influenced her behaviour. It altered her decision-making and caused her to do things that she would later come to regret. She failed to learn from this though, and it happened again. Now, she is proactive with her protections, which is why we check for anomalies.”
“What happened?” Sundance found himself wanting to know. Needing to know, perhaps. This was intriguing.
“Go and sit down in front of the reflector screen right over there, and I’ll tell you,” she replied. “Sit on the stool. Go on. Cooperate.”
“Is this… is this going to fry my gonads? Like an X-ray? Should I cover my bits with a lead apron or something?”
“You know, we haven’t actually checked for that. I’ll fill out some paperwork after we’re finished.” Left front hoof raised, she gestured at the stool whilst she levitated a bizarre camera off of the table. “Go sit down, please.”
“But my gonads—”
“Can be scientifically observed after the fact. Twilight pays well if you participate in a study.” Again, Moondancer gestured with her hoof. “Go and rest your gonads upon that stool.”
Cursing his submissive nature, Sundance dutifully sat down upon the stool, and then shifted his body around, unsure of how to protect his future foals from whatever was about to happen next. Moondancer powered on the camera; it whined, buzzed for a few seconds, and a red light flashed once. She held it up, patient, and cast a sidelong glance at the curious camera.
“Twilight once banished a pony from Ponyville. She did so under magical duress, without knowing that her behaviour was influenced. Another pony’s talent held influence over her ability to make decisions. Later, things got sorted out, and Twilight pieced together what had happened. Of course, she apologised, and she made things right, but she failed to learn her lesson. Eventually, she would be exposed to grift magic, which is charismatic in nature and influencing. She failed to take proper measures, and was again influenced by passive magic. Inveigled, perhaps? That might be a better, more accurate term? I don’t know. Could be wrong.”
The red light flashed again, and this drew a resigned sigh from Moondancer, who waited.
“As far as I know, I don’t have a magic talent,” Sundance said whilst he crossed his hind legs tight together with the hopes that his thighs could somehow protect him. “Though I did recently learn that I could discharge lightning.”
“Oh… that’s going down in your file. Twilight is well-defended against the electricity, but it never hurts to be careful.”
“I would never hurt Twilight—”
“You would if you were mind-controlled, or geased.”
“But I—what?”
“This is why we process you. Twilight had an assassin attempt to kill her in her study. It was somepony she knew. She was able to break the mind-compulsion spell and save her friend. Still, it was quite traumatic.” Moondancer gently shook the camera, and then snorted. “It’s taking its sweet time to warm up today.”
This was an awful lot to take in. Somepony, a friend, tried to kill Twilight. In her own study, no less. Slowly his mind began to grasp the necessity for all of this—whatever all of this was—and he resigned himself to be poked and prodded. It was logical, sensible, and it allowed him to spend time with this weirdly attractive mare. Physically, she wasn’t his type—but something deep within him told him that she could thoroughly dominate him if she so pleased—which was quite a thrilling prospect. He would be utterly powerless against her magical onslaughts… not that he would resist.
Magical strength was still strength, and this mare radiated scary raw power.
It's like watching a train loaded with napalm crash into an orphanage decked out in polyester in slow motion. You can't turn away, but a part of you wants to watch. It's going to get even weirder. Right now, this is just warm-up weird. Getting to know you weird. Moondancer even has a joke about thunderballs coming up.
cant come soon enough
Has... has Moondancer shown up in the Weedverse before? Because if she has, I get the feeling that I've missed out on a lot more weird... ness.
edit: I'm really kicking myself hard now for my years-old habit of jumping around the Weedverse, only for stories that interested me. I need to sit down and finish the earlier stories of the verse, for sure.
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- MLP: FiM
- Comedy
- Sci-Fi
Olfactography seemed like such a promising idea. Until it wasn't.She's appeared in quite a number of stories as a background character, but she steals the show in this one. She's science positive.
But his gonads...
How are his gonads ??
I don’t remember an assassination attempt on twilight, might be in the few stories of yours I still have in my read later list I suppose.
That is a very specific simile.
If the lyrics seem vaguely familiar with some reason, imagine this song in place of one sung by Tom Jones during the opening credits of a certain film…
But are they African or European swallows?
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Neither of those places exist in this universe.
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Fine, did they come from Horse Africa or Horse Europe?
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Zebrabwe or Giraffrica?