Shellstrings

by shortskirtsandexplosions


Drop the Mare

Lyra Heartstrings was an adorable mint green unicorn. She knew this by heart. Thus, it was with a breathless stupor that she beheld the translucent wings emanating from her body—catching the wind like any normal set of feathers and allowing her to glide effortlessly over the desert landscape.

Her amber eyes narrowed on the curious appendages that had been conjured out of thin air.

They resembled the skeletal base of a pegasus' wingspan. There were no feathers—no fibrous materials of any kind. The manner in which the translucent limbs caught the dry desert air was a complete mystery to Lyra. Nevertheless, there was a certain ethereal quality to the narrow emerald stalks. Their color matched her coat, horn, and—to a lesser extent—her mane and tail. As Lyra watched, the wings flickered in brightness, dancing between rich jade and glinting silver.

"Friggin' crazy..." Lyra turned her head and looked over her other shoulder. She was ascending—or so she felt. The mare was too busy trying to make heads or tails out of her sudden psionic growth to give it all a second thought. "Where did they even come from?"

~o~Where do you think?~o~

Lyra clammed up.

~o~We are not out to destroy you. There are many things that we need to have done. That requires this husk to be preserved at all costs.~o~

Lyra's clenched jaw morphed into a hissing snarl. "I..." She hissed. "...am not your puppet."

~o~The strings that tie us together cannot be broken.~o~

"I don't care." Lyra growled into the high desert air. "You're not in control here. And that just burns you, doesn't it?"

Aside from the howling winds, the air was silent.

Lyra barked further: "So you can knock it off with the light show! I don't need your protection! And I sure as Tartarus don't need you preaching to me about 'hives' and 'broods!'"

More silence.

"Are you hearing me?!" Lyra yelled. "I said I don't need your Goddess-damn magic tricks!"

The sky reverberated with a warbling voice.

~o~Very well.~o~

The glowing green wings vanished...

...and that was precisely when Lyra discovered how high she was.

"Whoah... wait a second..." Lyra flailed.

The earth bent beneath her. Mountains, valleys, and canyons yawned—sailing straight up at dozens of miles per hour.

"Wait wait wait!" Lyra's voice cracked as she performed wild hoofie-kicks in the air. Her body twirled, toppeled, and rolled like a murderously-kicked hoofball at the end of its arcing crest. "I... I-I didn't mean to dr-drop me like a frickin' anvil!"

There was no response. Lyra felt alone with the wind, the whipping, and the wheezing shrieks coming from her lungs.

"Crud crud crud crud—!" Lyra barreled until she was falling spine-first towards the murderously hard floor of the desert. "Okay! Okay! Let's j-just lay down a few ground rules before I hit the ground!" She curled up into a squeaky little ball, gnashing her teeth. "For the love of fuzzy-muzzle-nuzzles, let's t-talk about this—!"

But it was far too late. The earth came shrieking at her with a flash of brown stone.

Then... at the last second...

FLASH!


Appleloosa – Outskirts – Cabins – Late Morning

Thudddddddd!

Lyra struck the earth—bounced—and hit stone again. Upon the second impact, she slid violently across a flat field of stones and shrubbery. A shallow trench formed after her grinding body.

She winced... but felt no pain. It wasn't until her body gently bumped into the edge of a wooden porch that she finally had the courage to open her eyes.

And that's when she saw it: her body had been covered in numerous plates of chitinous black armor... much like before when she had inadvertently crashed while possessing the body of a familiar orange hero.

On this occasion, however, she lingered in place, staring in wonderment at the insectoid slabs protruding from her equine flesh. She reached two trembling hooves up, noticing how the fetlocks and joints had been properly covered with notched formations. She felt like a big, overgrown stagbeetle that was ever so slightly cuddable.

With a nervous gulp, she reached up to her skull. Her mane was gone—as were her ears and brow—replaced instead by a tight, pearl-smoothed cap... like a soldier's helmet. At last, she felt her horn protruding from the front and center, and it was crooked... like a demonic zig-zag instead of a normal unicorn protrusion.

Lyra swallowed hard. "Shells..." She murmured.

~o~You claim to be in such control, and yet you would be deceased if it weren't for us.~o~

Just like that, the armored plates vanished. Fl-Flash! Lyra sat against the wooden porch, trembling.

~o~So meditate on that... the next time you feel fit to blame us for your own feeble mistakes.~o~

Lyra frowned. "I'm already 'deceased' because of you."

There was no immediate response.

"Why, then, should I do any friggin' thing that you say?" Lyra snarled.

~o~We believe that you fail to properly understand the nature of having hatched from a chrysalis.~o~

Lyra's coat instantly paled. "Wait..." Her pupils shrank as fresh trembles overwhelmed her little pony figure. "...'chrysalis?'"

The voice took on a slightly cautious tone. ~o~Someone approaches. Concern and guilt. Thick.~o~

"H-huh?" Lyra slurred, standing up dizzily. Just then, she heard scuffling hoofsteps from behind, followed by a muffled voice.

The cabin door opened, and Lemon Hearts trotted out while staring inside. "Just stay calm, Twinkleshine. She's probably hanging out at the salt bar. I'll go have a talk with Braeburn again." She closed the door behind her, sighed, then caught full sight of Lyra. Lemon Hearts' eyes instantly exploded—as did a grinning muzzle. "Lyra! You're here!"

"Uhhhhhhh..." Lyra teetered in place. She looked down at her limbs. There wasn't a single insectoid plate to be found.

Lemon rushed two steps forward—as if about to hug her. Something anchored her back, and she jolted in place with a tiny, tight frown that had replaced the ecstatic grin completely. "What were you even thinking, trotting off into the wilderness like that?! We've been worried sick about you!"

Lyra brushed her bangs back, still shivering at the last words the voice had said. "Yes..." She swallowed some bile in the back of her throat—no longer certain if it belonged to her. "So... v-very sick..."