//------------------------------//
// Ivory  
// Story: Culpa 
// by Those Kids In The Corner 
//------------------------------//

Blood. Blood stained the water churning above my head, pulling against my long locks and subsequently tangling them in the process. I could feel the frigid water caressing the broken and exposed flesh behind my folded ears.

I never did pay that much attention to my surroundings. Looks like it finally cost me something. My luck ran out. Blasted mascara and all its powdery evilness. 

Salty water stung my eyes as I peered through them into the ocean that was slowly wrapping me in its embrace. It was less of an expansive ocean and more of a dismal abyss.

I wouldn’t see the bottom.

I imagine this is what it’s like to be a helium balloon suspended in water. The pressure from the currents was quite prominent against my sides, billowing my torn shirt around where it still managed to cling to my body. My sun hat was lost long ago, and I doubt they will find it. Not that they would try anyway. Probably.

A few bubbles escaped my mouth as I drifted lower. I should have seen the signs. I could have changed this outcome. Now they are in danger. My queen is in danger. I failed her. I failed myself. I failed that poor mare.

I noticed it was darker now. Much more than it was at the surface. Obviously. What was I thinking, that it would get brighter? 

Why am I so calm? I’m looking into the face of death, my end, my demise. There is no way I can save myself. The shackles on my wrists are tight and fairly new, and it’s not like I was masquerading as a lock picker. I could always try to pry them off my wrists by slamming my rear hooves down on the silvery chain but all I would achieve is a broken something before I suffocated on water. What a way to die. Came in this world suffocating on a broken egg’s allantois and will leave it suffocating on water.

I’m pretty sure my vision is getting blurrier. The first tendrils of panic began to creep up my spine, bringing along a shock of adrenaline. I struggled fruitlessly, rubbing my wrists raw in the process. It was then that I noticed a fault in the right manacle. Being as these were scraped up off the garage floor with some cheesy science fair atrocities nearby, I shouldn’t be surprised by the corrosive decay from what I could only assume is sulfuric acid from a failed experiment that started dripping everywhere.  

I finally mare up. Or stupid up, if that makes any sense. [1] I catch the eroded edge of the cuff on my saddlebag buckle and pulled, twisted, anything within the range of capability considering I was using a bloody buckle to pry off an acid damaged cuff. It was much more damaged on the inside, almost worn all the way through. The belt snapped at the buckle, but not before the right cuff finally gave way. 



[1] No, no it doesn’t.



Freed from its iron prison, my wrist swiveled and the cuff limply slid from its place and began to sink. Before it got more than 3 hoof-lengths away from the hoof, the chain that bound it to its sister cuff pulled taught. Now I could finally swim.

Thankfully, the area was littered with underwater caves, some of which opened up to the surface. If I could find a sealed one with some trapped air in the next 30 or so seconds, I could have a short break followed by a reconnaissance mission for the surface breaching caves. Yeah, if I have a queen that can lay golden eggs, than surely I can do this. Oh wait, I don’t.

I could barely see my hooves in front of my face. The bubbles escaping from my mouth told me which way was up, and I aggressively did some variation of an underwater breast stroke to what I believed was the submerged part of the cliff side. 

My lungs felt as if they were boiling, my eyes were watering from the exertion, though you wouldn’t tell from the obvious water all about. My holed hooves didn’t exactly help with getting traction in the water either. 

The black at the edges of my vision was all encompassing, and I didn’t have long. With the last reserves I had, I transformed my wings into something more of a bats’, sleek, thin, and water resistant. Splaying them out at my sides and thrusting them back cupped the water just enough to help propel me forward at a more conformable pace. A few more and I would reach what I hoped was indeed an airtight cave. With air in it. Breathable air.

Wings pumping, vision blurring and lungs heaving within my chest brought me to the edge of the rock wall blocking my entrance. Before my consciousness fully left me, I managed one last stroke underneath it, and hoped I would float up to the top.





Grit and water was all that greeted me when I awoke. For a moment I stopped and stared down at the hooves below me. My hooves. I don’t quite remember my disguise failing, or where my saddlebags went. Chances are the saddlebags were lost and rid me of just enough weight to float, along with my artificial mass being discarded once I had fully shifted into my true body. Educated guesses aside, I was in need of a new mission. I’m sure that mechanic is looking franticly for his real daughter now. If I get out soon enough I might have been able to don the disguise once more, and write off any inconsistencies with the real mare’s personality as trauma inflicted by the “big bad changeling.” Now to the present situation.

The love reserves I was supposed to bring back to the hive was spent. Completely and absolutely spent. Gone. Nonexistent. Dry.

Now that was a problem. 

Or rather, it would be a problem soon. This good ole changeling body can withstand much more than the typical pony, and I could go a few hours more before I would faint and shrivel with exhaustion and hunger. 

I didn’t want to think of how hungry and thirsty that mare must be by now.

I twisted my body to be a bit more level on the grit and stretched my forehooves before me. Tensing my back legs and flanks made my rear rise off the ground and into a pose not unlike a stretching cat. I suspect I’ve been out for less than a day’s time. Any more and my body would be too stiff to move like this. 

Until I gather more love, the hive mind will be silent to my ears without any power to the love link. Which was disappointing, as I could just mentally send a distress signal for a few drones to assist me. Of course, more drones means more disguises. More disguises means more backstories, knowledge about basic Equestrian civil affairs, life, and history. Which not a single one of the drones would have. So that would have been a bust from the get-go. 

Without wasting time, I scrambled fully to my hooves, chain links softly clinking together during the motion. Wacking the cuff on my arm enough times broke something within the mechanism that kept it locked and it popped right off. Now, there was some escaping to be done. Whilst my bat wings may be absent now, I can maneuver through the water just fine with my wits about me. I stopped myself before going to gather my things, as I remembered I had no things to gather. I tried not to think about how the saddlebags were the mare’s birthday gift.

With something almost akin to elation, I plunged into the relatively unknown waters.





“I –huff- am never going –wheeze- to do that again.”

Green frills breaching the surface were all that could really be seen. It was nightfall; so my black chitin blended in with the waters just fine, thank the new moon. 

Funny, thanking the moon princess of the country I’m technically invading because the moon she guides isn’t visible so I can sneak right back into their society like a lost puppy. With nary a wandering eye in my direction, I climbed up the rocky bank and cowered beneath a larger, boulder sized slab of discarded sandstone to collect my thoughts. 

First order of business, love. This district was fairly populous, so that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Find a couple on the beach or a nearby restaurant and drink in the ambient love. 

The second, a disguise. I couldn’t take on my previous one, for obvious reasons, or else I would just be begging for suspicion and capture. I would need to either make up a persona from scratch risking looking suspicious due to my unfamiliarity, or risk copying a pony and running into ponies they know. Option one then.

Three, I need to recover the mechanic’s daughter. If she hasn’t been discovered that is. Hopefully my little hiding space for her was enough to keep them off for at least the few hours since I’ve been found out. Of course the city was still bustling, so it is highly unlikely that she has been found. For all they know they threw their actual daughter into the ocean to drown. The father only saw my eyes flicker green in a mirror after poking myself in the eye with a makeup brush. Even with the obvious excuse, that didn’t stop him from jumping to conclusions. Correct conclusions, mind you, but assumed ones all the same. Which is rather concerning as he just threw his supposed daughter in the ocean because of something that could be excused as a trick of the light. Paranoid ponies. My disguise’s eyes were even blue. Close enough colors. At least the stallion hated the news more than changelings.

The mare didn’t hate us at all. She wanted to help.

After thinking out the rest of my basic plan, I used the reflection off a shard of metal to tell me if someone was nearby instead of getting up and leaving like I normally would. To my luck, the only ponies out and about were at a distance. The beach was never truly empty. I stepped up, and promptly banged the top of my head on the rock above me. Suave. That little injury was definitely still there, but that little serrated rip behind my right ear was rather aggravating now that I’ve disturbed it.

Wiping what little evidence of my little... falling out with the rock off my head, I slithered up the bank, making as little of a trail as possible. Soon I’ll be free to do whatever I want to these ponies. If I keep my hold on the young mare I’ve posed as, “Ivory Winter” will be a countrywide sweetheart, telling of her days with the terrible little changeling who kept her captive. Humble beginnings, sweet family, warm atmosphere in her presence, a little tragedy here and there… that’s practically a recipe for love and adoration! I can’t feel guilty about it.

With a bounce in my step, I cantered across the beach and behind a nearby restaurant, momentarily forgetting myself. I’m glad no one saw the jovial prancing changeling disappearing into a dumpster after tripping over a cat. At least I got a good sample of affection when some foals pet the cat after it stopped hissing at me and walked to the end of the alley.

Ah, dumpsters, truly the epitome of hiding places. Who would think to check there of all places? It probably helped that my sense of smell was absolutely terrible due to a run in with a zebra and an angry chipmunk. [2] To be fair it was a very menacing chipmunk.



[2] The Everfree forest is a good place to accidentally anger a bunch of random animals. Long story short, a zebra scared the rock disguise off my hide and I ended up breathing in the entirety of whatever powder she was about to use to calm that evil little rat.



Now for the disguise. Something that blends in but isn’t too generic. Someone who looks like they have a story. Perhaps a slightly intimidating build to avoid any conformation? Or would that stand out too much? An earth pony would work pretty well considering half populous is earth pony in this city. A soft orange coat would be pleasant. Maybe some light yellow or gold? Those colors look good together. Some warm, green eyes wouldn’t be very suspicious or alarming. Now a cutie mark. Something inconspicuous, yet not plain and boring. There seems to be a lot of fruit in here, I can work with that. 

After careful deliberation I decide on a trio of pineapples. That seems to compliment this disguise pretty well. I look like an overall warm pony. Warm colors, warm fruit, warm eyes, warm aura! Now warm doesn’t sound like a word.

I stopped for a minute to calm my nerves. This mare was mine. Her life was now mine. I just had to get it back. I made a little slip up, is’all. It was my duty. I couldn’t feel bad about it. Changelings don’t feel bad about things. They do with what they have to do.

Pressing the dumpster lid up very gently with the top of my head allowed me to look into the alleyway to check for passerbys, thankfully finding none. I crawled out slowly and stepped out onto the greasy ground, planting all four hooves very carefully before me. I put on my best winning smile and started out towards the street. Even with careful footing to keep my balance, I still managed to slip on something halfway there. My chest hit the ground first, knocking the breath from my lungs. With one foreleg underneath my body and the other splayed ahead, I looked like an utter fool. After my vision stopped spinning, I groaned and scanned for the culprit with  one eye.

I slipped on a shard of a mirror, small enough where I didn’t notice it, but large enough for it not have been able to slice the bottom of my hoof wide open. Convenient. I held it up half out of curiosity and half to boost my ego to see my clearly magnificent disguise. 

Yeah. Magnificent. Sure. I’m totally not almost a dead ringer for one of Equestria’s heroes! What happened to inconspicuous! The cutie marks faded from my flanks as I tried to recall what the actual mare’s cutie mark was. I’m sure I could just waltz right into the city proper looking like one of the kingdoms protectors without knowing anything about her. That’ll lead me right to Ivory and a jail cell. Is it bad that I would rather that happen over throwing that poor mare under the carriage again?

My ears unconsciously swiveled to the sound of clattering kitchenware hitting the ground. Some muttered curses and a sigh was all that warned me to the kitchen mare waltzing out the restaurant’s back door like she owned the place whilst holding a pan in her mouth that looked like it was dripping something more similar to slop than actual food. My head unceremoniously hit the pavement.

“Blast.”

The mare turned to me after hearing my vocalized displeasure and squealed like a fan filly, absolutely flooding me with adulation. Of course I had to run into someone who knew who Applejack was. Blast, blast, blast. Hoping she didn’t question my lack of a mark, I nervously stood and tried out my best southern accent.

“Uh, d-don’t mind me now! Ahm just goin’ to… fight crime. And stuff. Good-day ma’am!” I stuttered out before I sprinted out of the alleyway as fast as these hooves could carry me. My hooves automatically skidded to a halt before I trampled a foal sneaking some bread off a stand. That was a close one. Too close. I had a mission to do. 

I ducked in another alleyway and dove behind a cardboard standee. I changed my mane color to a light pink and the cutie mark to a single pineapple rather than the previous trio. Now donning a horn and baby blue eyes as well, I looked like an entirely different pony. Perfect.

I tried tying all this mane back, and I was able to do it without difficulty. I started back down the street. 

Wait, without difficulty? 

My hoof shot up to my right ear and felt around slightly beyond it. No pain, no cut. I tapped into my reserves and found just enough adulation to warrant the disguise change and healing with a little bit still left. But I still couldn’t find— no. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

My plot hit the ground faster than I could blink. Eyes straight-ahead; unblinking, unmoving, seemingly lifeless. 

The link. The link was gone. I couldn’t sense it. I couldn’t hear my brothers or sisters. 

I was severed from the hive. 

The queen must have sundered the link when she sensed I was discovered to prevent the ponies from learning of the hive’s location. I was alone. I was free.

But what purpose did I have now? Could I go back? Would I even be accepted back into the hive after my failure? I could finish the infiltration and prove to her that I’m worthy. I’m not useless.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel so compelled to fight for her anymore. I’m not useless. I can do things for myself. That’s actually a pretty cool thought on its own.

At only 13 moons, I still have my entire life ahead of me. And I can live it as myself. No queen, no overbearing presence lording over my head, no eternal dictator. Alone in my own thoughts, but no comforting words from my hivemates. The chance to live my life and have a higher purpose, or to serve.

How would I live anyway? I can only shapeshift into whatever form I need and can live weeks without water or conventional food thanks to some internal storage sacs. Or I could go back to the hive and be eternally hungry by my gathered love being drained from me.

If I left and kept my status as presumably dead or captured, the hive wouldn’t waste resources finding me. I could go where I want, get an apartment, maybe take on a lover for a steady stream of nutrition. I could start a business and climb my way to the top myself without lies and deceit. I could still be the most powerful changeling. Social status wise anyway.

I think I know the better outcome. I would rather be a free mare then an oppressed one. I smiled to myself looking down but not actually perceiving what was there. I had a brighter future ahead. I had a future of my own. One of hard work and determination. One of perseverance and doubt and success and failure. It was all so enticing. I was never cut out to be an infiltrator anyway. So I turned my head towards freedom. 

I had all the time in the world to freak out and question all of my life choices later. All I know is that she is free to live her own life, just as I now am to live mine. And I don’t feel guilty about it at all.