“I just want to start a flame in your heart.”
“G’morning girly.”
I cracked open one eye. The stallion next to me was smiling, eyes half-open in the same post-sleep haze I was now recovering from. His fur was a dark green spotted with brown. His mane was black, and matted, as mine no doubt was, against the pillows we slept on. His breath stank—but they all did. I returned his smile, wishing he had let me sleep a little longer, but his time was almost up, and I would never pass up the opportunity for breakfast in bed.
Afterwards, I sent him away, and then trotted to the washroom that was attached to my bedchamber. The room was sparse. I had a wash bin, a few towels, a bar of soap, and a small mirror mounted on the wall. Most of the other mares who lived here had their own washrooms, filled with makeup and incense and whatever else ponies used to make themselves appealing, but I had no need of such things. If my hair got tangled or my coat stained, I need only refresh my disguise and my looks would be restored. But it felt nice, sometimes, to rinse my face in water. My real face, the one I wore so rarely these days.
I stared at myself in the mirror. Purple hair. A white coat. Three diamonds sparkling on my flank. How would Twilight react now, knowing that I was prostituting the image of her friend? Would she hate me as much as Trixie did? Would she still have stayed Unity’s hoof when it was primed to crush me? I sighed in Rarity’s voice.
If I’m lucky, the abomination will never find me again.
I stepped back into my bedchamber. It was less bare than my bathroom. A bed, a vanity, a sewing table, a window, and a closet with spare sheets. I changed them out, dumped the dirty ones in the laundry bin, and put on the dress Glitter Bomb had given me when I had first arrived. I had ripped it that very night, not used to having to take off clothing, and she had taught me to sew the next morning. I was very good at it by now.
I stepped out my door, walked past Midnight’s room, and trotted down the stairs to the main floor. It was a wide area, with tables spread out roughly circling a central stage, currently unoccupied except for the pair of poles that ran up to the ceiling. From that vantage, I knew, one could see just over the bar at the far end of the hall, catch the eyes of ponies cheering form the two walkways that lead to the rooms on the second story, and catch glimpses of the cooks in the kitchen as waitresses passed in and out, the doors swinging behind them. A great pair of stable doors sat opposite the bar; the building’s only entrance. They were open, as they always were unless the temperature dropped at night, and through them I saw the last traces of the dawn’s mist dwindling to reveal the packed dirt of the only street that existed in this tiny town: the settlement of Seeds.
Seeds. Where there’s no crops, no fields, but plenty of plowing.
The town had many more unofficial slogans. Most of them much more explicit in their wording, but all equally as lewd. That one, however, was Midnight’s favorite.
“Oh Rarity, there you are dearie, you’re just on time!” The mare that called to me was a mix of light orange and pink, and had covered her eyelids with a sparkling blue powder. She wore a red lacy dress that overwhelmed her hips and blocked half the view behind her. It was hemmed with gold that matched her earrings. A purple and green bow was twined through her mane, which glittered even more than her eyeshadow. She was the brothel’s owner, Hoochie Coochie. Nopony I had talked to believed it was her real name, but nopony knew what else it might be. Most of the regulars just called her Hooch.
“Midnight is still feeling under the weather today,” she said, “so I need somepony to cover her wait shift. You’re available right now, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” I said, already putting on a practiced smile. “I just sent my guest on his way.” I had already forgotten his name.
I trotted off to the kitchen, looking for an apron and a notepad. Both were stamped with the image of a brown seed sprouting a deep red heart. The same image, I knew, was cast in metal on each of the walls outside the brothel. It was the only branding Hoochie Coochie felt the need to make. She had no competitors here; the brothel across the street was owned by her brother, Red Hot, and offered only stallions. Neither building had a name. They were referred to only as ‘the brothel at Seeds,’ if they were referred to as anything at all. Ponies came to Seeds for only one reason, came, and then went. The rest of the economy—the trade posts at the town’s entrance, the water collecting facility and brewery at the town’s end, the shacks that passed for housing and the house that passed for a hotel—existed only to support the two brothels.
It was strange, now, to think how casual the job had become. When I had first come here, I had been desperate; starving. I had been planning to murder one of the clients to get some caps so I could pay for a night with Glitter Bomb when I realized I there was a much easier way to get the attention I needed. Nearly delirious from hunger, I had asked for a job and invited the first drunk buck who stumbled into me up to my room. I even forgot to ask for money. Thankfully, he had left a pile of caps on the vanity before he left. I was sated, but my hunger had taken its toll.
Even now, after the panic and fear had become a dulled trauma, I could not recall what exactly I had done after Unity had vanished from the battlefield in front of New Canterlot. I fled, obviously, for I remembered myself flying away from the ruin of the battle, still crying over Rolling and Surprise and my failure to sway either of them to flee with me. I must have scavenged a healing potion from one of the corpses, and I must have thought through where I wanted to go next, but I could not remember doing any of it. Nor did I try.
“I’m sorry, Maggy.”
I had stood in the cave where I had been reborn, my eyes watering. The bodies that had I had found around me were gone. Whether they had been the victim of scavengers or recovered by the Pegasi I would never know, but nothing remained in the cave but a green stain along the wall where Maggy’s cocoon had regrown me.
I stayed in that cave, sleeping and weeping, wallowing in my despair until my familiar enemy reappeared. Hunger consumed me. I could not ignore it. It drove out my sadness, and there my clear memories stopped. I remembered glimpses of Chard, still a ruin, now abandoned. I might have gone to Bulbs, or Maize, but whatever seductions I might have attempted there failed and I found myself in the only place as yet untouched by Gleaming’s war.
Changelings. Prostitution. In retrospect, it seemed like an obvious fit. I had wondered why Chrysalis had not seen this opportunity. Surely Seeds was not the only place this happened. Was it pride? Was it ignorance? Or had the opportunity simply never presented itself? Had the search for the Crystal Shards consumed her? Was the past so worth restoring that she had thrown out any possibility of adapting to this new future? It was not until later—until now—that I begun to understand why, perhaps, she had not taken up this profession.
It was easy to please them. I could read their desires, and urge them on without having to speak. It was easy to entice clients to my bed, now that I had learned the right words to say, and the right ways to move my body. But it was hard to feed efficiently. Lust is not love. It gives you energy in small bursts, but it is a shallow well, and sweet like sugar. Too much of it only makes you sick.
I discovered this during my third week at the brothel. My energy had, I noticed, plateaued, and a strange lanquidity had overcome me. It was like a fog in my mind. My magic became sluggish, and harder to channel. I felt weakness in my joints. When next I tried to feed, the feelings amplified, resulting in full-on physical nausea.
“Holy shit, are you pregnant newbie?” Midnight had heard my retching the night before. “We give you those rubbers for a reason.”
“No, no.” I had to suppress laughter. Even if I were to remain disguised permanently, I lacked the anatomy for anything like that to happen. I still did not understand how exactly my magic/body worked, but I had enough memories to know that pregnancy was impossible. Not even queens could cross-pollinate.
From then on I paced myself, taking in what love I could and sustaining myself on everything else in the meantime. I got more genuine feelings from my coworkers now than from an average client, but even that was a slow trickle. I would not grow powerful here, but it was a life. A much safer one than I had ever had before.
“Hey, Strap, turn up the radio would you?”
Music rose above the murmuring and laughter of the early-morning crowd as she obeyed the request of the mare she was with. Bootstrap was new here, having started only three weeks ago. Bulbs was getting too crowded, she had said. And one of her exes lived in Maize. I recognized the song that played. It was slow, the voice deep and melancholy. It was one of the limited few DJ-PON3 had in their collection, and by now I had heard all of them. Thankfully, there was still enough variance so that they never got old.
As I took orders and balanced plates of food in my magic, the song ended, and the DJ’s voice came on the radio. I was too busy serving, taking orders, and pretending to care about whatever comments the clients sent my way to pay attention to whatever was said, but judging by the lack of reaction from the crowd the news was nothing substantial. Sometimes the DJ gave comforting speeches, or roused up the audience to denounce an atrocity. I ate well in those moments. Love for the DJ ran strong through all of the Equestria’s denizens, it seemed.
I considered, once, seeking out Tenpony tower and disguising as the Wasteland’s most beloved announcer. But I had no idea where to go, what dangers might lurk outside of the Fields, or if I could even survive long enough before dying of starvation. Not to mention what I would do when I got there. I would have to learn about the ponies there, how to worm my way into the right position, and sustain myself in the meantime. Even such vague plannings left me feeling exhausted. No, I had decided. I am safe here. This life is stable.
The end of the breakfast shift came, and our clients began their daily exodus from the main hall. We shut down during lunchtime—we needed a break at some point—and so once the last buck had left we all rushed into the kitchen to throw together something to eat while Hoochie Coochie closed the doors and started getting the stage ready for the night’s opening acts.
“Strap, Cherry Blossom, you’re on tonight, don’t forget!” Her voice took on a sing-song tone as she called back to us. The two mares acknowledged with synchronized grunts. Their mouths were full.
I sat with the mares I considered friends as they ate, nibbling on a pair of carrots. We had pushed together a pair of tables in order to fit us all. The others sat in smaller groups around us, their conversations low and subdued. Glitter Bomb sat to my right, followed by Bootstrap, Cherry Blossom, and Misty (all unicorns), then Sweet Pea, Penny Pound, Muffin Top, and Golden Delicious. I was never physically hungry these days, but I still ate with the rest of them. I liked to listen to their chatter, and it helped me feel like I fit in.
“Hello, everyone.” I turned and saw Midnight approaching us, a steaming mug of tea floating in her magic. She sniffled as she took a seat beside me.
“Good morning,” I said. “Feeling better?”
“Not yet. But soon. I never get sick for long.” She took a sip from her mug. “Did I miss anything interesting?”
“Nah,” Muffin Top intoned. Everyone else shrugged.
“We almost had a fight last night,” I recalled. “After you went to bed. They each thought the other was cheating at cards.”
“Cards? Are we doing gambling now, too? I thought that was all at Red Hot’s place.”
“No, it was only a game for fun. They were just that drunk.” She and Glitter Bomb laughed.
I liked Midnight. Aesthetically, she was half my inverse: purple coat, purple mane so dark it was almost black, a white half-moon on her flank. Her eyes were a dark red, almost the color of rust. I had never seen anything like it before. She laughed at every joke she heard, even the bad ones, but it was never fake. Either a joke was funny, or funny because it was bad, she had explained to me. Nothing shocked her either; in all the strange or violent scenarios I had seen her in, never once did she hesitate to act and rectify the situation. In the second month I had worked with her, a band of raiders had stormed the building, demanding food and caps and threatening to drag off a few of us as captives. She had slid up to them as soon as they had finished their demands, giggling as if being carried away by these maniacs were her dream come true. She seemed so genuine that their leader didn’t notice the knife she was carrying until it was pressed into his throat. The raider’s weapons turned from pointing at our patrons to pointing at her, and then every pony in the brothel pulled out a gun.
The raiders had backed down after that, dropping their weapons and scattering to the wind. Midnight laughed at the end of it. She was unflappable. She’d barely batted an eye at me when she’d seen me undisguised.
“So is it true, Rarity?” Bootstrap leaned across the table toward me, her plate half-empty. “What Midnight told me about you? Why she calls you Worker?”
I swallowed hard. Our table was suddenly silent. Everypony here knew. The night Midnight had discovered me I had been in my bathroom, cleaning myself off before going to bed. She was out of soap, she told me later. She never gave me an excuse for why she didn’t knock.
“Where’s Rarity?” she had demanded, blocking the door. “Who are you?”
I had stared at her, frozen in panic. I had gotten too comfortable. I had let my guard down. I prepared to fight, thinking of how to move, how fast she could react to me. I readied myself to kill her—and stopped as a lump formed in my throat.
“Hey, answer me!” Midnight took a step forward.
I had realized, then, that I didn’t want to kill her. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to flee and be forced to struggle alone in the Wasteland. This place was my home now. I owned books, I had my own clothes. When Glitter Bomb threw a half-smile my way, I got the joke. I knew Misty’s favorite songs, and why Muffin Top hated Jubilee—somehow, these ponies had become my friends. Even now, I knew Midnight well enough to know that she did not want to hurt me. She just wanted answers. She was concerned for her friend.
I had told her what I was. I had shown her my power. She did not react at first, and then only asked who else I had told.
“Nopony else,” I said.
“Well that just won’t do!” She grabbed me without warning, and dragged me outside, shouting for Hoochie Coochie and all the rest of our coworkers. I went cold with panic.
“Midnight? What are you doing? I can’t—”
“If we’ve got nothing to fear from you, then you’ve got nothing to hide from us,” Midnight said. She had entertained none of my counter-arguments, and before long everypony who worked in the building was gathered around us, wondering what all the commotion was for.
Again I confessed. Unable to find the words, I had simply undisguised and then let their questions come. It had been a terrifying afternoon, but the shock was nothing new. Thankfully, none of the ponies here had heard about changelings, so I was able to pave over the less pleasant details. I said nothing about Chrysalis, or our history with Equestria. I was just another species, from a foreign land. It was true, technically.
“You can be anypony? Why are you here?”
“I feed off of love.” Their expressions ranged from amused to disgusted. “The emotion. Literally. That wasn’t a euphemism. I survive off of absorbing other ponies’ good feelings. This job makes that easy.” I swallowed, forcing a smile. A few of them laughed, and I felt their fear and distrust begin to fade.
“So, is your name really Rarity?” one of the cooks had asked.
“No. It’s Worker.”
Hoochie Coochie had been the last one to accept me.
“A bug? What will I tell our clients?” She stared at me from across her desk, her nose scrunched in disgust. “What if one of them finds out they’ve been fucking a bug? Do you think they want that? Do you think I want that kind of reputation? Ponies like it here, I have a very stable business. I don’t need risk factors like weird bug-ponies. No offense, but you are a liability now.”
“Ma’am,” I said, doing my best to look demure. “Nopony besides us needs to know, right? It’s all an act anyway. They want a beautiful body, and I give them one. Where’s the harm in that?”
“If it were just me, then yes, dearie, I wouldn’t care, but the whole staff knows! This sort of gossip doesn’t stay put, you know. Somepony’s going to get drunk and talk and then zip—there go our clients. For all they know, all of us could be love-happy buggies and they’d never know it. You’re not worth the risk—”
“I’ll work for free,” I said. “I don’t need caps for anything. Just love.” Her face brightened at my words.
“Oh. Well why didn't you just say that to begin with!?”
Things were fine now, everypony who worked with me was used to my ‘condition’ and its associated quirks, but it was never discussed—I was a bit weird, that was all. I was Rarity. Midnight called me Worker because she was weird too, and we were friends. That was the end of it.
“So is it true, Rarity?”
“Yes,” I said.
Bootstrap’s eyes widened. “Can you become me?”
I blinked. Everyone else was still silent. “Sure,” I said. So I disguised as Bootstrap. The mare gave a delighted shout, then clapped her hooves together. Midnight laughed.
“Cool!”
The word broke the table’s tension. Glitter Bomb returned to her food, and everyone else resumed their conversations. I turned back into Rarity and finished my carrots. This had been the first time it had come up since I had been dragged before them.
“See?” Midnight said, nudging me with an elbow. “No reason to hide.”
Tell that to my clients, I thought. In the company of friends, I could hint at my true self, but strangers would not have the patience to listen to my story. Nor did I want to handicap myself with a disclaimer each time I slept with someone new. Nopony came to Seeds looking for a genuine relationship. Every mare and stallion working here put on a facade, mine just happened to be a bit more convincing than most. But if I slipped up, even once, working for free wouldn’t be enough to save me. Hell, if a stallion or mare ever found out I had been deceiving them, there was no telling what they might do to me just in that moment. I have every reason to hide.
* * * * *
The day went on, and soon enough we all had to rise from out chairs and began to prepare for the night’s festivities. I helped Misty levitate stage lights into place along the walkways. I made sure they were properly aligned while Glitter Bomb and a few others decorated the stage. They draped maroon cloth hemmed with tinsel over the sides, and spread glitter over the whole area. We strung banners and a rainbow of paper flags from the banisters, and then made sure each of the tables set aside for dining had a fresh cloth and clean silverware. The rest we left bare; their surfaces were already stained with the spilled drinks of countless previous nights.
Outside, I knew, ponies were setting up flood lights on top of nearby buildings and making sure all the spritebots at the town’s entrance still functioned. The small bug-like robots had been responsible for the cacophony I had encountered during New Canterlot’s forced march. They were always playing the same music, but the noise scared away what few predators still prowled through the Fields. The noise, along with the lights, helped attract any nearby travelers and let the locals know it was time for the weekly show. There would be dancing, cheap drinks, and plenty of time to see all of our angles.
I enjoyed the dancing, through I was not much good at it. It was easy to find joy on the dance floor, and a few moments of true happiness. I would eat them up, and then finish with a client or two for desert. Last week had been particularly bountiful. The stallion who had gone to bed with me had been with me before, and I sensed he had developed something of a crush. Brickabrac was his name, and he was one of the few ponies from whom I had taken real love. I had considered leaving with him; nursing his infatuation into something stronger and feeding from him permanently. But that was what Chrysalis would do. Manipulate and parasitize. I didn’t want that. I wanted to be accepted; I wanted my hive to be built on a genuine trust. Not deceit or hatred. My guise as Rarity was as far as I would go. It was an economic transaction. My body and time for their money; so what if I put on skin instead of makeup? They were here for an act to begin with; was that not consent to be deceived?
When all our work was done the others went off to their rooms to freshen up and prepare for the evening’s performance. It was my turn to tend the bar, along with Midnight, and after making sure it was fully stocked I wandered outside to get a taste of fresher air. Above me the spotlights swam over the under-surface of the clouds, illuminating the dark lines and curves of their bellies. There was a slight breeze, and in the distance I heard the chirping tones of the spritebots. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. The air smelled of nothing here; only dust. I had become immune to the scents of sweat, unwashed grime, spilled alcohol, vomit, and perfume that attempted to drown it all out. The brothel stank sweetly, its history soaked deeply into every last board and brick. Outside was a respite from the smell and the unending hustle that came with work. I let my mind go blank, and simply focused on the smell of nothing; the smell of dust.
When I noticed the first few ponies beginning to wander my way, I stepped back inside and set up behind the bar. They trickled in, some alone, some in groups or pairs. Most of the groups found tables and began ordering food, while those that had come alone went straight for the bar. Midnight and I began taking orders and making small talk with the regulars. My smile was on again. As I mixed drinks with my magic or trotted over to the kitchen to call out the occasional food order, a small part of my mind was picking through the emotions around me. I got plenty of glances my way, but the flashes of desire that came with them were not worth taking in. A lingering glance, a stare, and the stirring of a fantasy all felt different, and it was only from the most intense outpourings that I bothered to sip from. It was not a real meal, but it kept me energized as I worked. I had perfected the practice by now. I could work all through the night like this and barely get tired.
The noise of conversation grew around me as the grey light from outside the door turned black, and then a blinding yellow as the outside lights turned on. A few minutes later, the lights inside dimmed, and the stage lights turned on. A red curtain surrounded the circular stage, hiding it from view. It hung from a mechanical claw suspended in the rafters that had been lowered during the show’s set-up. A drum roll played, emanating from speakers placed at the hall’s corners and along the walkways, and at its end the curtain sprung up, revealing Bootstrap and Cherry Blossom. The two wore lavish gowns: crimson laced with black, blacked laced with silver, each full and billowing, yet still revealing.
“Good evening, everypony,” Cherry Blossom purred. “I hope you’re all ready for tonight’s... action.” The crowd cheered, and music began to play.
The songs we played were our own records. Hoochie Coochie had salvaged and traded for them in the years before she had settled down in Seeds. They were all love ballads, or raunchy ‘chanties,’ or up-beat but lyricless tunes. Hoochie had written her own lyrics for the latter cases, but not all of us could sing, so those were used less often than the mare would have liked. I was glad to be exempt from the singing. The dancing was difficult enough. Moving in those dresses was exhausting, and the heat from all the lights that shone on my body did not help things.
I had been up on that stage several times by now, and I still did not quite understand the purpose of the performance. At the conclusion of each song Bootstrap and Cherry Blossom removed a piece of their clothing, until finally they would stand naked in front of the audience, tails twined together, panting and dripping with sweat. It was titillating, Midnight informed me. Yet aside from armor, most ponies were already basically naked. Heck, the entirety of New Canterlot’s army had fought in the nude.
“It’s not being naked that sexy, it’s getting there. And doing it slowly. It’s a tease; it’s foreplay. Besides, ponies didn’t actually invent it, we imported it from some other culture somewhere. Before the war, I think. Or during. Either way, their probably dead now. Obviously we didn’t come up with it ourselves.” I could only shrug at her explanation.
By the time Bootstrap and Cherry Blossom were into their second song, most of the patrons at the bar had turned from their drinks to ogle the pair. I sat on my haunches, taking advantage of the lull in activity to relax. Cheers went up as they faked a long kiss, and then again as more clothing was removed. I sighed, focusing more deeply on the emotions around me. At least two ponies somewhere really thought they were in love, I sensed, but it was not directed at me, so I could not feed from them effectively. I had only eaten table scraps so far, but the night was still young.
The show ended with hollering and applause. The two performers bowed, and then the curtain lowered. The music did not stop, however. The stage lights swiveled, and a filter was placed over them so that they now illuminated the empty space between the bar and the seating area. A few lines of paint marked off the dance floor. Dance music began to play; a lyricless piece with a fast tempo and strange instruments. Penny Pound, Muffin Top, and all the other mares who had been interspersed with the crowd trotted onto the floor, bringing a partner or two with them. The lights turned blue, then red, then green, and the colors danced over the bodies of the partying ponies.
I drew my attention back to my clients at the bar. Most were still smiling, happy with the show, but I could tell they would be asking more more drinks soon. A few left, a few new ones joined. My heart leapt—
White Wind was in front of me, asking for a bourbon. I gave it to him, smiling. He handed me caps.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Anything for you, darling,” I said without thinking. I turned around, a brief panic swelling within me. I took a sharp breath, pretending to be busy.
White Wind. I had not forgotten about him, but I had put him out of my mind. I had not thought about him since the night I had left him—no, I had not thought about him since I had fled New Canterlot. He was a part of that saga, and that time—that life—was dead. Or, rather, I had pretended it was dead. Seeds was my new life. Seeing White Wind brought back all the pain and rage and shame I had buried inside myself. It did not surprise me that he was alive, only that he was here—but of course he was here, why wouldn’t he be? Everyone in the Fields knew about Seeds. Especially now that it was one of the few places left intact.
“Ma’am? What kinda scotch ya got here?”
I turned back to him, as confused as I was surprised. His glass was already empty.
“Thirsty, are we?”
“Well ma’am, I just got in. Figured I had some catching up to do.”
“Oh-ho, well make sure you don’t get too far ahead.” I poured him his scotch and watched in numb silence as he tipped his head back and downed it in one gulp. His eyes met mine. I gave a short laugh, trying to mask my anxiety. “Would you like anything else?”
“I think... a beer,” he said. “And water.”
I brought him his drinks. He sipped the beer, then nodded his thanks, smiling, and I returned to our other customers. Midnight gave me a questioning look. I shrugged.
“You know him.”
“Y-yes.”
“But he doesn’t know you.”
“Yes,” I admitted. She shrugged.
It took a lot more effort than usual to keep smiling. A ball of worms roiled in my chest, squirming in and out of my belly. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Regret? Remorse? Guilt? Part of me wanted to ignore White Wind and move on. Part of me wanted to know what had happened to him since we parted.
What happened after I abandoned you?
I had realized, then, that he was alone. A few sweeps of the audience revealed that Tango Seed and Golden Grime were nowhere to be seen. Were they staying at the hotel? Had their group separated? Or worse? I swallowed, my mixture of emotions smoothing out into apprehension. I wanted to know what he had been through.
I made sure everypony else at the bar was happy, then, taking a water pitcher in my magic, I stepped back over to him. I flashed him a wide smile as I topped off his glass. “First time in Seeds, stranger?”
“Ah, yes ma’am.” He returned my smile, and I saw in it the same tension I felt. Strange. I sat the pitcher down underneath the counter, and took a step closer to him, forcing my body to relax a little. I cocked my head to the side. “Been in the Fields almost half a year now, figured I’d see what the fuss was about. Name’s White Wind.”
“Mine’s Rarity.”
“Rarity...” His smile wavered, but only for an instant. “Well, ma’am, are you?”
I had heard some variant of that line from eleven other ponies now. I had actually thought it was cleaver the first time.
“Well sir, there’s nopony else like me,” I replied, laughing just enough to be convincing, “but I’m easy enough to have, if you’d like.” I winked at him, giggled, and then pulled back, bringing up the pitcher in my magic. “I’ll be right back, darling. If there’s anything else I can get you just let me know.”
“Ah... yes ma’am,” he replied.
I felt his attention on my tail as I trotted off. By now the dancing and dwindled on the floor before us, and I left Midnight alone to go help stow the lighting equipment in our safe room. By the time I returned to the bar, our more regular guests had wandered off, satisfied with the evening’s events or else too drunk to want anything more. The stallions and mares who wanted to stay the night had already found a mare and galloped into bed. Midnight was gone. The hall was empty, save for White and I. The music drowned out the laughs and moans in the rooms around us.
“I’m sorry sir,” I said, whisking his empty glasses away in my magic. “Looks like it’s about closing time.”
“Huh? But-?”
“If you want me to keep serving you, we’ll have to continue upstairs.” I leaned closer to him, smirking. Despite myself, I was excited. I liked White Wind. I was glad he was still alive, and I had enjoyed being with him for those few days. I was eager to eat his love again, if I could.
His face, already flushed, turned crimson, but he smiled. “Yes ma’am, I’d like that very much.”
* * * * *
It was better than the first time, physically, now that I knew what I was doing. Or it should have been. I couldn’t relax. The tension inside of me would not release. I kept replaying the days I had spent with him in my mind, wondering, worrying. What happened to you after I left?
I could not focus on my feeding either. No love came from him, and even his desire for me had dwindled as we went on. He grunted, and I moaned, but we were both acting. His feelings were clear to me. The alcohol, this lovemaking, it was a facade. He was trying desperately to avoid something—to avoid drowning in his feeling.
“White Wind,” I said. What did I do to you?
He stopped. “Ma’am?”
I turned my face toward him. We were still pressed together. “Are you alright?” I asked.
“N-no.”
He slumped, the shreds of his facade blowing away. He took a step back, trying to apologize.
“Didn’t mean t’ waste your time—”
“No, you’re not—” I took his hoof in mine, pulling back toward me. We ended up cuddling together on the bed, me wrapped in his embrace. The heat between us was already extinguished. I felt his confusion; his hope; the echoes of his embarrassment.
“Am I... that obvious?”
“I’m very good at reading pony’s emotions.”
A moment passed.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
“Do ya really care?”
“I’m not alright either right now.”
“Oh... I couldn’t tell.”
I patted the hoof he had draped over my shoulder. “I’m very good at my job.” He gave a short laugh, then sighed.
“I just... I’m alone right now. I haven’t been alone for a long time. I came to the Fields to get away from all the bullshit up north, and it’s... it’s quieter here, like they all say. Less wildlife, almost no raiders, ponies got a reliable source of food... but—” His grip on me tightened. I felt him shaking.
“I had two friends,” he said. “Grime and Tango. They... we found a pegasus, wandering around in Enclave armor. We took her in; she was lookin’ for her ma, and we let her tag along. Shit, I didn’t even know her name... I just called her missy, ‘n’ she never offered anything else. She and I hooked up, but... she left a day later. Didn’t even say goodbye. Tango, well, she thought it was because she was anxious to find her old lady—we’d heard the place she was at might have been attacked. It made sense, but, well, I wanted to find her again. I liked her. I thought she liked me, but I guess—maybe she just needed some comfort. Something like this.”
I was filled with shame. I had used him. I was still using him, even as he was using me. This was deceit. I was no better than Chrysalis.
“We tried to find her, to track her down. I... I mostly pushed for it... we... we went as far as going up to that Stable... New Canterlot, I heard they used to call it. You ever been that way?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t open my mouth. I would burst into tears if I tried.
“There’s a swamp, lots of mud and low trees, between the Stable and the Fields. It... it’s got a few monsters in it. Taintigators... one of ‘em...” He was crying now, his words coming in short bursts. “I didn’t... see it coming—”
“I’m sorry.” I turned, letting him bury his head in my chest and hugging him. We stayed like that for a long time, him sobbing and clutching at my mane. All I could do was hold him, stroking his coat.
“I miss ‘em. I miss ‘em more than anything. I knew... our luck was gonna run out sooner or later, but I... I just don’t want to be alone...”
* * * * *
I woke first the next morning. White Wind was beside me, our bodies having moved apart as we slept. I studied his face. He had a small scar below his left eye, and a larger one running down his neck, still almost invisible underneath his coat. I waited, listening to him breath. I felt nothing from him; emotional silence. He was not dreaming, then. Sometimes, when I had been with other clients, I had been awoken by a sudden surge of emotions. Even if they did not move or murmur, I could sense the intensity of their dreams. I had felt nothing from White Wind after he had drifted off. A peaceful sleep; it felt a little like death.
I was aware of his return to consciousness before he was. He smiled at me. I smiled back.
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah. Thank you, Rarity.”
I felt, then, something I had never quite felt before. A profound energy emanated from him, pure and genuine. I lapped at his gratitude, unsure, and then drank deeply. I shivered as electricity shot through my veins. It was not love for me, or love for a pony, but something focused more inward. I let it fill me. Gratitude. Contentment. A bittersweet peace. He was thankful for me, for simply talking. For showing him he was not alone.
We ate breakfast together. I was not on waitress duty, so I could afford to stay with him. We did not speak much. He gave me a few anecdotes about life in Appleloosa, and Manehatten, and I gave him a few about my time in Seeds. He finished his meal, and stood up, leaving caps on the table.
“Thank you, Rarity,” he said again. His rifle was slung over his back, along with his saddle bags. He had carried nothing else with him from the swamp.
“What are your plans now?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He frowned. “I don’t think I can stay here, but I don’t know where else to go. I’d been thinking... well, I was thinking about simply wandering off into the wilderness and dying, but now... I might just go explore. Head south and see what’s beyond those mountains. Can’t be any worse than what’s up north, I figure.”
I nodded, unsure how I felt. Part of me wanted him to stick around. Another part of me was happy I wouldn’t have to keep deceiving him.
“Oh, almost forgot!” He stuck his nose into his saddlebag. A moment later he levitated something out of them, and offered it to me. I took it in my magic, suppressing my surprise. It was a tiny statuette of Applejack, the Ministry Mare. Applejack, the Element of Honesty. Applejack, one of the ponies who killed us.
No, that was Chrysalis. That was another life.
“Oh! Thank you!” I smiled, taking it in my magic. It felt... cold somehow, like it was trying to suck away at my magical power.
“It’s nothing. Just a trinket I found in New Appleloosa. Figured you’d appreciate it.”
“Thank you!” I set his gift down on the table and moved forward, giving him one last quick hug.
“See you around, miss—ah, ma’am. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
I watched him leave, then gathered up our dishes and brought them to the kitchen. I took the idol White Wind had given me and brought it back to my room, ignoring the other patrons still gathered in the hall. I set it on my vanity, staring at the little orange face. I reached out with my magic. It was definitely cold to touch. The sensation was on the edge of my perception, but it was there.
Strange.
There was a knock at the door. I turned around to find Midnight skittering inside, a mischievous smile on her lips. She shut the door behind herself and stepped toward me.
“You better not be in love with him.”
“I’m no—”
“Because it’s one thing to not tell clients, it’d be quite another thing to lead somepony on when the emotional stakes are real.”
“I don’t think he’s coming back—”
“What? Are you still that bad? There’s no way—”
“Midnight we talked—”
“About what?”
“I—the pony I was when I first met him, I... I abandoned him, and he went looking for me. It ended up getting his friends killed. I just wanted to... do what I could to apologize.”
“Alright, Worker, I believe you.” She sat back on her haunches, brow furrowed. “You still can’t lead him on though. A few more emotional talks and you’ll be dating, like it or not. That’s why we try to juggle the talkers around. Ponies still do fall in love that way.”
“Midnight. I know how this works.” I dropped my disguise. “That is how my entire species survived before the war.” She put her hooves up defensively.
“Okay, you’re right, I just...” She glanced down at the floor. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“A few of the others...”
“They still don’t like me.”
“Yeah... or, they don’t trust you. I have to keep talking them out of their bad ideas. They still think you want to eat them a little bit."
“I see...” I sighed. It didn’t surprise me, but I was still disappointed. I had hoped to have earned at least everyone’s tolerance by now, if not their acceptance.
“It’s nothing to worry about. They talk less and less about it. It’s not any of our friends either. I’m just making sure I have a story for when they ask about you acting weird at breakfast.”
“Okay. Thanks... I think.”
She shrugged, then frowned. “It feels a bit like spying on you, to be honest. Or babysitting them.” She sighed. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you’re not doing anything stupid. I have to get back down there, Worker.”
“Wait. Midnight?”
“Yes?” She turned back to me, raising an eyebrow.
“You know, you don’t have to be my friend. I mean, I like you, I’m glad your my friend, but f the others don’t trust you because of me... Just promise you won’t take any bullets for me, alright?”
She smiled. “I promise. But Worker, I like being your friend too.” I took in her love, feeling relieved and flattered by its intensity.
She trotted off without another word. I went to wash myself before following her. Midnight’s words had been encouraging, but they had also broken the morning’s serenity. The world was still a ruin, my life here stable but tenuous. I stared at the small Applejack, wondering why it bothered me so much.
The Element of Honesty. An ironic gift.
I closed my eyes, reaching out for the cold spot with my mind. It was... small. Somehow less than a full feeling. It was an echo, the faded silhouette of a feeling. It felt, in some way, like the inverse of Unity. Whereas Trixie had too many minds swimming inside her own, this thing was only the suggestion of one. It was a fraction of a mind. A fraction of an emotion. A shard of something once whole. I tried to dive deeper into it, and simply passed through. I could not eat it, nor interact with it in any way. The coldness was as much a part of the idol as a stain was to our floorboards.
I pulled away, a sudden disgust overwhelming me. Touching it had reminded me of Unity, and other memories from that day threatened to burst back into my mind.
“It’s over,” I told myself. “This is my life now.” Yet still the idol was cold.
I trotted downstairs and then went outside. I remembered feeling Rolling’s death. I had watched as he and the mind of every other unicorn was taken apart and put back together, never truly dying, yet no longer were they alive. Their minds only imprints from which to build Unity’s newest puppets. Aware of their place in Unity yet unaware of their selves.
I shook my head, but I could not stop thinking. I remembered my pain. My disguise had only delayed the effects of the damage I had taken in my fight with Gleaming. My magic had faltered. I remembered crawling on the ground, green blood oozing from my wounds. I trotted faster, passing the hotel and the few local vendors around it. I ignored the ponies milling around me.
I felt bile at the back of my throat. I had not had enough food to produce the goo that would mend my wounds. I had made my way to the nearest body, a Steel Ranger. They had no potions on them. No bandages or anything I recognized as medicine. I needed to heal myself. I needed matter. I needed substance. I had eaten that pony, ripping the flesh off his bones and vomiting up the green webbing onto myself until the darkness around my vision had receded.
I shook my head, trying to push the images away. To rid myself of the taste. I headed for the town’s entrance, grateful for the blaring spritebot symphony. I did not stop walking until I was in their midst. The volume was enough to hurt my ears, and I drowned in it. I thought about nothing, focusing only on the music, humming its tune. I was alone here, deep in painful meditation. Nothing else but sound reached me.
The noise stopped.
My eyes sprung open, ears ringing in the silence. The spritebots were moving. Twisting and turning, they strained against their restraints, the faint whirring of their motors accumulating into a deep buzz. They were surrounding me, I realized. They were all trying to look at me.
“Rarity?” The voice blasted from the speakers around me. I drew back in shock. “Rarity!?”
What the hell?
“Rarity is that you? How—!? Rarity answer me!”
“I... I... who...?”
“It’s me! Rarity it’s.. Oh, oh Celestia... Rarity please...”
Are they... crying? The voice wept, its sighs and sobs taking on a metallic wail as they filtered through the spritebot speakers.
“Who are you?” I managed to say.
“I’m... Rarity, it’s me. It’s Spike.”
Spike?
I wracked my brain. I knew the name... no, Chrysalis knew the name. He had been there on that day, at the Canterlot wedding. I had never seen him; I had been with Fugax and Maggy. He had been Twilight Sparkle’s scribe. He was a dragon. A dragon.
“Spike?” I asked hesitantly. “Is that... really you?”
“Yes! Yes, Rarity, it’s me. I... oh I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have saved you, I—how... how did you survive? How... what have you been doing? Where... why are you down there? What—?”
“Spike, please!” I covered my ears. The sound from all the spritebots was too much. My head had started pounding. I glanced around. “Just... calm down, please. I... how are you talking to me?”
“Oh, sorry.” The voice came from only one spritebot now. I focused my attention on it. “Is this better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
In the newfound quiet I was finally able to think again. Spike was a dragon. A dragon who would remember Rarity, her friends, and everything they had done together. He would remember Chrysalis and her hive. I could trick him for a while, maybe get love if we ever met, but he would see through my ruse in time. I had no convincing story to tell him, no way to guess at what Rarity had acted like, and once the shock wore off he would no doubt start to deduce what I really was. It was inevitable. Rarity would have died from natural causes by now, if she had not perished in the war. That I could disguise as her at all was a mystery had I not the slightest clue how to solve. If I could not explain it to myself, what hope had I to dupe someone else?
And what would I gain? Spike was a dragon. I remembered dragons. I had no chance against him in a fight, and he would be angry at best once he realize what I was. I had nothing to gain from him, I realized, and everything to lose.
“Rarity? Just stay there. I’ll... I’ll come get you! Just stay safe. Don’t go anywhere, I promise I’ll fly right there—!”
“No!” I said. “N-no, Spike. Don’t do that.”
“What? But why?”
“Spike... how long as it been since the war ended?”
“What? About... two-hundred years. Why?”
“How long—?”
“Rarity, what happened to you? Did you time-travel or something?”
“How long do ponies live?” I asked firmly.
The spritebot stared at me blankly, bobbing up and down asynchronously in the midst of its horde. A few wisps of wind swept by me, and I felt the air begin to heat slightly as morning inched on toward noon.
“What are you?” The voice was slower now, more controlled. Even through the filter of the machine’s speaker I heard rage and despair mixed into the undertones. I glanced around. Nopony else was within earshot, but I saw a few figures meandering around what passed for Seed’s marketplace.
“A changeling,” I whispered. “I’m a changeling.”
“A changeling!? You... you’re still... around? What are you doing? Why do you look like Rarity? If you’re trying to make things worse, I swear I’ll stop you. Answer me!”
“I’m just... surviving. I’m just trying to get by. I’m not hurting anypony.” I would need to be careful. I did not want to risk the malice of a dragon.
“Why should I believe you? What are you doing to survive, huh? I know how changelings work. You can’t live without sucking the love from somepony else. Who are you hurting?”
“I am not hurting anypony!” The words came out louder than I had intended. I clamped my mouth shut, embarrassed by how much his question stung. I didn't mean to hurt anybody.
“Changeling. Explain. What. You are doing.”
“I work at a brothel. That’s how I sustain myself. I’m not hurting anypony. It’s all pretend anyway.”
“You—you’re using Rarity for that—how could you do that to her!?”
“Would you rather I use someone alive? Would you rather I keep somepony trapped under my bed, encased in goo for the rest of their life while I cavort around in their image? Because otherwise, no one wants to love a changeling. The best I get is tolerance, even from my friends.” I was exaggerating, of course, but I did not have time for nuance. Midnight liked me, Surprise and Rolling Stone had been my friends, but those were exceptions. My other coworkers thought of me as a freak, I was sure. Bootstrap no doubt thought of me as a curiosity, Hoochie Coochie as a good business deal. Exceptions. They were all exceptions.
And yet I keep finding more and more of them...
“That’s not—you can’t—” Spike sputtered. “You tried to take over Equestria, you tried to kidnap Twilight! You—”
“Will you listen to me?” I asked him, my voice low. “Will you let me explain?”
“Why should I? Why shouldn’t I fly down there and burn you all away!?”
I swallowed my fear. It was an empty threat. I could disappear if it came to that, and there was no way a full-grown dragon could ever sneak up on me.
“I told you who I am,” I said. “I could have lead you on. I could have drained your love.”
“You—you...”
“Just let me explain...”
* * * * *
“So you’re all that’s left?” He asked after I had recounted my tale.
“Yes,” I said. “Chrysalis is dead. I’m the last one.”
“And... and you’ll be the last one, forever?” A cold pit formed in my stomach. For a moment, it stopped me from speaking.
“Yes,” I whispered. I had not thought much about the fact that I was the last changeling. Fugax and Chrysalis persisted, but they had become things different. I was the last of what we had once been. I was surviving, but nothing more. I had found a third way, but would I outlast them? Would I do anything but persist, as they did? Would I decay like they were?
“Alright, Worker, I... I believe you don’t want to hurt anypony...”
Dust whirled in the wind at my hooves.
“Spike,” I asked. “The Crystal Heart, what did it do?”
“It... it protected the Crystal Empire. It could banish evil, and restore happiness. But it only affected the Empire. It’s power never reached Equestria, not that I knew of. We had a plan... well, Twilight had an idea, that maybe it would help to bring the Crystal Heart to Equestira and empower the citizens, but Cadence wouldn’t allow it. It kept the snowstorms at bay. Without it the Empire would be inhospitable. Shining Armor agreed with her—it was one of the few things they agreed on, towards the end...”
“Why did Chrysalis want it?” I wondered aloud.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“No. She mentioned it would restore Equestria, but... but she never gave specifics.”
“Even if she had managed to restore it, it won’t heal Equestria. I mean... maybe things have changed. It might make a difference... but it won’t fix the world.” His voice, however faintly, sounded hopeful. “Why do you ask? Are you thinking of...?”
I frowned. “I don’t know... I... look, I’m sorry for bothering you. Ponies know me as Rarity around here. I can’t change to anypony else at this point.”
“I understand, but... Worker, can you promise me something?”
“What?”
“Help. You have a lot of power. You know more about what happened than most ponies. You can help them make the world a better place for all of us.”
I sighed. “I... I can’t promise that. I just want to survive. I just want to live in peace.”
“So do we all, Worker. But that doesn’t happen unless we help each other. Unless we learn to live together.” I heard a final click, and then one by one the spritebots resumed their song. By the time they had reach full volume I was trotting away, head spinning as I processed everything I had just learned.
* * * * *
I stepped back inside the brothel. A unicorn was using his magic to send four rubber balls spinning around his head. As I walked by the spell sputtered out, and the balls dropped to the floor. His friends laughed at him as he scrambled to pick them up.
“Shit!” He said. “That shit keeps happening more and more lately. What the hell?”
“You got performance issues!” one of his friends exclaimed. “You’re losing’ your balls!” Their laughed erupted behind me, lost in the main hall’s chatter.
I did not reach out for their happiness. I was too deep in thought. Spike. The Crystal Heart. Chrysalis. Fugax. White Wind. Applejack. New Canterlot. Midnight. My life swirled through my head, all the decisions I’d made, everything that had happened to me, what did it amount to? Is this the life I wanted? Was this enough?
A sudden surge of love jolted me back to reality. I turned to see Bricabrack trotting toward me, a red rose in the mouth. He presented it to me, smiling. I felt his excitement, his hope. I took it in my magic.
“To match your beauty,” he said.
“Ooh thank you!” I said automatically. “You’re too kind.”
“Are you available tonight, Rarity? I was hopin’...”
I almost said yes. My earlier vision stopped me, the one of our life together, me, a parasite, he, an ignorant host. He would die, thinking I loved him back, and I would move on, if I could. Or we would travel the Wasteland, and die to raiders or monsters, or starvation. Or I could stay here, and be a parasite to a thousand more ponies like him.
A sudden panic seized me. I had been wrong before, I knew. I was no better than Chrysalis this way. I didn’t want to live the rest of my life here, deceiving ponies like White Wind, or Bricabrack. Here was only stagnation. I had seen all that this life would give me. The best I would get was this moment, right here: one fool fawning over me, and me using him as food.
I can’t do this anymore.
“No, I’m sorry Brick—I’ve been rather sick lately. I wouldn’t want you getting infected.”
He was crestfallen, but understanding. He offered some kind words, and then I retreated to my room. I stared at the small Applejack figure. It was still cold, but somehow... less present. I could almost ignore the sensation now. I pursed my lips, and then started digging through my closet. I pulled out my saddlebags and two articles of clothing. The first was a dress: dull grey and sewn together with deep green thread, I had picked the colors to blend into the scenery of the wasteland. The second was a suit of armor.
I had made the armor myself. Using what caps I did make, I had bought some rather expensive material that could stretch and squeeze while retaining its integrity. I had sown together strips of the material into the loose form of my neck, torso, and legs so that when I put it on it made a checkered pattern. I had then sewn squares of thick leather over the pattern. I had salvaged or traded for a number of steel plates, which I hammered roughly into shape and then bolted into the leather. The end result was a piecemeal suit of armor that covered me nearly perfectly when I was undisguised, and could expand with me as I assumed larger forms. It would have gaps then, but some protection was better than none. It would be a hindrance if I ever turned into a foal, but I had abused that trick more times than I was comfortable with. The element of surprise was a fickle ally at best.
I had started making my armor almost as soon as I had started working for Hoochie Coochie. I was preparing, I told myself, for the inevitability of discovery. I would need to flee eventually. I had completed it shortly before Midnight had walked in on me, and then, after realizing it might not be necessary, I had let myself forget about it.
I was wrong.
I donned my armor, then put the dress on over it. I had cut holes near the joins for mobility—it was not a fashion piece. It was meant to blend in and, failing that, give ponies the false impression that I was unarmed. I slung my saddlebag over my back. In it was a kitchen knife, pistol, ten bullets, and a few bags of dried oats. I added the books I owned and one extra dress. I placed the Applejack statuette into one of the deeper pockets. I didn’t really want to take it with me, but I didn’t want to throw away White Wind’s gift. I wanted it as a reminder.
I knocked on Midnight’s door. She frowned when she saw me.
“Worker? Where did you get that awful dress?”
“It’s mine,” I said. “I’m leaving.”
She blinked at me. It was the first time I had seen her look surprised. “Leaving? You’re quitting?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m quitting. I’m leaving Seeds.” Saying it released a tension I didn’t know was in me. I couldn’t take back my decision now.
“Why? Where are you going?”
“There’s no love here... or, not enough. I can live here, but I'm not happy. And I don't want to lie about myself anymore. I’m going to check on a few things. Tie up some loose ends, as it were. After that... well after that I need to find some friends. Ponies like you, who can accept me. Honestly, the love I get from us being friends is the best thing I’ve had from anypony here. I just... I just wanted to say thank you.”
I thought about passing off the Applejack statue to her, but before I could move Midnight hugged me. I was startled by the sudden embrace, but after a moment I was happy to return it. When we split apart I saw her eyes shimmer.
“You know, that’s one of the nicest things anypony’s ever said to me. But also one of the stupidest.”
“Oh,” I said, taken aback. “Really?”
“Yes. We’re friends, Worker, and you think you can just up and leave like this? Give me a minute—” She zipped back into her room.
“What?” I called after her. “What are you doing?
“I’m coming with you,” she said, reemerging with her own set of saddlebags. She had a leather vest and two pistol holders, but nothing else.
“You’re coming with me?”
“Yes, I’m coming with you.”
“Why?”
“Well, it’s always best to come together!” she said, grinning.
“What?”
“Worker, why are you leaving?”
“I... well because I don’t want to be here anymore, I guess.”
“And likewise. I’ve only got a few years in me before my features start sagging and Hoochie Coochie starts asking if I have anywhere to retire to. I’ve been looking for an excuse to get away for a few months now. Figured I’d run into a nice stallion or mare sooner or later and elope. That’s why I’ve been trying to get you to come out of your shell around the other girls—I was worried nopony else would be your friend once I was gone! Now I’ve got the perfect excuse to leave and I get to keep you around!”
“Oh.” It was all I could say.
“So, are you all ready to leave?”
“I... yeah, I guess so.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“I, uh... shouldn’t we tell someone?”
Midnight frowned. Then shrugged. Then her smile returned. “Yes.”
* * * * *
“You’re what?” Hoochie Choochie exclaimed.
“We’re quitting!” Midnight said.
“Both of you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You’re quitting?”
“Yes.”
“You’re both quitting?”
“Yes. We are both quitting.”
"You're seriously both quitting?"
"Yes."
Hoochie stared at us, her face pulled between confusion and outrage. She was wearing fake eyelashes that were as long as my ears. They whooshed when she blinked.
“I’ve never had anypony quit on me before...” she muttered. “What do I do now?”
Midnight and I glanced at each other. We shrugged.
“Whatever you usually do, I guess. Just without us.”
Hoochie nodded as if I had said something wise, and then waved us out of her office. Midnight and I walked through the hall and out the door, ignoring the curious glances we got. I lead the way, heading for the road that connected the facilities of Fields. We passed the spritebot swarm, still bleating its unending melody. The massive swarm drifted in the wind, pulling gently at the cords that restrained it. I stood in front of them, at the intersection. The west road lead to Bulbs, and all that was behind it. The east lead to the blackened earth of Tubers, and then to the wider wasteland. We could go that way, into the unknown. I could forget everything had happened to me, and let the world go on in the same way it always had. But I had left too many things unfinished.
I’m sorry Rolling. I’m sorry Surprise.
I gave the spritebots one final glance. I turned west. I would help, I decided. I would try to make the world better for me by making it better for everyone. I would be better than Chrysalis.
After a few minutes, Midnight spoke:
“Worker, you never answered my question. Why do you have such an ugly dress?”
Footnote: Level up.
New Perk: Intense Training - Your experiences traveling in the Wasteland have allowed you to add one point to your Endurance.
Quest Perk: La Petite Mort, en masse - Ohh myyy. New dialogue options available with adults.
Quest Perk: Art of the Dress - A Proper Disguise is now 50% more likely to be convincing. +5 to Repair skill.