Khamari followed his escorts out of the medical compartment, having received the all-clear by his assigned medic. His captors pushed him along the deck, past the supply compartment, and into the brig. From a distance, Obsidian observed him. With the Gaalsien’s respirator, gloves, and boots confiscated, only his white thawb and bisht remained, revealing skin that took on a sickly, light shade of raw umber. The colour was not what the changeling focused on, however. Rather, it was the texture. Scarred, leathery, and without hair, it seemed as if the Gaalsien had once suffered severe burns to his entire body.
The changeling stood by the pressure doors, as one of the escorts exchanged words with a unicorn and pegasus guard. The latter nodded and made for the nearest ringed seat, tapping a few times on one screen. Four successive clicks echoed deeply across the deck soon after. The unicorn guard then proceeded toward the centre cell, lighting up his horn and pulling a pair of transparent outer cell doors open toward himself.
When the barred inner door opened, Khamari’s escorts nudged him forward. The Gaalsien continued alone and remained standing in his cell as the doors closed and locked. Satisfied, Obsidian and the escorts left the prisoner in the care of the guards, and exited the compartment.
After finishing their debriefing, Eclipse dismissed the Infiltrators. Still suffering from some pain and ringing in his ears, Obsidian reluctantly visited the infirmary for an examination.
“Yep, you’ve ruptured an eardrum,” the medic declared, while looking through an otoscope inside the changeling’s left ear. “Fortunately, it doesn’t look too bad. At least, as far as any other species I’ve worked with. Are you suffering from any dizziness or nausea?”
“No.”
Discarding the tool’s disposable end, the medic set it down on a nearby table. “Any whistling sounds when you sneeze or blow your nose?”
“Haven’t done either yet.”
“Well if you fall ill, see if you can avoid blowing your nose while it heals. Also, steer clear of the pool, and rigorous physical activity.”
“How long will I be out of commission?”
The medic started to fill out some paperwork. “I’ll start you out at six weeks. We’ll have another look then to see how much has healed. You’ll definitely have some permanent hearing loss, but hopefully it won’t be too bad. Probably about five to ten percent, but not more than that.”
“Great. We done here, then?”
The medic nodded. “See me straight away at any sign of ear drainage, or if you develop a fever.”
The next day, Obsidian received a message through his VMUI. Reading the contents, he returned to the briefing room. Stepping inside, he found Shadow and Glare seated at the table, with Eclipse standing in his usual spot. “You wanted to see me, Commander?”
“Yes, Chief, have a seat. How are you feeling?”
The changeling shrugged as he settled in beside Glare. “Could be worse. No ops for at least six weeks.”
“Fortunately for you, we’re sending you someplace where that won’t be an issue, along with the LC and Deckhoof,” Eclipse started. “While the other three will be tasked with escorting Khamari and overseeing his delivery to the Hiigaran Navy, you three will be taking a trip to Hiigara.”
Obsidian frowned. “What do the Hiigarans want with him? I thought this was our op.”
“It was, but Hiigara needs information about the Gaalsien as much as we do. Perhaps more. Besides, our attempts at interrogating Khamari have come up empty. The Hiigarans are … well, they’re more effective at extracting information from uncooperative subjects than we are.”
Obsidian snorted.
“Something funny, Chief?”
The changeling leaned back in his seat and folded his hooves. “Let’s just say Equestria isn’t exactly known for it’s amazing interrogation abilities. If you need a volunteer, I’m sure I can get something out of him.”
Eclipse stared silently at Obsidian for several seconds. “Chief, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but—”
“—but that’s usually what you say when you don’t want to admit you don’t trust someone,” Obsidian finished. “I promise Khamari will not have any injuries after I’m finished with him.”
Sighing, the Lieutenant Commander reluctantly agreed. “Fine, fine, he’s all yours. If you do manage to get anything out of him, come straight to me or the Captain.”
Obsidian nodded. “Will do. Now what do you need us to do in Hiigara?”
“The presence of the Infiltrators was requested by members of the New Daiamid, the ruling government in Hiigara’s capital city of Asaam Kiith’Sid.”
“Regarding Khamari?”
“Plus what you saw on Enigma,” Eclipse clarified. “I believe they also had some questions about the luxury liner from four or five months ago, since we’re convinced the Raiders were behind that. Apparently lone ships have been disappearing in Hiigaran territory for a while now, and there’s a strong chance those are also the work of Raiders.”
“Right, then I’ll see what I can do about Khamari. I take it there will be a briefing package at some point?”
“I’ve pretty much told you everything just now. You’ll get more information once you get to Hiigara.”
Returning to the brig, Obsidian approached the two guards, both of whom were at their seats. The pair appeared bored, watching the five monitors mounted to their respective seats, which displayed security feeds of the various cells around them. Though with only one occupied cell, the guards had little else to do.
Obsidian cleared his throat as he approached. The unicorn looked towards the newcomer before straightening up. “Oh, uhh, Chief. Wasn’t expecting you here again. I take it you’re here for the prisoner?”
“Eclipse sent me to assist with interrogation. Heard you guys were having some trouble.”
“Hope you have better luck,” the pegasus remarked. “He’s resting in his cell at the moment. Let me just open the outer doors.”
“Open the inner doors while you’re at it.”
“… Chief?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Alright, if you say so.”
Obsidian approached with the unicorn. After the guards unlocked and opened the doors, the changeling proceeded in. Sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, Khamari opened his eyes and met the changeling's. “How’s your hearing?” Khamari spoke first, his voice raspy and laboured without his mask.
Obsidian sat on the floor opposite to Khamari, ensuring he was more than an arm’s length away. Remaining silent, he first took to analysing the prisoner.
Undaunted by the silent treatment, Khamari spoke again. “I take it your crystal is useless, then?”
“To you, yes. You’ve probably figured out by now that I tracked you through it though.”
“I had a suspicion. This isn’t a social call though, is it?”
“No. You know the location of a planet with a research base on it. I want to know where it is.”
“There are many planets with research ba—”
“Cut the crap, Khamari,” Obsidian barked. “You know what the buzz I’m talking about. Now I don’t know what soft tactics the others have used to pry information from you, but I can guarantee far worse. So here are your options: First, we can wait until you’re delivered to a Hiigaran facility for interrogation. From what I hear, they’re not above torturing prisoners.”
Khamari laughed. “I know of Hiigaran methods. Let them try.”
“Then that leaves option number two.” Lighting up his horn, Obsidian concentrated on Khamari. A thin stream of green energy emerged from his chest and streaked towards the changeling, gradually intensifying in brightness and size, until it was as large as Obsidian’s hoof.
Initially, Khamari seemed unimpressed. His expression slowly changed as an odd feeling spread throughout his body. “What are—what are you doing?” he gasped, reaching for the ethereal tether between the two. Unable to grasp the magical energy, his eyes widened as they were drawn to his hand, which slowly wrinkled and shrivelled, while the colour of his skin drained to grey.
Obsidian stopped, severing the connection. Observing Khamari, it appeared as if the prisoner had aged dramatically in a matter of seconds. A feeble old creature looked up at the changeling with empty eyes containing barely a trace of life within, yet Obsidian could still sense the fear behind them. “I will ask again. Where is the research base?”
Khamari wheezed and gasped, lacking the strength to form a coherent word. Obsidian’s horn lit up again, and green energy streaked out once more, this time in the opposite direction. Khamari steadily regained his original features over the next few seconds, and the changeling finished giving back what he had taken.
While Khamari inspected himself, Obsidian explained, “When a changeling becomes greedy and feeds past a certain point, the physical effects of the prey can be devastating, as symptoms of old age manifest. I can leave you suffering from those effects while on the brink of death, but the transition is always the worst part, isn’t it?”
“Burn in hell!”
Obsidian hummed. “Interesting. Most prisoners subjected to this method become more talkative after just one cycle. We’ll soon find out what your limit is, though.”
Obsidian looked down at the lanky being curled up into a ball. “Look at me. Look at me!” he growled. “You are nothing to me. I do not care about you. I will not offer an option or deal with a positive outcome for you. When I’m through with you, you will be disposed of. I want you to understand that reality.”
“You … are a … monster.”
The changeling hummed. “Perhaps. You will tell me what I need to know though. The method by which I will conclude our business depends on your cooperation.”
Khamari looked up at the changeling. Despite his physical state, he still managed to glare daggers at Obsidian. “What … do you want to know?”
Restoring Khamari to his former self once more, Obsidian knocked against the doors, before producing a small tablet from one of his pockets. As the outer doors opened, the changeling tossed the tablet onto the mattress. “I want the coordinates of that planet. If you can’t remember them, there’s a file in that thing with a galactic map. You will also outline the defences to be encountered, from the surface, to the solar system. Questions? Good. I’ll give you one hour.”
As he made for the exit, the unicorn raised his voice. “You know, Equestria has every right to fear you and your kind. Whatever you were doing to the prisoner should be considered a war crime.”
Obsidian stopped. Turning around, he approached the guard, who instinctively leaned away. “Do you have any loved ones? Parents? Siblings? A spouse, perhaps? What about foals? What would you do if their safety was threatened? Anything in your power, no?”
“Oh no, don’t you twist this around onto me. What you did was not right.”
“Was not—do you even hear yourself?” Obsidian sighed, turning around and heading away. “What is it with you ponies and your inability to differentiate things that are right from things that are necessary?”
While Obsidian waited for Khamari to finish, he sat at the edge of a table in the galley, sampling one of the day’s dishes. Picking up one of the neatly stacked rice paper rolls on his plate, he dipped one half into a small dish of sweet chilli and bit half of the white, translucent roll off.
Ignoring a few pieces of shredded lettuce that had fallen out, he inspected the multi-coloured contents of the remaining half as he chewed, identifying strips of carrot and cucumber, along with some mint and prawns. Dipping the second half of the roll in the sauce, he dropped it when Glare flashed into existence on the table, rage written all over her face.
“Briefing room. Now.”
“What’s wr—”
“I said now. I’ve got nothing else to say to you.”
The changeling looked around at the other crew, all of whom fell silent and had their eyes set upon himself and Glare. Without another word, he obeyed, leaving his tray behind and following the unicorn out.
As soon as he entered the briefing room, Eclipse shook his head. “Chief, what were you thinking? We saw that on the internal cameras.”
Obsidian blinked. “Can someone tell me what’s going on? What are you talking about? And why are you so angry, Glare?”
The unicorn was in disbelief. “You have no idea, do you? What you did to Khamari—”
“I said there wouldn’t be any harm once I finished—”
“Torture, Obsidian!” Glare shouted. “That was torture!”
Groaning, Obsidian placed a hoof on his face. “Oh, not you, too.”
“Chief, this is serious,” Eclipse interjected. “Now, I don’t know if whatever you did is considered acceptable amongst changelings, but here, that’s something we frown upon. It’s wrong. Plain and simple.”
“Fine, I’ll plead ignorance on that. Won’t happen again,” Obsidian replied, before pointing an accusatory hoof at Eclipse. “But don’t stand there and tell me what I did was wrong, when you just said we were going to transfer Khamari to the Hiigarans, who are not above torturing their own prisoners for information. You may not be directly involved with Khamari anymore, and you may think you’ve taken the moral high ground for not carrying out the act, but you’re indirectly facilitating torture by allowing him to be given to those who will.”
Glare gasped, as a memory of hers flashed in her mind.
You’re still facilitating the horrendous deaths of others!
If you’re going to use that logic, the taxes you pay are indirectly facilitating those deaths as well.
“He’s right.”
Eclipse looked at Glare with confusion. “Deckhoof?”
“I’m—I’m not agreeing with Obsidian’s actions, but his logic makes sense. If we just let the Hiigarans take Khamari into their custody, knowing how he will be treated, we’re no better than they are,” Glare explained.
“Worse,” Obsidian added. “You’d be the hypocrites. Cowards. Afraid to do the deed, yet content with outsourcing the dirty work. How’s that for Equestria’s righteousness?”
Eclipse sighed. “You’ve put me in a difficult position, Chief. What do you think I should do with you and Khamari?”
“You do what you have to do. If you feel I have wilfully disregarded an important rule of the Navy, act accordingly, but if you truly believe what I did was wrong, you’ll also do something about Khamari. If, however, you’re planning on leaving him to his fate, I’m going back to the galley.”
An uneasy silence followed, as Obsidian and Eclipse stared each other down. Glare’s eyes darted between the two, waiting for either to say something. Breaking the silence, Obsidian turned and made his way to the pressure doors. “That’s what I thought.”
“Chief, wait,” Eclipse called out, stopping Obsidian in his tracks. “As serious as this is, I’m going to overlook this, just this once. I understand where you’re coming from, but my hooves are tied on the Khamari matter. Just—just go. Deckhoof, please retrieve whatever information you can from the brig.”
Nodding, Glare turned and followed Obsidian out. As soon as the compartment’s outer doors closed, the changeling came to a halt. “Glare? Is everything alright with us?”
“Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you like that, but you’re just— … Yes, we’re fine. I hope you understand why I wasn’t able to support you.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little disappointed, but I get it.” Shrugging, Obsidian added, “I thought my actions made sense.”
“Sometimes I wish you’d think less objectively,” Glare lectured. “Necessary or not, I’m sure at least some part of you knew that was not right. Look, I need to go. We’ll talk later.”
Turning away, Glare headed for the brig. Entering, she sighted the distant prisoner seated on his bed, and approached Khamari’s cell, only to be stopped by the two guards stationed nearby.
“What’s your business with the prisoner, Deckhoof?” the pegasus guard enquired.
“I take it you saw what Obs—the Chief did to him?”
“I did. It was barbaric.”
“Commander Eclipse saw it through the security feed as well. He doesn’t want the Chief going anywhere near Khamari now,” Glare explained. “I’m taking the Chief’s place.”
“Very well. I think he finished writing whatever the bug wanted him to write.”
Glare's eyes travelled to the pegasus' Deckhoof insignia. “Criticise the Chief's actions all you want, but I don't want to hear you call him a bug again. Now open the cell.”
Taken aback by the calm request, the pegasus nodded, and proceeded to open Khamari’s cell with his unicorm counterpart. After the guards gave the all-clear to Glare, she entered, well aware of the piercing stare given to her by Khamari.
“What is this now?” he began, as the doors closed. “You’re pretending to be someone else again?”
“What?” Glare looked at Khamari, confused. Realising what he meant, Glare shook her head. “Oh, no. No, the Chief is no longer allowed anywhere near you, after what we saw him do to you. I’m sorry you had to suffer through something like that.”
“I assume you’re here to retrieve the information your friend … persuaded me to give him? Here.” Leaning forward, Khamari slid the tablet toward the unicorn. “Just leave me alone.”
Levitating the tablet from the ground, Glare looked back into his eyes. “Actually, I have a few questions of my own. Don’t—don’t misunderstand me, this is not part of any interrogation. You’re free to answer or ignore me.”
Khamari stared silently at Glare for several seconds, before sighing. “Very well. Ask.”
Glare sat in front of Khamari. “I want to understand who you are. The Gaalsien have been mentioned frequently in Hiigaran history, but you’ve always been painted as … well, the bad guys. Zealots who teach others their ways by force. An evil supposedly vanquished on Kharak. My first question for you is simple. Is this true?”
Khamari was visibly surprised. “Now there’s a question I never expected my captors to ask. Why would you even believe anything I say that would contradict written history?”
“History is written by the victors. And from what I’ve read about Hiigaran history, they weren’t exactly the good guys themselves when they got into that war before their exile. I’d say they were the lesser of two evils, at best.”
“Perhaps not the most popular opinion in the galaxy, but not an uncommon one, either. To answer your question, however, no. From the Gaalsien perspective, this was mostly untrue.” Pausing, Khamari watched as the unicorn gave him her full attention. “I take it you’d like me to elaborate, yes? How much do you know about the exile itself?”
“Only that it was a sub-light convoy with hundreds of ships bound for no destination in particular. Generations searched for a suitable planet to call home, which they eventually found at the edge of the galaxy on Kharak. Oh, and part of the convoy split off and made their home in the Great Nebula.”
“Correct. However, you need to understand the scale of things. The old Hiigaran Empire consisted of hundreds of planets. Imagine how much of our population was lost, for our convoy to be just a few hundred ships. Then, with each generation that drifted through space, imperfect technology led to the loss of ships. Catastrophic malfunctions with little to no warning. My ancestors went to sleep each night, not knowing if they would ever wake again.”
Glare nodded occasionally as Khamari spoke. “How many survived the exile?”
“By the time the convoy discovered Kharak, five ships remained. Four burned up entering the atmosphere, and the fifth broke into three sections when it hit the ground. The survivors were counted in the thousands. Not even a billionth of a percentage of what the old Empire had been. Try to equate that with your own planet’s population.”
Glare looked down at the glossy floor for a moment.“I don’t even know if we have enough on our planet to make a whole number. So the Gaalsien were one of the lucky few to have survived the war and the exodus?”
“In a manner of speaking. You see, my ancestors knew the price we paid for that war, considering we were almost wiped from existence. Metaphorically speaking, we were, seeing as the Taiidan sought to remove all mention of us from history. Thus, an idea was suggested to protect our people through a powerful tool. Religion.”
“Your ancestors founded the Gaalsien religion as a way to prevent repeating mistakes of the past?” Glare asked, cocking her head to the side.
“You assume incorrectly that the Gaalsien came up with their own religion. We were more of a sect. The galaxy as a whole worshipped Sajuuk, and it was the single largest religion that spanned across empires.”
“Up until the Equestrian Navy defeated Sajuuk, I assume?”
“Some still worship Sajuuk, though that’s irrelevant here. Aboard the convoy, generations prior to landfall, it was agreed that for the protection of our people, a few changes to our religion would be made. Namely, the primary belief became that Sajuuk took us from celestial paradise to Kharak as punishment for our arrogance. Upon serving our sentence, He would lift us up into heaven. Any attempt to leave the confines of our planet would be a violation of His will, and His wrath would bring about the apocalypse. Thus, the Gaalsien were born.”
Glare hummed. “I see where this is going. This was your way of stopping the survivors from violating that Taiidan treaty forbidding hyperspace technology. Though why not just make a law about it? Creating a sect seems rather convoluted.”
“Laws can be changed. Through religion, it was possible to create a deeply-rooted belief, which would have been far more difficult to abolish or alter. Now tell me something. Do you believe anything I have said so far, or do you think every word was a lie?”
“It’s … plausible. If this was all true though, why were the Gaalsien such outcasts?”
“The origin of our bad blood with the other Kiithid is a long story.”
“I’ve got time. You do too. If—if you want to tell me, that is.”
Khamari bowed his head. “You’ve been civil to me so far. It’s the least I can do to repay you. After landfall, over five centuries passed, before another Kiith, the Siidim, claimed they were of divine origin, and only they would be accepted by Sajuuk. They considered all others to be native to Kharak, and therefore inferior. This claim turned to a conflict later known as the Heresy Wars. The number of bodies left in its wake was incalculable. Suffice it to say, were it not for the intervention of Kiith Nabaal, the Kushan would have wiped themselves off Kharak.”
“A bit of irony, I suppose. The beliefs intended to save your people almost led to your extinction. Much like the hyperspace core your people smuggled to Kharak, now that I think about it.”
“Yes, well, despite this, an uneasy peace was formed, and the Kushan recovered. The Siidim were allowed to keep their beliefs, and the Gaalsien remained a major religious power. The war took a toll on all Kushan, but the Gaalsien temple-city of Saju-Ka remained largely untouched. At the core of the city, elaborate underground tunnels and vaults contained many of our significant historical artefacts, including the origins of our beliefs. Are you familiar with a Kiith-Sa named Miirpat Gaalsien?”
“It rings a bell.” Glare tapped her chin while she tried to recall the obscure details. “He descended into madness and ordered his people to destroy barriers that kept the sand from swallowing up the city, right?”
“That’s the one. An incredibly devout individual, he was. After his rise to power, he was granted access to the historical archives, and the Gaalsien’s closest guarded secrets. His first order of business was to study everything he could, but the truth shattered his world. When he learned his life had been a lie, that he and those before him gave their bodies and souls for a fabrication by the original exiles, that was the turning point for Miirpat. In the wake of his madness, thousands died while attempting to flee Saju-Ka. Countless more perished in the desert without protection or provisions.”
“I imagine the rest of the Gaalsien had something to say about that.”
“The Kiith-Sa’s orders are absolute. Most of our people would never openly question his decisions, trusting he knew what was best. Kharak’s main government, the Daiamid, condemned this action, however. The Gaalsien representatives of the Daiamid were ejected, and the entire Kiith was exiled.”
“That seems harsh. How is that fair to the Gaalsien families who just want a safe life for themselves? I doubt everypo—everyone agreed with destroying an entire city.”
“You’re correct, but as I’ve said, no one would openly question the Kiith-Sa. I’m sure a few Gaalsien would have requested political asylum, but what you must understand about the Kharakian social structure was that everyone was part of a Kiith, but abandoning one to join another was a difficult feat to accomplish. Loyalty and trust issues,” Khamari explained. “In any case, with the order of exile, our Kiith became nomads, adapting to survive in the desert where no one else could, fighting to prevent any and all from seeking the stars.”
“Miirpat still fought for the protection of Kharak?”
“No one knew what happened to Miirpat after the exile. He just disappeared, so a new Kiith-Sa quickly filled his position. However, without access to the truth buried in Saju-Ka, the Gaalsien lived under the leadership of those misguided by the falseness of our religion.”
“But … If the truth was lost, how do you know all of this?”
“Is it not obvious? Given the Gaalsien now roam the stars, it was inevitable that at some point we would try to seek our origins, returning to what was left of Kharak and uncovering the location and secrets of Saju-Ka.”
Glare remained silent, as she attempted to process everything Khamari had told her. “Wait, something doesn’t make sense here. If you knew the truth, why was the Gaalsien fleet during the Harmony campaign led by those you would consider misguided?”
“The discovery of Saju-Ka happened shortly after the demise of the agent who posed as Captain Paktu. Suffice it to say, what we found sent shock-waves through our Kiith, but considering how many violations of Sajuuk’s will had been committed, I think many of us were more relieved than anything.”
“Yet despite the truth, you remained with the Raiders. Why not go back to the Hiigarans?”
“Your naivety is almost adorable. Think about it from their point of view. We were the fanatics who went to war with most Kiithid on Kharak. Elements of our Kiith hid in the cryo trays of the mothership bound for Hiigara, with the goal of sabotage in mind. The End Times came along, and Captain Paktu caused even more trouble. After his defeat, the rest of us joined the Turanic Raiders to survive. Do you honestly think the Hiigarans would want to hear us out on anything?”
“I mean … I did.”
“For which I suppose I appreciate. Unfortunately, our relationship with Hiigara is beyond salvaging. They don’t want to talk diplomacy with us, and most, if not all Gaalsien despise them. For all the effort our ancestors put in to protecting Kharak, how were we rewarded? With Kharak being torched for the actions of the opposing Kiithid. Now they sit happily on their paradise world, while we, the true guardians, are left to fend for ourselves.”
“What if we helped?” Glare suggested. “I’m sure we could convince Hiigara to at least sit down for talks.”
“I doubt you speak for your superiors, just as I doubt they would believe what I’d say.”
“Then help me help you. Surely you’ve got some information I could use to prove you’re sincere. I don’t believe torture is a reliable tool for extracting information, so I doubt whatever information you have in this tablet would be true. If what you’ve said to me is true, though, I’d like to help.”
“You’re putting me in a precarious position here. If word got out that a high-ranking member of the Gaalsien had betrayed the Turanic Raiders, my people would not longer be safe. We do what we must to survive. Such is the way of Gaalsien life.”
“But it doesn’t—”
“Excuse me Deckhoof,” the guard called out from his post. “You’re needed in the briefing room.”
Glare looked back and forth between the guard and Khamari. Giving the prisoner one final look, she added, “Just think about it. I’ll do my best to help you, but I can’t do that if I have nothing to work with.”
Having returned from the briefing room a few hours earlier, Glare remained in bed beside Obsidian, staring silently up at the ceiling.
“Seems like you’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Obsidian pointed out, picking up moderate levels of stress from the unicorn. “The whole Khamari thing is really bothering you, isn’t it?”
“Mmhm. I don’t know, I think we might be making a mistake by giving him to the Hiigarans just like that.”
“It’s out of our hooves now. No sense worrying about something you can’t change.”
Silence was the only reply Obsidian received. After another minute of listening to the destroyer’s humming, the changeling spoke up again. “Hey, Glare?”
“Hmm?”
“Am I—am I evil?”
Glare blinked. “What?”
“Just with all the recent events, I’ve started to wonder if my idea of right and wrong is warped.”
“Oh, Obsidian. Look, I won’t lie. You can be a little extreme at times, and occasionally surly, but that doesn’t make you evil. You just have a few things to work through. I think given your history, it’s at least partially understandable.”
“Hmm. Makes me wonder why you even bother to put up with me.”
“If you can tell me why a pony-hating changeling made an exception for me, I might answer that.”
“You were the first pony I’d met that showed me any respect. Ever. You looked past everything associated with my kind, even after the more … unpleasant revelations. In a way, I admired you. You’ve got a heart of gold.”
“You think maybe I’m not the only pony like that?” Glare suggested. “If you’ve suddenly grown self-conscious, perhaps you might accept that most Equestrians aren’t bad, either, hmm?”
Obsidian shrugged. “I guess.”
“Well that’s a start in the right direction. As for what drew me to you? I see the good in you, too. I don’t know if you’re just being insecure with the tough stallion act, or if it’s something else, but I know you want to do right by others, even if your methods aren’t always the best choice. Does that answer your question?”
“Well enough.”
“Glad we sorted that out. Now stop hogging the blanket, or give me a wing. It’s freezing!”