//------------------------------// // Chapter Fifteen 【Sunset】 // Story: A Sparkle-ling Perfection // by Cast-Iron Caryatid //------------------------------// All muffined out, I spend the rest of the morning draped across Moon Dancer’s back, pointing over her shoulder as we go through the Changeling: The Harvest roleplaying books to give her a more thorough idea of what she has to look forward to. She seems to accept everything with exceptional indifference, which I try not to think about, and I feel like I have to remind her that this is all actually real and she doesn’t have points to spend on things in real life. At lunchtime, the smell of hayfries wakes me from an impromptu nap I don’t remember succumbing to, and I cringe in slight embarrassment at the line of drool running down Moon Dancer’s shoulder. Indiscretions aside, I do feel better and I leave enough room after a trip to the cistern of love down in the basement to quietly snack on a few onion rings while the others fill up on burgers again. I have to admit, there are probably ponies here in Canterlot who would become changelings just for the ability to eat anything they want and never gain weight. There’s just something incredibly satisfying about having actual control of the things your body does, even if some of it is only through the hive mind. If there was one thing I could take with me when I get reborn as a dragon, that would be it. I’m still a little worried about what the dragon instincts will do to my incredibly rigorous and driven personality. On that note, I’m actually torn on what to do for the rest of the day as lunch stretches lazily on. In spite of getting a sort-of-acquiescence from Shimmering Armor on the whole learning to fly thing, nopony seems to be in any hurry to expend much effort today. I really don’t want to miss the chance to learn to fly, but going over the changeling books with Moon Dancer kinda reminded me about Dragon: The Hunger, which I really should have gotten around to reading by now. If I keep putting it off, I won’t be able to complain when I actually need the information… provided it’s accurate in the first place. I was supposed to read Magic: The Harmony too, just to see how it lines up with pony magic, but I don’t think I’ll bother; Changeling: The Harvest seems accurate enough to recommend the rest. “Knock-knock?” comes the cheerful, upbeat voice of Cadance from the hall. Shimmering Armor and I only have the briefest moment to share a panicked heart attack before she casually walks in pushing a wheelchair with a bundled up ‘Moon Dancer’ in it. “Ah, there you all are. The door was open, so I figured I’d just come on in.” Tartarus. I’m having difficulty believing this just happened… again! What is with princesses just wandering in off the street in this house? Or Twilight not warning us when Shimmering Armor is in plain view? Or, you know, this, which is both of those things! I swear, she’d better be asleep or she’s gonna be in some serious explaining to do—rather like Shimmering Armor in three… two… one… You can see the moment the bit drops for Cadance. Nopony ever said she was stupid. …Okay, so maybe I said she was stupid—many times—but that’s not the point here. I like to think I’ve grown since then. In any case, she briefly cocks her head, raises one hoof and opens her mouth to say something, hesitates, finally points at him and says, “Shining Armor, right? I was… pretty sure you were older. And a stallion. I’m positive auntie would have given me an entirely different lecture if you were…” She seems to have run out of words, so she just gestures to the entirety of Shimmering Armor in all her sofa-lounging glory. The words she does find, she definitely doesn’t mean for anypony else to hear, though her blush speaks for itself. “Not that I’m complaining.” I have no idea how I’m supposed to take that, considering that’s my body she’s ogling. Yeah, no, you know what? I’m not sticking around for this. My plans for the afternoon are obviously shot, so I grab Dragon: The Hunger in my teeth and drag it off to read it anywhere but here. ⁂ With the upstairs too much trouble on account of my stature and lack of the very flying lessons that Cadance just preempted, my only option for retreat is the often-neglected dining room, so it’s there that I drag my book. I suppose in hindsight I could have ridden Moon Dancer upstairs, but that would have lacked the proper level of decisiveness and it probably wouldn’t have looked good for ‘Twilight Sparkle’ to ignore her ‘friend’ ‘Moon Dancer’ anyway. It’s only with that thought that I realize what Cadance having brought ‘Moon Dancer’ with her must mean. Huh. She sure didn’t waste any time. That was, what—yesterday?—yeah, just yesterday that we mentioned it to her. I guess when you’re the princess of love you can just stop by the orphanage and pick up a few foals ‘to go.’ I mean, besides the fact that Twilight was at the hospital, not the orphanage, and the entire rest of that sentence came out about ten times creepier than I intended. As I levitate the lighting crystal up to the receptacle with my weak magic, I note that the dining room is on the comfortably large side and connects to the kitchen in one direction and the living room around the corner from it in the other. The only time I’ve been in here before was the first time Cadance came over and cooked for us, and I was kind of distracted at the time. Fortunately for me, there’s a pantry and a cupboard for table settings between the dining room and the kitchen, which should keep the construction noise down to a reasonable level. Even so, I’d be tempted to steal cushions from the living room for a couch fort if I hadn’t just fled said room and my magic wasn’t incapable of lifting more than an apple. Briefly, I look back in the direction of the living room and wonder just how many of the hive mind’s plans Cadance just invalidated by cutting through the red tape involved in getting custody of Moon Dancer. On the one hoof, we suddenly have access to both Twilight Sparkle and Moon Dancer, so we could—theoretically—swap them back to their real identities so long as we take some care with maintaining the charade of Moon Dancer’s injury… but on the other hoof, I’m not sure if it actually speeds anything up, since tossing them both into the chrysalises immediately would probably cause problems if anypony stops by to check on her accommodations. Anypony like Cadance, who after foalsitting exactly twice has apparently decided it’s okay to just show up uninvited. Meh, maybe we can be visiting my side of the family if it ever comes up. We’ll figure something out. Instead, I try to forget about the hustle and bustle of the ongoing clusterbuck as I position the book on the floor and open the front cover with my teeth. ⁂ Okay, in hindsight, it had been a lot easier to pick the relevant details out of the changeling books when I’d already known about most of them and had actual changelings on hoof to ask about the rest. That’s not to say that the book on dragons was useless, but discounting the specifics of the characters, setting and mechanics—which are, admittedly, interesting—all that’s really left are a few facts of life about dragons. Dragon society and magic, it seems, revolves almost entirely around the process of hoarding and consuming items of value, and there’s a balance to be kept between the two. The size and quality of a dragon’s hoard is a source of power, both physical and magical, and as a dragon’s hoard grows, so do they. Should it grow via the addition of crude and wretched things, however, so too will the dragon grow crude and wretched. It’s for this reason that most dragons, gravitating to collecting gold and jewels as the greatest items of value in the land, tend to be prideful, arrogant and cold. Hoarding is only half of the story, though—and a good thing, too, or dragons would be dangerously unstable. …More dangerously unstable, anyway. Instead, hoarding is tempered by the dragon’s diet, in a way. Anything a dragon consumes provides only a fraction of the power it otherwise would as a part of the dragon’s hoard, yet its influence on the dragon’s personality is both stronger and more subtle; a permanent buffer and counterweight to outside influences. What this means is that while dragons can eat virtually anything, eating the right foods is important to keeping a dragon grounded. What I’m taking from this is that I’ll be able to eat cheap junk food and not have it go straight to my thighs or my heart, so that’s a win. This balance between hoarding and consuming seems to be, at least in the game, a source of divisiveness and conflict among dragons, but frankly, neither path really conforms to the pony social mores. On the one hoof, a dragon who only hoards is at the mercy of said hoard in ways both large and small, even should they be successful in guarding it, while on the other, a dragon who only consumes will eat and eat and eat, never satisfied, the endless hunger warping them in a less magical but no less dangerous way. In fact, just about the only reason such dragons haven’t managed to devour Equus entirely is because the greater the power, the slower the digestion, and dragons who binge to too great a degree end up hibernating for hundreds of years. Obviously, a balance is required, but the book doesn’t seem to actually address or suggest that, though I keep expecting it to. Reading between the lines, I can see the parallels between dragons and changelings that Twilight had mentioned—not in the obsession over food, because every living creature does that, but in its source. It’s easy enough to say that the magic that fuels dragons is ‘drawn from the fundamental structure of the world,’ but given that the ‘value’ that’s an integral aspect of the process has been proven variable, it seems almost certain that it can be traced further back to not only a sentient source, but one with values that align with the consensus of society—or, more likely, it would be traced directly back to said society. As a changeling who has had the experience of having emotions directed at me, it doesn’t seem so far fetched at all to imagine that such energies could possibly collect in objects as well as people. It’s even possible that this could happen on a wider, more indirect scale, given one bit or gemstone is much like the next. Supposition aside, I can definitely see what would have attracted the changelings; it sounds incredibly promising. Supposedly they’ve given up due to any and all test subjects eating them out of house and home, but I wonder if that’s really true. It just seems too tempting to completely abandon. I think, if I was going to remain a changeling, that would be something I’d like to work on. But, you know, settling for being an actual dragon is fine too. I roll over onto my back and stare up at the light fixture above me, considering what this could all mean for me, as I’m going to actually experience it sooner or later. I had been concerned that becoming a dragon would lead to slothfulness and lethargy, and far from being reassured, I see it as a distinct possibility. Look at me now; constantly bloated on love and muffins, though not all by choice. Were I to have gone into dragonhood blind, I’d almost certainly have ended up sleeping the centuries away, as I would vastly prefer permanent power over the kind that ties me to one place and can be taken away. Knowing what I know now, though—and assuming it’s at all accurate—I imagine I’ll be able to put together a reasonable diet that I can accept, though it does beg the question… How is it that dragons in general can be such giant plotholes when they can literally eat themselves into being better people? I’m not entirely happy that I could be so easily influenced as a dragon, but how narcissistic would someone have to actually be to look at themselves in the mirror and say, ‘Yep, I need more pride in my diet’?” Admittedly, I probably shouldn’t be judging an entire race based on something I read in a gaming book; they’ve probably dramaticized it, for one, but still. Actually, no, either way it doesn’t really excuse anything; either it’s down to their diet, which they have control of, or it’s just them being jerks, which they also have control of… though in hindsight, I’m not entirely sure what sorts of valuable things a dragon could actually eat that would represent humility… or any pony virtue, for that matter. Potatoes? Well, they’re not terribly valuable… so lots and lots of potatoes? Hrm. Food for thought, if not dragons, I guess. ⁂ Another half-hour of reading and I feel both kind of stupid and kind of annoyed. It turns out there’s an entire second dimension to the whole diet and hoard curation thing, so I was wrong to preemptively judge them… except as it turns out, dragons that hoard gold and jewels are still doing it wrong. In fact, they’re doing it even more wrong! Hoards are cutie marks—which is to say, hoards produce the majority of the magic a dragon has at their command and the qualities of the items in the hoard, somewhat obviously in hindsight, color the magic they produce. It’s a unique mix of magic that is completely wasted if every single dragon just hoards the same tartarus-damned things! In fact, it gets me so annoyed that I have to go find Twilight in her Moon Dancer disguise and vent. Finding her is easy, seeing as she hasn’t moved since I last saw her, though Cadance and Shimmering Armor are gone. “Sampling bias,” Twilight Sparkle says, her voice muffled and jaw immobilized by the gauze holding her cheek in place. “What kind of dragons have you met and who are their friends?” What? What does that even have to do with—“…Oh.” “Yes. ‘Oh,’” she says, leveling a flat look at me. “I do not believe that any nation should wish to be judged solely by the quality of their career politicians.” I feel like I should be able to object to that, but I really can’t. Having deflated my rant with two lines, Twilight has already gone back to explaining alleles to Moon Dancer. I stand there grasping for some direction and eventually default to wandering off downstairs to fill another storage pod with magic. After just about two days of work, the basement looks pretty much done to my untrained eye. That wouldn’t be very long for typical pony construction, but it actually seems a bit drawn out for the changeling kind. I suppose, though, that I don’t actually know what goes into the construction of one of these pods. They look biological, but aren’t grown, so guess all the plumbing, filtering and even the amniotic fluid must be made on the spot from scratch, so… okay, I can see it taking longer than my little art project on the wall. They’ve also shifted things around to make room for the two new chrysalises and added an examination table, which is more work than you might expect when everything is essentially a single piece of resin with the floor. It’s a little jarring to think that with the lab renovations almost done and the miracle twins upstairs, it really could be any day now that we’ll have as many ponies in pods as we have walking around. Maybe then we can go back to having some semblance of quiet around here. It’ll be nice when I finally get reborn as an infant dragon; then none of this shit will be my problem and I’ll be able to just eat and sleep all day. …Wait. None of it is my problem. Bucking tartarus, I need to calm down and just let the insect conspiracy run itself. I mean, really, it’s none of my Celestia-damned business in the first place; they’d probably thank me not to stick my nose in. Filling up on love helps ease my temper a little and I get one of the workers to help me up the stairs again. I’m about to retrieve my book and go back to reading, but I’ve lost the mood and I’ve probably covered the important bits anyway. Seeing as my lazy day has been ruined, I should do something fun. I go back to the living room and walk up to Twilight Sparkle. “Make me a pegasus.” She boops me on the nose and I’m briefly engulfed in green fire. “You’re a pegasus.” Moon Dancer looks at me like I’m her idol. “That is so cool.” … Yeah. Yeah, it is. ⁂ I spend an hour on the other side of the room just sitting there, mesmerized by my new appendages. Opening them and closing them. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open… Briefly, I picture myself next to Princess Celestia. It’s not even me ruling beside her like I always wanted, just… under her wing. Part of the family. It doesn’t even bother me if I put Cadance in there as the annoying older sister. I really had been an idiot, hadn’t I? When I first met Twilight, she pointed out how differently Princess Celestia and I saw alicornhood and asked me if I really wanted to be the kind of platonic ideal of a pony that the princess would have willingly ascended into an alicorn, knowing I wouldn’t. She wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t wrong to say that Princess Celestia would only ever see alicornhood as a fact of life or a burden to be shouldered, not a goal for a pony to strive for, and she wasn’t wrong to say that I wasn’t such a pony, but maybe… maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I had been. Maybe being that kind of pony would have been worth it. Maybe. ⁂ Maybe asking Twilight Sparkle how to actually fly would be worth it. Maybe. …But not until I’m out of options. I’m not stupid enough to take my brand-new wings someplace high and jump off, assuming my changeling imitation of pegasus instinct and magic will save me. That said, I feel stupid enough jumping in place and flapping my wings like a baby bird waiting to be fed that I’m willing to take calculated risk. Actually, no. Taking a ‘calculated risk’ makes it sound intelligent, but in reality it’s just a pretty way of saying you know beforehoof how bad of an idea something is and you’re going to do it anyway. I don’t take a calculated risk—I assume it will go badly in the first place and take steps to mitigate the consequences. Which is to say I gather up all the throw pillows on a sofa, spread my tiny white wings and jump off the back of it. The paff of my impact on the pillows is barely audible on my first attempt and it gets no louder on the second, third and fourth. The volume of my internal dialogue is a different matter, though, and I have to try very hard to keep it from becoming external dialogue. After my tenth identical paff, I remind myself that this was supposed to be fun, and I give in. “Okay, Twilight, what am I doing wrong?” I ask from the depths of my pillow pit. “You need to channel magic through your wings,” she answers without even looking. Oh. That seems kind of obvious, doesn’t it? “…How do I do that?” “The same way you channel magic through any part of your exoskeleton,” she says. “You’ve focused magic through just your horn for unicorn magic, the carapace as a whole for changeling disguises and even your hooves to massage the poison out of Moon Dancer—” Moon Dancer looks up from her book, blinking. “The what out of who?” Twilight ignores her. “—I hardly think channeling through your wings should give you any trouble by now.” I grumble as I dig myself out of my pillow pit. I suppose she has a point and I could have tried it first, but just saying ‘channel magic through your wings’ sounds so weird. I’ve already made my opinion clear on what I think about the whole ‘unified magic organ’ thing changelings have going on with their exoskeleton, and as I spread my wings and let the magic flow out and through them, my experience is no different. The shiver that runs up my spine and spreads out over my skin is no less than euphoric bliss—err, I mean, it’s terrible. Rubbish for magic. Extremely wasteful. …But it works. I feel myself get lighter and every twitch and movement in my wings seems do more, like the air has thickened into molasses. Maybe it’s just because I’m not a natural-born pegasus and I don’t know what to look for, but I feel like changeling chitin works much better for pegasus magic than for unicorn magic. I don’t even feel the need to climb back up to the top of the couch; I just move my wings down and the rest of me moves up. Then I move my wings up and the rest of me goes paff, right back into the pillow pit. Okay, so there’s still wing angles and actual flying things to learn, and the way my vision is swaying I’m pretty sure I was channeling more magic than I could afford just then, but it worked! I can do this! … After a small nap. Maybe a couple of hours. Gathering all these pillows was worth it. ⁂ Much to my relief, when I finally feel like doing something again, it’s time to head back down to the basement and fill another storage pod. It’s a relief in spite of all the wasted time because if I’d woken up tired, I’d be concerned that my little stunt of dumping all my magic out of my wings would have wasted everything I’d converted, but I needn’t have worried. I doubt the changeling body is even capable of dumping all of its magic that fast; all I did was strain myself. I extricate myself from the pile of pillows to find the living room empty. Shimmering Armor, of course, is likely out with Cadance doing romcom things, and I give equal chances for Twilight and Moon Dancer to be either upstairs or down in the basement looking in on the construction. Well, not equal chances, I suppose. This is Twilight, after all. Hopping off the couch, I spread my wings and do my best to feather the flow of magic through them—no pun intended. The effect is actually amazingly stable and I don’t hesitate to eagerly repeat my accomplishment on my way down to the basement, which it turns out is a little crowded with Twilight Sparkle and Moon Dancer in addition to the workers. I don’t even try to pay attention to their conversation, and just go about my business as quickly as possible. It’s satisfying to see the empty storage pods slowly being replaced by glowing green ones as a real, tangible sign of my progress, but I don’t stay to appreciate it. I only have eyes for one thing right now. The stairs—round two. Not exactly the entire reason I wanted wings, but absolutely one of the more immediate ones. Nevertheless, I reign in my hubris and prioritize success over anything else. I haven’t yet graduated to actual hovering yet, so instead I simply intend to make an assisted jump or two. I go light on the magic, aiming for just enough to push me up and keep me light without going so far as my previous mistake, which seemed to almost have me gripping onto the air. With a couple of test hops to get a feel of my momentum, I take a step back and make my leap, arcing gently up to land perfectly on the top landing. I did it! I have achieved freedom! Riding high on my success, I flap up to the door, kick it open and flap out into the hall only to crash directly into a familiar pink face. Cadance delicately peels me off of herself with her magic and gives me a long, curious look. She then looks over to Shimmering Armor and back to me. “Okay, I’m sure Whitewash was a unicorn. Come to think of it, I don’t think you ever explained what actually happened.” Shimmering Armor and I share a look. “Discordian artifact,” I say. “Looked like a shoe,” she adds. “Kind of exploded.” “Destroyed the kitchen.” “Moon Dancer may or may not be real,” “We’re not sure.” “But we love her anyway.” Cadance takes a moment to process the rapid-fire bullshit, a dubious look on her face. “That… explains a lot, actually. Wait,” she says clutching me to her chest and rounding on Shimmering Armor. “You said it wasn’t permanent? Does that mean Moon Dancer…?” “No!” Shimmering Armor and I both shout in panic, making Cadance wince. “Nopony could find anything wrong with Moon Dancer,” Shimmering Armor continues. “That’s why we’re not sure. Nothing is going to happen to her; she’s not going anywhere. So far as anypony can tell, she’s just a regular little filly who had a family all her own… except she’s the only member of said family we can actually put hooves on and she just happens to look exactly like Twilight, so…” “Oh, thank Celestia,” Cadance says, gripping me tighter until I squeak in spite of the relief in her voice. “Why didn’t you just tell me all that in the first place?” Shimmering Armor scratches the back of her neck, blushing, and I wait to see how she’s going to handle this. “Well, we’d only really just met and then you stuck your neck out for us in getting custody of her so quickly; I wasn’t sure how to bring it up or if I even should since it could all be coincidence. Whitewash hasn’t seemed to mind her change at all, which is a relief since dad’s been staying at a hotel while the construction is going on and mom’s splitting her time between him and taking care of us. I’m the only one who’s really been out of my depth, and kinda ironically, I’ve been too busy playing second mom to even pay much attention to it until you came over. Since you were already helping with what I needed, I didn’t want to scare you away by bringing up the rest of our household drama.” She doesn’t look impressed. “Hey, I’m the professional babysitter, here,” she says, a faux scoff hiding a smile. “You’re third mom at best.” ⁂ Cadance is impressed by my wing hygiene since I’ve supposedly been a pegasus for a couple of days now, but she insists on properly teaching me to preen anyway and I let her. It’s… nice, though I’m distracted—torn between just not calling attention to the fact that I was a unicorn when she was here yesterday or adding another lie on the growing pile. At length, I pick the obvious choice. “So, wait,” Cadance says, holding me in her lap on the couch. “You keep changing back and forth at random, but Shining Armor has just been stuck one way the whole time?” “Yep!” I say, beaming with the most innocent, cheerful smile I can muster. “Flying is great! The first time I changed back, I kinda broke the fruit bowl, but now I can tell when it’s going to happen, so it’s fine!” What? I’m a changeling. I’m genetically dispositioned to lie. “Well, if you say so,” Cadance says, moving on to brushing my mane. “Though if this all has to do with something Discord left behind, maybe we should mention it to auntie after all?” I crane my neck back to look up at her and plead my thoughtful and well-informed rebuttal. “Please don’t?” She doesn’t so much fold as fail to muster up any resistance in the first place. “Fine, fine; I won’t say anything about it if you don’t want me to,” she says, playfully squeezing my cheeks with her hooves. “Did you teach that to Shining Armor? She reacted the same way and was somehow almost as good at it.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” ⁂ I end up telling Cadance all about the things I read in Dragon: The Hunger while she gives me a natural-born pegasus’ perspective on flying. I think she’s mostly humoring me, but one or two things do seem to make her thoughtful. I figure if I could live in the castle for years as Celestia’s student and not know the first thing about how they actually work, it wouldn’t hurt to give her a heads-up. …The two lines Twilight said about politicians counts as confirmation that everything in the book is true, right? Shimmering Armor does her best to moderate Cadance’s attention on me, and I think my amoreal sack has been getting bigger, but even so I still end up having to take several breaks over the course of Cadance’s flight lessons, and by the time it’s getting dark, she’s definitely noticed that something is up. I swear, with as many perks as there are to being a changeling, having incredible magical power bottlenecked by what feels like a bladder problem is definitely not one of them. Finally, though—finally—it gets too dark to continue and I’m able to sic Cadance on Twilight and Moon Dancer when we go back inside. She’s actually suitably embarrassed about having mostly ignored ‘Moon Dancer’ after bringing her over, first for Shimmering Armor and then me, but I hardly think either of the ‘twins’ minded… or possibly even noticed. I’m still not really sure how the mind of Twilight Sparkle works and I can’t say Moon Dancer is entirely different in that regard. On my way up to shower while flaunting my new vertical freedom, I discover that Twilight Velvet had returned at some point, which I probably should have expected. I can’t imagine the hive would want to give Cadance the impression that we were being neglected, considering she’d just helped add another family member. On my way down after said shower, however, I discover to my slight exasperation that she’s invited Cadance to stay for dinner. I get that it’s only polite, but politeness is for extroverts. I really wanted a Celestia-damned break. In the end, it’s not so bad with so many people around the table of takeout to share the burden of keeping the conversation going and the love Cadance is radiating, but even for the alicorn of love, the mare really needs to learn to tone it down a bit. I’m hardly an expert on the subject, but I’m pretty sure a first date isn’t supposed to start with the gift of a foal, go through the actual date date and drag on through foalsitting and dinner. By the time Cadance actually gets around to leaving, I’m half dreading that she’ll suggest a slumber party. To my relief, the slumber party gets a rain check and we’re finally free of her, though only with enough time left in the night to wind down into everyone doing their own thing for an hour or two before getting ready for bed. “That was… a day,” I say to myself, lying in a nest of bedding in Twilight Sparkle’s dresser that night, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Even with the occasional annoyances and aggravations… it was more than just a day. It was a good one. Fancy that.