“-and this piece,” the Changedling guide was saying, “is a rather famous landscape painting. Can anyone here guess what it depicts?”
Mumbles rippled through the tour group. Some of the present ponies were putting their heads together to ponder the painting. Sandstone and Sapphire were two of them.
“I don’t know a thing about this type of art, Saph. I’ve been around pots, hieroglyphs, and textiles, but not anything made of paint.”
“I’m in the same cart. Ya know, I thought the museum would have, like, taxidermied manticores. Or ancient dragon bones. Guess not.” Her tail was swishing apprehensively. ‘B-but, this tour hasn’t been bad so far, right? We’re um, we’re learning about new stuff. New stuff is good in its own way, isn’t it?”
Sandstone stroked his date's ears.
“It’s good, Saph. I promise.”
At the front of the tour group, a colt with big glasses raised his hoof. “Are those the Manehatten Mountains in the background?”
The Changedling guide nodded approvingly. “That they are, kiddo. But where’s Manehatten?”
“It… it…” the colt’s face was scrunched as he connected the dots. “It wasn’t built yet!”
“That it wasn’t, very good. This is a commemorative landscape piece, painted by one of the first settlers to that region. It hung in the first building erected there, the Manehatten Town Hall, until it was donated to the Canterlot Art Museum you all stand in now.”
The murmurs picked up again, this time in full appreciation of the painting. Sandstone however, was staring silently. Sapphire noticed.
“You good?”
“I’ve heard of Manehatten. Plenty of tourists come to Saddle Arabia from there. Biggest city in Equestria, they say. Bigger than Canterlot, somehow.”
Sapphire rocked on her heels thoughtfully. She was an aspirational world traveler, but the key word in there was 'aspirational.' Ninety-nine percent of her life had been spent in either Crystal Empire cram school or, when she was old enough to move out, a boarding room in Heart Manor. That last, precious one percent of her time had been a two week trip to Saddle Arabia. That was a month ago. She’d met Sandstone there, and the rest was Sphinx-slaying history.
All that said, Sapphire had no knowledge of Manehatten.
“A great big city sprung up from wild countryside.” Sandstone was regarding the painting and shaking his shaggy head. “All I’ve ever seen in my life are ruins. Stuff that’s long gone. Never anything that's just starting its story.”
“Ya know big guy, maybe ‘new’ isn’t necessarily a good thing. Not if it prompts an existential crisis.”
“This next piece,” the Changedling guide was saying, “is our oldest Yak-made textile we have open to the public.”
Oohs and aahs accompanied the sight of an ornate expanse of burlap. It took up most of the wall it occupied. Yaks were big creatures.
Sapphire chuffed in satisfaction. Blankets were her second favorite thing to snuggle up with at night. She glanced at her number one favorite snuggle buddy, and was surprised to see his hoof raised like he was a schoolcolt with a question. Sandstone looked surprised with himself too.
"Aha! Yes?" The Changeling guide was openly thrilled to field an unprompted question. "Can I answer the Namib Perd in the back?"
"What are- oh wow, you know Saddle Arabian." Sandstone seemed even more off-balance now. Sapphire leaned against him reassuringly.
"Well, not have pride in something unsavory," (the Changeling guide bowed to hide his bashfulness) "But my people know most languages instinctively. An evolved quirk that helped our ancestors... keep up appearances, if you know I mean." He straightened up and gave a winked his compound eye. "I taste a fair bit of curiosity from this group. If you want to learn more about Changelings, catch me the next time I'm doing a shapeshifting demonstration in the theater hall. There's an event board in the foyer has details."
"Shrewd self plug there," Sandstone complimented. "But I did want to ask about those older Yak blankets. The ones not open to the public. Any story to those?"
The guide shrugged playfully. "If you're fantasizing about national secrets encoded in patchwork stitches, I'm sorry to disappoint. Best we have are old clothing scraps too damaged from age. Not any fun for tourists to look at. This piece however-" he gestured behind himself- "has bright colors and a story to go with it. It's no blanket, but a former Equestrian embassy rug. See the hoofprints still visible on it, everyone? The larger ones are from Yak diplomats. The smaller ones are from Ponies who met with them."
Sandstone nodded, and the Changeling guide gave the group a well-rehearsed recitation of the first time Yaks and Ponies encountered one another. In typical Yak tradition, there had been much celebratory smashing of the surroundings. The only surviving objects of the happy meeting would have been unsmashable textiles like the rug here.
Sapphire of course was hanging onto every word of the anthropological story. She didn't notice the first nudge from Sandstone. Nor the second. The third got through her concentration though.
"Hm? Oh. What's up?" She kept her voice politely quiet to avoid interrupting. The guide's story was currently explaining how yaks created art with no tools: they smashed the materials together.
"He knows more than he's telling," Sandstone whispered.
"You really think so?" Sapphire regarded the Changeling, who was basking in the attention of his audience. No doubt feeding on it too. "He doesn't look like a bad bug to me."
Sandstone chuffed. "I didn't say he was a 'bad bug.' He's not. At least, I don't think he is. But he's definitely a pro at deflecting tough questions. And he knows how to endear himself to tourists."
Sapphire held her apprehensive breath. Then Sandstone snorted softly.
"What I'm trying to say is I tip my hat to him, one lifelong tour guide to another. He's a master of the craft. Wish I could shake his hoof."
Sapphire gasped and bounced excitedly, earning a few annoyed glares from the surrounding museum goers. She lowered her head but not her energy.
"We should go to one of his shapeshifty performance whatevers he plugged earlier! Attend the meet-and-greet afterwards, have you introduce yourself personally by name-"
Sandstone stayed stonefaced, but never in a million was moons would he swagger up to a creature who could literally taste awkwardness.
"-and you could ask his name too. Then you and him could talk about guy stuff, swap trade secrets,-"
Sapphire was ready to burst with anticipation. Sandstone was ready to melt with anxiety.
"-and he could be the first friend you make in the new city! It'd be great! Whaddya think? Should we go check that bulletin board? Reserve some spots at his next show?"
Sandstone was trapped. Like a flea in an ant lion pit. If he went forward with Sapphire's idea, he'd embarrass both of them. But if he backed out, he'd break Sapphire's overly optimistic heart. He needed a miracle to save him now. A miracle was what he got in the form of the Changeling's sudden announcement.
"This next piece is a commemorative wax sculpture of King Thorax. The first modern leader of my people, you know. Hey, fun food-related fact: Changelings were prone to pretty bad nausea when we first began metabolizing our own love. Can anyone here think of a time they themselves ate something that was too familiar to sit well?"
"I changed my mind, Sandstone. Let's leave. Now. Please?"
Sandstone made a show of tapping his lip, pretending to deliberate. "Hmm.... Okay. Only if you really want to though."
Sapphire bolted for the museum foyer and Sandstone waited until she was out of earshot. Then he exhaled. He spared one last look back at the guide. The two of them made eye contact, and the psychic bug gave his signature knowing wink.
I just bailed you out, habibi. No need to thank me.
Sandstone snorted in amusement and plodded away. Perhaps Sapphire's friendshipping idea worth pursuing after all. Ah well. He'd hit up the sly Changedling some other time. Sandstone hurried outside after his date.