In retrospect, Moondancer supposed, the name Tap Out should have been a bit of a warning sign.
She’d never been one for the romantic scene. The prospect of inviting another pony into her life, so close to her heart, again, had been a touchy subject for quite some time. But old wounds had been, unexpectedly, stitched up. And though healing was still a fair distance in the future, the process had been started. She supposed it was better than nothing.
It left her feeling, for what felt like the first time, adventurous. Willing to push beyond self-imposed walls, begin to rebuild something which could constitute a social circle. The endeavor had been embarked upon somewhat shakily, with a number of missteps and stumbles, but it had never once stopped. Misunderstandings could be repaired, words could be exchanged, and hurt could be addressed before they turned into the sort of scars she was familiar with. And then a close friend approached her in confidence, spoke of something new….
Dating. Conventionally unpredictable. An exercise in faith, trust, in throwing oneself to the unknown. Giving one’s heart, one’s wellbeing, into the trust of another, with the implicit hope that it won’t be mistreated. A rather scary prospect, for one who’s social interaction had been limited to paper and binding glue for as long as they wanted to remember. But the friend spoke of an alternative; or rather, a change to the formula. A way to structure the unpredictable. To, in every sense of the word, have a trial period with a prospective partner.
Moondancer never saw herself becoming a pony interested in speed dating. But when it had been explained as a formula, a way to contain the variability of romantic prospects into a set of parameters and variables… the appeal hadn’t exactly been lost on her. And it took weeks of debating, of decision, to decide if she wanted to go through with it… but she had. Nervously. Apprehensively. But she had, and even though the nerves never truly faded, and her heart rate never really slowed below a speed that could kindly be called tachycardic… she still felt like she was in control.
Because normal speed dating had a catch. Your time with your romantic prospects was limited. There was a set allotment of time to get to know each other, but at the end, the bell always rang, and you had to move on. For her… that was simply too little time. There was no way to probe, to see if a partner was just putting on a pleasant face… and though her previous relationships couldn’t exactly be considered romantic, she’d been burned before.
But the friend wasn’t talking about normal speed dating. She knew of a place with a twist, where you could choose who to keep talking to and who to drop, and in the most literal sense, it was called Tap Out. There was still a timer, a set allotment for a first impression. But when the bell rang, when it came time to move on, you could stay. Choose to spend the next period talking with that pony. Or the next. Or the next. You could spend as long or as little time with any given prospect as you wanted, but if you or your partner got uncomfortable, you could tap out, and for Moondancer, that was the insurance she needed. In theory. In practice…
The first pony she’d been paired with had tapped out within thirty seconds. He was a pegasus; sleek, toned, and clearly in the habit of working out, and it took less than a minute for him to decide he didn’t want the anxious bookworm. It had stung, but she was glad the encounter didn’t have to drag out beyond that. The second pony, a collectibles appraiser, had spent a full ten minute round in conversation with her, but they’d agreed to part ways mutually when the bell rang.
And for the third, she found herself looking in a mirror.
She’d been placed in an empty room after the second round, because there hadn’t been another participant free at that given moment. And for seven minutes, her only company had been the sky-blue walls, a wooden coffee table, and a second, empty seat. She contented herself with watching the seconds tick by and tapping a hoof nervously. When a partner had finally been ushered into her room, she’d been… silent. Worried. Another pegasus, this time a greyish, sage green, with a silver and gold mane. Her cyan eyes darted back and forth, quickly scanning the surroundings. For a moment, Moondancer had shrank back, unsure of what to do with somepony who was so clearly uncomfortable… but the pegasus had done the same. Shivered, too. And she didn’t know why, but… she stopped. Collected herself. And when she sat back up to her proper, full posture, her face was neutral.
They didn’t speak, for a moment. Simply looked the other up and down, searching for an opening, or perhaps a sign to leave. Neither budged.
Eventually, Moondancer cleared her throat softly. The small jump of the pegasus did not elude her gaze. “I’m… sorry,” she said sheepishly, “if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” It was a weak start. She knew that.
“You didn’t.” The reply came too quickly, and seemed… stilted. Like there was supposed to be something behind it, a bit of substance that just… wasn’t there. The mare blinked, and Moondancer noticed the motion looked… smooth. “I haven’t had the warmest reception.”
“... I understand,” she eventually replied. The words had reached her ears with a certain formality that shouldn’t have been present with the statement they carried. It gave her pause as she considered the proper response. “I’ve had some trouble putting my best self forward. Nopony’s stayed with me for more than a round yet.”
“You’re the only one who’s stayed more than ten seconds.” The statement should have alarmed Moondancer, but again, the formality was there. It was like the mare was expressing emotions as facts rather than things to be experienced. There was no anger, no frustration, not even a hint of sadness. And so, she felt unthreatened.
“I can’t imagine why,” she said softly, furrowing her brow.
The mare smirked. It was sudden, jerky, and unexpected. “I’m not me at the moment.”
Her breath hitched. “What?”
“This is…” the pegasus fumbled for words. It was as if she’d tripped over her own tongue, but Moondancer saw no movement in the muscles under her chin. “This is a front,” she decided decisively. “I tried to go here as me. Discussed it with the owners, the security, the employees. They all said as long as I didn’t cause trouble, I’d be okay. But I didn’t consider how the ponies would react.”
She blinked. “The ponies?” she carefully probed.
“Yes.”
“You say that like there’s some sort of distinction.” The words were careful, calculated… but not scared. Not confident, but there was no fear cloaked within.
Another blink, still too smooth. “There is.”
“Then what are you?”
The pegasus blinked once more. When her eyes were exposed again, they were still cyan, but… that was all they were. No pupils, no whites, just cyan. The lights above them reflecting off its corneas provided the only break in the smooth, blue surface, and for a moment, the breath left Moondancer’s body. Slowly, grey chitin overtook sage fur, hardened, darkened, and spread down the mare’s sides. By the time the change had reached the floor, the grey was near black, and spots on her legs began to wither. Perforate. Mane hairs turned to membranous fins, canines elongated and sharpened, and feathers turned to teal, transparent skin with translucent, spidery support structures.
“I,” the changeling declared emotionlessly, “am the perfect pony partner.”
And for a full minute, silence reigned.
Moondancer looked the creature up. Down. Watched as it breathed carefully, not through its mouth, but through the slits on its barrel, almost motionlessly. Counted each and every carve-out in its legs. Took careful note of both of the fangs, their exact proximity to her carotid, and the precise amount of time it would take to close the gap. Throughout the careful examination, the visual vivisection, the thing didn’t move once. Just simply observed as it waited for her next move.
Eventually, she spoke.
“Well, at least you’re honest.”
And as the bell rang, she didn’t even glance at the red button labeled Tap Out that lay in the middle of the table.