Three Months Before The Storm
Shellac awoke with a stir, coughing and hacking from inside his hammock, his throat feeling dry enough to where it could crack
Still hacking, he tossed and turned, trying to reach for a half-empty glass bottle of water only to stumble and fall out, hitting the dirt with a slam. He fumbled around with his hooves and managed to get the bottle inside one of his hoof holes before plunging it into his throat. The changeling’s chest shook as he struggled to suck down what little liquid was left.
With great effort he sucked his breath in and allowed the lukewarm beverage to provide sweet relief, washing away the horrible stickiness in his mouth. Once the lip of the bottle disconnected from his mouth the coughing fit he’d held back bursted out in full force, quickly causing a burning sensation when it eventually passed.
He laid there and heaved with a hoof over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his lungs. At least he had the dim lights of his room to comfort his rude awakening, mostly purple globs of resin he’d imbued with a tiny amount of magic so he could see properly without affecting his sleep.
A few discarded cans and water bottles littered the floor around him, a result of him learning he could give them to a store clerk for a little money, which in turn would be spent buying more water or the odd can of soup when he didn’t feel like digging into his reserves again.
It was a barely sustainable cycle, but it did keep him alive at least.
Living as an outcast had really taken its toll on the poor nymph and he found himself incredibly thin. Awareness posters and guard patrols had greatly limited his ability to gather energy, even passively absorbing energy wasn’t cutting it anymore as he had to ration his time in disguise with casting actual spells now a near impossibility.
At this point it was only a matter of time before he lacked the energy to use his disguise and he was found out.
But as he lay there quietly recovering, he knew another hard day lay ahead of him. Gone were the times he could play around and explore Canterlot, freely flying without a care in the world. He was a homeless changeling nymph in a city that didn’t want him and now the weather was getting colder. Without clothes, he had to turn to physical activity to keep himself warm within the chilly mines, a necessity that made his food situation even worse.
Struggling a bit, he picked himself up, turning to an old candle he’d found somewhere deep within. The candles the old miner’s used burned for around eight hours which helped him know how long he’d been asleep, by the looks of things he’d overslept as the candle beside him had long burned out.
With a tired sigh he picked up a rucksack and stuffed as many old bottles as he could inside, only to see them slide out a large hole in the bottom. With a frown, he tossed the bag aside, now better for bedding or fire tinder. Groaning, he took what few bottles he could and crawled out of his room into the dry, dark and dingy mines. Replacing his wooden pallet he was using as a cover and following the trail of dim purple lights.
He’d made another tunnel in the intervening time since the attack in case the sewers weren’t an option, either because they were flooded by rainfall or because of the horrible stench.
Shellac followed another side passage he’d dug out, winding up under a public park where a bunch of large bushes and stonework hid his entrance.
Dawning his disguise the pegasus emerged, briefly blinded by the bright, early afternoon sunlight. Thunder walked along crunchy, freshly cut grass where its scent greeted his nostrils and the cool air brushed against his face. It was a bitter reminder that winter was coming soon.
Ponies were already out playing with their families or walking their pets as per usual. But Thunder already had a plan in mind and set out to the sidewalk, not wanting to expend any more energy then he had to by flying. It was painfully slow and his dirty coat drew some eyes but nopony ever moved to confront him.
Yet he could feel their gazes upon him, nervousness set in and he suddenly felt shy about the whole ordeal. How long could he keep up this little routine of dumpster diving and scavenging before somepony called some guards on him? It was a thought he dreaded, knowing the intended act of charity would almost certainly spell his doom. Yet, he buried the thought, least it sink into his actual appearance and draw more suspicion.
He walked into the nearest corner store he could and exchanged the bottles for enough to buy the cheapest fresh water they had. Thirst immediately won out as he chugged it down like sweet refreshing nectar to the poor pegasus, a far cry from the stale, lukewarm water he’d drunk this morning.
But with his thirst now fully quenched he’d have to find more if he wanted to have enough for tomorrow, the store clerk didn’t accept most of the ones he had back in his den, they were either cracked or were missing important labels which endlessly frustrated him.
He took to the alleys and side streets, hoping the dumpsters behind businesses had something to pick through. One would think to look inside a bim from a Starebucks, but they didn’t actually have many bottles, cardboard coffee cups sure, but no glass bottles he could exchange.
It was actually convenience stores like the one he just left that normally had what he was looking for. Then he’d have to go gathering, normally he’d be doing this the other way around to minimize the grime that would accumulate on his coat but, he just didn’t feel like that and there was a dumpster not far off.
He opened up its cover and was blasted by a horrible stench, he immediately shut it and gagged. “Thanks, but I’d rather not catch something, next!”
Sighing in defeat, he moved over to another ally and tried again; this one seemed more promising. He took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself, he carefully picked through the giant bin’s contents, finding some old electronics, a bunch of cardboard refuse, some broken plates. He was about ready to give up on it when he caught sight of a gleaming piece of glass, he smiled and pulled it out, already about to check it off his mental checklist when he found it half broken near the middle.
“Ah honeycombs! Okay, back to square one.”
As Thunder was about to toss it back in he noticed a tiny insect standing on the top frame of a broken kettle, rubbing one of its antenna. It was a cockroach, no larger than a coin and almost turned in his direction. For a moment, he almost threw the broken glass at it in disgust, but halted mid-way through cocking his hoof. Instead looking at the bottle and back to the little bug, letting out a deep, sympathetic sigh.
“Is this really what I’ve been reduced to? I shared the same room as Queen Chrysalis once! And now I’m here scavenging for scraps, no better than you little guy, It’s not fair…”
“It’s not fair.” He whispered, gently tossing the bottle back into the dumpster before closing it, a general weariness and lethargy took hold as his stomach complained once more. “I used to matter.” He thought, patting his belly with a hoof. “I’m my own changeling and I still am, but…if a rock falls and makes a sound, but there’s nobody to hear it…”
His eyes drifted up to the sky, noticing the increasing number of clouds in the sky. Another omen of winter approaching.
“Did it really fall?”
Depression took hold and he could feel the backspaces behind his eyes begin to burn. Sadness and stress rising up into his chest, but he kept it down, he couldn’t afford it, he’d be wasting so much on so little. Instead, he pulled himself from the alley and onto the street, in an effort to keep moving. Thunder couldn’t keep running from guard patrols and risking trash cans every day of his life, it stank and the guards were big and scary, he hated this! Worse still, pretty soon it’d be winter and he’d have to worry about freezing death. It wasn’t fair! Nothing about his life was! He’d worked so hard to get away from the hive, why couldn’t he be given a break?
He sat down on the sidewalk and leaned back onto the wall of a brick building, fighting to contain his tears. Ponies passed by him going about their daily lives, many would turn out of curiosity but would ultimately keep moving. Why would they care about him? He was a changeling, a nopony, a damn cockroach they wanted gone if they ever found out, why should they care about him?
It was becoming too much for him to bear. His breathing became stuttered, his emotions about to spill over out of his eyes and all over his face. Then from the crowd around him, a single mare came forward.
“Excuse me, are you okay?” She asked.
Thunder was slow to look up, but when he did he was met with the eyes of a concerned citizen. His coat was caked in dirt from his back alley expeditions and rough sleep within the underground. The changeling tried to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to, his vocal cords had been paralysed by the flood of tears that threatened to drown him. Instead he shook his head but in doing so he’d triggered the dam to break and tears began rolling down his cheeks, a river that soon turned into a lake as he quietly sobbed to himself.
“Oh my, where are you parents?” The mare followed, concerned for the young pegasus now growing ever more.
Thunder again shook his head, just about able to squeak out a few words between half-drawn breaths. “None, I have nopony.”
The mare went wide eyed and took a second look at him. Thunder’s thin frame, his dirt caked coat and the desperation in his eye. “Oh you poor thing!” The mare then rifled through her pockets and took out a paper wrapped candy bar for Thunder. He was hesitant at first, Thunder didn’t know what to make of the pony, but even through his waterfall of sadness he could still taste the deep empathy within.
Quietly, he took the candy bar with both hooves and held it tight, his only thread of kindness up until this point. “T-Tha-ank y-you.”
“I know somewhere you’ll be safe, where you’ll be fed and sheltered. I can take you there if you want!” She smiled, trying to reassure him she wasn’t his enemy.
Thunder didn’t really have many options as he knew he couldn’t continue like this. Starvation of both love and life were taking their toll and now, even finding water was becoming a hassle, soon he wouldn’t be able to keep up his disguise and when that happens, he was toast. What else did he have to lose? He rapidly nodded his head and climbed to his hooves, the earth pony mare helping him up and keeping him close.
Thunder couldn’t help but almost cling to her as they walked through Canterlot streets, drawn to her affectionate sympathy, both nutritionally and emotionally. In a way, it was like having two different voices in his head competing for power over his instincts. He wanted to feed, the mare promised so much! He was starving! But not in the open streets, he’d be caught for sure. So he resisted and kept pace with her, not knowing where he was going.
Sure he’d spent months flying over the city and looking over its streets, but had never actually flown to street level and familiarised himself. The city felt so massive from all the way down here, like giant stone and steel monolithes he’d been ignorant of, he was small, tiny, insignificant…like a cockroach.
Thunder lost track of time as they walked, all he did know was that it looked like a very long time, realistically it was probably closer to an hour and a half with them stopping for a few breaks in between. But they had reached their destination, a huge brick building with several sets of windows and slanted rooftops, a large brick wall around its perimeter with sharp looking iron spikes sat on top in rows. Not big enough to impale him if he fell on them but enough to deter any stunts.
He wasn’t filled with the most confidence in the world but at least the front gate was open, he turned to the mare who gave him a reassuring smile as they walked in, a large colourful sign on the front read:
Cantermore Public Orphanage!
Enriching colts and fillies for over three centuries straight!
“Well, here we are, these ponies will feed you and help keep you safe, it’s far better than living on the streets. I’ll walking you inside!” She cheered.
Thunder looked towards the mare and then back at the building, it was rather intimidating but at the same time, he felt something spark inside him, a flicker to re-ignite a long lost flame that he’d not had for weeks.
Hope.
Two Nights Before The Storm
Dreamstalking was a skill Shellac didn’t exercise very often. He rarely, if ever, had the nerve to enter another building uninvited. Maybe he’d spent so much time around the ponies he’d picked up on their social taboos? Then again it was the same at the hive where he was barred from going into certain areas without permission, so perhaps it just carried over?
Either way as Raining drifted to sleep, Shellac had the chance to try out a favoured love gathering method among his kind. Dreams were the manifestation of one’s emotions and to that capacity they made for quite fertile gathering grounds. While he didn’t intend on giving poor Raining nightmares, especially since that could just as easily get Princess Luna’s attention, he was curious what was going on inside his head.
“Love given is much better than love taken after all.”
He found himself standing in a whole other realm, a dream between dreams, where the sky was made of thousands of stars, each a distant dimension that belonged to its own individual, controlled by their desires.
In the distance a bright blue shooting star dashed through the skies, ping ponging between distant dreamscapes at lightning speed. The Princess of The Night at work.
Much closer to him was a mass of cloud like nebulas,each with their own bright lights inside, many were too distant for Shellac to reach, but Raining’s was only a few hooves away.
But instead of being bright and colourful like he was expecting, Shellac saw that Lead’s nebula, his dream, was a gloomy grey. It wasn’t storming so he wasn’t having a nightmare which was good, otherwise that would’ve provoked one of the Princesses to investigate.
Curious as a cat, he pushed himself through the little nebula towards the light, basically wading through mud or being lost inside a stuffed pillow. But he made it through and was presented with the house’s living room, except the coffee table and couches had been replaced with a large, long dining table, with a colourful party cloth extended up its length.
The entire room had been decorated for what looked like Raining Lead’s twelfth birthday. Party streamers, confetti and paper tapestries, all celebrating the occasion were everywhere. Presents of all shapes and sizes were littered across the floor and stacked high enough to obscure the front window. It was faster to list off what directions he could walk through then the directions he couldn’t.
But the room’s colours were muted, dimed, gloomy, like the life and happiness had been sucked from the air around him and he could sense as much too.
The only noise he heard was the gentle tick of the grandfather clock from near the hallway door frame and the only pony present was Raining himself, who sat at the very end of the table filled with empty chairs, staring at a cupcake with a single lit candle. A paper crown sat atop his head, but he didn’t look happy, far from it. Instead he just stared at the lone flame, gently flickering under his breath. Melancholic depression filled the air around him, bordering on nihilism with just how potent it was.
While some details were missing, it wasn’t hard for Shell to understand the context.
Shellac approached him, wondering if maybe he could help Raining in some way, he might not have been a princess, but he figured he was the next best thing for Raining. The colt didn’t even look up to acknowledge his presence until he’d sat down on a chair next to him, slowly turning his head to face the changeling nymph.
“Oh, hi Shell, fancy seeing you here.” Lead’s voice was as low as a whisper and lacking any of the energy Shell had come to expect from the brass colt.
Shellac was uneasy from the atmosphere that permitted the room, it was unlike anything he’d see from Raining, heck from anything he’d seen until this point period. Is this what happens to captured ponies when they have the emotions fed on during their sleep?
“Hi Lead…” Shell considered his next choice of words carefully, he saw the empty chair opposite his and decided to go from there. “I take it you were expecting others?”
“Yeah…but nopony else came, I don’t know why they just…didn’t.” He swerved his head and panned across the empty table. “I mean, sure I didn’t know them particularly well, I just gave out invitations and hoped for the best. I didn’t know what else to do. I figured at least a few would come.”
Raining’s mouth then twitched as a thin smile spread and retracted as he looked back at Shellac. “But it’s okay though, right?” The smile was clearly forced and more so at a dagger’s point then for social appearances. A potent cocktail of anger, fear and sadness began rising from the colt’s core. But was met with forced emotional neutrality through happiness, the same kind Shellac felt during their card game.
Ghostly translucent versions of Lead’s parents appeared standing by his sides, both with joy and delight worn prominently on their faces trying to help him celebrate his birthday best they could. But they weren’t real, not by a long shot.
“I still have mum and dad, they love me right?” Lead was stuttering on his breaths, barely audible forced laughter escaping his speech.
This was beginning to freak Shellac out, he’d been warned about the dangers of Dreamstalking, but he wasn’t prepared for seeing the real thing. He forced a smile and prepared to reply, but before he could utter a word he was cut off by the roaring shout of a colt’s voice. It was more comparable to a dragon’s rage in its intensity than a mere pony.
“I WILL make sure you die alone you BUCK!”
A lightning strike from outside flashed the room white and Copper Casing disappeared in an instant, vanishing into thin air as Shellac jumped in shock.
Raining was left shaking in place as his expression fractured more and more, his madmare like chuckles increasing likewise. Fighting hard to hold back the tears behind his eyes as a ghostly Gleaming deposited another present on the table Raining whole heartedly ignored. There were so many that the very act had lost its meaning, even as Gleaming silently cheered him on, like she was speaking through several layers of dense fabric, or as if she was trying to do so while they were underwater, it was just noise.
Empty, meaningless noise.
Shell could still sense that horrible cocktail barely contained by Raining’s defences, he tried to find a word to describe the emotion but his mind drew up blanks. There was a ponish word for it; he just had to remember it.
“Even if I don’t make any friends and you have to l-leave, my parents l-love me and that’s what matters, r-right?”
Shellac gazed as Gleaming danced around just behind his back with some party ribbons tied to her hooves. The young changeling was scared, he didn’t know if he was walking into a nightmare but it sure did feel like one.
No, even a nightmare was being too kind. This, this was worse.
He tried to recall what he was about to say but it slipped off the tip of his tongue so instead he simply smiled and extended a hoof to hold one of Raining’s. “Right, and that’s more than I’ve ever had.”
He looked towards the cupcake and gestured with his other hoof. “Why don’t you make a wish?”
Raining’s voice again dropped to that of a near whisper, barely having the energy for anything more than that while holding back a tide of tears. “Because that candle’s not a wish,“ He solemnly said. “I’m scared of blowing it out.”
Shellac stared at the cupcake candle, trying to interpret what exactly he meant by that. If it wasn’t a wish then it must’ve represented something important to him, but what?
“Please don’t go Shell.” Raining pleaded. Shellac’s attention was drawn back to the brass colt as tears now rolled down his cheeks and his happy, hopeful voice began to crack. “Please don’t go.”
Shellac’s own smile waned, the cocktail now bursting streams from the cracks in Raining’s armor. His mind lingered some more before he finally realised the word he was looking for. “Trauma”
“Raining was experiencing trauma, just what had Lance put him through? And how long’s he been doing it to affect him like this?”
With newfound understanding Shellac rested his other hoof on Raining’s, both now overlapped on the same one as he expressed his sincere sympathy for him. “Don’t worry Raining, I’m not going anywhere. No matter what.”
Raining then moved forward and pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t as sensational as it would’ve been in the waking world but he could still feel Raining’s vice like grip on his body back home in bed, which again might’ve hurt had he chosen a different form from how much pressure he was applying.
Raining’s dam broke down entirely and he flooded Shellac’s shoulder, crying mixed tears of sadness. “T-Tha-ank y-you.”
Nothing more was said as he rubbed his back and neck, his eyes shut tight as he allowed Raining to unload his emotions. “Is this how Gleaming felt? How many times has she had to do this? Probably more than she’d care to answer.”
Shellac could feel the air of the room slowly changing as they embraced each other, turning from its gloomy, melancholic greys, to something brighter, more sincere and hopeful. It wasn’t a nightmare he’d walked into, just a bad dream that needed fixing. And it filled him with vindication that he was able to do this, for once giving a pony happiness instead of draining it away. This feeling of satisfaction he had earned, it was like how he’d earned that silver trophy but ten times better.
Normally this would be the part where he’d disconnect and allow Raining’s dream to continue, but he’d made a promise and was determined to stick with Raining until dawn if he could. Share in the colt’s dreams and help him through his woes.
But as he opened his eyes he saw another ghostly form standing behind Raining, one he didn’t immediately recognise until a split second later.
When he did they grew wider and wider, his pupils shrunk to the size of marbles on a road. The dark navy blue form of Moonlit Lance looking down at the two with a smug grin.
“Comin’ for ya.” Lance bent down towards the cupcake, Shellac lept to protect its flame but the colt was quicker and with a puff of breath he blew it out.
Then everything went dark.
Shellac slowly creaked open his eyes, or rather he would’ve if he had any. Instead when he awoke, he found he was blind and for a moment wondered why, then the fact he was still disguised as a great, big, soft toy version of himself came to mind. With a flash of magic he opened his eyes and looked around, he was still in Raining’s bed, still being held tight by the brass colt and still aware enough to remember Raining’s dream.
Suddenly he had the urge to yawn but without a mouth to open he quickly found the sensation driving him mad. So he reverted back to his base form and allowed himself to carry out the tired act, the fog of rest still clearing from his mind. Shell laid back and shut his eyes again hoping he might be able to just wander off back to sleep in Raining’s embrace.
Yet he remained restless and the mist in his mind cleared up as conscious feeling returned to the rest of his body. “What time was it?” While he was thankful he didn’t have to do everything in four hour cycles like back at the hive, his old routine would still come back to bite him from time to time, if he had to make a guess it was probably close to midnight. Maybe Gleaming was asleep already? He wouldn’t be gone long, he could take a little walk around and come back. He wasn’t really leaving Raining by just getting out of bed. “Yeah, no harm done.”
Managing to free himself from Raining’s grip, he slid out of the bed, though offered his friend another quick glance.
“I’ll be back Raining.”
Shellac took a moment to stuff Raining’s Ursa minor into his empty arms, he fastened his grip and wore an infectious smile that spread to Shellac.
The changeling turned his attention to his darkened surroundings, the fairly lights bleeding from under the bedroom door, providing more than light enough for him to see within his natural night vision.
The posters around the colt’s bedroom had impressive detail, but he was drawn to the one on Raining’s door, held in place by a set of pins. It was a nice Iron Mare poster, but it was so much closer to chest level then eye level that Shell couldn’t help but ask why it was hung up like that.
He brushed his hoof over it and felt its silky smooth surface, but there was a noticeable dip near its center point where his hoof should’ve stopped fast. Shell squinted and removed a couple pins to peel away the poster, revealing a large hole in the door where he could see a damaged middle panel. By now his thoughts were clear, this was much too interesting to just pass over and ignore.
He examined the marks around the edges, they looked as though bits of wood had shattered and splintered off inside the door but had been removed since, given how the hole was at chest height it had to have been punched or kicked in.
“Raining bucked his door? Was there an accident or was he angry at something?”
Shellac looked back at the sleeping colt who was quietly drifting among the dreamscapes by himself. “I guess I’d be angry to if someone drove away all my friends, then again I wouldn’t know.” He turned back and reached for the doorknob, opening it up by a thin crack and slipping through, silent as a mouse.
The upstairs hallway was awash with a rainbow of tiny overhead lights, illuminating pieces of framed artwork, no doubt made by Raining in his much younger years, to some more conventional stuff like a painting of a coffee shop on the seaside. A whole collection of postcards from the likes of Manehatten, Horseshoe Bay, Las Pegasus, even Somnambula, were all strung together in a vertical column, each with Copper Casing’s name attached.
“He wasn’t kidding.” Shell thought. “He is well travelled.”
Briefly, his mind then wandered back to the events of the past couple days. To Shellac’s interactions with him, the board game they played, the oppressive tone he sometimes used on him. Sure the stallion was scary but he had every right to act the way he did around Shellac. He just wanted to protect his son, he already had to worry about Lance and didn’t need the threat of his son being replaced on his mind…
Shell proceeded to flap his wings and fly down the staircase. It was much quieter than loudly clopping down them and he didn’t want to run the risk of waking anyone up, not at this hour.
Slowly, he entered the living room and saw a magical sight. That of the Hearth’s Warming Tree, with all of its lights bathing the room in festive spirit, it didn’t have any presents tucked away under its green canopy, but after his dream with Raining, that was hardly a con. Instead he focused on the lights, the way they shone and gleamed across the room sent a flutter through his chest. Countless blues, reds and greens, almost as hypnotic as watching a fire dance around the air. Colours both named and unknown bounced off the walls and ceiling, many being byproducts of colour mixing between them.
“Reminds me of the festival of lights, it’s such a shame ponies can’t see all the colours we can.”
Shellac sat on one of the couches and let his gaze pan across the room, examining all the different trinkets, paintings and decorations under the new ambience. It was like rediscovering the house in a way unique to him and him alone. All the different board game boxes, model ships and castles, paintings and pictures. It was a magical feeling of wonder, a childish joy he’d be able to look back on and cherish for years to come.
Yet his mind wondered, now that he didn’t have to worry about basic survival or the threat of running out of magic, he was allowed to think to himself, gather his thoughts and reflect. So much had happened in such a short span of time. The attack on Canterlot, his subsequent separation from the hive and the freedom that followed, his month-long struggle to prevent starvation thereafter and the time in between.
Things were happening so…quickly, he let out a chuckle at just how fast things suddenly felt. His chance encounter with Gleaming has likely changed his life forever. “Not that I had much of one left otherwise.”
Gleaming was the first pony he’d met who wasn’t scared of seeing him as a changeling, it felt weird yet freeing to be able to walk around the house like this without fear of being chased or screamed at, not having to worry about being judged for who he actually was. It was like Nightmare Night but this time, there really weren't any masks or disguises or anything in the way.
Gleaming was a great mom, way better than Chrysalis could ever hope to be. Yes she was a queen first and a mother second, but she could’ve at least tried making the hive look pretty! It had none of the fancy architecture of the old city Shell kept hearing about, or even a place to wash up and clean out the holes in his hooves.
“I guess the plus side is we never complained about it being dirty. But that damn sewer stank!”
He half giggled at the memory, now seeming so far away it was none of his concern. “I guess it would’ve been nice to go back, maybe take something to remember. Then again the place was a dump, I wonder if my lights are still on?”
He wondered for a moment how some guards would react if they found his den, would they be confused that it was so small? Would they have bought in a Diamidian to try sniffing him out? Or would they set up some kind of elaborate trap and wait for him? He pictured a group of guards bored out of their minds waiting for a changeling nymph that would never come and it brought a smile to his face.
“Well…time to get up, Raining said a lot of things about Spell-Tag and if he had that much energy to talk about it even after everything from the carnival. Which that probably means I’ll need some decent sleep.”
Shellac jumped off the couch and rolled his shoulders, already feeling weary at the thought. He walked over to the grandfather clock and saw it was about two AM in the morning. “More than I was expecting but I guess time flies when you're dreaming.”
He took one last look around him and savoured the beauty of the winter lights just a little more before he had to depart. Then he walked through the door, careful not to slam or make it creak. But as he entered the downstairs hallway he caught sight of the kitchen and his mind once more imposed another question.
“Come to think of it, I’ve never seen the backroom before. Wasn’t that where Copper had all of his model stuff?”
Passing by the door into the kitchen he looked at the sink and he suddenly realised how dry his mouth was. He thought he’d had plenty to drink during the day, but apparently his water tank wasn’t full. Opening up a few cupboards he carefully took out a large glass.
“I’m sure they won’t mind if I have a drink.” He filled the glass before taking a swig and felt instant relief. It was weird to think there was a time where he had to scrounge through dumpsters and trash cans if he wanted this stuff and here it was in abundance. Another luxury the Hive could’ve used.
Smiling, he took the glass with him and slipped through the backroom door, illuminated by more twinkling fairy lights, but instead of the rainbow colours he was expecting they all shared a common golden glow that bathed the room in enriching light.
A large desk occupied the wall directly in front of him with racks full of rows and rows of tiny lidded paint pots. Draw sets with all kinds of small parts labels were stacked against the wall with whole bookshelves being used to display the various models the unicorn stallion had put together. Airships, boats, castles with miniatures, some had even been arranged to look like snapshots of tiny battles like a pair of thestrals guarding Luna from a miniature swarm of changelings.
Sitting at his workspace was a large ship, a mare-o-war that he was likely working on before he disappeared. Even in its unfinished state it still looked great with all the tiny naval guards that were skirmishing with avian pirates that swung from the sails. Little pieces of their models remained unpainted and scattered about the workplace alongside dried up paint brushes and unused hobby tools. Shellac may have been young but he could still appreciate the time and effort being put into such a build, he’d even used cotton buds to simulate the cannon smoke!
“Was this his special talent?” He wondered. “I never did get a good look at his cutie mark.”
He pulled the seat back and sat down, letting his eyes pan across the gold showered room. Even if it wasn’t his talent Copper still seemed to have a passion for this kind of stuff. Putting the glass aside he briefly took his Thunder Chaser form and looked down at his flank to see the tornado cutie mark he’d made for himself. “It’s not actually a special talent, I’m not actually good at flying through a tornado, it’s just something I made up for a disguise.”
Then he turned to all the models Copper had made and the sheer amount of effort that had to have led into creating a collection like this, it must’ve taken months! However the results spoke for themselves.
“But that doesn’t stop me from being good at flying does it?” Thunder’s mind wandered back to the flight course at the carnival, despite some hiccups and the course designed to catch him out he still beat it. “You don’t need a cutie mark to be good at something right? It helps but even Gleaming admitted it took time to get good at what she does.”
Taking another swig from his glass of water, he ditched his disguise and his wings buzzed from weariness. “But then what about Raining? Where did he get his special enchantments from if he wasn’t gifted them? Did his dad teach him? I guess I’d make sense if you were an archer or used a crossbow.”
A tinge of regret ran up his spine for not trying harder to be friends with Copper, could he blame him? The stallion was intimidating when he raised his voice and he was a guard! If anything, the fact he didn’t try to kill him on sight was nothing short of a miracle.
Then again, he was willing to give him a chance and take the time to sit down, show him how to play a board game and let him be around Raining. Copper didn’t try restricting him from being around his son at any point and happily let them play at Piccafilly Circus.
“Given time, he might’ve even shown me his models, maybe even let me try painting. What would he have done had he been at the carnival with us? Would he try any of the rides? Any of the game stalls? Raining did say he went apple bobbing once.” The mental image of the stallion getting an apple stuck on his horn returned to mind and he let on a soft smile.
But it faded as quickly as it came. “He’s gone now, isn’t he? Lance did something and got rid of him.”
Images from Raining’s dream came back, he remembered the moment he heard Lance’s voice. It was one of the many profanities he shouted as he let loose on the injured colt.
“Raining’s naive sure, but he’s aware to some extent what had happened to Copper. Gleaming had us go to the carnival so she wouldn’t have to tell Raining, didn’t she? Or was it just one more day of happiness before breaking the bad news?”
Raining Lead was the friend or perhaps even brother Shellac had been waiting his whole life to finally meet. Endlessly enthusiastic and could care less if Shellac was a changeling, to him he was the friend Lead desperately needed, that they both needed. During their fight with Lance he’d tried defending him even if it did result in Lance beating Lead black and blue. Then there was the dream they shared, the birthday of one that revealed his inner trauma before Lance blew out his candle.
“What was that candle meant to be? Was it his hope? Was it Gleaming? Was it me? Whatever it was he thinks Lance is going to snuff it out given the chance. It couldn’t have actually been him; it was a construct of his dream, a manifestation of his emotions. Tibia said all dreams were like that during class and that a sad pony with happy dreams doesn’t hide their emotions, but a happy pony with bad dreams does.”
“The fact he’s been able to force himself to be happy so much either means he actively suppresses his desire to be with others so bad memories can’t come back to bother him, or Lance has been abusing him so much it’s become his only reliable defence mechanism.”
The more he thought about it, the more the pieces started to come together.
“Does Raining lie to himself? Does he wear a mask so finely made it’s become his new face? Or had Lance broken him so much that’s what he’s had to resort to to prevent dark thoughts from taking over?”
Shellac grabbed the glass cup and took another mouthful of water, his teachings from the Hunter Caste working overtime to deconstruct the situation. Grimacing at the thoughts going through his head but knowing he had push through to understand what was going on before things took a turn for the worst.
“Even if Raining goes to a new school, that doesn’t stop Lance from trying. If I didn’t come along Raining might’ve been able to grow up normally albeit with a few issues. But what he’s done to Lead’s dad is going to leave a deep scar he’ll never heal from. That’s why Gleaming kept me around, she and Copper have been trying to help Lead create a friend circle, but every time they try Lance tears it back down again so they’ve been getting desperate.”
His mind went back to his talk with the two ponies from Piccafilly Circus and how they warned him about Raining and the wrath he’d incur from Lance. The cut on Fizz’s chest and Crossroad’s hesitance to even suggest fighting him was an option.
“Do you think I’m an idiot? I’ve dealt with Pegasi before you moron!”
“I hope you're able to help him better than we could.”
Everything seemed to click, except for a single question that he still couldn’t answer.
“Why is Lance doing all this? Why is he abusing Raining so much? Did Raining do something so horribly bad it left a chip on his shoulder? Or is it because he wants to feel powerful about something? The nymphs at the hive made fun of me for the sake of it but that was purely for fun, even if it was messed up it was something they could drop if it wasn’t worth the effort anymore.”
Despite the sound logic, he quickly tossed those thoughts in the proverbial garbage.
“No, Lance isn’t doing this for fun, he’s too dedicated, too obsessed with Raining for it to just be a power trip. Raining had to have done something that ticked him off and now he’s out for blood. Was it something bad enough to warrant all of this? Absolutely not, the anger I felt from him was from that of a hothead, not conviction or vengeful fury.”
Part of him was still puzzled as to what was driving the mad stallion, but at this point, it didn’t matter.
“Lance is a monster, and if I don’t stop him he’s going to tear this family apart, me along with it.”
“I have to be ready in case he turns up tomorrow, I can’t brush off the possibility he knows about Neon. If that’s the case we’ll have to look after him just as much as each other. Nothing sends a worse message than ruining a colt’s birthday party on behalf of another. I have to keep that door open for Raining.”
With a firm stance he started to head towards the door back to the kitchen.
“If all else fails, he’ll at least have somepony.”
Shellac finished off the glass of water and got up with his head held high and his resolve steeled. He walked back through the kitchen placing the glass cup beside some dirty dishes before flying back up to Raining’s room.
Carefully, he crept back in, careful not to disturb the colt’s slumber by messing around with the door. Raining was still cuddling his ursa minor toy just as Shellac had left him. Now ready to crawl back inside he used his magic to pry the ursa from his grip, but Raining held fast and didn’t let go of his soft toy.
Shellac chuckled and playfully grinned. “Oh Raining, nice to know even in your sleep you wouldn’t want to let go of me.”
Deciding on a new strategy he slowly peeled away the covers with his magic, exposing Raining’s barrel and crossed over arms. He enveloped one of them and slowly moved it away, doing the same to the other until he could finally remove his ursa toy before propping it up against the pillow behind him. With both of Raining’s limbs now open and the space between cleared he climbed on inside and fastened his arms around him, like buckling the drop tower’s seat belt.
“Actually that’s a horrible comparison, I can still feel the vertigo from that damn thing!”
He drew the covers over once more and switched to his plush form, allowing Raining to embrace him to his heart’s content. Shell shut his eyes and allowed the pearly gates of the dreaming world to welcome him once more.
“Good night Raining.”