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A/N: Non-canon dialogue! Go!
Cier: You know, Fifty-one? It just occurred to me.
#51: What’s that, Cier Dylan?
Cier: We’re still in New York. It feels like we’ve been here for months.
#51: But we’ve only been here for less than a day.
Cier: I know, right?
A/N: And now back to our regularly scheduled story.
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A Conversation Of Four
---{Cier’s POV}
Smatterday
7:15 AM (Eastern Standard Time)
An Inn Bedroom
I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep since I woke up just an hour ago. I just sort of lied there on the bed as still as I could. The snores of my parents were slowly getting quieter. It wasn’t much longer until they got up and started shuffling around. I could hear joints cracking from early morning stiffness. My wings shivered and buzzed once.
I decided not to bother with a shower this morning. The handles weren’t exactly hoof-friendly. So the only hot water used by this room’s occupants was by Dad’s shower. Actually, I take that back. Mom ended up getting in there with him so that she had someone else to reach soap to certain positions.
I was too tired that morning to think of the witty puns such a situation could create.
After he got dressed and took a look at the time, Dad decided to head down the hall to grab some coffee. He told me he would find a little breakfast for me to if I wanted it. I didn’t object.
As soon as the door had closed, Mom shook her head and quickly scanned the room as if startled. Naturally, I wondered what had caused such a reaction.
“Are you okay, Mom?” I asked.
“That’s not my…” she started, “Oh, right! That’s what you call her.”
“Her?” I tilted me head before taking a closer look. I squinted as I stared at her eyes.
“Hm, no yellow eyes, so it can’t be Peter,” I muttered. I had a “Eureka!” moment and clapped my hooves once.
“Are you by chance Spirit Redeemer?” I inquired.
“Yes, that’s right,” she nodded.
“It’s a pleasure to formally meet you,” I grinned while reaching a hoof forward, “I’m Cier.”
She recoiled a bit before slowly reaching her own hoof to accept the shake. It felt slow and cautious and she quickly pulled her hoof away. It was as if she was worried that it had caught on fire or something.
“I’m sorry,” she told me, “It’s just… I’ve never actually seen a changeling up close before.”
“You and me both, girl,” I chuckled.
“But, aren’t you a changeling?” she wondered.
“I wasn’t always,” I responded, “This is technically Fifty-one’s body. I’m just along for the ride.”
“Oh, right… the merging thing,” she realized.
“Yeah, I’m guessing you and Arlene are just as confused as each other right now.”
“This whole thing is very disorienting, not to mention unnatural.”
“Heh, if only you knew what it was like for the ones that live here.”
“That’s another thing that confuses me. How did you recognize the word ‘changeling’ if they aren’t local to your world?”
“Grab a seat, girlfriend. This could take a while.”
“What?”
“Just a little figure of speech,” I dismissively waved a hoof, “Anyway, it all starts from this device we humans call a ‘television’. Have I lost you yet?”
“N-no, that’s fine,” she insisted, “I’m sure Arlene can fill in the gaps about some of the technology that I don’t understand.”
“Cool! That simplifies things. All right, so there’s this one particular program called My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Originally intended for an audience of little girls and their families, it gained an unexpected following by somewhat older men especially on the internet. The term ‘brony’ got tossed around a lot. Since that boom in extra fans, many of the bronies started keeping up to date with this show and related content religiously. In the most recent episode, a particular race of antagonists was introduced called the changelings. That’s how many of the faithful viewers know exactly what a changeling is and what they look like.”
I took a few breaths not realizing how much I had said in a matter of seconds. Spirit Redeemer stared at me without blinking.
I hope I didn’t break her, I thought. I tried waving one of my holey hooves in front of her face to get a reaction.
“Cier Nadeem! How long have you been hiding this?!” Mom shouted.
The force of her voice combined with my jump of surprise sent me reeling back headfirst to the floor. A few stars grazed my vision before darkening.
---{#51’s POV}
I moved to sit up while rubbing the back of my head. I gasped when I realized that I was in dominance. A quick mental check showed me that Cier’s mind was still conscious. But for some reason, he had taken backseat control. I coughed before letting my slightly raspy voice be heard.
“That’s an impressive set of lungs you have there, Mrs. Dylan,” I complimented.
“Oh my ghost,” Mrs. Dylan muttered before raising a hoof to cover her mouth in shock, “Did I just make him faint again?”
“I don’t think so,” I shook my head, “I can still sense his mind, though his thoughts are a bit less pronounced. Why that is, I do not know.”
She let out a sigh of relief. I assumed it was because her son was okay.
“Forgive me for indulging, but why did you raise your voice?” I inquired.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you… at either of you,” she clarified, “I guess I just needed to let loose a lot of stress. Having a potential clue to whatever this whole situation is must have been the point that tipped me over. I’m sorry. Cier, if you can hear me…”
I closed my eyes and noticed a rather soft-textured taste that was otherwise flavorless. Yet, it was still a soothing feeling in my mouth.
“I taste his feeling of forgiveness,” I informed Mrs. Dylan, “I would surmise that means your apology has been accepted.”
“You… taste his forgiveness?” she looked at me incredulously.
“The changeling race is able to taste a wide range of emotions. Love is particularly sweet which is why we tend to feed on it the most.”
There was a silence in the room for several seconds. Cier would probably have described this as an awkward and disturbing quiet time. Mrs. Dylan let out a cough that was of the artificial sort.
“So, Fifty-one, tell me about yourself.”
At first, all I did was blink a couple times. I hadn’t expected that kind of discussion topic. Still, it didn’t seem harmful to satiate some of her curiosity.
“Very well,” I replied, “As I’ve told you before, I am the fifty-first drone of Her Majesty Queen Chrysalis. I like to hover in place, inflict easily healed pain on my subordinates, and assume the form of my hive’s various prisoners. Above all else, duty to my queen comes first. Any personal trifles and false emotions must be dropped where they arise.”
Mrs. Dylan grimaced. She looked rather ill, which was strange since she hadn’t even eaten yet this morning.
“Is that… really how your people operate?” she exhaled in what sounded like disbelief.
“Well, we never claimed to be perfect,” I shrugged, “It was all I had, all I ever knew.”
I broke eye contact and stared at a spot on the floor. I wasn’t sure why I did that. Right then, some unknown sensation forced me to look away from the pony standing in front of me.
“Or at least it was,” I continued, “But then I ended up in this world controlled by the mind of this human named Cier Dylan. Ever since then, I’ve started contracting emotions of my own: guilt, shame, anger, sadness, happiness, and concern. I’ve come to some disturbing conclusions. Maybe the changelings weren’t in the right for any of its actions. We just always did what our queen ordered because it was ‘for the good of the hive’.”
My hoof involuntarily started scraping left to right and back again along the floor.
“More recently, I received a nonchalant message from my brief connection with the hive mind. Queen Chrysalis… said she didn’t have time for me. She didn’t even ask for me to come find her and help. I’m starting to wonder if I have a purpose anymore.”
If I had been looking up, I might have noticed the brief, white glow in Spirit Redeemer’s eyes.
---{Spirit Redeemer’s POV}
“It’s strange,” I muttered as Fifty-one looked back up, “I had only heard about the changelings recently and that was just by a warning of a royal guard passing by my cottage. They sounded like terrible beasts.”
He looked down and away from me again. Was there some suspicion that he now felt was affirmed by what I had just said?
“When I look at you,” I continued, “I see something else. The way you describe how you feel… makes me think that I’m talking to some pony. Some pony that’s feeling alone and rejected.”
“Where are you going with this?” he asked turning his solid blue eyes back to me.
“It pains me to see some pony that’s hurting so much. I…I don’t really know what to do.”
I hesitated, but then I put my hoof forward. Then I took another step… and another.
“But, we’re both strangers in a foreign land,” I felt something more as I kept moving forward, “These may not have been favorable circumstances, but maybe…”
I was right in front of him now. He looked as surprised as I was.
“Maybe we can get through this together. Fifty-one, would you like to be… friends?”
His mouth quivered for a second before holding in a small smile.
“Yes,” he nodded, “that would be… nice. Thank you, Miss Redeemer.”
“Please,” I smiled back, “Call me Spirit.”
Before I knew it, the changeling and I were hugging each other. My mind lost control of the situation almost just as quickly.
---{Arlene’s POV}
“I love you, Mom,” he said in a much healthier sounding voice.
“I love you too, Cier,” I responded. I almost didn’t want to let go of my son. Something urged me and I ended up breaking off anyway.
“Feel better?” I asked.
“Yeah, I do,” he answered, “Thanks.”
It was then that I noticed something off. My, er… Spirit’s hoof moved, no wait. Oh forget it. I moved my hoof involuntarily to point at the spot in question.
“What happened to your eye?” I exclaimed with restraint.
He gasped and reached up his hoof. Slowly, he turned his gaze toward the room’s mirror. He let out another gasp. His eye was no longer solid blue. It looked like it had white, with a blue iris, and a black pupil.
“It happened again,” he muttered.
“Again?” I raised my eyebrow.
“I noticed this earlier,” he responded, “I thought it was just a subconscious shape-shifting, but now it’s happened while I was awake. I don’t know what this means.”
I heard the door opening and I turned to see Terry slowly make his way in. His hands were full trying to balance two cups of coffee, the room key, and what I assumed was a juice bottle. He had a plastic-wrapped pastry in his mouth. His eyes were suddenly locked on Cier. The pastry went falling to the floor and the automatically closing door slammed behind him.
“What happened to your eye?” he exclaimed with restraint.
Cier responded in the most intelligent and well-thought-out way possible.
“I have no idea.”
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