Being Silver Script wasn’t all that bad. I got a lot of extra attention, life was good, and even when I was a bit uninspired, I could always count on my friends to help me. Or cider.
Boy,I have recently became addicted to cider; the single most delicious beverage I have ever tasted. I’ve tasted martinis, whiskeys, wines, but cider! It’s simply the best!
But this isn’t heaven, and so it has it’s downsides as well. Business has been getting a bit rough, and even though I offered more of the income to my colleagues, my actors, I’m close to being broke. And to add to the trouble: my dear queen decided to invade Canterlot. There was some sissy royal wedding I couldn’t care less about, and my queen decided to sabotage it. It was over in one day, but I was almost crushed by the huge pink shield, that blew my brothers away. My only luck was that I locked myself in my apartment; even then I was almost squished, and my body left a pretty noticeable mark on the wall.
Seems like it hasn’t affected my true business though; fate has again decided to favor me with other ponies, Migraine has sent me yet another proposal. I’ve got an offer from some pony named Royal Riff too, that he would like to employ my actors for his musicals. His only condition was that he didn’t really need a director for it. He was pretty straightforward, so I didn’t hold his condition against him, but back then I said no. Maybe I’ll look him up, and accept his offer; my friends would be better off, and so would I.
The changeling approached the huge building of the district mayor; Migraine mysteriously said that she would know who she’s looking for when she got there. He said her newest client could be noticed immediately upon entering the building.
Amnesia let out a sigh; Migraine was sweet for trying to spice up her life, but it was becoming ridiculous. A job was a job, not a stupid game. And of course, she was thinking during her walk there: why would a receptionist want to throw her life away.
She entered the building, and before she could have even looked around, she immediately noticed a painting. A huge, imposing painting, hanging above the reception desk, picturing an elderly gray mare, holding a scroll in one hoof, and a quill in her other. Under the painting there was a small brass plate, on it the name of the painter was engraved, and a message, thanking the services of some Milady Prosper. Then everything clicked into place for the changeling: she was looking for the district mayor.
“Oh boy,” she whispered. “Talk about high expectations.”
The changeling was sitting at a café, sipping some hot chocolate, thinking about her life. She thought being Giselle was tough; being a model, acting perfect and all. But this mare was something bigger; if somepony decided to give her a painting that big out of pure gratitude, things were becoming serious. Plus, with the recent changeling invasion, one small slip could cost her more than just a job.
She let out a sigh; she had been sitting there sighing for more than an hour now. Amnesia was uncertain of what to do. On one hoof, she needed the money; she could get more for this job than for any of her previous ones. She was well fed with love lately, but after a while that could be a problem too. Only by getting a fireproof life could she ever hope to survive on a long term scale.
And this life seemed as fireproof, as a house built on an active volcano.
Although, she thought Maybe I should speak with her. Who knows? Maybe it’s not that hard being a mayor.
She looked up at the cafe’s window, just to see a reflection of her disguise; she was wearing her usual pink pegasus ‘outfit’.
After all, she’s just another pony.
Amnesia went back into the reception hall, to face the painting again. This time however, it didn’t bother her, and she walked directly to the receptionist’s desk. Behind it sat a young mare, reading a magazine. The changeling let out a small cough.
“How may I help you?” she asked.
“I’d like to ask when Mayor Milady Prosper can be visited?” she replied with a charming smile.
“If you’d like I could ask her right now,” she stood up. “Why would you like to see her?”
“It’s private,” Amnesia said with a sheepish smile.
“All, right, I’ll ask her.”
She turned around and left Amnesia alone with the painting. Being alone, she couldn’t avoid looking at it. If she takes this job, it’ll be her face on that wall; Milady Prosper’s responsibilities would become hers, adding to the long list of responsibilities of being a changeling. For the first time ever the question of why should she become her client was way heavier than why said client would throw it all away.
“She’ll see you right away!” the receptionist said, startling Amnesia. The changeling never noticed her return. “It’s the last door in that corridor. You can’t miss it!”
“Thank you,” she replied, heading in the direction of her possible future life.
The corridor was empty; walking down it, she could see no reason to become the mayor in the first place. Love didn’t seem to just fall out of the sky, like in Giselle’s case, and friends visiting the mayor during daytime seemed pretty far fetched. And if the mayor had foals, which Amnesia hoped she didn’t, then it would be definitely a no-deal.
She approached the entrance of the mayors office in total silence. The huge dark double-doors looked so heavy, the changeling was actually wondering when their hinges would give away, so they could crush her. She shyly raised a hoof, and gently knocked on the door.
“Come in please!” a gentle voice answered her knock.
She entered, and saw the mare from the painting; an old lady; her coat grey, her mane a fading shade of dark purple with some grey tufts, her eyes light green. She was wearing glasses, which made her look all the more proper. She closed the door, and took a seat on the chair in front of her desk.
“I’ve heard you’ve been looking for me,” Amnesia began.
“I’ve heard my dear receptionist tell me the same about you,” she jested with a smile. “I guess you are the famous changeling, Amnesia.”
“I hope I’m not famous,” she replied, her eye twitching a little at the fact she knew her real name. “I’m the one usually stalking my clients, not the other way around. How did you find out?”
“I know Migraine better than the back of my hoof,” the mare answered. “And he knows me just as much too. He knows I’m trustworthy; after all, I entrusted my worst secrets to him.”
“And now you want to get rid of every secret.”
“Yes,” she replied, taking off her glasses. “I’ve lived far too long; seen too many friends pass away. But my ponies need me; I need to attend some small event every week, and they are the ones asking me to be there. But I’m old, and I wish to mourn for the friends I’ve lost. I wish to just let go of myself, and cry on their graves. Do you know, what it’s like to truly lose a friend?”
The changeling shook her head.
“It’s sad. But what’s worse, is when you cry, and ponies assume the worst. I attended to the funeral of many old friends, and many new ones too. Accidents happen, and I blame nopony for that. But in my position, I can’t let them see me cry. I can’t show them that the pony responsible for managing their daily lives is a weak old mare. So I beg of you: please help us. Keep their spirits up, until I disappear; try to find a replacement.”
Amnesia looked at her hooves. She wasn’t the leading type; she always followed others, or separated herself from them. Leading wasn’t in her life ever. But a set of skills like that could come in handy later, and Milady Prosper assured her that there was food in it for her. Life as a mayor maybe wasn’t so bad.
“I accept your offer,” the changeling finally said.
After I stole her life, I made sure she was taken care of by the best. I only realized it too late, why she really wanted to forget her past; she lost her husband and son; both nearly a month ago. I remembered being her on their funeral; all those eyes watching her, trying to take a peek under her mask. And she never could drop a single tear; she could never show any sign of weakness, because they needed her to show strength.
I walk into that hall, look at the painting everyday, and feel the crushing weight of her responsibilities on my shoulders. I thought Giselle was strong before; but I could easily become her. Milady Prosper was another case.
I can only walk in her shadow, mimicking her.