Oh the Humanity
Tomorrow was Bon Bon’s birthday. Naturally, Pinkie Pie had already planned a party, and naturally, everypony was invited. There were sure to be lots of fantastic gifts, and everypony would have a good time.
Yeah.
Lyra sat dejectedly on the couch in her apartment. She wanted to get Bon Bon the best gift at the party, but what would that be? Something that could be interpreted as “I want to be with you,” on one hoof, or, if that wasn’t Bon Bon’s thing, “This is really useful/tasty/pleasing to the eye; I can’t believe you got it for me.” But what?
Lyra’d thought about it for what seemed like days, and hadn’t come up with something. It couldn’t be too expensive, but couldn’t be cheap, either. Candy was out, obviously; Lyra’s skills at candymaking were—well, about the same as Bon Bon’s magical unicorn skills, which is to say, nonexistent.
She had thought of composing a song, or at least re-writing lyrics to a song, or maybe just playing a song on her lyre, but the only song that kept coming to the forefront of her mind was “I want to mate with you like an animal” by the Nine Inch Horseshoenails, and that didn’t seem appropriate. Certainly not for a public birthday party.
Sighing, Lyra decided that seeking inspiration from a living room whose décor was mostly old newspapers and empty juiceboxes was a lost cause, she decided to take a walk.
She started by walking around towards the library. There was a chance it was open, and perhaps there would be a book there that would inspire her. As she got closer, she began trotting, and had to remind herself to slow down. But, as she came around the front door, she was disappointed, as usual. The door was closed, and the notice about having to see the mayor for a key was still posted. I wish we could just get a librarian, she mused. Ponyville’s big enough now, we have a school and everything. Dejected, she made her way towards Carousel Boutique.
Rarity looked up as she peered in, levitating bits of fabric here and there around a defenseless clothes horse. “One moment, darling, I’m in the middle of a most inspired line of clothing.”
A moment turned to several, but finally Rarity turned, the blue shimmer of her magic fading off. Lyra had to admit, the dress did look good, although perhaps a little garish to her eye. “What can I do for you, Lyra? Are you looking for the perfect little ensemble for the party tomorrow? I have just the thing….”
Lyra raised a hoof. “I, um, I don’t know what I’m looking for. I guess, not really something for me, you know?”
Rarity smiled. “Oh, I see.” She frowned. “Perhaps you could share with me just a little more detail? Maybe who it would be for?”
Lyra’s face reddened. “Well, I think, um, I think, you know, maybe clothes aren’t the thing for a first date. Not that we’re dating. I mean, not that I’ve asked.”
“I see.” Rarity looked puzzled. “Well, perhaps you could get some treats? Like chocolates, or something?” At the expression on Lyra’s face, Rarity grinned. “Perhaps some Bon Bons? I hear they’re particularly…satisfying.” Lyra’s face turned an interesting shade of pink, but Rarity pretended not to notice. “Oh, or you could get flowers. There’s many a pony who likes nothing better than an attractive, pleasant-smelling flower, with smooth petals—“
“Flowers!” Lyra cut off Rarity before she could work another double entendre into her gift ideas, and ran out the store, muttering “Sometimes a flower is just a flower,” over and over. Rarity shook her head, and got back to the fiddly business of dress design.
* * *
Daisy shook her head. “No, Lyra, these are all the flowers we have for sale. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. There are no others. There is not a secret depository of flowers out back, and if there was, you still couldn’t see it.”
“Yeah,” Lily chimed in. “There isn’t a special room full of special flowers. Not at all.”
One of the display shelves swung open. Daisy and Lily looked at it awkwardly, although its significance didn’t seem to register on Lyra’s face. Roseluck came through, holding a small bag of shredded green leaves. She spotted Lyra and casually, if slightly hastily, stuffed it into her mane and slammed the display shelf shut so quickly that all the glassware on it rattled. “Oh, hi Lyra, I didn’t know you were here.” She glared at Lily and Daisy. “Nopony said you were here.”
“Yougottahelpme,” Lyra said, kneeling in front of the mare. “Those two say you haven’t got any other flowers or anything, and I need to find the perfect flower, and you just haven’t got it.”
Rose stuck her nose up in the air. “We have the finest flowers in all of Ponyville,” she said. “Each one of them carefully raised from bulb or bud or whatever, using the most accomplished Earth Pony magic.” She looked down at Lyra. “If we don’t got it, nopony’s got it.”
“You could always try the Everfree Forest. Flowers grow there all on their own. Ooooh.” Lily waved her hooves around to illustrate her point.
“Yeah, and maybe you could see if Zecora has a ‘special’ flower for you.” Daisy mimicked Lily’s hoof-waving, and then the two burst into giggles.
“Girls, really.” Rose gave them a stern look, the looked back down at Lyra. “I must agree with them, to a point. Perhaps a wildflower is more what you are seeking, rather than a cultivated flower. There’s a certain hardiness that wildflowers often have that cultivars lack. A kind of feral ruggedness.” She licked her lips. “But do be careful if you go into the Everfree. Don’t go in too far. Know your way out. There really are monsters in there; it isn’t an old mare’s tale.”
“Okthanksseeyoubye.” Lyra ran out the door. Rose looked over at the other two girls, who were still giggling.
“Lyra’s got a special somepony,” Daisy said quietly.
“Ooh, I bet it’s Caramel,” Lily suggested.
“Oh please, I bet she’s got her eyes on Big Macintosh.” Daisy hugged herself. “Oh, I’d love to run my tongue across—“
“GIRLS!” Rose gave them a death stare. “Let’s be mature. Our customer’s private business is their own.” She pulled the small bag out of her mane. “Anyway, there’s no way she’d go for an earth pony. Bet it’s Thunderlane. Now,” she set the bag down on the table, “who wants to make tea?”
* * *
Lyra trotted into the Everfree Forest, looking around her with a mix of optimism and fear. There were all sorts of plants that looked unfamiliar, and it was kind of creepy. She didn’t like the way that the sun didn’t seem to reach all the way to the floor.
She had almost decided to turn around when she came across a small clearing, filled with blue flowers. They reminded her of the color of Bon Bon’s eyes, and they looked splendidly exotic. She hadn’t ever seen anything quite like them.
Grateful that she had remembered to wear her saddlebags, she levitated a bunch of them, looking carefully at each one for perfection. Once her saddlebags were full, she turned and cautiously made her way out of the forest.
* * *
Sitting back in her apartment, turned each one in front of her nose, searching for the very best of the best. She had gotten a nice vase to put them all in, and finally picked the dozen most perfect blooms. Their scent was intoxicating; she had opened her balcony doors to help waft the perfume out. She looked up at the mare in the moon and smiled. Legends told of the ever-changeable Luna being the alicorn of love, and she decided it wouldn’t hurt to offer a small token. She took one of the flowers out onto the balcony, and looked up at the full moon. Gazing upon it, she tried to think of the right words to say, but could come up with nothing. She sighed.
As she was setting the flower back down, she remembered she had forgotten something important. Sure the flowers looked nice, and they smelled nice, but, she hadn’t tried the ultimate test.
She gently tore a petal off one of the flowers and brought it to her lips. With a deep breath, she put it in her mouth, and rested it on her tongue, trying to tease out the nuances of its flavor. She smiled; she had worried for nothing. This was undoubtedly the best flower she had ever tasted. She ate the whole thing.
With one last look at the moon, she closed the balcony doors and walked to her bedroom. Tomorrow would be perfect. As she drifted off to sleep, she imagined Bon Bon’s happy expression. Perhaps she would even get a hug.
Lyra’s sleep was fitful. She kept waking, or thinking she had. Her dreams were strange, and, in one case, slightly disturbing. That one, she couldn’t remember specifically, but she woke up in a cold sweat, and thought her horn was missing. A quick check with her hoof revealed that it was, in fact, still firmly anchored to her skull. She rolled over and fell back asleep.
She woke up with the sun streaming across her face. She hurt all over, as if her bed had suddenly rebelled against her and turned hard where it should be soft, and vice-versa. Besides that, she was freezing cold, and her mouth was dry.
She tried to pull her blankets back over herself, but try as she might, they didn’t move. Muttering curses against rebellious blankets, she tried to move her hooves around to move them manually, but the first touch of hoof to blanket brought about strange sensations of softness and an almost tickling pain. She wondered at first if a limb had fallen asleep, and then if she had somehow lost a shoe in the night.
She opened her eyes, squinting against the sunlight, and saw a pink thing wiggling about on top of her blanket. She shrieked, trying to pull away from it—whatever it was—and wound up falling out of bed, and the pink thing followed her, smacking her across the chest. She wound up tangled in her sheets and blanket on the floor, struggling to get free, with a body that no longer seemed to obey her. She twisted and turned, trying to get to her hooves, but it wasn’t working right, somehow. Lyra thought about the time she’d drunk too much of Berry’s special punch, and shivered. That had been a morning not unlike this one.
She allowed herself a moment of introspection, and a chance to catch her breath. She was half-awake, nothing in her body seemed to be working like it was supposed to, and there was a strange pink thing sitting on her chest. Either she was hallucinating, or she was still dreaming, or this was really happening. Regardless of the possibilities, it seemed like a good idea to keep panicking, so she did.
Eventually, she managed to win her fight with the covers. Somehow she wiggled out of them, more through persistence than actual skill, and now lay on her bedroom floor, trying to get to her hooves.
The problem was, she didn’t have hooves anymore. They had been replaced by appendages that looked much like a diamond dog’s. The moments of what she hoped wasn’t lucidity had revealed that she was now a pale pink color, with a few thick patches of pale blue fur but mostly it was sparse. Her horn was gone, and her mane was roughly the same color as her fur. She had tried getting to her hooves, or whatever these new things were, but it felt very awkward and since they were different lengths, it stuck her flank high in the air, and her neck had gotten somehow smaller and less flexible, so she couldn’t see properly like that.
Oh Celestia, I somehow turned into a Diamond Dog. She ran her forehoof over her skin. A Diamond Dog with mange. This was a dream. This had to be a dream. A bad, bad dream. The only solution to dreams like this was to curl up under something strong, and try to forget it had ever happened. So, that’s what she did. She crawled under her bed awkwardly, tugging the blanket after her, and tried to wrap up in it as best she could. As she drifted back to sleep, she thought, I can’t even curl up in a terrified little ball properly.
Lyra sat up in a cold sweat. I had the most horrible dream—and crashed into the underside of her bed. Eyes wide, she looked down and her new misshapen body.
“No, no, no, no, no.” She punctuated each word with banging her head on the floor of her bedroom. “This can’t be real. This can’t be.” The only result of her self-abuse was a sore head. Sighing, she dragged herself out from under the bed.
She rolled on her side and began to examine her new body, to see if she could figure out how it worked, trying to remember what she could about Diamond Dogs. At least a faint outline of her cutie mark was still visible in the sparse fur on her flanks; that was a touchstone of sanity there. She had heard stories of mature ponies who had somehow lost their cutie marks, and they had all ended badly, with insanity in the milder cases, and suicide in the rest. As worried as she was about this new situation, it could be put right, somehow, and she was still Lyra Heartstrings. Her cutie mark proved it.
Suddenly, she shivered, and not from the lack of warmth her missing fur failed to provide. Tonight was Bon Bon’s birthday party, and she clearly couldn’t go if she was a monster. She needed help, and quickly.
Her thoughts racing, she started to make a mental list of her priorities. First, she would need to ask somepony to help her. That suggested that she would have to leave her apartment. In order to leave her apartment, she would have to move more efficiently than a terrified crawl. Diamond Dogs, she knew, moved about on their hind legs, so she would have to do that.
With the help of her bed, she was able to pull herself to her hooves. No, they’re called feet, she thought. Diamond Dogs don’t have hooves. They have feet and hands, and arms and legs. I’m so glad we had a xenobiology class in school. Her feet were quite sensitive, much more so then her hooves had ever been, and it felt very odd to be putting her weight on them.
It was also uncomfortable to be standing this tall. She had bent her neck and back so that she didn’t hit her head on the ceiling, which was uncomfortably low. For a moment, she thought that she should sit back down and think this over some more, but decided that if she did, she wouldn’t want to get back up again, and then she would never get anything done.
Instead, she tried to think of what unicorns in Ponyville might help her. There weren’t all that many unicorns, although the numbers were increasing slowly. There certainly weren’t as many skilled practitioners of magic here as in Canterlot or Manehattan. Rarity was probably her best bet.
She struggled out of her bedroom and faced her next challenge in the stairs leading down. What was simple as a pony was no longer easy. Finally, swallowing her pride, she sat down, and scootched down the stairs one at a time on her bottom. As she descended, she made the interesting discovery, previously unnoticed, that she could move the appendages around at the ends of her hand and feet. It seemed quite useful, and she remembered that Diamond Dogs could carry things in their hands without magic. She hadn’t quite understood how until just now, as she flexed a hand experimentally, opening and closing it, and wiggling her fingers tentatively. It was a fascinating thing, in its own right, but it seemed a lot more fragile than a hoof, and not nearly as useful as magic.