//------------------------------// // Interlude: Silence in the Doo House // Story: Metamorphosis // by Mares Guyver //------------------------------// “When you run with the Doctor, it feels like it’ll never end, But however hard you try, you can’t run forever. Everybody knows that everybody dies, and nobody knows it like the Doctor, But I do think that all the skies of all the worlds might just turn dark if he, for just one moment, accepts it.” Amethyst Star rolled in her bed, her sheets and covers in tumbled disarray as the mare tossed and turned intermittently. Eventually Amethyst paused, her eyes wide open as she laid flat on her back and stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t sleep. During the long walk back to Ponyville and then afterwards to her family’s cottage, bits and pieces of memory from the events in the glen had come back to her, slowly but surely. For the most part they were flashes—impressions of sound, light, and emotion without any context to give them meaning. Dinky and the others sadly hadn’t been able to help clear things up, as there had been too much attention on all of them when their group returned to town and those ponies still awake realized that "'Derpy Hooves' wasn't crazy after all!" And that was before it was finally revealed that the four of them had been attacked by changelings . . . Needless to say, given all of the commotion and hullabaloo of the last few hours, Amethyst and her former charges had been decidedly unable to take time and discuss the full details of what had happened earlier that evening. But bit by bit, she remembered: A gigantic, muscled, horned creature, looming over her while a cluster of changelings watched in the background. An incredible sensation of strength and power as she grappled with the beast, its large forelegs feeling like twigs in her hooves as she stretched them outwards. A sense of floating and the image of glowing white wings . . . followed by a corona of blinding pink light that smashed the monster before her to oblivion. A swath of forest, gouged. A trio of young mares, terrified. Groaning, Amethyst pulled her sheets over her head and rolled to her side, clamping her eyes shut and trying to force the images, smells, and sounds from her mind. Unfortunately her efforts were to no avail, and so with a huff she threw her sheets and comforter back with a quick burst of magic, leaving her body fully exposed to the night air. Shivering at the sudden loss of warmth, Amethyst rolled to her other side and carefully peered over the edge of her bed. On the floor beside Amethyst’s bed, resting on a portable futon with spare sheets, lay Question Mark. Unlike her roommate, the seeming pony was sound asleep, a light smile on her muzzle as she quietly breathed in and out. Despite the cuteness of the sight, Amethyst couldn’t help but frown at the mare’s form. It had been her mother Ditzy who had suggested bringing Question Mark back home with them, once she had met the wayward pony who had followed their group back to Ponyville. Despite both Amethyst and Dinky subtly expressing reservations, Ditzy had seemingly brushed those concerns aside, sweeping the dark-coated mare under her wing and personally guiding her into their house while her daughters trailed behind, trading worried glances. Shaking her head, Amethyst returned her thoughts to the present as she looked down again at the still sleeping form of Question Mark, struggling to find a resolution to all the confusion provided by the other mare. On one hoof, Question Mark bore a striking physical resemblance to a changeling, coincidentally happened to be lost in the Everfree Forest at the same time that other changelings had attacked Dinky and her friends, had a cutie mark and matching “talent” involving insects, and just-so-happened to be unable to both see or talk. The sheer level of coincidence bordered on the absurd . . . which in turn led Amethyst to doubt her own conclusions. After all, what changeling was so stupid as to craft such a clearly obvious disguise? Unless, of course, it was intended to be completely obvious. The whole thing was enough to make one’s head spin. ‘So I may be dealing with either the dumbest or most brilliant changeling ever,’ Amethyst concluded. She smiled despite herself as Question Mark whimpered in her sleep, her forelegs pawing at the air until the mare finally settled back into her silent breathing. ‘Then again, maybe I’m being too cynical. She could really be just another pony, after all. I should take a cue from Mom and just hope for the best.’ [1]  With a slightly lighter heart, Amethyst quietly trotted to the bathroom and poured herself a glass of water. As she was making her way back to her bedroom, the mare paused as she spied a glow coming from downstairs. Her glass floating beside her in an aura of raspberry-red, Amethyst carefully stepped down the stairwell until she could glance through the gap between the ceiling and banister into the living room, where a single lamp was dimly lit. Lying stomach-down on the couch of the living room, head resting on folded forelegs atop the armrest, and features cast in harsh relief of light and shadow, was Ditzy Doo. Though her back was to Amethyst, the younger mare could see her mother was staring intently at the side table on which the single lamp was lit. Or rather, she was staring at another object which also happened to laying on the table: a treasure which Amethyst knew held a high level of meaning to the mailmare. Sitting beneath the lamp, glinting in the soft light, was a glass box on a wooden stand, a small hourglass filled with grains of yellow, grey, tan, and brown hanging suspended on the inside. The sides of the box were edged in strips of bright blue, and the blue-tinted glass itself was etched and inlaid to resemble the paneled and windowed sides of a certain, Trottingham variety of telephone booth. If one looked very carefully, they could even read the frosted lettering which read “PONY BOX” along all four sides. Atop the pyramidal peak of the box was a small, cylindrical projection resembling a lamp, which itself contained a deep blue gem that seemed to glow from the reflected light of the larger lamp above. Amethyst watched as her mother shifted and reached out, gently twisting the cylinder with her hoof, which through a series of joints, cogs, and wheels caused the hourglass within the box to pitch and spin end over end. As the hourglass continued to tumble, Ditzy’s hoof lifted and slowly caressed the sides of the glass box, finally coming to rest on the wooden base of the keepsake. Though the distance made it difficult to see, Amethyst believed she could spy her mother tracing her hoof across a gold plaque embedded in the wooden base—a plaque which Amethyst knew contained a simple, solitary statement: “Time will tell. It always does.” Suddenly feeling very intrusive, Amethyst averted her gaze and began slowly inching her way backwards up the stairs. She would have continued to do so had her ears not suddenly perked up at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Sparkler’s hiding something.” Amethyst’s eyes widened at Ditzy’s brief summation, and leaning down she peaked again through the gap between the ceiling and the banister as she slowly lowered her water glass onto one step. She was puzzled to find though that her mother had not moved, and was continuing to stare at the glass box and spinning hourglass, her head resting on her folded forelegs. “Her and Dinky both,” Ditzy continued. “There’s something they’re not telling me. Probably to spare my feelings or protect me, I’ll bet.” A sigh followed as Amethyst observed her mother again reach out and begin tracing her hoof along the glass box. “They’re so much like you in that way.” Amethyst had to practically bite on her own tongue and a stream of denials nearly emerged from her throat, and she grimaced as she struggled to swallow the feelings of vitriol brought on by that statement. Noting that her mother was continuing to speak, Amethyst shook her head lightly and focused outward on her mother’s words. “They’re strong mares now, our girls are; they’ve grown so much these last few years,” Ditzy stated, and then slumped as another sigh escaped her. “Maybe too strong, if they’re getting themselves involved in the kinds of messes we always seemed to stumble into. I worry about them so . . .” A moment passed as Ditzy continued to rub her hoof softly up and down the sides of the glass case, but then she spoke again with a greater level of vigor and enthusiasm. “Dinky got her cutie mark today! You’d be so proud of her—she got it using a spell she came up with all on her own! Something she said gave her ‘sight beeyoond sight.’” Ditzy giggled lightly at her own drawn-out wording, which Amethyst found curious. Ditzy then tilted her head, turning to look at a shelving unit inset into the wall behind the couch. The shelves were dotted with various framed photos and knick-knacks, and Amethyst followed her mother’s line of sight to one particular item—a rusted, dented toolbox emblazoned with the image of a screwdriver and two interlinked cogs, beneath which were written the initials: T.T.S.S. [2] “I know that you’ve been watching over our Muffin, Tinker . . .” Ditzy remarked, then turned to again face the hourglass. “Both of you have.” Ditzy smiled, then added, “You’d be proud of our Sparkler, too, Doctor. She’s grown so much these last few years. You’d hardly recognize the quiet little filly I brought home with me all those moons ago . . .” The mailmare deflated, sinking further into the sofa as she whispered, “She’s a better mare than I could ever hope to be.” At that statement, Amethyst practically had to shove her own hoof in her mouth to keep from crying out loud. ‘That’s just not true, Mom! You’re so much more than I could ever become . . . stronger and kinder and gentler than I could ever dream of being. Please . . . please don’t say such things about me!” she pleaded silently, but unbidden, Ditzy continued. “Our girls are becoming more than I could have ever hoped for them. Strong and wise and kind and carefree, just as I always wanted. And they’re doing it all on their own . . .” Amethyst’s eyes widened as she noticed her mother’s body start to shake. “B-but, what I nev-never wanted for them . . . was to have . . . the same problems, the same dangers we dealt with. N-not so soon!” Silence settled over the Doo house, broken only by the sound of Ditzy’s labored breathing.   “It was different for me and you,” she finally stated, then gave a glance towards the toolbox. “With you too. I may not be the smartest mare in Equestria, but I knew what I was getting into when I got involved with you both.” An uncharacteristically harsh laugh emerged from Ditzy’s throat, though it also sounded somewhat like a sob. “I guess I’m just drawn to stallions who belong to the world first, and to me a very distant second,” she uttered.  Amethyst noticed that her mother’s body was once again shaking, though this time only growing in intensity, her wings lightly quivering against her sides as the audible sounds of weeping tinkled in the younger mare’s ears. Without warning, a memory made its way to the forefront of Amethyst’s consciousness. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t resist the assault of sounds and images that now played across her closed eyelids. The day when he had left them all behind. The last day of the Doctor . . . *                *                *                *                *                * “. . . so then I told them, ‘Now listen here, I’m the Doctor. I’m a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey and over 900 years old, and if you want to start a war then by all means go ahead. But know that’s the worse choice you could possibly make because I’ll ensure that your little empire experiences a fate far worse than mere destruction alone could ever hope to be.” “And what happened then, Daddy?” The equine Doctor smiled. “Why, they did the only sensible thing! They turned tail and fled as fast as their ion engines could carry them!” “Yay!!” a young Dinky Doo exclaimed, throwing her forelegs into the air and wiggling in her seat. Beside her, a low groan emerged from beneath a tousled violet mane. “Too. Early.” an adolescent Amethyst Star murmured, causing both her younger sister and the stallion across from her to burst into giggles. A similarly light chuckle emerged from the muzzle of Ditzy Doo, though she managed to keep a grip on the tray she carried in her mouth as she ambled over to the kitchen table. Setting the tray down, she removed a steaming mug and maneuvered it just in front of her oldest daughter. A brief inhale of the aroma emerging from the cup seemed to revive the older filly, as she rose and gratefully accepted the mug between her hooves. As Amethyst sipped the heavenly brew, Ditzy softly stroked the back of her daughter’s mane. “My poor Sparkler . . .” Ditzy stated. “Rough night foalsitting Cream Puff, sweetie?” Amethyst paused in her sipping to glance at her mother with one, blood-streaked eye. “The horror . . . the horror . . .” she rasped, drawing fresh snickers from the rest of her family. Though she tried her best to glare at all three of them with unrepentant adolescent rage, Amethyst was betrayed by the smile tugging at the corners of her own mouth, and she eventually let out a quiet laugh herself. After passing out the remaining drinks and muffins, Ditzy sat down beside the Doctor, pausing briefly to give him a peck on the cheek before devouring the savory treat in front of her. As children are often wont to do in the face of parental PDA, both Amethyst and Dinky made light gagging sounds while their mother smiled satisfactorily and the Doctor absently rubbed the side of his muzzle. Eventually the four ponies stopped trying to embarrass each other, and settled into a combination of light conversation, happy consumption of mass quantities, and generally peaceful family togetherness. Dinky cheerfully related the latest goings-on at school and upcoming lessons she was looking forward to, while Amethyst alternated between light teasing of her sister and more subtle signs of interest. In-between, Ditzy shared some the latest gossip from her mail rounds, as well as news and stories she had heard from more distant parts of Equestria. Through it all, the Doctor simply watched the three mares of his life, a distant and somewhat vacant look in his eyes despite the smile on his face. “Dear?” The Doctor shook his head, and then turned to face the concerned, lopsided golden eyes of Ditzy Doo staring at him. “Doctor, are you okay? You’re awfully quiet, and that’s reeeally not like you . . .” Ditzy remarked, an untypical frown on her face. Both Amethyst and Dinky wore similar expressions as they noted their mother’s tone. Glancing between the three ponies and the ground, the Doctor lightly tapped his forehooves together as he gathered his thoughts before finally looking up. “Why, nothing at all! Nope, nadda, no problems here what-so-ever. I’ve just, ah, was thinking about—um—some adjustmenty thingies I need to make to the TARDIS’s temporal flux modulator, yeah. It’s been acting rather . . . squirrely as of late, and I, ah, really need to devote some time to getting it in working order and whatnot. Um, hmm,” the Doctor replied with a cheerful smile and bobbing head, causing Ditzy to raise an eyebrow at the suspicious level of enthusiasm. Amethyst and Dinky merely traded confused looks. [3] “Well . . . don’t work yourself too hard now,” Ditzy finally said, leaning over to give the Doctor a brief nuzzle before returning to her muffin devouring. The Doctor softly rubbed the disturbed fur on his cheek with his hoof, looking at the ground while the other ponies continued their breakfast. Closing his eyes, the Doctor sighed. “Listen, there’s something—” he began, only to be cut off by a sudden *screech* as Ditzy bolted from her chair. “Oooh, look at the time! I’m going to be late for work!” Ditzy exclaimed as she hovered over the table. Leaning down, she gave the Doctor another quick peck on the cheek. “Have a good day with your fixing, dear!” she exclaimed, then glanced over at a bemused Amethyst. “Sparkler-sweetie, would you mind terribly making sure Dinky gets to school?” Amethyst grinned and made a mock salute. “On it, mon capitan,” she intoned with an exaggerated Prench accent, causing her little sister to giggle. Ditzy smiled before dashing out of the kitchen to retrieve her mailmare supplies. Dropping her foreleg, Amethyst glanced at her sister. “Better get a move-on and get yourself cleaned up, squirt—you don’t want to be running late either.” Dinky puffed her cheeks at the use of her least favorite nickname, sticking her tongue out at the older filly and making a * pfftthpth* sound, which the more mature pony easily returned in kind. After a brief competition between the two as to who could make the best Bronco cheer (though they both already knew their mother topped both of them), they stopped and shared a brief sisterly nuzzle before Dinky finally cantered out of the room. Shaking her head, Amethyst traded a wry glance with the Doctor before lighting up her horn and levitating the dirty dishes and silverware from the table to the sink. As she proceeded to fill the basin, she could feel the Doctor’s eyes following her, but clamped down on her tongue to prevent any snide remarks.   “Do you need any help, Sweetie?” the Doctor finally asked. “I’m really quite good with the washys and scrubbies, you know.” Amethyst smiled at her intuition proving correct, then glanced over her shoulder. “I’m okay, Dad, really. How about you go ahead and get started on the TARDIS,” she remarked, and then grinned slyly. “I can tell you’re anxious to get your hooves under her control panel.” “That’s not—! Why does everyone—?! Shut up!” the Doctor exclaimed with rosy cheeks as his daughter whinnied. Adjusting his tie, the stallion mumbled, “No respect for one’s elders, I swear . . .” He then slowly made his way to the back door, still muttering to himself. As he reached the aperture, the Doctor paused, one hoof resting on the door as he glanced behind him. “Amethyst . . .?” he ventured, waiting for the adolescent to face him before continuing. “You know that I . . . care about you. You, your mother, and Dinky, right?” Amethyst smiled. “Of course, Dad. We all love you too . . .” she remarked, her smile taking a more awkward slant as she gazed at the Doctor puzzledly. “You are acting really weird this morning. Are you sure you’re all right?” The Doctor smiled wanly. “Oh, you know me! Madpony in a Blue Box, and all that—can’t tell if I’m upside down, inside out, sideways or byways some days!” he stated cheerfully, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Thankfully, Amethyst didn’t seem to notice as she simply shook her head ruefully at his expressed cheer. Still smiling, Amethyst turned around and again turned her attention to washing the dishes. But as she was doing so, her ear flicked as it picked up a quiet sound drifting from the space behind her. “I don’t want to go.” Amethyst whirled around with mouth open, the “Whu” sound already forming in her throat, but paused when she only saw the back door close with a *click*. Closing her mouth, she frowned and stared at the door with a puzzled expression for a moment, but then turned back around and resumed washing the dishes. It was probably nothing . . . *                *                *                * Later that day, Amethyst, Dinky, and Ditzy waited anxiously around the table for the Doctor to return so that they could start supper, but he never came, and eventually the three were forced to eat without him. They waited again the next day . . . and the day after . . . and then two days after that . . . but the Doctor never returned. Days turned to weeks, weeks changed to months, and eventually, months became years. And though Ditzy continued to display optimistic cheer and Dinky an innocent hope, a quiet coldness settled within the pit of Amethyst’s stomach, for she knew the truth. He had abandoned them. *                *                *                *                *                * As Amethyst’s thoughts returned to the present, her rage from the memory of days past was tempered by the continued sound of sobbing coming from the other side of the wall. ‘How often has she had to do this?’ Amethyst wondered. ‘How many days has Mom had to wait until we’ve fallen asleep so that she can talk like this? How long has that smile she’s always had for both of us during the day been a mask for everything else she’s been feeling?’  Part of her wanted to flee, right then and there. She had already seen and heard too much that she was never meant to experience. Another part of her wanted to respect her mother’s desire for privacy and allow Ditzy the chance to regain some composure, so that she could be the loveable, bubbly mare she always seemed to be by morning. But at the same time, Amethyst knew she couldn’t just leave things like this. ‘Family Rule #7: Never run when you are scared.’ Taking several deep breaths, Amethyst worked to steel her resolve, and then gradually stood up and made her way down the remaining stairs to the first floor. Though Amethyst was no longer trying to move quietly, so distraught was Ditzy that her daughter was practically within hoof’s reach before she heard the creak of floorboards behind her. Whirling around on the couch, Ditzy looked up at Amethyst, who stood a few steps away with an unreadable expression on her face, though her purple eyes were conspicuously lined with red. “O-o-oh!! S-Sparkler-sweetie, what’re you doing up so late?” Ditzy stammered, her golden eyes darting around in individually contrary directions. “Did my light wake you? I’m sorry—I was just . . . cleaning! Yeah, cleaning!” Ditzy rose from the couch, turned, and began fluffing the pillow she had previously been resting on. “The thing about early morning cleaning is, you really get a lot of dust in your eyes,” Ditzy stated, raising a foreleg to rub her face with her fetlock. “I’ll bet, *sniff*, I’ll bet it might even look like I’ve been *sniff* crying, or something. And really, it *sniff*. . . that couldn’t be farther from—!” The older mare stopped as she felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder. Turning around shakily, her eyes briefly met those of her adopted daughter, as Ditzy struggled to decipher the younger mare’s rigid features.   Amethyst herself couldn’t help but note how old her mother looked; how the low light of the room drew out the worn lines of the other mare’s cheeks and forehead, washing out the golden tint of her mane so that it almost seemed snow white. As the younger mare was taking all this in, Ditzy found herself sinking into the depths of the younger pony’s purple gaze, and so transfixed was the she that Ditzy didn’t notice her daughter lean forward, reach out with both forelegs, and wrap them softly around her neck. The mailmare’s eyes widened as her head was gently pulled forward until it rested beside her daughter’s head atop her shoulder. Gradually, Ditzy began to feel a hoof running through her flaxen mane, and she realized this wasn’t the embrace of a filly seeking comfort or reassurance. Quite the opposite, in fact. “Amethyst . . .?” Ditzy murmured weakly, her eyes again growing moist as the raw feelings she had hastily buried welled up again. Her daughter didn’t reply at first, continuing to stroking Ditzy’s mane, just as Ditzy herself had done for both her daughters over the years. Eventually, Amethyst finally spoke. “I miss him too, Mom.” “Everybody knows that everybody dies . . . but not every day. Not. Today.” [4] Deep within the Everfree Forest, in a clearing bordered by a rocky outcropping where a defiant changeling had made his last stand, the scars of his sacrifice continued to mar the immediate landscape. Even so, the Everfree was resilient, and though only a few hours had passed, already grass was regrowing, scorch marks on rock fading, and various nocturnal animals emerging to forage from the clearing despite it still bearing the faint odor of smoke and changeling miasma. Likely within another day, all signs of the recent explosion would have been consumed by the woods, wiped clean and buried within the long memory of the wooded terrain. The Everfree endures. But just as change in the Everfree is rapidly forgotten as the land reclaims itself, so too are other changes equally quick to appear. Within the clearing, animals paused in their feeding and gathering to look up, their small ears twirling and noses twitching as senses far more acute than any pony’s perceived a sudden wrongness in the clearing. At some hidden signal, they scattered, fleeing into the air, beneath the ground, or up to the safety of tree limbs and branches at the clearing’s edge until once again the grassy area was still and silent. That is, until a light wind began to blow, swirling around the glade with rising force as leaves and scattered bits of debris were sent airborne. The air crackled, arcs of static electricity dancing between rocks, branches, and soil. All at once a new, alien sound emerged; quietly at first, but resonating with increasing strength and urgency:   *VWORP* “Some days are special,” *VWORP* “Some days are so, so blessed,” *VWORP* “Some days, nobody dies at all.” *VWORP* As the wheezing, groaning whine continued to reverberate along the tree-line, a strange sight slowly resolved into being. Flickering in and out of view, but with increasing levels of solidity, was a tall, rectangular, blue box. A cylindrical lamp at the top of the box glowed blue in time with the wheezing groan, finally fading away as the noise ceased and the box assumed total opacity. Now fully visible, a door inset into one side of the box swung inwards, revealing blinding light and steaming mist which slowly rolled out into the clearing. Minutes passed, but then, from within the obscured depths of the box, a light-colored foreleg emerged, and gingerly stepped onto the dew-covered ground.     “Now and then, every once in a very long while, Every day in a million days when the wind stands fair and the Doctor comes to call, Everybody lives.”                 ~ Diary of River Song, “Forest of the Dead” Doctor Who END INTERLUDE