Before going undercover, becoming somepony else didn't require that the changeling stay keep away from that which they had taken the form of, but staying incognito meant the changeling had to keep a watch out for himself, or at least the pony whose identity he had stolen. Since there were no mirrors lying around, the changeling could only base his look off of the color. Luckily, it seemed unique: a very light aquamarine.
As a changeling colors were one of the most important things to discern between, considering that a slight change in the tint of a mane or coat could ruin the whole disguise. Changing from one form to the next not only meant copying physical features, but knowing exactly which colors to use, which meant having an eye for colors. Scanning the area, the changeling confirmed that light aquamarine wasn't a common color among the ponies, being the only one who seemed to have the color. While it made it easier for him to spot his duplicate, he stuck out like a sore hoof in the center of the town, and attention was the last thing he wanted.
Ponies bustled to and fro around him, moving along with whatever business they had at whatever speed it took them to get there punctually. Some of them were cantering, and some of them were trotting slowly. More times than not, the cantering ones bumped into the others. Every once in a while a pony or two would bump into the changeling, to which they'd mutter a short apology and move on while the changeling stood trotted on silently. He didn't know who was familiar with his pony form, and speaking with the wrong voice could ruin his disguise.
The chatter of ponies flowed through the air, being jumbled up into an incoherent mix on the way and becoming nothing but noise. Sometimes a pony would yelp or call out from across the square, and their words would be audible and clear, but those were the only instances. From the side, the changeling heard a pony calling out to his friend across the center square, his voice elevating over the noise of the others for three short yells, before uniting with his friend and moving along. From behind, the changeling heard one word being repeated over and over again. It didn't sound like any word he was familiar with.
Without thinking, the changeling quickened his pace. He didn't have any doubts that the word was a name, and whether it was his name or not didn't matter, it was better to be safe. The shouting came closer, and the voice became louder. It felt as though the voice was following the changeling, and there was no room to take risks. He shifted out of a trot and into a slow canter, avoiding unnecessary attention from moving too fast, but the voice continued to follow.
"Lyra!"
An open road was only a couple meters away. Within a few seconds the changeling could break into a gallop and find a hiding place. Although he was anxious to reach the road away from the crowds of ponies, he disciplined himself to maintain his slow canter. There was a chance that the shouting pony wasn't looking for the pony he copied, but it was certain that galloping would draw attention.
With a few more steps, the changeling exited the arc where the crowd of ponies met the open road. Finally free from the stray eyes of strangers, the changeling took a long step forward, transitioning into a gallop. A hoof fell on his back.
His heart skipped a beat, convinced that he had been found out. He secretly reprimanded himself for doing something wrong with the copying, whether it be the cutie mark or the eye color. Those were the two most commonly missed qualities of copied ponies, and as a changeling that was trying to stay incognito wouldn't get very far if he couldn't even get the details right. Realizing that all hope was lost anyway, as running away would only instigate a chase and more attention, he turned to face the owner of the hoof.
A cream colored pony stood behind him, panting as she looked up into the eyes of the changeling. Her mouth hung open, ready to speak words but unable to between the gasps of breath. Many of the ponies were staring at her, and rightly so, as she had just galloped through the crowds to catch up to the changeling. Taking a deep breath, the pony finally spoke.
"Lyra, I've been looking for you all over! Funny story really. I was cleaning up the living room and I found your little bag of extra strings, so you don't have to go get new ones." Her face broke out into a wide smile, her eyes pleading for gratitude.
The changeling stared back at the pony. Her mane was of two different colors, one strand was a dark blue that fell next to her face, beginning and ending in a curl, while the other strand was pink that ended before it could come down. Her tail was almost the same, with a pink strand sandwiched in between two dark blue strands, creating a flowing tail that ended in curls, making it look like a waterfall. The changeling blinked, unsure of what response he was supposed to give, whether it be a nod or a shake of the head. Speaking was off limits, as any change in voice would need an explanation, and any explanation could lead to more explanations.
"Well, I found your spare strings so you can come back to the house now. Isn't that great?"
This was a question the changeling could answer. Even in the changeling colonies, asking a question that started with "isn't that" usually sought out agreement. Although he had no idea to what strings the pony was referring to, the changeling nodded his head, hoping that this was one of the times that agreement was being sought.
"Well, I guess that means we can go back home now. It's almost time for lunch anyway. Anything specific you have in mind?" asked the pony.
The changeling shook his head, even though his stomach growled at the word "lunch". It had been a while since he had had any love to feed on.
"Well then I guess we should just head home then. I'll make us some lunch, apples and some freshly squeezed orange juice."
The pony stared at the changeling, waiting for some definite, expected response. All she received was a blank stare.
"Lyra, you hate orange juice. Is something wrong with you?"
The changeling looked away for a second, small beads of sweat forming on his forehead. It was clear to him that he was this "Lyra" that the pony kept speaking of. He considered galloping away, unable to answer the question. She obviously expected a verbal answer, and a shake of the head wouldn't do anymore. Before he could decide whether to gallop away or stand still with a nervous look in his eyes, the cream-colored pony spoke.
"Are you sick? Is that why you aren't saying anything?"
Had he lacked any more self-discipline, the changeling would have let out a sigh of relief. He promptly nodded his head, knowing that she would explain the rest for herself.
"Oh, I see. You've come down with a bad case of maryngitis, haven't you? That's alright, I know just the drink that will help cure you. Come on, let's go home."
Without another word, the pony turned and trotted back into the crowds of ponies, the changeling following her. They trotted for a short while, coming out on the other side of the central square and going down a road. After traveling down the road for a minute or so, the pony stopped in front of a house and turned toward it. It looked like every other house on the street: a pale, yellow, timber frame with a thatched roof and an overhanging top floor. The changeling, or his new form "Lyra", trotted into the home behind the pony.
Inside was something that the changeling had never seen before, a living room. A long, flat, colorful blanket covered the floor, small bristles protruding from it to make it soft. Patterns were drawn on the blanket, and it took up nearly the all of the room's floor. Nearby was a structure with two flat pieces of carved wood attached to each other in ninety-degree angles so that one went vertically upward and one came horizontally outward. The whole structure was supported by four straight legs. There were multiple contraptions that mirrored that one throughout the entire room, and as the changeling looked around he saw paintings hanging from the wall and vases placed on structures that were like the other ones, but lacked the vertical board. They were simply a board placed on top of four wooden legs.
Most of it was new to the changeling, having lived his entire life within the confines of the desolate wasteland he used to call home, rarely getting away from it. Before he had a chance to observe everything, the pony led him into another room, with a horizontal board contraption in the center and multiple vertical board contraptions surrounding it. There was a small plant resting in the middle of the horizontal board contraption, which seemed to be made exclusively for setting things on.
"Have a seat in one of the chairs, I'll prepare you something special to help clear your throat up."
The changeling looked at one of the vertically backed wooden constructions, labeling them as a "chair". He trotted over to one, setting himself comfortably on the chair and looking around at the room. There were a couple boxes that were connected to the roof, all of them with a small board attached to their outsides and a small handle attached to that. Looking behind himself, the changeling spotted a picture. It was of the pony whose identity he had stolen, and the pony that moved around the room finding different ingredients and wooden tools, occasionally pulling a box out of the wooden structure that lined the wall of the room. Underneath the photo were the words "Lyra and Bon Bon".
From what he had collected, the changeling assumed that he was playing the role of "Lyra", and that the pony who had swept him off the streets was "Bon Bon". Looking at his pony form in the picture, he noticed his mane cut and color, marking them off as things to look for when avoiding his duplicate. However, the picture was taken behind the ponies as they stared into the sunset, leaving the front of his form a mystery.
"Can you take the plant off of the table and put it by the window? It hasn't seen sunlight for a long time."
One word stood out among the others to the changeling. "Table" was new, and since the plant was on the horizontal board with legs, it seemed obvious that it was called a "table". The changeling removed the plant from the table and trotted over to a nearby window. Placing the plant on the window sill, he heard Bon Bon's voice again.
"And could you grab a vase from the living room and put it on the table as a centerpiece, and pick one of the prettier ones, the table needs to look nice."
With each sentence spoken, the changeling's vocabulary grew. He trotted into the room he had come from, mentally labeling it as the "living room". Looking at all the vases, he could not decide what a "pretty one" was. There was nothing aesthetically pleasing to him about any of them. He picked the most colorful one, grabbing it in his mouth and retreating back into the room where Bon Bon was. He placed the vase on the table, pushing it into the center with his nose while Bon Bon giggled.
"Decided that you're too good for magic now, have we?"
The changeling lifted a hoof and felt the top of his head, and sure enough there was a horn protruding from it. Wondering how he hadn't figured it out earlier, the changeling tested his unicorn horn, lifting up stray objects from his seat at the table while Bon Bon slaved away with her concoction. A horn was not as noticeable as he thought, and having previously been an earth pony he wasn't readily using magic. The picture had been of no help either, and there were no indicators that would specifically point out the horn to him. However, a unicorn horn was a valuable asset, allowing him to perform spells that he couldn't do as a changeling.
As he was levitating the objects, he noticed a small device that sat on a table, but not a normal table, one that connected with the wall and ran along the wall for a short distance. Ingredients covered the long table more and more as Bon Bon continued her work.
The device was small and a light brown, with a delicately carved wooden shape that was curved at the bottom and slowly indented until it reached the top, where it curled into a small ball. Connecting the two sides of the device was a small bar, creating an empty space inside the wooden structure. Thin, silver strings attached to the small bar and to the other end of the device. However, there seemed to be more space carved than was needed for the strings, as a slice of space to the side of the device was completely empty, as if there was supposed to be another string there.
Levitating the small instrument into the air, the changeling turned it around and around, observing it from all sides. What it was supposed to do was a complete mystery to him.
"Alright, it's finished!"
Bon Bon turned to the table and set a glass cup in front of the changeling, causing him to quickly drop the device out of the air. He looked at the drink that had been placed in front of him. It was an opaque, greenish color. The changeling stared at the cup for a few seconds, observing small beads of water forming on the cold glass.
"It's a family recipe, gets rid of maryngitis faster than you can imagine. Go on, try it, don't let the color discourage you," said Bon Bon, pushing the glass cup closer to the changeling.
Staring at the drink, the changeling felt his heart rate speed up and his forehead mimic the glass of the cup, slowly forming beads of water. Realizing that he had no other choice but to drink it or get rid of it, the changeling took a chance. Dramatically pointing behind Bon Bon with his mouth wide open, the changeling widened his eyes.
Bon Bon turned around, looking for whatever had caused the changeling to act as he did. Without thinking, the changeling lifted the cup into the air, poured all of the liquid into the vase on the table, and brought the cup to his lips, pretending to finish the drink. As Bon Bon turned back around, realizing that nothing had happened and nothing was behind her, she looked at the changeling skeptically, the empty cup levitating close to his lips
"Did you just drink all that?" she asked, only to be answered by another nod of the head. She sighed and took the cup from the changeling.
Knowing that she'd eventually find the drink in the vase, the changeling waited for her to turn completely around before levitating the vase over to the flowers, dumping the drink into the soil of the plant, and placing the vase back onto the table. He watched as Bon Bon went to prepare more food.
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Bon Bon wasn't the best chef, but she wasn't the worst either. Most of her recipes were "family recipes", and usually that meant something her grandma had scribbled down on a piece of paper many years ago. Her grandma had been a terrific chef, especially of pastries and sweets, but her writing was just about illegible. Following the recipes meant risking misreading an ingredient and creating an awful dish. Bon Bon usually stuck to the more common, easier foods to make, unless it was a candy. Her cutie mark didn't lie, and anything sweet was her specialty, but sweets were not lunch food.
Taking two slices of bread, she pressed some fresh daises onto one slice and put the other slice on top of it, creating the simplest, yet most delicious, lunchtime meal of all time. She made four sandwiches, placing them onto a plate and carrying them over to the table where Lyra sat quietly, her voice still suffering from maryngitis. Bon Bon assumed that her drink had no effect, and was made incorrectly.
She set the plate on the table, taking one sandwich off of it and pushing the rest toward Lyra, who eyed them skeptically. Bon Bon took a bite out of her sandwich, staring at Lyra while she levitated a sandwich into the air and brought it near her face. Although Bon Bon knew Lyra could be odd at times, she was reaching new heights as she carefully examined the sandwich.
Going in for another bite, Bon Bon closed her eyes and savored the delicious flavors of fresh daisies. Upon opening them, she looked at Lyra. The sandwich was gone.
"Did you just eat that entire sandwich that fast?" asked Bon Bon. Lyra nodded, like she had been doing the entire time. Although Bon Bon knew she couldn't help it, the silent answers were slowly getting on her nerves.
"You must be hungry," said Bon Bon, taking another bite out of her own sandwich.
For the rest of the lunch, Lyra sat quietly in her seat, refusing to eat any more sandwiches. After a few minutes, Bon Bon had eaten the other two sandwiches while Lyra watched, neither of them saying a word. Her eyes occasionally drifting off and looking somewhere else before positioning themselves back where they had been before.
At the end of the meal, when the plate was clean, Lyra's horn glowed, and she levitated her lyre into the air. Bon Bon watched as she played around with it in the air, probably checking to see how she was going to fix the broken string. Earlier that day one of the strings had snapped, and the replacements that Lyra kept in a small bag were nowhere to be found. They were extremely hard to find and purchase, but Bon Bon found them just as Lyra left in search of some new ones, saving her from a long trip around the area and maybe even other parts of Equestria to find spare lyre strings.
"So, are you going to fix it?" asked Bon Bon after watching Lyra play around with the lyre for a minute. Lyra didn't respond, but put the lyre back onto the counter.
"Here, I'll go get your little bag of strings," said Bon Bon, getting out of her chair and trotting into the living room.
As she entered the room, there was a knock at the door. Bon Bon opened the door and had a brief chat with the pony that had knocked. Lyra strained her neck to see who Bon Bon was talking to, but couldn't see anything past Bon Bon's tail. After a couple seconds of chatter, the door shut and Bon Bon trotted back into the kitchen, grabbing a bag full of extra lyre strings as she went. She saw Lyra in the kitchen, staring at the inside of the vase on the table.
Bon Bon entered the kitchen, placing the bag of lyre strings on the kitchen table. She looked at Lyra, who returned the stare.
"You'd never guess, but Rainbow Dash just told me there's a changeling on the loose!"