//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Exposition // Story: CiderCon Chronicles // by SSCiderConOfficial //------------------------------// CiderCon Chronicles Chapter 8: Exposition "You are not what others see. You are what time and effort and interaction slowly unveil." - Summer Lime, Therapist The storm continued to bluster and blow outside, but that didn't bother the three of them. They could be stuck here for a week and it wouldn't bother them. They had everything that they needed: shelter, supplies, and each other. For the past few hours, Bramley and Warm Welcome had regaled him with tales of their parts of the events leading up to the gully. The changeling looked at Bramley with another layer of admiration as Warm Welcome told him about what transpired while he was unconscious. Then, at last, the story reached its conclusion: a heavy storm had rolled in without warning, and they had dragged the changeling home through the woods on the blanket. Their story done, silence fell. The changeling sat for a few moments, taking it all in. He took bite of pie to pluck up his courage, "FWOOSHED" into his piecemeal form, and launched into his own tale. For their parts, Bramley and Warm Welcome were a wonderful audience. They sat enthralled by his tale. Warm Welcome reacted with a mix of sympathy and maternal rage as he told them about his last audience with the Mother. They gasped at the right places, cried at the right places, and went with him on his emotional journey. Then, at last, his tale was done too. Warm Welcome walked over to him, wrapped him in another hug, and said : " I'm so sorry for all that's happened to ya'. I'm sorry more ponyfolk haven't seen ya' for what ya' are. Maybe it ain't my place to say so, but this "mother" o' yours ain't no kind of real mother. She shoulda been a helping hoof to lift ya' up, not a hoof slappin' ya' down. " They shared the embrace for several minutes. Warm Welcome would never know just how much good the outpouring of emotion was doing for the changeling. Not only was it a balm to his own fractured emotions, but life giving nutrition as well. When they parted, Bramley was asleep on the couch. The emotional ride of the changeling's story had consumed the last flagging remnants of his endurance. They had all had a long day, but that little colt had done the work of a half-dozen ponies and been at it since before dawn. Warm Welcome smiled lovingly at her son. She eased him into a more comfortable position on the couch, and covered him up. She sat down, and took a sip from her steaming mug. The changeling could see the hesitation on her face, and asked her "What is the matter?" She glanced at him, an embarrassed blush painting her cheeks. "Well, I... " she began. "No, nevermind." "Please, speak your mind." the changeling nudged. "Well, I was wonderin' how long you can go on eatin' pie before you've gotta have another soul, 'er whatever..." she trailed off. The changeling looked at her, confused, but then remembered her words in the gully. She was woefully misinformed about how changelings worked. So, for quite some time the changeling and Warm Welcome talked about his species. She asked questions, the changeling answered truthfully, and together they dispelled her misconceptions about changelings. When they were finished, Warm Welcome leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, processing the glut of new information. The changeling was worried that when she had processed it all, the result would be his ejection from the house. He was dreadfully afraid to impart some of the information that he had given her. The changelings were, after all, a symbiotic predator that preyed on ponies. He had wanted to be brutally honest with her, though, because he felt that lying, or omission would be a bad hoof on which to start a relationship. "Well..." she said, still staring at the ceiling, " I can't say I like the idea of another pony living off a' me, but I guess everypony's gotta eat." "Besides..." she continued, lowering her gaze to look into the changeling's eyes, " y'all are just doing what comes natural. I may not like it that bears an' timberwolves eat other creatures, but its their nature. There ain't no malice in it. " "That 'mother' a' yours may be a different story, though..." she added. "Thank ya' 'fer being honest with me." There was relief in the changeling's heart, and relief etched into his features. He had told her everything about his race, warts and all, and she was still treating him the same as she was when they started. "None a' that explains why ya' can eat pie, though..." She said, half as a statement to herself, and half as a question for the changeling. "You told us about the pizza an' all. I don't see why pie should be any different. " The changeling shrugged, at a loss for an explanation. "Well, I don't think that just any pie would do, though. Like I said, when Bramley first brought me the pie, I refused it. When he brought is closer, though, It smelled completely different than other food." Warm Welcome furrowed her brow in thought. "But I don't see why the pie I made fer' Bramley..." She stopped, and the light of understanding dawned in her features. Without a word, she jumped off of the couch and made for the kitchen. From the icebox she retrieved a covered dish containing a casserole she had made for a dinner with an old school friend a few nights ago. The changeling was perplexed about her sudden, wordless departure. His confusion was heightened a moment later when she returned with the glass dish. She walked up to him, picked up the fork from his pie plate, and dug out a forkful of the casserole. "Here! Try this!" she demanded, swept away in the excitement of the moment. She saw the changeling's eyes wide with shock, and realized her lapse in manners. She shook her head, and said : "Sorry, I got a little carried away. I just had an idea that I wanted to test. Please take a whiff a' this and tell me what ya' think." The changeling seemed dubious, but obliged her and took an experimental sniff. It was delightful. It was similar to the pie, but different. First, it was obviously less fresh than the pie. He smelled love and joy, but only faintly, like the pleasant memories of last week. He opened his mouth and accepted the forkful. Again, like the pie, there was a rush of the emotion flooding his body. Where the pie had been an almost overwhelming tidal wave of emotion, the casserole was like the ebb of a tide. He smiled. "It's wonderful." He said. "But, what does it taste like?" inquired Warm Welcome. "Tell me how th' casserole tastes compared to the pie." The changeling looked at her for a moment, understanding dawning. He tried a forkful of the pie. "Love." He said. "There's other emotions, but I can't taste them over the love." She nodded, smiling. "And the casserole?" She prompted. He tried another forkful. "Love, happiness, even..." he trailed off, deep in thought, "a hint of sadness." She smiled, and her eyes stung with happy tears. Her suspicions were confirmed. Folk had always raved over the wonders that came from her kitchen. Her cooking brought ponyfolk together, united them in camaraderie, and on more than one occasion ended a feud between neighbors. At one particular dinner, a neighbor had described her food by saying "Every bite is like a big ol' hug!" She had always endeavored to show her affection for ponies by stirring her feelings for them into every bite. She endeavored to coalesce the feelings of their relationships into the things that she made for different ponies. The changeling had confirmed that she was successful beyond her wildest dreams. ********************