//------------------------------// // ...and magical too... I guess // Story: Ponies are squishy // by Erised the ink-moth //------------------------------// The sun was still high in the sky on a lazy afternoon in Canterlot. A party held atop one of the scenic and pleasantly shady rooftop gardens was in full swing. A string quartet played their soothing tunes, and refreshments were brought around on polished platters. Nobles and other influential ponies chatted with one another while keeping their ever-alert ears open for any juicy gossip. None would have expected tragedy to strike in their midst. All too suddenly, a wealthy and respected noble took a tumble over the edge of the guardrail. He let out a shout of terror, and ponies around him gasped in shock, but they were too late to save him from his fate. Several stories up with nothing to stop his fall, and no wings on his back to keep him aloft, he plummeted to the street below, screaming all the way. Then, with a tremendous crash, he landed on a confection cart that just so happened to be passing underneath. The cart crumpled and flattened under the impact, and pastries filled with jelly and cream exploded everywhere. Everypony around, from those who had just witnessed the impact, to those fearfully peeking over the edge of the rooftop garden, all simply stood in shock not knowing what to do; some had even forgotten how to breathe. One figure though, was not paralyzed, but infinitely more terrified. “Oh no.” he breathed, glad that everypony’s eyes are firmly pulled elsewhere. Carefully, he began inching away from the scene on the roof before clamoring down flight after flight of stairs. “Oh no… no… no!” The young stallion in waiter’s clothes bolted down the street, casting his apron aside and skidding around corners. Once or twice he had to swiftly dodge out of the way of passing ponies, but they disregarded his frantic galloping, and simply kept walking with a huff. “I need to hide.” was the only thought on the stallion’s mind as he ran to the one place he knew would be safe for him now. The last dregs of cider washed down the changeling’s throat as he finished off his second glass of the afternoon. His kind might not have needed actual food or drink to survive, but it was still damn refreshing. Plus it was just nice to enjoy from time to time; in a way, it made him feel less like a changeling, and more like a pony. Not that he needed to, mind you! He just… sorta liked it that way. “Dune. Get you another?” another changeling serving as the bartender asked him. “In a minute. I’ll let this one settle first.” The changeling bartender nodded and went off to chat with a trio of changelings on the opposite end of the counter. Scanning the length of the counter, the row of booths behind him, and the billiards area off to the side, Dune realized there were a surprising number of patrons today. Either every changeling in Canterlot came in at the same time, or there were just more of them… maybe both. Who knew? More importantly, who cared? Dune didn’t. Not really. Dune often wondered why anybuggy would want to stay in Canterlot in the first place, you'd have to be crazy. There were more guards, most ponies were snobbish, and there was always the watchful eye of the Princess and her guard looming over them. It would make much more sense to find a home in a smaller town like Ponyville or Apploosa where there wasn’t so much risk involved. Then again, Dune realized that he was still there. So maybe he was crazy too. In fact, a lot of things seemed crazy to Dune. The fact that this bar, or perhaps this… changeling sanctuary could exist in Canterlot even months after the invasion was a prime example. Sure, the knowledge that it even existed was kept exclusive to changelings. Yes, the entrance was enchanted to only stay in one place for a short time before moving. And yes, to get inside you needed a password that rotated out every single day. But it still seemed like sheer dumb luck that they’d managed to remain hidden, that nobuggy had let anything slip. Still, Dune took in a deep breath and let out a contented sigh, relishing the certain smell this place had to it; it was strong and musty, but not unpleasant. Crazy as it all was, he liked it. And he didn't like that he liked it! “Any day now.” He told himself, “Any day that door is going to burst open, and a platoon of guards is going to come storming in here to lock us all up.” Dune felt his metaphorical heart jump as the door actually did burst open. But to his relief, it wasn’t any number of guards charging down the stairs, but a terrified changeling quickly shedding his disguise. “I gotta hide!” he screamed. “I gotta hide for like a week- no… two weeks. At least!” Dune recognized the smaller, skinnier changeling causing the scene, though he really wished he didn't. As it was, he was used to this. “Riddi, what happened little bro?” he asked with mock concern. For as long as he had known him, Riddi was prone to overreacting to literally everything. "What kind of trouble have you gotten into this time?" “I shoved a guy off a rooftop!” Dune’s eyes went wide, as did all others as they focused on the trembling changeling. A moment of deafening silence passed before Dune signaled the bartender. “’ey barkeep, I’ll take that refill now.” He requested. “Me too.” “Over here.” “Yes please.” A few others raised their hooves too. Confirming that every changeling had a drink in front of them, Dune raised his glass and called, “Okay… on three. One, two…” On three, every changeling preformed a simultaneous spit-take and screamed, “YOU DID WHAT?!” “This is why I can’t keep this place clean.” The bartender moaned. “Okay, Riddi… you need to tell me right now, exactly what happened and how.” Dune said in his firmest tone. If any of them were going to get through this crisis, they had to know what they were dealing with, and more importantly, what they needed to cover up. “Okay…” Riddi tried to calm himself down till he could get the words out. “So there was a fancy garden party going on, and I was one of those guys that goes around offering drinks and h'orderves to the guests. But then out of nowhere this stallion starts choking! I think his name was Fancy Ants or Swaggy Prance or something- but he was choking and nopony there knew what to do, so I went to help him! There weren’t any chairs there, so I propped him over the railing-” “What?” Dune interrupted, “Why’d you do that?!” “I couldn’t get my hooves around his barrel for a Haylich maneuver so I used the… railing instead.” Riddi said, slowly realizing how stupid it sounded. “It seemed like a good idea at the time!” “Okay, so he was choking. And to add to it, everypony thought you were trying to kill him.” Dune summarized. “What next?” “Well, I finally got him to cough up whatever he was choking on.” Riddi told them proudly, “He even gave me a, ‘Thank you for that ol’ boy. That could have ended dreadfully.’” Every changeling stared at Riddi. “So when did you push him off?” Dune asked. “Oh, right!” Riddi slapped himself. “So just as everyone was calming down and everything was fine… I kinda… sorta… lost my grip.” Everybuggy sat in silence. “Ssssooooo lemme get this straight.” Dune began. “You didn’t actually shove him off that roof… you just lost you grip, and he fell off because gravity’s still a thing that matters.” “I guess, but what difference does that make?!” Riddi yelled. His confusion only grew when the rest of the changelings groaned in annoyance and went back to whatever they had been doing, most grumbling about him wasting their time. “Wha… What did I miss?” Riddi scratched his head. “Riddi. Little bro. Take a seat.” Dune said and patted the barstool next to him. Riddi did as he was told, and waited as Dune let out a long and exasperated sigh. “Gossamer Iridescence,” Dune droned out Riddi’s full name. “your ignorance of ponies never ceases to amaze me.” Riddi crinkled his brow. “Wat?” “Ponies are squishy, Riddi. It’s how they survive. Every changeling knows this, or- should know this.” Dune told him, to which Riddi looked more confused than ever. “Lemme explain it like this. You know how we have these hard outer shells that soak up any kind of trauma we take, like getting ejected from a city and slamming into the ground for instance?” Riddi nodded. “Well ponies have something similar, only it’s a little different. Y’see… they’re protected by magic. Earth ponies, pegasi, unicorns- doesn’t matter what race, they’ve all got a magical aura around them that protects them from harm. As far back as anyone can remember, ponies have had this invisible shield that turns debilitating, or even lethal injuries into nothing but scrapes and bruises. “I’ve seen Pegasi plow through solid wood or even rock and come out no worse for wear. Or what about earth ponies and unicorns run into things head first because they weren’t looking? No concussions for them! With the amount of accidents ponies get into due to sheer clumsiness or poor judgement, the hospitals should be a lot fuller than they are. But thanks to that ambient magic protecting them, they’re safe from harm. And as is typical with ponies, they aren’t even aware something’s saving their lives.” Riddi thought about it for a second and realized that, yeah, ponies did seem surprisingly durable. “S-so… that guy that fell eight stories onto a pastry cart?” Dune chuckled. “Oh that’s even better. If an accident is even remotely funny, it triggers some sort of… restorative healing magic. Never bothered to learn the exact science behind it, but what it boils down to is… the funnier something painful is, the more the magic will heal whatever wounds their auras couldn’t block. I heard that’s where the phrase, ‘laugh it off’ comes from.” Dune sighed with a smile, “He’ll probably be sore for a couple days and then be totally fine.” “Wow, that’s… awesome! I wish I’d known about this magic aura thing a long time ago. Now I can shove ponies into danger whenever I want, and they’ll be okay no matter what I do to them!” Dune choked on his drink. Riddi clapped his hooves together and cackled devilishly. “I can’t wait to get back out there.” “NO!” Dune coughed out. “No, Riddi don’t. You idiot. That’s the one caveat to their protection; it only protects them from themselves, anything else still hurts them.” “Wut?” Riddi croaked. “Don’t you remember what… what mom told us?” Riddi blinked, and Dune sighed into his hoof. “Right of course you don’t. “Hate is powerful. Aside from love, hate is the strongest emotion out there. But where laughter heals, and love protects, hate is strong enough to hurt like nothing else can. Wanting to hurt someone will infuse that hate into your actions- hate strong enough to cut through the protective auras protecting them; the more you mean it, the more it hurts.” “You’re just making stuff up again, aren’t you?” Riddi dismissed. “I mean how would that even work logically? They can fall off a building like it’s nothing, but a punch in the face is still a punch in the face?” “Oh… you don’t believe me?” Dune said with a wry smile before getting off his seat. He walked to the door and gestured for Riddi to follow. “Come on, and put up your disguise. We’re going for a walk.” “Psst. Hey Dune, why’re we here again?” Riddi nudged his brother. “Shh, shuddup. Just sit back… and wait for it.” Dune shushed him and recentered his gaze with a small smirk. Riddi frowned. Wait for what; they’d been sitting across the street from this stupid, noisy construction site for a whole hour now! Suddenly Dune got excited about something and pointed out a massive stallion in a hard hat and work vest hauling a steel beam across the construction yard. He had to keep it propped on his shoulders with one of his forehooves, but still managed to walk in a steady line, though it was clear he couldn’t see anything to his right. Coincidentally standing on his right a bit ahead were two ponies, one in standard work gear holding a large blueprint, and another in a business suit; the former was likely the site manager, and the other an executive funding the project. Dune was almost giddy as the large stallion approached, and the pony in the suit rudely yelled for him to watch where he was going. Immediately the big stallion turned to his right to see who’d spoken. The other construction ponies around him had the good sense to duck, but the business stallion was not so lucky. Riddi grimaced as the resounding clang of steel against skull echoed out and the suited stallion collapsed on the ground. Next to him, Dune just let out a chuckle. Not a second later, Suit had bounced back onto his hooves again, steaming out his ears and yelling at Big about all the unspeakable bureaucratic things he was going to do to him. He shouted and stomped his hooves, all while ignoring the fact that he should be out cold with a fractured skull right then. Meanwhile, Dune could barely stifle his cackles. Then to really send the message home that he was pissed, Suit did a decidedly unbureaucratic thing; he folded up the blueprints stiffly and gave Big a harsh smack across the face with them. The clap of paper rang out even more surely than the clang of metal before. The other workers who’d been watching with amusement and mild laughter were now speechless. Big himself clenched a hoof to his face as though the skin had been peeled off and let out an appropriately bloodcurdling wail. Dune sucked his teeth. “Ooh, that’s gotta sting.” As Suit stomped off and work resumed at the site, Riddi shook himself out of his stupor. “I… how..?” he tried to say. “Believe me now?” Dune said with a smirk. “It was a piece of paper!” Riddi shouted, “A. Piece. Of. Paper!” “Aht- not just a piece of paper. A piece of paper… and hate.” Dune corrected him. “Hate is powerful, and ponies are squishy.” Dune got up from the bench and walked off. “Class dismissed.”