Wherein Consequences Are Discovered
“Oh God...” I mutter as my brain processes what's standing in front of me. My stomach decides that no, it isn't going to abide with this kind of nonsense and it's going to do something about it. “I think I'm going to be sick...”
Yep.
There go my sausages all over the grass.
Thanks a lot stomach. You really solved that crisis.
The pony is a bland mix of splotchy brown and white. His eyes are dull and without any spark of intelligence in them. His face and other proportions are completely typical for the sort of pony that you might find at a fair with little girls waiting in line to ride. I remember what I had felt back in the barn. That awful mental pressure pushing me toward casting my thoughts aside and wrapping myself in comfortable instincts. Is this what would have happened to me if I had given up? Is this what would have happened to Sea Grass?
The tiny horse seems a bit nervous. Probably because of my lion-smell. But he isn't bolting. Not yet anyway. Once my queasiness dies down I move closer to inspect his flank. What I find makes my heart weep. His cutie mark isn't gone, not completely. But instead of a vibrant colorful image of three four-leaf clovers on his rump instead he has a brand of the same burned into his hide. The scars look old and healed over. It's a cruel irony. Cutie marks are already superficially similar to a brand. Simple pictures found on the same part of the body. But now the cutie mark has been replaced with a brand.
His mind has been stolen from him. His mind, his body, and even what makes him special. For all intents and purposes whoever he was before is dead now. Both human and Equestrian have faded away, replaced with a dumb animal.
“Hey Geneva! Look at this!” Surprise calls from around the corner.
I quickly trot after her, forcing away the gnawing thoughts and fears that I could have suffered a similar fate if I didn't have my friends to snap me out of it. Is that what happened to this poor soul? He didn't have any friends to pull him from the abyss when it closed in around him?
Surprise is waiting for me with a green something in her mouth. As I draw close she spits it out in the scrubby grass for me to pick up and examine. They're... wings? Not wings of flesh and bone, not even close. They're crude pegasus wings made of some kind of foam with little Velcro straps to hold them on. Burs, wild oats, and other prickly seeds are stuck all over them.
“I found it in one of the bushes,” Surprise reports. “I think mister Tough Luck rubbed them off.”
“So he was reduced to a mundane pony with cosplayer wings strapped to his back?” I mutter. “That's awful...”
Words really don't do this justice. Getting turned into another sapient species is one thing, but an animal? I look back at Tough Luck and shudder. What does that even imply? That his soul was destroyed in the process? Is that even possible? If so then it's a fate worse than death.
“This isn't funny,” Surprise sighs. “Not even a little bit.”
It might just be the wind in the pine trees, but I almost swear I can hear a mean spirited chuckle coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Judging from the way Surprise's ears perk up she must have caught it too. We don't have much time to contemplate since Silver's voice crackles over our headsets.
“Well? Let's have a report. What did you find?” he asks.
“We found the pony,” I reply. “But we got here too late.”
"What do you mean, too late?" Silver asks.
"His mind is gone," I report. "He's nothing more than a normal pony now."
"The hey are you talking about?" Dust yells. "How could he turn into a normal pony? Hang on, we're coming down there too."
My friends land soon there after and spend several minutes in awful stillness coming to terms with what they find in the back yards.
Turns out the sliding glass door at the back of the house is wide open and my friends agree that investigating is worth the trouble. Once Dust and Silver join us we spread out and begin looking for anything that might prove to be useful. Judging from the general state of the home Tough Luck must have least fled here alone when he started turning back into a pony. There's plenty of evidence of a clumsy once-human fumbling around with hooves trying to get at food. The battered but unopened cans of green beans certainly attest to that.
“He couldn't get into the cans,” Dust muses. “So he must have gone outside and started grazing. And once he started he couldn't stop.”
Act like a mundane pony for too long and you start to become one. Your mind will be weak, your outlook bleak. What could be more bleak than losing yourself? At first I had thought that Discord's hex was just a means to get everypony out of his way so he could take over Equestria unopposed. But now? Now it seems far, far more insidious. This is far beyond even a mean spirited gag. This is murder.
“This is what was happening to Sea Grass, too,” I recount. “She said that she felt safe in the stable and zoned out. I think it started getting to me as well. When Silver yelled at me over the radio it snapped me back to reality.”
Which I'm forever grateful for. As much of a grump as Silver can be sometimes I owe him my life.
There are a few pictures around the house. Two parents and one daughter at varying ages. Riding a bike, playing at the river, blowing out candles, graduating from college. It looks like they're a happy family. Or were, at least. There's a sense of longing for my own family. How many times have I gone for weeks or months without contacting them? How long has it been since I told my mother that I love her? If I had lost my mind then I never would have gotten another chance.
I find a phone sitting on a coffee table unlocked and with a video ready to play. I can guess easily enough what it contains. A recorded account of some poor girl going through all the fears and horrors and uncertainty that we were faced with. The only difference? She was alone. We had friends. I briefly consider playing it, but it isn't a message for me.
Five minutes pass as I stare down at the phone before resolving to do what I'm about to do.
Speed dial.
Mom.
The phone rings twice before it picks up with the voice of a woman who sounds both frantic and relieved. “Oh my God Jenny, we were so worried. Where are you? What's going on?”
It feels like a knife in my heart, twisting slowly. I'm about to crush her hope. But it has to be done.
“Your daughter is at your home on Lola drive,” I say, fighting down the emotion welling up in my voice.
Silence for a time.
“Who is this?”
“A friend.”
I end the call before she replies.
We end up collecting the canned food and an old fashioned hand-powered can opener. The device had proven to be the bane of Jenny's new hooves but I should be able to operate it just fine. Extra food is always welcome especially now that we know what might happen if we decide to graze like a mundane pony. This leads us to a rather pressing concern.
“So what do we do with him?” Dust asks.
Three pegasi and one hippogriff gather around the drab tiny horse. He snorts at Dust and continues nibbling on some shrubs.
“His parents should probably be arriving soon,” I say, my tone somber. “Hopefully with enough love this curse can be broken.”
We all murmur in agreement before we fly back to the Cloudmobile with our pilfered canned goods. Yes, it's stealing. But we aren't exactly in any condition right now to trot into a super market and buy some salad fixings for ourselves. Besides, I'm sure Tough Luck would have been willing to share with us if his mind hadn't fled.
We set out toward the next pony contact with renewed fervor now that we know what's at stake if we wait too long. The sun is already dipping below the Pacific Ocean far to the west but the next pony is close and everyone is worried about what we'll find if we rest for the night.
While traveling I take a can of baked beans with bacon and begin to focus my magic to warm it up. Or at least warm the air up around it. My magic can't seem to get a grip on the sloshy brown sugar laden contents of the can, but conduction of heat should serve me just fine. Once it reaches the state of warm-but-not-hot I crack it open with the can opener and begin to guzzle the beans straight from the can.
What?
I lost my lunch already. Now I need some dinner.
Our heading takes us to the south east out of the hills and into the city proper. Or at least to a sprawling suburb of the city. Below us spreads a chaotic jumble of little boxy sameish looking homes. Our target appears to be in one of the homes near small grove of trees and a large pond. Good place for a pony to hide. Plenty of places to run to in case they need to flee the house. Hopefully we won't find them drab, mentally dead, and chewing on grass.
Surprise and I swoop down into the shadows of the grove. By now the sun has dipped below the horizon and night is quickly deepening the darkness. The humans should all be in the homes, but it's still better to be safe than sorry. The scrubby trees here aren't exactly thick, but they still provide more than enough cover to sneak in.
I've slipped fully into stalking mode, holding my body low to the ground and taking deliberate, stealthy steps. Surprise is bouncing along without a care in the world. I would say that she doesn't grasp the whole concept of 'being sneaky' but the results of her sneaking are more than plain enough.
Once we near the back door I lean up against it and strain my ears. I can hear three voices inside. Two male and one female. And the scent of two mares is pretty strong in the air. If that weren't evidence enough there are some muddy hoofprints on the back patio. One set is wide and heavy, probably from an earth pony. The other is a smaller, almost delicate set. Maybe we finally found a unicorn?
“Alright Surprise, how are we going to do this,” I ask as I turn to her.
And discover that she's gone.
With an exasperated sigh I begin to sub-vocally count. Before I can even make it to 'three' I hear a 'Surprise!' from inside the house followed by three shrieks and a small dog barking excitedly. I pull the door open and head inside only to find a scene of chaos before me.
“What the hell?” I hear the source male voice yelling. He's a human in the twenties range of age. He also seems to be fighting a losing battle against the smile creeping across his face. It's hard to be indignant at someone so silly. “Who are you? How did you get inside that cabinet?”
“Hiya! I'm Surprise!” my zany friend chirps back. She's wearing a colander on her head for some reason and stray strands of day-glow yellow mane are poking through the holes. “And I was in there because it was the best place to surprise you from of course!”
A unicorn is huddled behind the human. She sports a brown coat with a darker brown mane and an icy blue stripe running through it. Her mane has an odd bowl-cut look to it and her tail is sheered short. I can't help but blow at my own mane and wonder why there are so many natural mane styles for ponies when compared to humans. The unicorn's cutie mark is an open book with a ghostly looking butterfly alight upon it. She looks a bit nervous.
The other is an earth pony with an ivory coat and a crazily disheveled looking mane in a gradient of different shades of green. Her butt-picture is a braid of some kind of yarn surrounding three ears of corn. Unlike her angry (or trying to be) human friend or the apparently timid unicorn she's grinning like an fiend and laughing her head off.
“Well nice meeting you Surprise! That was a pretty cool trick. I'm Corn Silk. The scaredy cat there is Winter Night and sir-scowls-a-lot is my husband Henry. Don't mind him, he's just being overly protective even though I could probably kick a car over now,” the earth pony says and she trots right up to Surprise and begins shaking her hoof vigorously.
Even after letting go Surprise continues to vibrate comically. I expect no less from her.
“And I'm Geneva,” I add as I clop into the room with the others. As soon as he spots me a rather loud and clearly vicious dachshund begins running back and forth whilst barking loudly in my general direction. I can feel my tailing flipping around behind me in synch with my irritation.
How cute.
I hate tiny dogs. Too loud and nippy and annoying.
I've always been more of a cat person. Though... I guess being a half-pony catbird kind of explains that preference.
Henry is the first to make any sort of comment on my existence. “Whoa. Griffins, too?”
“Hippogriff,” I correct without a second thought, turning sideways to show off my pony back-half. And to bring my tail into thwacking position in case the dog starts trying to bite me. “I'm what you get when a daddy griffin loves a mommy mare very much.”
“What if it's a mommy griffin and a daddy stallion?” Winter Night asks curiously.
I open my beak to reply, only to close it again. “I'm... not sure, actually. Everything that I've read about hippogriffs says that the mother is always a mare. Maybe it just doesn't work any other way?”
That sounds like a study in alien hybridization to me. I wonder if I'm sterile like a mule is? If so it hasn't stopped my body from entering 'Hey, you know what would be great? Having foals!' phases. Speaking of alien hybridization... husband? Oh geeze, these two are married. But he's been faithful enough to stick with her through the bizarre crisis. That's kind of romantic.
“So! What can we do for you nice ponies?” Corn Silk asks. She seems to be another example of somepony who's taking the transformation well. Henry moves up along side her and begins rubbing a hand through her erratic mane. Silk repays in kind with a loving nuzzle against his side.
Silver and Dust join us for introductions once the all clear is given and I provide the little speech about what we're up to. Our mission to rescue and inform. The nature and scope of our transformation. Why we changed in the first place. Where we came from. The pony community that may spring up in the mountains and how to get there. The dangers of giving into instinct. That last one gets some concerned looks from everyone and everypony. I refrain from going into too much detail about what happened to Jenny/Tough Luck.
“Huh,” Silk grunts once story time is over. “Reincarnated pony. Crazy. That answers most of the questions that have really been bugging me. A bit disappointed that I won't be human again, but at least I know for sure.” She casts a grin at Henry then leans in for a quick kiss. “Sounds like you're going to have to get use to pony kisses, Scowly.”
The pony's very much human husband laughs. “Your lips are all fuzzy. I don't think I'll ever get use to that.”
Silk's grin grows even wider. “Now you know how I feel when you grow out your beard.”
D'aaww! They're so cute together! The realization that I'm fawning over romance is not lost on me.
“Well! That update is going to come in really handy,” Silk proclaims.
“Hoofy,” Surprise corrects and clops her front hooves together.
Winter and Henry look confused. Silk starts snickering and Silver face-hoofs.
“It's getting pretty late. Why don't you four crash here for the night and you can continue your epic quest in the morning?” Silk suggests. “I'll cook up some fresh corn on the cob and we can have a movie night!”
We agree that this is a wonderful plan. Though we're racing against the clock to save as many ponies as we can it's been a long day and we're all exhausted, physically, emotionally, and magically. Silk's corn turns out to be amazing in much the same way that Sea Grass' wraps had been amazing. Even though the corn had been purchased from a market rather than grown by a pony it is still humming with earthy magic and bursting with flavor. Simply the act of cooking seems to be enough for an earth pony to pour their love and talent into a meal.
A few questions are fielded during the meal about pony magic and we share what we know. Apparently Winter hasn't figured out how to use her unicorn spells just yet and she's dreadfully curious. Sadly she's the first unicorn we've met so far so we can't offer her much help there.
It is quickly discovered that our hosts are about as clueless regarding the finer points of Friendship is Magc as Silver was when this whole debacle started. Despite this we don't end up with a My Little Pony marathon. Instead we get a string of awful old action movies until we start to pass out. After you've mauled killer wood golem magical wolf things to death with your own talons watching Arnold match wits against a funny looking alien with dreadlocks just doesn't have quite the same impact anymore. Besides, everyone knows that real aliens look like tiny colorful ponies.
We say our goodnights and Silk lashes her tail around Henry's arm to haul him off toward their room. My sensitive ears pick up a snark about testing earth pony endurance. I'll need to make a point of trying to tune out any bumps in the night that might drift through the walls. Judging from the scent alone all the mares here are dealing with 'Yay, time to make a foal!' hormones. More than once I've found my mind entertaining the idea of lifting my tail for the resident stallion to see if he's interested. I'm thankful that Silver has been a gentlemen (gentlestallion?) about the whole mess.
Guh.
I was male less than a week ago and I'm already being forced to deal with estrous cycles. This isn't fair at all. Maybe I should find an ice-pack to sit on until I cool off.
I'm snapped out of my marehood woes by Winter. "Umm... Geneva?"
She really does seem like a shy little one. Far more so than Sea Grass. Sea Grass had a sort of quiet strength to her. Winter Night seems like she could be frightened away by her own shadow. Except when she gets curious. Once that unicorn gets curious nothing is going to stop her. "Yeah Night? What can I do for you?"
"Well... I was wondering if you knew what my special talent is?" Night asks.
I look at her mark again. Open book and ghostly butterfly. I'm not really sure what butterflies and books have to do with each other. Unless it has something to do with making insect collections? But you make insect collections in boxes, not in books. Books are for pressed flower collections.
"No, sorry. I guess on the show figuring out what your special talent is happens to be a pretty big deal," I say. "But out here none of us remember how we got our cutie marks. Unless we happen to be one of the important ponies on the show we just have to guess or puzzle it through. Though... I think your special talent will be something that feels right to you."
The unicorn looks at me curiously. "What do you mean?"
"When I'm using my magic to fiddle with the air it doesn't feel like... say... physically pulling things around. When I touch the air with my magic I can feel it waiting for me. As if all the little currents and eddies and vibrations all snap to attention when I reach out to them. Like my magic is the baton and the air is my orchestra waiting to play a symphony."
It's hard to put it into words. But I try my hardest.
"So using your special talent feels like directing a band?" Winter asks.
"That's what it feels like to me, anyway. Or the best way I can think of to describe it. Maybe you should talk to my other friends and ask them, too They might be able to offer more insight than I can," I reply.
Winter nods slowly. "I think I'll do that," she muses before yawning wide. "Maybe in the morning, though..."
I give a small smile as Night totters off to crash in a guest bedroom. With my friends sprawled out on the floor and couches around me I silently petition the ceiling.
“What a day, huh? Blow up a tree. Fight a giant wolf. Learn some new uses for my magic. Rebuild the Cloudmobile. Make some new friends. Discover just how insidious Discord's curse is... So much is happening all at once. I hope that horse hex can be broken somehow. I just... Here I thought that losing myself to the old Geneva would be bad. That's nothing compared to completely losing... everything. I hope calling his parents was the right thing to do...”
“It's encouraging finding all these people willing to help us. And people that we can help. Even if helping just means explaining what's going on. I'm surprised that nopony here had heard about our video or seen anything on the news about all this pony business. But I guess if everyone is hiding and the government is clamping down on any exposure that could explain it... Even still... It would only take one pony deciding to dance around in public to blow the lid off this whole mess. It's really suspicious.”
“I think I'm going to see about giving my mom a call tomorrow. I have absolutely no idea what I'll say to her, though. I hope she doesn't freak out...”
With my thoughts on my parents and our uncertain future my consciousness checks out of the day.
~~~~~
I run though the rickety old wooden gate of my old childhood home, my light up tennis shoes flashing rhythmically as my feet pound the concrete walkway. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. My target is within sight and I charge straight to her and bury my face in her leg.
“I don't ever want to go to school again!” I bawl, smearing my mother with tears and snot.
Ever the matronly ideal of love and patience my mom kneels down and tousles my hair with her hand. “And why don't you want to go to school again?”
“Th-they called me a freak!” I wail. “They said I look funny and nopony wanted to play with me!”
There's a sad expression that crosses mother's face. An expression that hides motherly wrath to be brought down on anyone who would mistreat her child. She kneels down and wraps me in her soft coral-pink wings. “You are not a freak. You are my wonderful little filly. And you are very special.”
“Tango Twister said I wasn't special,” I blubber, my voice catching with each sob. “He said that I'm not special because daddy doesn't have a cutie mark and I won't either!”
“Your daddy is very special,” mother replies with a knowing smile. “And so are you. When you get big you'll get a cutie mark just like mommy.”
“Really?” I sniff.
“Really.”
“I still don't want to go to school anymore...”
By now the tears have subsided, but I still feel generally mopy. And that means the time has come to sulk.
Thankfully mother knows what to do about that, too. “Didn't you have fun learning from Miss Sunny Skies?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I admit. Then rub a long string of snot off my nose with my sleeve. Now my coat is all snotty, too. Or snottier than it was before.
“Did you talk to Miss Sunny Skies about the mean things Tango Twister said about you?” mother prompts.
“No...” comes my muttered reply.
“Well, if you tell Miss Sunny Skies I'm sure she'll talk to the other fillies and colts about being kind,” mother reasons. I suppose she's probably right. Mother knows everything after all. “Now, I have an idea. How about we go see Mister Frosty Freeze and get some ice cream?”
At that my eyes light up. “Can I have strawberry with chocolate chips?”
“Oh my little pony, you can have whatever flavor you like just so long as you promise to talk to Miss Sunny Skies about the bullies,” mother replies.
“Okay mommy, I will!” I say as I wrap my arms around her fuzzy body and squeeze her tight. “I promise!”
Mother smiles down at me and gives my ear a nuzzle.
“You are precious, Geneva. Never forget that.”
Suddenly today doesn't seem as terrible as it had before.
~~~~~
Day Seven
Eighteen Days Remain
That was another memory.
A jumbled mishmash of imagery from two totally different childhoods, but a memory none the less. My mind is struggling to resolve between the conflicting phantoms of past sensation. I remember her voice, but there are two voices. I remember smile, but there are two faces. I remember the feeling of fingers in my hair. I remember the feeling of feathers caressing my face. I remember a strong, beautiful pegasus mare who hushed me at night and chased all the monsters away. I remember a strong, beautiful human woman who read me stories and taught me to love the world of my imagination.
Both of these my mind calls mother. Both of these my heart longs for and loves. Both are so mingled together that it's difficult to tell them apart.
Mother moved back to Griffinheim with father.
Mother moved down to Monterey with father.
Her name.
What's my mother's name?
Is it Grace Hopkins? Or is it Warm Front?
I... I think it's both.
I pick and pull and prod at the memories, trying to tease them apart and make sense of them. The coral-pink pegasus is my Equestrian mother. Her name is Warm Front. She insisted that I have a traditional pony name to go along with the griffin name my father gave me.
My father...
My brow knits in concentration as I try to remember my griffin father. But... there's nothing. Just a sort of indistinct haze of warm emotions. At least until all the traits of my human father begin bubbling up to the surface of my mind.
I can remember Warm Front, though. And bits and pieces of foal-hood. It's difficult to tell at first whether I'm remembering human or Equestrian memories, but as I get use to it they become easier to resolve. I remember very clearly that snot-nosed brat Tango making fun of me all the time. I think I bucked him in the ribs once and got in a lot of trouble for it. Mother said that good little ponies shouldn't kick. Father said that strong little griffins should tackle those that cross them to prove their superiority. Mother chided father for encouraging me to fight.
I wish I could remember more about father. Maybe in what dreams may yet come...
With some degree of trepidation I turn my mind toward my human childhood when I was about the same age. I'm terrified that my old memories might have over-written my new ones. When I find that I can recall my human childhood just fine I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. My old life isn't being erased. I'm just... remembering things.
Important things I had forgotten.
Important things that shouldn't be forgotten.
Like riding on mother's back down from Los Pegasus to Mareibu to get ice cream from Mister Frosty Freeze. Sure there were plenty of places to get ice cream in Los Pegasus, but Frosty Freeze made the best ice cream in all of Equestria. I'm sure of that. Or at least I was sure of that when I was still a filly.
In spite of myself I'm smiling. I'm not afraid of remembering my old life anymore. It's just as important as my new one. My memories of Equestria should be just as much of a part of who I am as my memories of Earth. There is no old Geneva or new Geneva or even Lance Hopkins.
There's just me.
And I'm going to be the best me I can be.
While I'm sitting there grinning like an idiot my friends begin to rouse. Surprise gives a little gasp and asks, “Are you starting to remember too?”
A nod is all it takes.
“Hehe. How long do you think it'll be before we remember everything?” she asks with a giggle.
“I don't know. But you know what I do remember?” I ask as I start trotting toward the home phone sitting on a little end table.
Surprise's head-quirk is enough to signify her reply.
“I remember that I need to tell my mom I love her.”
Yep.
It's that time.
I have no idea how awkward this is going to be. But it needs to be done. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to return to Equestria to see mother again, but I can still talk to mother here. And she deserves to know what's going on.
Whether or not she'll believe me is a wholly different question.
While I work up the courage to make a phone call my friends get to work on breakfast. My job is the harder of the two, I'm sure of it. The scent of food cooking encourages me to hurry. It's still early, but my mom is an early riser herself, so it shouldn't be that big of a deal to call right now. Okay. Come on Geneva, you can do this.
I pick up the receiver and dial a familiar number.
I'm met by a familiar voice. “Hello?”
“Hello mom.”
“I'm sorry, who is this?” she asks. Of course she doesn't recognize Geneva's voice.
“I'm-” I work my beak open and closed. I need to use my human name. I absolutely, positively need to use my human name. If I don't then there's no way she'll believe me. Come on brain, work with me just this one time. Let me use that old identity one last time when it counts the most.
“I... I'm Ge...” No. Don't do this to me. Not now. My brow scrunches up in concentration as I struggle against the mental block tying my tongue. “I'm. My name is... Lance.”
Oh thank God.
“Lance, honey?” mother sounds puzzled. “Is there any particular reason you sound like a lady?”
I laugh. Is there anything else to do in response to a question like that?
“There is. But first, how much do you know about, ah... How much do you know about My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic?”
“It was a cartoon that was popular on the Internet?” she replies curiously. “Why? What does that matter? Does this have something to do with those weird sightings that no one wants to talk report on?”
Of course mom would have heard about them. Considering her job it would be hard not to.
“It does. I want you to go on YouTube real quick and watch a video called-”
“Meet the Ponies? A friend of mine sent it to me already,” mother interrupts. “It was certainly... interesting.”
“It's true. Every word of it. I shot the video with my friends. We've all become characters from that show because we always were characters from the show. I know it sounds completely insane but-”
“Hush now, no reason to work yourself into a tizzy over it,” mother replies. “Where are you now? Can you come meet us at the house? We might be able to help. The best doctors for you and your friends to get you back to normal.”
I can't help but wince at that offer. A few days ago I probably would have taken it. But now? “There are people out there we still need to help, mom. Ponies that are confused and lost. Ponies that could lose themselves if someone doesn't show them the way. I can't give up on them just to go throw months of treatments that probably won't do anything. There isn't any going back to normal after this, mom. This is normal. And I'm still just as much me as I was before. We don't need anyone trying to fix us. We just need people willing to accept us.”
My mother sighs on the other end of the line. It's a heartbreaking sound. “Alright. But can you at least tell me where you are?”
“We're in Redding right now. If our search brings us toward Monterey we can drop by the house. I'll try to send word ahead if we're going that way,” I say.
I've known my mom my whole life. Or... Half my life, I suppose. For the whole of one of my lives? I know how she sounds when she's trying to fight back tears.
“I love you, sweet heart. I always will. No matter what.”
“I love you too, mom.”
~~~~~
Grace Hopkins cried.
She cried for her poor lost boys. One lost to alcoholism and drug addiction. One lost to... to whatever vile disease had befallen her youngest.
She looked down at the dossier sitting on the coffee table in front of her. With a heavy heart she opened it and dialed the number inside.
“Mrs. Hopkins.”
“It's as bad as you said it was. They're in Redding right now. He told me that he would call again if they are coming to Monterey.”
“You made the right choice, Mrs. Hopkins.”
“Please find a way to get my son back.”
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Yeah, Geneva, you should have realized that was a mistake.
2977721
Yeeeeah.
As Silver has mentioned before Geneva is a little too trusting for her own good.
2977937
When it comes to human/pony interactions in this story I follow more or less the below philosophy.
When a person meets a pony? There's a pretty good chance that they'll get along barring drastically clashing personalities. It helps that ponies are cute. They trigger the same reaction in humans that adorable animals do.
But when people, as in the general public, make the same discovery? Everyone loses their minds. In large groups people react to strange things with fear first and foremost, and that's not a good response to a scenario such as this.
2978074 that sir...was completely genius
Things are going to get very interesting now
I wonder who was Grace talking to
Whew. Another great chapter.
Kinda makes me wonder how my parents would react in a situation like that. Or how I would act towards them in the first place.
P.S.: I spy our first reader cameo. Ohh, maybe they'll come across my character soon, too? *bounces up and down excitedly*
I like to think I know how my parents woukd react...where as my mom would try to 'fix' it, as depicted in the story. My dad would react similarly to my mom, most likely. I think parents that care about their children would be in a 'mother bear' situation regarding this- meaning massively over protective.
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2977937 You my friend have been infected by the rampant sense of misanthropy that has become 'trendy' in the media so recently (relatively speaking). It's a bad road to travel.
2978074 I won't deny that people are stupid initially, but that's just our reaction to shock. After that first wave of panic hits us we turn into anything from heros to depraved monsters. It all depends on what the first person to get over their shock does. If that person does what is right, then you will have a near unstoppable force for good. If they react with fear and anger, then bad things will surely follow.
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It seems like a very normal reaction, really. Your child has been turned into something else completely. It has altered their personality as well in obvious and subtle ways. Do they actually want to stay that way? Or it making then want to stay that way? They insist that they're still themselves, but are they really?
Clearly this is something they need to be protected from and cured. It's a wholly valid position to take considering the circumstances.
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This is, I believe, an important point.
Panic and fear would be the initial reaction, but from there people would split into various flavors of 'ponies are bad', 'ponies are good', and 'let's give them a chance and see what happens' camps. While our knee-jerk reactions are pretty similar as a species humans will act wildly different from each other after we stop and think things through a bit.
I like to think that the people who have had positive encounters with ponies would be willing to stand up and speak out for them. People who haven't would be a mixed bag. And of course there are some who would react to meeting ponies negatively no matter what.
Won't have a chapter up tonight. Wasn't very happy with part of it and decided to re-write it. However! It should be up and kicking tomorrow without question.
Squeeeeee! Thank you for using Winter!
Also for the sake of explanation the book represents the stories she tells and the butterfly represents her love of telling them, she wants to spread her stories across the land and I felt a butterfly would be a good way to represent it cause butterfly's fly long distances and all over the place and stuff (that and I thought it would look cute
) it's kind of the best I can do to explain it without getting cheesy and saying she wants her stories to spread all over the world on the wings of a butterfly or something
yeah I'm still working on it
. Also if you happen to have her tell a story you know cause of her talent I always pictured it like how that fairy from Tinker Bell and the lost treasure told her story using the fairy dust all golden and sparkly... well actually light blue cause that's the color of her magic but still! Here's the clip if you want to reference it. Also again Thanks!
[youtube=http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=MEtnmP7KWcI]
(Sorry if the link doesn't work properly I think there's something wrong with my tablet)
Stupid mothers always thinking with their hormones and emotions not their brains (ironic huh?)
Oh god. This is going to be a repeat of the Twilight velvet freakout from For the Hive. Except with shady government officials involved.
Godamnit.
Maybe the church people will come to his aid.
Yeah, no. this is just gonna suck.
Got to love those shifty government types.
So the fact that that line was in a memory means that the show WASN'T shamelessly name dropping the title every CMC episode?
I'm shocked, shocked I say.
Cause that's not Evil at all!