Hood Rat

by Twinkletail

Donning the Hood

Acting sick was strange.

Fleur de Lis was used to acting, but her acting experience had always involved much more positive things. She was used to acting cute, or serious, or even playful on occasion. Acting sick was a completely different experience, and Fleur was sure that if her acting instructor were here, his retching in response to her performance would be far more believable than the noises she was making.

As terrible as her perception of her performance was, though, it seemed to work just fine on Mint and the ponies in charge of their current job. Perhaps her performance was better than she thought? Or perhaps the others were so invested in making sure things went swimmingly that they did not pick up on the small failures in her act. She figured the former was more likely. She was fantastically talented, after all. It was very likely that she only saw through her own charade because she knew it to be one already. Besides, to admit that the latter was true would be to say that she was not the center of attention; a grievous falsehood if ever there was one.

The shoot felt far longer than any shoot had before. Fleur loved her career greatly; she typically had very little problem with a shoot running long. She was usually very glad to continue to show off her loveliness, even though it came with the added job of keeping Mint in line when she would get angry with a worker. Today, she couldn't wait for it all to end. Every costume change took forever. Every costume required tons of poses. Every pose called for tons of reshoots. Every everything made every everything take every amount of time. Through it all, she had to act happy to be doing it, while acting serious and sexy over the happiness, and continuing to act sick all through that. She figured that she deserved a medal for her multilayered performance today, but the prize of being able to see Pinkie Pie later was all she could ask for.

Fleur headed straight home after the shoot; behavior which would have been odd for her had it not been explained away by her apparent illness. Fleur was known amongst her circle for being quite the socialite; even if there wasn't a soirée to attend like there was today, she was always up for a post-shoot meal with Mint, the shoot's organizer, and any members of the crew that Mint saw it fit to welcome along. Today, she opted to pass on the typical celebratory dinner. She was thankful for Mint explaining, albeit in a slightly demeaning manner, that Fleur was "too sick and undesirable to be around" to attend the dinner. Everypony was quite alright with her skipping out if it meant that they would not have to risk becoming sick.

As soon as she stepped into her home, Fleur bolted to the attic. She hated her attic. Granted, it was far less dusty than most attics were thought to be, but it was still dusty enough to unnerve her. It was rare than she even needed to go up here in the first place. She did not want to go there because it was too dusty, and it became dusty because she rarely went up there...it was all a vicious cycle that she did not currently have time to ruminate upon.

Thankfully, Fleur's search did not take long at all. Despite the dustiness of the attic, all the items it housed were neat and stored in a very organized fashion. The object of her search could be easily found in the drawer with mumsy's old costumes. It was at times like this, as well as any time she was able to get a look at the family's income, that she truly appreciated her mumsy's successful acting career. She also greatly appreciated how similar their builds were. Fleur's frame was distinct, but so was her lack of sewing skills; any salvation from having to alter clothing was welcome.

The fashionable unicorn rummaged eagerly through the costume drawer, trying to find the perfect disguise. It was rare that Fleur did something to hide her immense beauty, but this situation very clearly called for it. If she was to go and experience the loveliness of Pinkie Pie and the alleged fun of her parties without tarnishing her reputation, sacrifices would have to be made. It was at this moment that her mumsy's job worked against Fleur's intentions; as serendipitous as it was to share a similar frame, her mumsy's beauty rarely called for costumes that would hide it. Each costume the increasingly-frustrated unicorn found was the same. Nothing obstructed her face, and many of the costumes were skimpy enough that thinking of her own mother wearing them nearly dissuaded Fleur from her plan completely.

Then she saw it.

Fleur's first instinct upon seeing the garment was one of disgust. She was a sight to behold, a beautiful vixen whose pulchritude was positively unmatched. As such, she was used to wearing outfits which fit and accentuated this attribute. This horrid number did anything but. The drab brown of the fabric was horrifying and belonged only in accents, never as the primary pigment. The ends of the shawl were ratty and frayed, as if its creator had simply not cared to fix them up. The hood was much the same, and the eye and horn holes in it were so haphazardly cut that they looked like an afterthought. It was simply awful.

And yet, at the same time, it was excellent. It covered her body completely, the back even billowing out enough to encompass her tail. The hood would be anchored in place by her horn and would cover everything but her muzzle. Its overall shabbiness looked nothing like the kind of attire that a pony of her stature would wear, so it would even throw ponies off of her scent in that manner.

Disgustingly perfect. Repulsively resplendent. Appallingly impeccable. This, undoubtedly, was the exact garment she was looking for. Fleur quickly, yet neatly, packed the rest of the costumes back into the drawer and absconded, using her newfound treasure to protect herself from any dust kicked up by her expedience.

Fleur stared at the tattered garment for some time once she was in her bathroom. She had considered bringing it to her room, but to do so would have been an affront to the rest of the ensembles there. She held her wardrobe to a particularly high standard, one that the shawl could never even dream of meeting, had clothing the capacity to dream. The thought of letting that thing touch her flawless white coat was almost bad enough to send the poor unicorn into conniptions.

And then she thought of the possible rewards. If she eschewed her usual fashion sense and donned the abomination, it would be the perfect disguise to attend Pinkie's party. She would get to see that sweet delight again, just as she'd been dreaming of all day. She would be able to spend the entire evening in Pinkie's presence, and perhaps even get closer to her as a result. Once Pinkie was given the chance to spend time with her, the two would surely fall under the spell of each others' charms, and once that was done, Fleur would reveal herself to her, and the two would be happy forever after. It would be like a fairy tale of some sort, with Fleur finally winning the heart of the pink princess she'd fawned over. And all she had to do was cast aside her shame and don the hood.

Fleur levitated the shawl closer to her. As horrible as it was, the benefits outweighed the flaws. Her muscles tensed as she floated it over her body, her reflexes quick enough to deftly dodge a speck of dust that fell from it and threatened to sully her pristine coat. She took a few breaths, preparing herself as best she could for the critical fashion error that she was about to commit. Then, with the speed and the thought processes of a pony removing a bandage quickly to get it over with, she thrust the vile thing down over her frame. Her skin crawled at the feeling of the thing touching her as she quickly worked her magic to tie the frayed strings under her breast and barrel, as well as the ones around her hind hooves. Another magical tug pulled the hood up over her long pink locks. She pulled it as taut as she could over her face until her horn found the hole meant for it. She carefully aimed her horn into the opening, then let the hood go, crinkling her muzzle as the sudden release unleashed a bit of dust over it. In hindsight, she figured she could have washed it before putting it on, but the general uncleanliness of the garment lent itself to the illusion she was trying to enforce.

The idea of seeing herself in this getup did not sit well with Fleur, so she decided to postpone it for a few moments, choosing instead to give it a quick test run first. The cloaked unicorn took a few steps looking everywhere but the mirror. The eyeholes, although somewhat frayed, did not impede her vision in many meaningful way. She supposed that made sense; although it must have been made to look shabbily-made for whatever performance mumsy wore it for, it still needed to allow her to function properly. The horn hole kept the hood right where it needed to be to obfuscate her lovely features, and the strings around her breast, barrel, and hind hooves kept the cloak from pulling away from her and revealing any part of her body. Fleur smiled and allowed herself to get a little more playful, insisting to herself that it was merely for testing purposes. She opened the bathroom door and jogged, galloped, and even briefly pronked about her home. No matter how she moved, the cloak and hood stayed in place. She sighed in relief, pleased to see the garment perform its duties so efficiently. If any of her friends were to see her moving about like she was, she would certainly be laughed at, but as it was, there was little chance of being recognized while covered so excellently.

Fleur put off a viewing of herself just a bit longer, opting instead to work on her voice. She had not spoken a single word to Pinkie in their meeting earlier, as her vocal cords had utterly failed her upon setting sights on the enchanting earth pony. Rarity, however, knew her voice, and if she were to speak as she always did, it would be a dead giveaway. the unicorn cleared her throat, trying a few words in a slightly different voice. When she decided that this voice sounded far too much like her own, she altered it another time, lowering her pitch slightly. When that was not satisfactory, she added a slight gravel to her tone. Her vocal cords would not be happy with her and would require a nice soothing tea once she returned home from the party, but the gravel truly did the trick, masking her voice just enough to make it difficult to tie back to her usual voice.

Fleur noticed the time and sighed lightly to herself. She could put it off no longer; she had to see what she looked like. As she set eyes upon one of the many full-length mirrors strewn about her house, she bit her lip, almost forced to tears. She looked absolutely abhorrent, a far cry from her usual state. Her immaculate hooves and muzzle and her deep purple eyes were the only parts of her that were at all recognizable, everything else ensconced in sickening brown. She allowed a single tear to fall, one which was quickly absorbed by the greedy fabric of the hood. It hurt to see herself looking so drab and unattractive, but in truth, it was exactly what she had wanted from this whole situation. Nopony would expect a pony who looked so blasé to be a stunning model in disguise, and she was counting on exactly that. This knowledge, though, did not dull the visceral reaction to her appearance in the slightest.

"I look like a common hood rat," Fleur said sadly to her reflection. She sniffled lightly, then hesitated.

"...I look like a common hood rat," she repeated, this time in her manufactured voice from earlier. She had figured that she would need a fake name to go under, and it appeared that she had stumbled across it by accident.

"Hood Rat," she said once more. The words sounded so alien, especially in that tone of voice.

"My name is Hood Rat," she said again, starting to build a little confidence despite the disappointment of seeing herself. No, that wasn't good enough. She had been taught by her speech coach that speaking in contractions was not befitting of a mare of her stature, but she was no longer bound by the restraints of that stature.

"My name's Hood Rat," she spoke, nearly stumbling over the casualness of those words. "And I am...I'M...here for the party." She perked up slightly, remembering her acting lessons. She had to push her earlier sadness away. Fleur de Lis was sad over her appearance. Hood Rat was not. Hood Rat did not...DIDN'T...mind looking a bit dirty. In fact, Hood Rat would likely be enthusiastic about it. Hood Rat's lack of concern for her appearance was clearly due to the fact that she was more concerned with having a good time, which was exactly what she planned on doing tonight. Yes, that was perfect.

"My name's Hood Rat!" she said, beginning to smile. "And I'm here for your party, Pinkie!" Fantastic! For the rest of the day, Fleur de Lis would not exist. There would only be Hood Rat.

Hood Rat glanced at the clock. Pinkie's party was starting in an hour! If she caught the train right now, she could make it on time!

But Fleur de Lis would arrive at the party on time. Hood Rat, though, would probably come just a little late. Hood Rat was the type of pony to relax and take her time, not worrying too much about putting on appearances and arriving at the time she was expected. Hood Rat would probably oversleep, having been ravaged by partying too much the night before, and would make it to the party an hour late, offering a few apologies.

Perhaps she was too in-character, though. She wanted to see Pinkie as soon as possible. And, upon thinking into it further, Hood Rat would feel the same if she intended to win the fair Pinkie's heart. She quickly galloped out the door and towards the train station. By the end of this evening, Hood Rat would win the heart of her princess.

Comments

[Skeeter The Lurker]

Heh... Nice name. Hood Rat, it's fitting.

~Skeeter The Lurker

[Chaotic Note]

I fucking like this fic now.
If I hadn't made that clear before.

[Seether00]

And the transformation starts. Where does the character end and the pony begin? That will become the question.

[nemryn]

although it must have been made to look shabbily-made for whatever performance mumsy wore it for,

Wait, how does she not recognize a Clover the Clever costume?

Also, I bet Rarity will recognize her anyway.

[Superbowl]

I'm half expecting Pinkie to just know it's the same pony from earlier somehow.

[Baby Rhino]

Seems very Batman inspired

[Charcoal Quill]

I think I see a problem with Fleur's plan... By putting on a persona, wouldn't Pinkie fall in love with the persona itself instead of the pony behind it? Tread carefully, Fleur de Lis...

[Moowell]

Two comments: 1) That intentional gravel in her voice and the fatigue she experiences after a night of Pinkie Partying will enhance her ability to feign sickness. 2) Leading a double life is tough, as Fleur will surely find out if she continues down this road.

[Super]

This is going to go extremely well.

[Chaotic Note]

...Update?

[Balthazar]

R u goin 2 upd8?

[Twinkletail]

4505551
I will be! Apologies for the wait. I'm adhering strictly to my schedule as listed in this here blog, but I've hit a roadblock in the story I'm writing for a contest. Once that's done, I'll be back on schedule.

[Zathras]

Love this one.

[aCB]

You're really going to stop here? Right before everything happens? Whas wrong witchu?!

[ColdGoldLazarus]

You have caught my attention.

[DiscountDiscord]

I was wondering about that title...

[StormHoof32]

I love the Montmorency vibe I'm getting from this. If you aren't familiar with Montmorency it's a book about a man who becomes rich due to theft. and creates an alter ego called scarper. Scarper is his theif name when he goes out in the night. When he is out about in the day he is Mr. Montmorency, a rich aristocrat. you have a reverse version of that going on and I love it.