• Published 27th Jul 2014
  • 9,262 Views, 387 Comments

Chitin - Feo Takahari



Twilight just revealed every changeling in Ponyville. There are more of them than she expected. Way more.

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Somehow, I know I’ll find you there

Author’s note: I’ve made several retcons to previous chapters. They’ll be listed in my next blog post, but the only one that’s important going forward is that changelings can now walk on clouds.

Early the next morning, Fluttershy sat outside the front door of Carousel Boutique and debated whether or not to knock again. It usually opened around now, but there was no guarantee Rarity would be working today after what had happened yesterday. Maybe she should try the library--no, Twilight would definitely be busy today. Or Sugarcube Corner, but it was probably closed for repairs. Or she could go look for Applejack, but she was afraid the Element of Honesty would see right through her.

The door swung open, and Rarity stared in surprise at the mare on her doorstep. “Fluttershy? Where were you yesterday? You had me worried sick about you!”

“Um . . .” Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Fluttershy that she’d need to answer that question.

Rarity’s mane was combed and styled, and there weren’t any obvious lines around her eyes, but the friendly warmth around her had a sickly tinge. Fluttershy suspected she hadn’t slept well, and the yellow mare began to feel very guilty.

“Oh, what am I saying?” Rarity asked. “I’m just glad you’re safe. Come in! I’ll make some tea for you.”

“Thank you,” Fluttershy said, “but I don’t think I can stay very long. I just wanted to tell you I’ll be going away for a few days.”

“If I may ask, where are you going?” Rarity inquired.

“I need to go find somepony,” Fluttershy said, not entirely lying. “I haven’t talked to her in a really long time. I don’t know what she looks like now, but I think I can find her.”

Rarity wrinkled her brow at that. “There’s no need to dance around the subject, Fluttershy. If I may venture a guess . . . You’re going to see your mother?”

-- -- -- --

A little yellow filly rushed through the front entrance of her cloud house, crying every step of the way. She nearly bowled her mother over with a desperate, wordless hug.

“You’re home late again, Fluttershy,” Mommy said. “I was worried about you.”

Fluttershy pressed her face into Mommy’s neck, still too scared to speak.

“Are you all right, little wings?” Mommy cooed. “Did those mean colts hurt you again?”

“Hoofball,” Fluttershy whimpered, her voice somewhat muffled by Mommy’s fur. “I just wanted to play hoofball. They didn’t have to be so mean.”

“It’s all right,” Mommy said. “You’re with Mommy now.” She lifted her foal up and embraced her. “I’ll always be here for you, little wings, but you have to stay safe. Tomorrow, you have to come right home after school. No mean colts will ever get in here.”

“But . . . what about hoofball?” Fluttershy asked.

“You can’t keep playing hoofball, Fluttershy,” Mommy tutted. “Those mean colts could really hurt you, and then they’d just say it was an accident.”

“But--” Fluttershy attempted.

“Trust me, Fluttershy,” Mommy said. “All I want is for you to be safe.”

She knew it was true. Mommy would never leave her like Daddy, or hurt her like the colts. Mommy loved her more than anything, and she loved Mommy more than anything, too.

-- -- -- --

“Fluttershy?” Rarity asked. “Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said.

“You never talk about your family,” Rarity said. “I assumed you parted on bad terms, and I thought maybe you wanted to mend your bridges now.”

“It’s . . . hard to explain,” Fluttershy attempted. “I don’t think I can tell you.”

“I won’t pry, then,” Rarity promised. “But a word of advice: if there’s ever something you need to talk about, something you simply can’t hold inside, Pinkie Pie is a surprisingly good listener.”

Fluttershy considered the prospect of telling Pinkie Pie everything that was wrong with her. She would rather pick a fight with a dragon than start that conversation. “She’s probably really busy right now,” she said, “after everything that--”

“I won’t let you do this to yourself, Fluttershy,” Rarity interrupted, her voice growing a little louder and her aura turning a little darker with each word. “You have a history of quietly being miserable because you’re afraid speaking up will make your friends unhappy. None of us are happy when we know you’re hurting yourself!”

Fluttershy stared wide-eyed at her furious-looking friend, finding herself at a total loss for words.

The fashionista shrank in on herself, her anger already fading. “Forgive me,” she said. “I’m more tired than I realized, and it seems I’ve let my temper get the better of me.”

“No, you’re right, Rarity,” Fluttershy admitted. “I’ll go talk to her.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “Thank you.”

-- -- -- --

Sugarcube Corner was mostly intact, though several burn marks hinted that it could have been a lot worse. Pinkie Pie opened the front door at the third knock. “Sorry, but we’re--oh hi, Fluttershy! Come in!”

This time, Fluttershy had her apology prepared. “Hi, Pinkie. I’m sorry I wasn’t around yesterday. I should have told somepony I wasn’t hurt or anything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Pinkie said, beaming positive emotions like a miniature sun. “I knew you were okay. Probably really, really scared, but okay.”

Fluttershy almost asked what Pinkie meant, but they were interrupted by a loud wail from the second floor. Pinkie Pie zipped off, and Fluttershy followed.

Pumpkin Cake was sitting on the nursery floor, crying plaintively, while Pound Cake looked on in confusion. Green fire flickered intermittently across the little filly, changing the color of her mane from orange to purple to green, but no matter what she tried, her coat remained a lifeless shade of white.

“It’s okay, Pumpkin-Wumpkin,” Pinkie Pie assured the foal. “Just calm down a bit, and you’ll be back to normal in no time!”

Pumpkin’s crying continued unabated. Pound silently patted her shoulder.

“Um, do you think Mr. or Mrs. Cake could help?” Fluttershy suggested.

“They’re not changelings,” Pinkie said. “Or Apples, either, which is kinda weird. Besides, they’re not here.” She leaned in close to Fluttershy. “They had a really bad night,” she explained quietly, “so they’re having a picnic. I asked if they were gonna make music together, and Mr. Cake said he didn’t think so. Which is too bad, because I was gonna loan them my new drum set.”

Fluttershy blinked repeatedly, uncertain what had just happened. “Um, why is it weird they’re not Apples?”

“Genealogy,” Pinkie explained. “Almost all the changelings at the hospital yesterday were Apples. Or Berries, or Shuffles, or Doos, but those are all related to Apples.”

Pinkie grit her teeth and squinted for a few seconds. Nothing happened.

“And I get zip!” she added. “Nada! Nothing! Is it too much to ask for a horn and wings? But anyway, I need a bag of flour. Be right back!”

She dashed down the stairs before Fluttershy could say anything.

Without anything else to distract her, Fluttershy couldn’t keep her focus off the loudly crying filly. She knew all about baby birds and bats and beavers, but she was hardly an expert on foals. As Fluttershy, she might have just stood there until Pinkie came back, scared to do the wrong thing.

But Little Red wasn’t scared of anything.

“You’re trapped,” he said quietly. “You know this isn’t you, but you can’t change, and nopony knows how to help.”

Almost on impulse, he whitened his coat, focusing on exactly how it felt. It was difficult to describe in pony terms. The best he could come up with was that he felt blank.

Pumpkin and Pound watched him, confused and intrigued. Pumpkin had stopped crying, but he knew she would start again if he couldn’t find a way to solve this.

He’d changed from white to yellow before, but he’d done so naturally, instinctively. Focusing in, he found that he couldn’t do it directly, any more than he could grab a hoof-full of air. Before he could change colors, he needed to make color--all the colors at once, blended so none showed.

He smiled gently as fire blackened his coat. “White to black,” he said, “then black to color. You can do it. Try it.”

Pumpkin squinted, straining, and she slowly darkened. She checked the fur on her front legs, then clapped her hooves together in delight.

Pinkie Pie rushed back in, carrying a large brown bag. “All right, buddy,” she said sternly. “You asked for it!” She upended the bag over both herself and Little Red, covering them both in flour. “Now we’re white, too! And we’ll stay white until--huh?”

Ignoring Little Red’s repeated sneezing, Pinkie Pie gently touched a hoof to Pumpkin’s coat. “It doesn’t come off.” She touched the same hoof to Little Red’s coat, wiping away the flour. “That does come off. And underneath . . . A-ha! I found you, sneaky changeling!”

Little Red wasn’t scared of anything. Fluttershy was scared of quite a few things. With just five words, the mare’s legs locked up, and she fell sideways with a frightened bleat.

“Do you know what this means?” Pinkie demanded, her expression serious and her aura cloudy. Then she cracked a smile, and the clouds dissipated. “We’re cousins! Pinkie Apple Pie and Fluttershy Apple, uh, your last name!” She hopped around the room in excitement.

Still lying on the floor, Fluttershy drew in a sudden breath. “You really scared me, Pinkie,” she said. “I thought you were going to call me an impostor or something.”

“I had to make sure you were Fluttershy,” Pinkie said, still bouncing. “Or else you’re a goat. Can goats be changelings? Anyway, now I know you’re not some big meanie.” She stopped and looked down into Fluttershy’s eyes. “How come you never told me you were an Apple?”

“I’m not an Apple,” Fluttershy said. “I mean, I don’t think I am.”

“Maybe you’re a secret Apple!” Pinkie speculated. “Your grampa could have been Granny Smith’s long-lost pegasus love! Or maybe you were found on a doorstep, and brought up by another family--do cloud houses have doorsteps?”

Fluttershy lifted herself off the floor and did her best to focus. “Um, I don’t think it’s like that, Pinkie . . . ”

But what was it like? How could she possibly explain this?

Pumpkin caught her attention again. The little filly seemed to be trying to mirror her brother’s appearance, but so far she’d only managed to change her coloring. Eventually, she managed to make her horn melt into her skull, and then got to work on wings.

“She’s a fast learner, isn’t she?” Fluttershy mused. “Pretty soon, she’ll look just like Pound. Do you think they’ll be the same then, or will they still be different?”

Pinkie gave her a weird look. “Is this like that thing with the black bowling ball and the white bowling ball, and you paint the white one black? Because I kind of think Twilight was messing with my head when she told me about that.”

Fluttershy sighed. “I’d like to ask you something, but it’s not a very nice thing. If I’m hurting you by asking, you can tell me to stop. It’s just . . . when you’re feeling something, how do you know if it’s real?”

Pinkie put her hoof to her chin. “Hmm . . . I still don’t get it. I’m Pinkie Pie, Ponyville’s prolific party planner, and I feel like Pinkie Pie, too. If I were a clone or something, and I felt like Pinkie Pie, that wouldn’t be real. But I’m not a clone; I checked!”

Pinkie suddenly gasped, her eyes wide as saucers. “Are you a clone?” she asked. “Are you gonna foalnap me and put a Pinkie clone in my place?” She pressed her hooves against the sides of Fluttershy’s head. “Nope, false alarm.”

Fluttershy stared in bafflement. “You were scared,” she said. “Even though it was a joke, it felt like real fear. And earlier, you acted angry because I was a ‘sneaky changeling,’ and it felt like you were really furious, even though you were just pretending so you could scare me. You change emotions so quickly, like you’re putting masks on and taking them off . . . You’re scaring me, Pinkie.”

“Geez,” Pinkie said. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy. I just get a little into my jokes sometimes.”

Fluttershy took a deep breath, then slowly let it out again. She idly pondered the mechanisms involved. Did changelings have lungs? Did they even need air? Or was it just a way of looking normal?

She forced out words, slowly, steadily. It felt a bit like vomiting. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask all of this. Pinkie, I . . . I have masks, too. I’ve had them since before I left home.”

-- -- -- --

Fluttershy quietly walked through the front door of her house, and a burly blue pegasus marched behind her. A shining yellow badge hung from his orange vest: Air Safety Marshal.

“Is this your filly?” the marshal asked Mommy.

Mommy fixed Fluttershy with a stare that could burn through iron. “Fluttershy, what did you do?” she asked firmly.

“I found her on the roof of a shop in the lowest part of town,” the marshal explained. “Apparently, two bullies twice her size tried to take some foal’s lunch money, and she tried to stop them. They’re swearing up and down that they just meant to push her aside, not knock her off the cloud.”

Mommy didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes on Fluttershy. Still, her expression softened slightly. “Are you hurt?” she asked. “Did you land okay?”

Fluttershy quietly shook her head. “I froze up,” she said. “I couldn’t fly.”

“Fluttershy, you have to be more careful!” Mommy scolded. “You need to stay away from cloud edges unless you’re ready to take flight.”

“What your foal needs is proper flying lessons,” the marshal said sternly. “Any filly her age should know how to get out of freefall, especially in a town like Cloudsdale. If she hadn’t landed on that roof, she could have died!”

“I’ll thank you not to tell me how to parent,” Mommy said. “It’s true that Fluttershy’s had a few problems learning how to fly, but she’s getting better, and she doesn’t need you butting in.”

The marshal grimaced. “Whatever you say, ma’am. Anyway, those bullies are minors, and there’s no proof they intended to hurt her, but you can still press recklessness charges if you want. Think it over, and if you decide to do it, come down to the sheriff’s office sometime this week.” He adjusted his badge, as if trying to reassert some manner of authority. “I’ll be going now. You have a very brave filly, but for her sake, I hope I never have to rescue her again.”

As soon as he was gone, Mommy rounded on Fluttershy. “This is about those blasted books you’ve been reading, isn’t it?”

“Big Red wouldn’t just stand there and let somepony be bullied,” Fluttershy said firmly. “Daring Do and Skychaser wouldn’t, either. They’d do something to help.”

“That’s because they’re not real!” Mommy yelled. “You can’t go around trying to save everypony! Sooner or later, you’ll just get yourself hurt! Do you realize how close you came to killing yourself today?”

Of course she did. It still terrified her to remember falling. But it wouldn’t have been right to just stand and watch. Would it?

“Fluttershy . . . I’m taking those books away,” Mommy said. “And I’m not pressing charges against those bullies.”

“But they won’t stop!” Fluttershy protested. “They’ll just keep hurting other foals!”

“You can’t always stop bad ponies, Fluttershy,” Mommy said. “Sometimes they’re bigger than you, or stronger than you, or they’re just too powerful to touch. You need to learn that before you get yourself hurt.”

Fluttershy didn’t even try to protest further. She just looked down at the floor and cried.

Mommy draped a wing over her, warmly embracing her. “I’m sorry, little wings, but you’re the only family I have left. Daddy’s gone, but we’re still here, and I can’t lose you. I love you, and I know someday you’ll understand that.”

-- -- -- --

Fluttershy told that story, and the hoofball story, and the library story. Somewhere along the way, she became Little Red without realizing it, and he explained why Daddy left. When he finished, he realized that Pinkie Pie was crying.

“After a while, all Fluttershy had left was her fear,” he said. “She could pretend sometimes to be happy, but her fear was the only thing that was real. Then she fell to the ground, and she thought she’d been reborn. She found peace. She found kindness. She even had a talent!”

Pumpkin and Pound stared quietly at him, matched so perfectly he didn’t know which was which. Their emotions were simple, and thankfully, they didn’t seem to understand much of what he was saying. But they knew that Pinkie was sad, and that made them sad, too.

“And don’t think you girls haven’t helped me, either. Fluttershy learned to be brave, to be honest with herself, to laugh even when she was scared . . . But there was always something missing. There was a piece of myself that I couldn’t fit into Fluttershy. I think that’s why I made this stallion--Little Red. Even in this sloshy, gooshy body, there’s something about him that feels like me.”

Pinkie Pie wiped at her eyes, then loudly blew into a white kerchief. Her emotions were so garbled that Little Red couldn’t make heads or tails of them, but she seemed to be listening.

“When I was Mommy’s ‘little wings,’ it felt real,” he said. “I thought that was how I was supposed to be. And then I was Fluttershy, and that felt real, too. But if this is me, then what am I? Can I still be Fluttershy if I’m Little Red? And if this isn’t me, then am I anything at all? That’s why I need to understand you, Pinkie. You change so much more than me. How do you know what’s you?”

“Fluttershy, in ten seconds, I’m gonna hug you,” Pinkie said. “Unless you say no. I’m getting better about asking after I hugged Twilight while she was carrying that bottle of dragon stomach acid.”

“You don’t have to--” Little Red attempted, but Pinkie embraced him before he could finish.

“This is real,” Pinkie said, her arms wrapped around his neck and her cheek against his. Her love flowed into him, no longer tainted by sorrow. “You’re my friend, Fluttershy. You’re kind. You’re caring. You love little furry things, unless they’re three months old and in the fridge. Even if you change your name, all of that’s still true.”

“You’re . . . choking me . . .” Little Red coughed.

Pinkie Pie loosened her hold. “Sorry. Anyway, you’re the Element of Kindness. You can’t fake that. And your cutie mark’s real, too. You don’t have to figure out the rest of it right away. Look at how much Twilight’s changed since we met her!”

“If I do change . . .” Little Red attempted. “If I’m not Fluttershy anymore . . . will you still be my friend?”

“Of course I’ll be your friend, silly!” She let go to make a familiar gesture. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

Little Red chuckled, quietly and briefly. “You couldn’t lie if you tried, could you? Your feelings keep changing, but all of them seem real. It’s like you’re feeling all of them, all at once.”

Pinkie smiled back at him. “You still wanna understand me? Lesson one in Pinkieology: I feel everything. If some of your friends got hurt--really badly hurt--you’d be sad, right? But if some of your friends fell in love, or learned to fly, or figured out a little bit more about who they were, you’d be happy. And if both of those happened, you’d just feel weird. I’m friends with everypony in Ponyville, and my Pinkie Sense tells me when things happen to my friends.”

It took a few seconds for the implications to hit him. “Um, Pinkie Pie . . . Please don’t take this the wrong way . . . But how are you not completely mad by now?”

Pinkie bugged out her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “I’m a nut! I’m crazy in the coconut! But it makes folks happy when I show them I’m happy. And sometimes, they need to see me sad, so I show them I’m sad. If I just do nothing, I get so sad I can’t act happy anymore, and then things get really bad. But if I make them happier, I’m happier too.”

Little Red fumbled for words. Eventually, he came up with “You would have been a great changeling, Pinkie.”

“That’s the second-weirdest compliment anypony’s ever given me,” Pinkie said cheerfully. “But speaking of changing, Pound and Pumpkin need new diapers. I’ll be back soon!”

-- -- -- --

“Back again! I’ve been thinking. Apple Bloom told me about a white pony with a red mane who helped her yesterday. Was that Little Red?”

“Um, yes,” Little Red admitted. “I didn’t really do anything, though. I just talked.”

“You said the right things,” Pinkie observed. “That’s more than I do most of the time. I say one wrong word, and then Rarity throws a ponnequin at me.”

“You don’t have to be so hard on yourself,” Little Red said. “You really helped me just a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Pinkie said. “I mean, why’d she even ask me how that dress made her flanks look if she didn’t want an answer?”

Little Red blanched under his fur.

“Anyway,” Pinkie continued, “one of my friends did something really bad, and I don’t know what to do. I think somepony could help her if they talked to her, but I say the wrong thing a lot when I talk. Can you keep a secret?”

“Um, I don’t really like secrets. But if it’s important, I promise I won’t tell.”

Pinkie leaned over and whispered into Little Red’s ear. He felt like somepony had hit him in the head with a rake.

“She what?

Author's Note:

I owe a lot of people for help with this chapter, including Rakni, Razalon The Lizardman, Daedelean, and Vates Despero. Thank you all for your help!