2. Leaving The Light On
Leaving The Light On
Once the world slowly faded back into his awareness, the first thing he became aware of was the loss of his disguise. The welcome warmth of pony fur, even soaking wet, had become so familiar during his last few years out among ponykind that he felt oddly naked. Still, thanks to a thick blanket draped over him, he was warm, even if there was still mud packed into the back of his sinuses and a gritting of sand in his teeth. The world swayed slowly with little jolts of impacts and creaks of stressed wagon parts which did not grow louder as he expected. After a moment, he managed to get one eye open to see if the unicorn was going to drag her wagon over him instead of drowning him in mud.
Since he could see the inside of the wagon, that seemed to be a fairly low probability, although baffling.
There was the weak glow of a firefly lantern somewhere above him illuminating the cramped interior of the fairly small wagon, along with a substantial number of boxes, bags, wads of crumpled paper, and a few crates marked with stars and comets packed against the walls. There was even a half-collapsed box of pine cones spilling its contents out across one end of the floor and marked ‘Emergency Rations Only.’ Above, several posters of ‘Trixie!’ were hanging and tacked just about anywhere he could look, but they all seemed tattered and worn, with frayed corners and little mended rips, giving him the impression of being stared down at by a vast crowd of wounded showmares.
To the rear of the wagon, a tiny brass stove with an empty coal scuttle sat next to a small desk, which used the seating cushion as a pillow for the thin and entirely too lumpy flat cushion/mattress he was lying on. It was a remarkable conservation of what limited space was available on the inside of the wagon, and even though he probably could have stretched out enough to touch his jagged horn and rear hooves to opposite ends of the space remaining, it still was larger than the little cell he had lived in for several years at the hive.
The sticky mud which had been packed into every orifice of his body and a few he did not like to think about was mostly gone, or at least smeared away until only a thin film remained over most of his body and drying lumps still stuck inside the chitinous holes. The mud was not totally gone, because a number of muddy towels had been jammed next to the mattress and still dripped a little when he gave them an experimental poke.
Well, I haven’t been out for long, but I’m a prisoner.
He eyed a coil of rope hanging on the side of the wagon, as well as a large number of hoofcuffs and chains hanging next to them and revised his original status.
I have no idea why I’m not a prisoner, but I’m fairly warm and dry here, and it’s wet and cold out there, so what the hay.
Fluffing up the threadbare pillow, he settled back down and tried to relax. His entire body still hurt, but something had given him a little bit of emotional energy while he was unconscious, and if he held himself very still, he could feel just the least little trickle ongoing while the wagon lumbered onward. Even the little bit bag he had tied around his neck was intact, which was yet another thing he had not expected. Tossed out into the mud and stripped of his remaining bits, he certainly would have been dead in a day or two. As it was for now…
He snuggled down into the frayed blanket and enjoyed the sensation of just being comfortably warm for a while.
~ ~ ♠ ~ ~
The swaying and creaking of the wagon had lulled him into a fitful sleep, which he awoke from abruptly when the wagon slowed to a halt. The low hiss of continuing rain had not abated, but the clatter of a harness being released sounded from the front of the wagon, which coincidentally had the only door out of the enclosed space unless he decided to try squeezing out of one of the fairly small and not quite changeling-sized windows. The rattle and thumping continued for a few more minutes until the door creaked open and the blue unicorn from before stuck her sopping-wet head into the doorway.
“Oh, good. You’re up.” The unicorn eyed the bag of bits hanging on the string around the changeling’s neck as if she had originally been planning on lifting them if he had still been sleeping when she opened the door. She recovered quickly, though, and returned to looking the changeling right in the eyes with no visual indication of the fear and residual anger she was radiating other than a faint shiver traveling down her sodden flanks.
“Yes, I’m up,” said the changeling cautiously. “Where are we?”
“We are not anywhere,” said the unicorn, still dripping rainwater over the floor. “Trixie is in the friendly town of Soapstone, cottages for rent, weekly rates and pet-friendly rooms.” She rolled her eyes. “Do you still have your bits?”
“Yes.”
The undisguised changeling eyed Trixie. It was a unique experience for him, because he had never been face to real face with a pony before without there being a certain amount of screaming or wild panic involved. For a moment, he even considered that she might be a changeling herself, except for the emotions she was giving off for his consumption. In any case, he really had very few options. He was tired, cold, and nearly out of energy. The unicorn could have just left him in the mud, and in the same situation, he would have, but she had dragged him out of the mud and even dried him off a little before throwing him into the wagon, so he was willing to extend a little un-changelinglike trust. Besides, she radiated enough confused emotions to snack from and he was still incredibly hungry.
“Good,” declared Trixie. “That’s the first thing you’ve said to me that isn’t a question.” The unicorn cleared her throat in what could almost have been the beginnings of a terrible cold, but seemed instead to be a very skillful attempt at manipulating the changeling’s own emotions. “The Great and Powerful Trixie finds herself in need of a small loan to pay for a room.”
“A loan?”
“And your record is broken,” said Trixie in a perfectly flat deadpan. “Yes, a loan.”
The changeling barely had to think about it before responding, “What’s in it for me?”
There was a distinct burst of sweet emotions at that, just enough for the changeling to soak up another little bit of energy. The unicorn must have been emoting while pulling the wagon too, because now that the changeling had a little time to think about it, he actually felt a little better than before his enforced mudbath. The unicorn looked a little better too, because the last bit of the road going into town must have been paved and the ongoing rain had washed some of the mud out of her coat. Still, she maintained her snooty attitude and lifted her nose while replying.
“What’s in it for you? How about not getting thrown out into the mud while I scream for the town police about finding a changeling in my wagon?”
“No, no, no,” said the changeling while waving a hoof from under the warm blanket. He was at least reasonably comfortable, if not for the itching and lumps in the thin mattress. He had no desire to return to his involuntary freezing mudbath. “I mean what kind of interest rate would you be willing to pay? Five percent?”
This time, the flicker of delicious affection he soaked up was stronger. Still not enough to fatten him up, but it was at least promising. “Three,” responded Trixie.
“Five,” responded the changeling with a small cough tasting too much like mud. “And maybe a bath?”
“Four, no bath, and you’re gone by the time I come out to my wagon tomorrow,” countered Trixie.
“How will you pay me back if I’m gone?”
The affection she released this time was a sharp burst that matched the miniscule raising of the corners of her lips, even though the rest of her expression stayed discouragingly stoic. “Three, you can have what’s left in the bathtub after I’m done, you stay in the room until after I perform tomorrow, and get lost after I pay you.”
It was tempting, but he thought he could get just a little more out of the deal. “I get the bed?”
There was a short burst of suppressed violence leaking out from Trixie’s emotional walls while she replied, “You get the floor. Trixie needs her beauty rest if she is to perform at her best tomorrow.”
He nodded hesitantly. “Can I at least lurk by the bathroom while you’re soaking and feed on your love for hot water?”
“Yes, yes.” Trixie waved a dismissive hoof. “Do we have a deal?”
~ ~ ♠ ~ ~
While staggering away from the muddy wagon, the changeling tried his best to balance the load of cushions, a small suitcase, and the warmed comforter. It was only a few steps, but he stumbled in relief when he passed through the open door of the rental cottage, closely followed by Trixie. The rain had barely dampened the top of the stack, but Trixie stopped just inside the door and dripped while peeking back outside.
“Good, I don’t think anypony saw you.”
“Really?” The changeling glared at Trixie while dumping the pile of bedding on the floor. “It’s dark, I was under a blanket, and it’s the middle of the night. Anybody out this late in the rain deserves a kick in the head. Is this it?” he added, looking around the tiny room.
It was a starkly simple room with a bed, although calling it a bedroom would be a bit of a stretch. The air inside had a faint scent of something the changeling did not want to think about, but covered with pine-scented cleanser and bleach to the point it was merely cosy instead of a smelly hole. It was also cold, because the gas-fired heater was barely lukewarm from the pilot light. Thankfully, it lit with a soft whump when Trixie turned the knob, shedding a welcome warmth across the floor next to the bare bed.
Trixie took advantage of his distraction and vanished into the bathroom with a quick call of, “Dibs!” After a moment, a brief shriek from the bathroom was followed by, “This toilet is cold!
He shrugged and began to sort through the muddy towels and clean blanket from the wagon. After a nice warm bath, correction, both of their warm baths, the towels would need to be washed in the dirty water remaining. They could hardly get more muddy, and it was not like there was a laundry in the vicinity. In fact, now that he thought of it, Trixie would make a good distraction while he went about the process of feeding on the townsponies. She knew he was a changeling already, and did not seem too upset at the idea. Even if he had to hide in the wagon most of the time, he could still soak up the love and adoration from her performances. Maybe she was some kind of weird pony who actually liked the strange and bizarre, and keeping a changeling in her bed would be something she actually would be excited about, instead of being revolted by the idea of his presence like most normal ponies.
And if things don’t work out, I can always put her in a cocoon.
He thought about it for a moment. There were far too many unicorns with disguise detection spells running around to use the normal changeling backup plan, even if he wanted to.
Things better work out.
The bed was actually large enough for two, and he put Trixie’s blanket on top instead of the nearly translucent cottage blanket which he suspected would be slightly colder than nothing at all. A little bit of time to fluff the pillows, an additional sheet slipped under the similarly thin cottage sheet, and the leftover cushions he dropped by the side of the bed so they could be stood on while getting under the covers.
The sound of running water began to emerge from the bathroom, along with a brief and descriptive series of swear words.
“What?” he called out, trying to calculate if leaving both pillows on the bed would be too much of an obvious attempt at seduction or if he should just lay next to the bed on the cushions and make obvious shivering noises until she invited him under the covers.
“The hot water isn’t yet,” said Trixie. The toilet flushed and Trixie stuck her head out of the bathroom doorway. “Do changelings use the toilet?”
“Duh!” The changeling pulled his bottom jaw in and stuck his upper teeth out as far as they would go before adding in as much of a country accent as he was able, “What’s this ‘indoor plumbing’ we got in there?”
Trixie rolled her eyes with no trace of a smile from his attempt at humor, even though a little emotional bubbling of sweet happiness leaked through her control. “Hurry up. I want to take my bath.”
“All right, all right,” he grudgingly assented, vanishing into the bathroom to do his business while the tub was filling. Before he left, he stuck a hoof in the half-filled bathtub and called out, “How warm do you want your bath?”
“Third degree burns.” Trixie poked her wet head into the bathroom. “Is it heating up yet?”
“Depends. What do you consider ‘heating up?’”
She barged forward and stuck a hoof in the water, then immediately yanked it back out. “Colder than a tax collector’s heart,” she scoffed. “And I’m too pooped to heat it up with a spell.”
The changeling considered his situation before putting forward, “I suppose you’re not going to be giving off much love while freezing in the tub, are you?”
“Questions, questions, questions!” snapped Trixie. “What are you, a changeling or a quiz show? Of course I’m not going to be giving off any love while freezing my delicates off.”
“Would you like me to heat it up for you?” The changeling hesitated and winced before adding, “I’ll need a little love for energy.”
Trixie glared at him, much as he expected. “Do you want a quick trip outside and a dunk in the nearest mud puddle?”
He glared back. “Do you want to float around on the top of your bath along with the rest of the ice cubes?”
“I am not lifting my tail for a bug,” snapped Trixie. She lowered her voice to a low growl and added, “The mare in the office asked me if I wanted hourly rates for the cottage. She thought I was slipping a stallion into her little flea-bitten hostel.”
Trying his best not to remind her that she did slip a stallion into the room, just not a pony, the changeling said, “I don’t need you to lift your tail! I just need you to think… loving thoughts. I’ll soak them up and use them to heat up the water. You take your hot bath and I can soak up the love we agreed on. No tails involved.”
The sour sensation of tense anger eased somewhat and the fierce scowl on Trixie’s face faded into a simple frown. “No tails?”
He let out a huff of measured exasperation. “Why do you think I want to get under your tail? If it were that easy to get love, we would just put a bunch of female drones to the Equestrian cities and run houses of prostitution! Do you want somepony under your tail?”
It took a few seconds for Trixie to splutter, “No! Trixie has done just fine without a stallion under her tail so far and does not need any stallion under her tail, ever!”
There was a moment of embarrassed silence, which the changeling did not fill. He was too busy soaking up the sweet burst of confused emotions she had put out after speaking and redirecting the incoming wave of energy into the form of a warming spell. Besides, he was experienced enough to know that nearly any comment he could possibly make would only be treated as a reason for physical violence, and the cold mud was far too close outside the front door of the cabin. Still, her delicious emotions began to taper off far too quickly and he had to say something to keep her going.
“Would you like me to look like a mare?” asked the changeling. “It takes a little more energy to change gender while shifting my form that way, but some ponies prefer—”
“No!”
“There we go. A little more.” He swirled the warming bathwater with a hoof and tried not to look at the flustrated unicorn. It was beginning to look like he was going to sleep on the floor tonight no matter what form he took, but at least he was going to get a warm bath first.
“You’re doing it?” Trixie brushed past his shoulder and stuck a hoof in the tepid water. “I mean, of course you’re doing it. Trixie would normally be able to heat the whole bath in moments, if not for being so tired. It’s not very hot, though,” she added.
“Consider the source. You’re not putting off much love. Could you try telling me how wonderful and powerful you are again? Narcissism works just as well as regular love.”
Trixie wiped her wet hoof on the nearby towel. “Suck it.”
It was such a deadpan delivery that the changeling chuckled despite himself. Shifting his throat around to sound very young, he said, “Gosh, Miss Trixie. You’re such an amazing unicorn! I’ve never seen anypony do all the fantastic and terrific things you do. All I want to do is sit here and bathe in your magnificence.”
“Suck up,” she added in the same low tone, although she poked a hoof back into the water briefly when it began to steam from his channelled warming spell. “Tell me more.”
“I’m going to tell all my little friends just how amazing you are! Maybe we can get the newspaper to write a story about you, with pictures and a big headline, and even have a big parade in your honor! You can ride on the float and wave at all of the little ponies as we cheer and throw confetti.” He stuck a hoof in the water and promptly yanked it back out again. “Okay, it’s hot enough now.”
“I didn’t tell you to quit. Oh.” Trixie coughed and nodded towards the bathroom door. “Get out. Trixie needs her tub time.”
~ ~ ♠ ~ ~
Romantic Love is a powerful thing, but Hot Bathtub Appreciation ranked very high on the list of emotional experiences to draw changeling sustenance from. Because the soap provided with the cottage was indistinguishable from granite, the changeling kept himself busy while Trixie was scrubbing and singing by bringing in some bubble bath from out of the wagon. Since it was parked just outside the door, he also grabbed them both a quick snack of some dry crackers and some drier cheese during a second trip.
As the singing grew in volume, he had to admit, although not out loud, that Trixie had a nice voice when she was not snapping or growling at him. Between the warm gas space heater and the warm steam floating out of the partially closed bathroom door, he was finally getting the last of the chill out of his insides that the mud had left behind, even if there was no romance in Trixie’s constant emotional stream of gratitude and love for the warm water. The situation inside the cabin was even just the tiniest bit nice, because whenever he was with a pony before, he had always been worried about losing his disguise or making a mistake in his performance, and when he was with other changelings, there was always the possibility of a little social climbing over him to consider.
“Oh, I could soak in here forever,” called out Trixie while he finished tidying up in the bedroom.
“Wouldn’t that make you the Great and Pruney Trixie?” he asked. “If you go to sleep in there, can I have the bed?”
“You’d probably drown me in my sleep,” she responded. “Trixie is used to being poorly treated by others.”
“Really?” He felt just a little… well, a lot disrespected by her words, but this beat being out in the mud by a substantial margin. Theoretically, her feelings of betrayal and distrust of her fellow ponies should make her more vulnerable to exploitation, but at the moment, he was just looking forward to the leftover warm water.
He looked over the bedroom, which through diligent changeling effort and the contents of a small supply closet had been tidied up to about as neat and tidy as it was going to get. The bed had been made with both the thicker of the two blankets from the wagon and the thin piece of gauze that came with the cabin, even though he had considered stuffing the frail piece of cloth under the bed in case either of them needed to blow their nose sometime in the night. He had even given the annoying unicorn the larger and fluffier of the two pillows and placed the dim firefly lantern next to the bed where it would be easier to cover when she decided to go to sleep. He turned off the cottage lights and evaluated the scene in the dim lighting that remained from the drowsy fireflies. His instructors at the hive would have given him high marks for the ‘Rustic Romantic Getaway Cabin’ environment that the room was supposed to capture, even if the end result was going to be a little lacking in harvesting potential.
“Far, far better,” said Trixie after opening the bathroom door the rest of the way. A gust of humid air billowed out, along with some more delicious joy. Her mane had been dried to mere dampness and lay in a long wet plait down her back while her tail still had a towel wrapped around it. “Trixie can brush herself,” she added when he scooped up a manebrush and stepped forward. “Trixie knows you are only sucking up to me because you want to feed on my emotions.” She sniffed. “Just like ponies.”
“Actually, I was going to get into the water while it was still warm,” said the changeling while walking past her on his way into the bathroom. “I’ll wash your towels when I’m done, since they’re so muddy, and let them dry until tomorrow. Do you want to scrub my back?”
He smiled to himself and flicked his tail seductively while posing in the bathroom doorway. After all, there was no reason he could not show Trixie just what she was missing by going to bed alone.
Unfortunately, he did not look back at his seduction target, or he might have been able to dodge the powerful snap of a wet towel on his rump that sent him tumbling into the bathroom.
He had to scrub his own back.
~ ~ ♠ ~ ~
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, feeling cleaner than he had in months, the bedroom was dark with only the light from the gas heater’s blue flames flickering around the small room. The laundry was done, all of the wet towels were dripping dry across the tub, and his own dark chitin was dried to a fine gloss, leaving him to hesitate in front of the gas heater to toast each side of his body to get the last lingering bits of dampness evaporated.
It was a wonderful feeling, being dry and warm for a change, much like baking on a rock back in the Badlands. Pony lands were uniformly too wet and green for his taste, but with winter coming on, that green would turn to cold sticky snow, a far worse environment. If it were possible to find a warm pony home to hole up in for the winter and create his own cocoon in their basement, he would be perfectly happy to sleep through the entirety of the cursed season and only emerge when winter was properly wrapped up. There was not nearly enough space to do that in Trixie’s wagon, and with the way the wind whistled through the cracks in the wagon sides, odds are he would freeze into a changelingsickle long before spring.
“Stop blocking the heat,” mumbled Trixie from under her blanket. “The Great and Powerful Trixie needs her beauty rest in order to perform feats of amazing skill tomorrow. Trixie has a pest to pay off.”
“With interest,” he added, setting down into the cushion on the floor.
“W’interest,” muttered Trixie in agreement. After he pulled the thin blanket over himself, the changeling felt an exploring hoof from above touch him on the shoulder and rub gently. “Y’know, you’re softer than Trixie expected. Less of a monster too. Trixie would have been far more uncomfortable by herself, even if she had the bits to rent this cottage. You cleaned, you washed, you hung up my cape to dry.” The unicorn’s hoof gestured to the drying outfit, carefully hoof-washed and spread out across the otherwise empty coatrack by the door. “You changelings aren’t that bad.”
“Yes we are.” The changeling shifted positions, remembering just how close he had come dying in the bottom of some frozen mud on the road. “I could have used a mind-control spell on you and sucked out all of your love when we met. ‘Trixie’ would have continued her tour, but you would have been stuffed into a cocoon in the back of your own wagon.”
The hoof remained on his shoulder, but it stopped moving while the silence in the darkened room remained. After the longest time, Trixie shifted in the bed above him and the blue hoof retreated back under the covers before she asked the question he was afraid of. “Why didn’t you?”
“You mean other than the absolute certainty of getting caught? It’s… cheating, I guess.” The changeling suppressed a shiver as he attempted to tuck the thin blanket around his bottom. “It’s quick, it’s easy, and now it’s the fastest way to get a screaming crowd of ponies chasing you out of town with torches and pitchforks.”
“Ha!” Trixie’s voice was muffled by the blanket, but he could feel a sharp pain of sympathetic regret. “You’ve never been blamed for having a couple of simpletons drag a giant space-bear back into town, or used an ancient evil amulet to take over a whole town and rule it like some sort of deranged psychopath.”
“No, I don’t think so.” The changeling considered his position and listened carefully for the sound of a mob outside before asking, “Neither of those was in this town, right?”
“No.” Trixie rolled over and pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “Both Ponyville.”
“Ah. That explains it.” The changeling shifted positions on the cold floor and tried to get comfortable, or at least less uncomfortable. It was working too, until Trixie tried to get in the last word.
“There’s nothing wrong with cheating. Although not on Trixie. Trixie would never have fallen for your kind’s weak and feeble attempts at mind control in Canterlot, like Shining Armor did. Through great study and effort, Trixie has developed an extremely strong will.”
“Don’t you mean a stubborn streak?”
“Willpower,” corrected Trixie.
The changeling chuckled despite the cold draft across the floorboards and eyed the bottom of the bed. “Prince Studly. Would you like me to change into him and keep your bed warm?”
Trixie harrumphed, which was educational because he had never actually heard a proper harrumph before, but the burst of warm lust from the bed damped out quickly. “Trixie is far too intelligent to fall for such a ruse.”
The changeling could not come up with a particularly witty comeback for that, so he just remained under the thin blanket and shivered. The gas heater did not do a particularly good job of heating the floor, and the little cracks and crevices in the floorboards did a particularly good job of un-heating the floor, neither of which helped him go to sleep until an idea came to mind.
After a few minutes of intense effort, the sound of shivering from the floor intensified until the faint rattle of the changeling's teeth filled the air. It took a while, but eventually Trixie poked her nose and horn over the edge of the bed and looked down at the trembling changeling, who was shivering so hard his teeth were rattling together.
“Can’t you keep it down?” she muttered. “I’m trying to sleep.”
“C-c-c-cold,” he muttered, crossing his forelegs against his body and wrapping the blanket even tighter around himself, but still keeping one eye cracked open for the expected invitation into her warm bed.
After heaving a great sigh, Trixie lit up her horn. “Well, we can’t have that. If you keep making that horrible noise, I’ll never get to sleep.”
Guided by Trixie’s magic, a washcloth floated over from the drying laundry and stuffed itself into the changeling’s mouth. Turning back over with a satisfied grunt at the resulting quiet, Trixie vanished under the covers again.
“That’s better. Goodnight.”
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Never try to con a con artist. Also, Trixie is aware of what a 'Freudian Slip' is, right?
Oh yeah, this is every bit as entertaining as I thought it would be. I'm really enjoying this interaction, and you write both characters so well. I don't suppose you could stretch this out into a million-word epic, could you?
7491441 Of course, Freudian Slip was the great psychologist and physical comedian. Although he was well remembered for his hilarious routines he was even more famous for his quote of "sometimes an éclair is just an eclair" and his bringing psychiatry into the popular lexicon
I love it! Can't wait to see more!
7491722
No, that looks correct to me.
Hmm. No confetti, but we still have a changeling coming to with something packed in his sinuses.
In any case, now that neither's trying to incapacitate the other, these two have fantastic chemistry. Of course, being who they are, it'll take them a while before they'll recognize the full implications. Still, Mud's going to have to step up his game if he wants to get one over on Trixie. Of course, the winning move may just be not playing the game, but honesty is an even more unpleasant and alien sensation for most changelings than wintry cold.
I dunno, maybe bugsicle would sound better? It rolls off the tongue more easily, at least.
Liking where this is going so far.
7491830 Ah, yeah, that makes sense. Sorry about that.
Its like Wile E Coyote verses Bugs Bunny and Road Runner, but both Trixie and Mud are Coyotes.
I really hope Trixie dosnt try to use the trick of the illusion that cant be dispelled, and the illusion is that of a Changeling. Then again, its amazing what most of the Mane 6 will allow you to get away with.
7491578
That last scene, my sides will never be the same...
Here I was all ready and stoked for a heartwarming scene of Trixie sharing the warm bed and- nope!
That last couple of sentences had me laughing. It wasn't just what SHE did. It is the fact that the changeling had all these plans and they didn't pan out. He was informed of this in a single moment of mildew tasting wash cloth stuffery. Something about that made it more than just slapstick. Hmmm. I think I learned something about humor today.
Trixie is the Great and Powerfully Amusing here.
7491722
No, he's right. She is saying that the water is not hot, hence "the hot water is not," because it isn't considered hot water yet.
Yes of course that doesn't sound in the least but creepy.
That poor changeling made a big mistake becoming associated with Trixie. He's in for a rough night.
7492273 Somebody else told me already, but, yeah. I got it. Thanks anyways.
7491441 ...Also known as the infamous underclothing worn by some actresses, the "fraudulent slip." It causes the audience to think they're seeing more than they expected, while still keeping things legal.
Hot damn, that was savage!
7492315 Well, he did *ask*
7492398 That's what he hoped for. That's not what he got.
7491834 I've got a thing for writing about sinuses I think. My writing on Drifting Down the Lazy River is right at the sinus part of the chapter.
7492122 There's a story about humor. You have a guy walking down the street. There's a banana peel in front of him. He gets closer. And closer. And closer. Until... he steps over the banana peel and falls down an open manhole.
7491936 *If* I do a sequel, I have their entry into the Crystal Empire drafted out
Trixie: (eyes the guards at the customs checkpoint) So, we have to go through Customs?
Unicorn Guard: Yes, it's just a precaution. We don't want any changelings to sneak in. (lights up his horn)
Trixie: (looking at the changeling in the wagon harness) Really?
Guard: Yes, we have strict orders to check for disguised changelings attempting to infiltrate the city. You're clear.
Trixie: (puzzled) You're sure?
Guard: Absolutely. There are no disguise spells on your wagon or either of you.
Trixie: (Baffled) But he's a changeling... I mean a feral changeling. Just like it says on the advertisement.
Guard: Yes, but he's not a disguised changeling. We have very strict orders, ma'am. Now move along, and welcome to the Crystal Empire.
Trixie: If you say so. Come on, let's find someplace to stay. (walks for a while until out of earshot) I'd say they're idiots, but that's insulting to the entire family of idiots.
Changeling (affirmative grunt)
7492715
My apologies. I had not refreshed the page, so the other post had not shown up.
Trixie, you are the best!
Oh Celestia. These two are going to be bucking each other's brains out within a week. I'm just not sure if it will be in the innuendo or literal sense, but it'll probably be just as violent either way.
Quite a flirtatious second chapter. I'm really liking this. It sort of reminds me of one of those classic screwball comedies from back in the day. Very nice back and forth between these two.
See a changeling story
Tunnel vision on it, click it immediately.
Reads comment section.
"YEEEEEEAAAAAAAA-"
I am enjoying this immensely. Question. Is this in the same universe as your Buggy and the Beast? Another of your pieces that I have extremely high regard for.
More helpful comments. The Trixie characterization seems dead on for her first 2 appearances in the show. So excellent job with that and the banter between the two.
7492864 It's all good man. Just letting ya know that I'm picking up what you're laying down.
Had me laughing while reading. Nicely done with the characterization of trixie.
Trixie gettin' all those Will saves.
Ooph man, the ending of this chapter was perfect.
And here I was expecting, just for a moment mind you, that Trixie would be nice to the changeling. Well nuts to that idea
Trixie was actually recalling that time she got swallowed by a manticore... it was so HOT!! She'd BEGGED him to do it again afterward, but he declined, being a refined showman...-ticore... and not some vore whore!
My first thought was that these were posters Trixie had commissioned and paid for herself in more prosperous times; repaired as the few bits she had went towards more immediate concerns such as food and bedding.
And then I wondered why I was being so mean towards her; I like Trixie.
As a changeling, this could be quite far indeed.
that reminds me of a story where a group of changelings were running a club in Las Pegasus...with strippers, pole dancers, etc.
Snerk. This is impossibly funny so far.
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Somewhere in canterlot ember sneezed