Chrysalis & Mirage

by Zobeid

Mirage

Consciousness filtered back to Chrysalis slowly, bringing confusion. What happened? Where was she? She shifted and winced, muscles sore. She was laying on some kind of bed or cot, but not her royal bed in the Hive. Beneath her was some sort of rough straw or wicker. Her legs dangled off the edge. Damp towels draped across her body, cooling her.

She opened her eyes and blinked, then blinked again. There was light, but her vision was badly blurred. She could make out the interior of a building, somewhat like those of pony homes, with square walls, square floors, square windows, square doors, so unlike the organic shapes of her Hive. Light filtered indirectly through doors and shaded windows. It must be very bright outside.

Had she been captured? Was she a prisoner? Where were her jailers? She shook her head. She was unrestrained, except by her own feeble condition. It didn’t make sense.

She started to get up, but her muscles screamed once again, and she felt a wave of dizziness, and she sank back onto the cot. She decided not to try that again. Someone had saved her, and she didn’t know who or why, but it would have to be enough — for now.

She lay there, not sleeping but hardly fully awake, her mind wandering through the recent past, trying to make sense of all that had happened in the last few days and her abrupt fall from power. Thus absorbed, she almost didn’t notice when a shadow passed across the doorway, and a cloaked figure entered the room. It spoke with an unfamiliar, feminine voice, “Feeling better? Are you ready for some more water?”

Chrysalis blinked again, trying to clear the bleariness from her eyes. “Who are you?” she managed to utter.

“You asked that before. You’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness. That happens with heat stroke. Do you feel strong enough to sit up?”

Chrysalis responded by rolling over with a groan. Soft paws moved to help lift and support her until she was upright with her barrel resting on the cot and her front legs hanging off the front.

“Here…” The stranger lifted a yellow gourd up to the changeling’s mouth. Chrysalis sniffed at the water, then drank greedily. After a few moments the stranger pulled the gourd away. “Not too much at once, or you’ll make yourself sick again,” she admonished. Then she rearranged the towels over Chrysalis’s back and poured more water onto them, to keep them damp and cool.

Chrysalis squinted blearily at her benefactor, and suspicion dripped in her tone as she asked, “Why are you helping me?”

The stranger snorted softly and replied, “I’ve been wondering that, myself. Something we can speak of later, when I decide you’re not about to faint again.” She took a wicker basket from the table and held it in front of the changeling, who sniffed curiously. “They’re dates.” Chrysalis plucked one from the basket with her lips (which she noticed were now blessedly free of cactus spines) and chewed. It was sweet. She craned her neck to pick another.

After eating her fill, she slept. When the stranger came again, the day’s light was fading, although the air remained hot. Chrysalis’s eyesight, however, was much improved, and she got a clearer look at her host. She jerked back, startled, as she thought for an instant that she was looking at herself. Then she realized the resemblance was only very superficial. This being in front of her sported fur in a similar shade of charcoal gray, though perhaps not quite as dark. The tips of her fangs were visible, though not protruding as much as Chrysalis’s own. Her eyes were a striking, luminous green with vertically slit pupils. Yet, they were set in a face that could only be described as feline. As she had already observed, this creature stood upright on its hind feet and used its dextrous forepaws only to carry and manipulate things. The details of the rest of its body were somewhat obscured by humble brown garments.

Chrysalis had never seen anything quite like it, though it brought to mind the gnolls, or “Rock Hounds” as they call themselves, who sometimes were captured by her changelings when they wandered into the Badlands seeking minerals and gems. Gnolls were canids, like bipedal dogs who wore rude clothing and armor. This creature, then, appeared to be their feline counterpart.

The feline endured Chrysalis’s silent scrutiny for several long moments, then quipped, “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

“What?” Befuddled, Chrysalis actually extended her long, forked tongue and waggled it in front of her eyes, making sure it was OK.

The feline smirked and explained, “Relax, it’s merely a play on words. Your tongue is safe around me.”

Chrysalis put her tongue back in her mouth and scowled. “Mind your own tongue! I am Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings. You would do well to show respect.”

The feline narrowed her eyes and muttered, “You’re welcome.”

Undeterred, Chrysalis demanded, “Who are you? I asked before, and my patience has limits.”

The feline busied herself collecting the crumpled and dried-out towels from the day before, while she said, “I told you before, but your sun-addled brain was unable to retain the knowledge.” She stuffed the towels in a basket and then looked to the changeling. “I’ve gone by many names in my time, but you may refer to me as Mirage.”

“I have never seen nor heard tell of a creature such as yourself.”

Mirage clasped her hands together and grinned, showing her fangs. “Then we’re even!”

To Chrysalis her tone sounded mocking, and it was the last straw. “I don’t have to tolerate your impudence!” Emerald green magic flared from her horn, but only for an instant before she shrieked in pain and crumpled, helplessly clutching at her horn and forehead.

Mirage shook her head and tsk-tsked.

Chrysalis whimpered. “Why? Why does it hurt so bad?”

Mirage sat on the cot beside her and reached to place a soft handpaw on Chrysalis’s neck. “If I were to speculate… I would suspect a severe imbalance between your khat and your akh, which is to say, between your metabolic and metaphysical aspects.”

Chrysalis growled, “Talk sense, or I’ll blast you no matter how much it hurts!”

Mirage rolled her eyes and restated, “I mean, your magic is too strong, and your body is too weak to sustain it. You’ll kill yourself if you keep trying to cast spells like this.” She idly rubbed the changeling’s neck. “You should regain the ability as you recover from your ordeal and your health improves.”

Chrysalis lowered her muzzle between her forelegs and grumbled.

Mirage leaned closer to Chrysalis’s ear and whispered, “Until then you’ll just have to put up with my sass. You’re a tough cookie. I’m sure you can take it.” She got up and set a water gourd and a basket of food beside the bed. “Eat. Drink. Rest. You’ll soon feel better, Your Most Royal Majesty.”

She turned to leave, but Chrysalis called after her, “Wait! Why are you helping me?”

Mirage paused in the doorway to reply. “Oh. I’m sure curiosity was part of the reason,” she answered indifferently. She flexed and extended the claws on her right hand, and examined them. “Curiosity has long been a weakness of mine. It’s a cat thing, you know. I suppose I could have simply laughed and given you a sharp kick in the ribs and then skipped along on my merry way. However… Tell me, Queen Chrysalis, how do you feel about destiny?”

It took Chrysalis a moment to respond, so unexpected was the question. “Err… I have never given it much thought.”

Mirage shrugged. “I’m no fan of destiny, myself. He cheats at cards, you know. Even so… What were the odds that I’d stumble across you at just the right time and place to save you? One might imagine there was some purpose in it. And so, we’ll find out.”

Author's Note:

I've long mused over whether these two characters are related in some way. So... Why not have them meet?

If it goes well, I may do Discord and Lord Chaos next.

Comments

[Diamond Sparkle]

I look forward to when those two become lovers.

[fractalman]

“I’m no fan of destiny, myself. He cheats at cards, you know.