Unnatural
It wasn't her first cell, and that might have said something about life in the Kurusu household. The residents -- herself very much included, even when she tried so hard to ride herd over the rest of the group, keep some occasional degree of control and, with much less success, retain some portion of dignity -- had an outright talent for finding trouble: something which actually became worse when they worked in groups. And it was true that part of her original intent in joining the student exchange problem, the experiment which had started to introduce the once-hidden liminals into human society, was to find some way of becoming a true knight -- and knights were certainly expected to deal with disasters. She just hadn't been expecting quite so many of them.
Not her first cell, and that was with the hastily, horribly-written laws which guided interaction between the liminals and the planet's majority species in putrid play: something where one moment of being caught simply defending herself could have so easily led to deportation. But it was the first time she'd been in one alone. At least one of Cerea's friends --
My friends call me Cerea.
-- had always been confined with her. It gave her someone to plan with. Or more often, someone who, if not necessarily capable of true help because few things were more pointless than trying to construct an intelligent course of action through Papi, was at least there. At the absolute minimum, she'd had company.
My friends are gone.
She shivered as more of her body heat was stolen by the cold stone floor. (She'd been dumped on her left side, and those bruises were screaming accordingly.) The chains rattled.
It also wasn't her first time being tied up, and that number was much closer to triple digits: something which definitely said a few words about life in the Kurusu household, or at least about having to deal with a certain (a mind which was trained towards politeness to the point of near-absurdity automatically edited out a number of terms) housemate. Living with Rachnera involved a number of daily adjustments, which included a frequent need to glance up. That particular liminal claimed to be an ambush predator, one who was simply practicing her daily routine so as not to lose her edge and it wasn't as if anyone ever got hurt, so what was the problem? The problem was in having a housemate who treated tying others up in spider silk as something which potentially came with its own fetish, and Cerea was afraid it actually did: she'd seen the smile on the other's face as she tried to struggle free, watched the near-sexual delight passing through all six insectile eyes. Cerea was regularly bound by an expert.
She would laugh at this.
She would laugh at me.
She always laughs when I can't get free.
There had been a lot of laughter.
Her eyes closed again, and it took a few seconds for the shame to pretend it was receding.
The next thought was an echo, and possibly an inevitable one: My friends are gone. Friends, and those who were somewhat less.
Or rather, they weren't there for her: they couldn't be. They were still in Japan. There was no one there for her at all. It was just Cerea, the chains, and the cell. And she'd wanted to be a true knight, the stories had knights captured all the time (which was really surprising when she considered how effective a knight was supposed to be at combat, but she supposed the best way into a few castles was through being initially defeated) and if she had ever even pretended a right to the title...
She was alone. She was lost on a scale she had never imagined to exist, and that was after having experienced the displacement which came from flying thousands of miles away from home (in the cargo section of the plane, no less: it had taken six layers of blankets to reach Japan and she'd still been sick for a week) to live among a species which she'd only known through stories, rumor, and -- something her mother had never caught her at.
But then there had been Japan, and the household. The person she had so hoped would love her, and the chaos which always seemed to prevent her best chance. Friends to go with that. Some closer to rivals, others sisters, one just barely escaping the definition of enemy. A life of chaos and confusion and, looking back, frequently-repaired clothing because as long as there were enough threads left, nothing was going to get her into a local store to shop for replacements. An odd sort of life at best, but it was her life and frequent bindings aside, there had been ways in which she'd been getting used to it. And always, she'd believed that all she needed to make the subject of her growing love return her feelings, to truly become his knight, was a single moment. The right moment, just as it existed in all of the best stories. Her chance.
Then there had been the road.
The forest.
Everything else.
She'd broken into a full-scale gallop upon seeing the upper levels of the town (or at least the best speed her injured body could achieve) because it had not only indicated civilization, it had been a familiar one. Part of her had only seen that the distant buildings had an old-world European style to them, that had to mean people, and so she hadn't truly thought about scale or some of the odder touches until she'd vaulted the last line of obscuring bushes and --
They attacked me.
They defeated me.
She'd been defeated a lot, since leaving home. As a prospective knight, she had a won-loss record closer to that of a professional jobber, and only a portion came from the restrictions placed on her by those horribly-written laws. In this case, she'd been taken down by sheer numbers, by light and wind. Things she'd had no way to expect, and that part of the shame was still there. It was always there, when she lost. It never truly departed.
Cerea had possessed no real way of expecting to see little horses (or a tripled odd distortion of same), especially given the direction of the wind and the minimal scents which had reached her. Nothing would have made her believe that they would attack on sight.
But they had. She'd fought. She'd stayed on her hooves for a while, done some damage to the other side. But in time, they'd surrounded her, cut off all retreat. Brought her down. The one mare had been about to stomp into her skull --
-- and then they'd bound her.
It was possible that they had her tied up pending trial, if any existed for someone who had been attacked on sight. Or they could have been waiting for the professional executioner.
They're so scared...
It was also possible that they'd never seen anything quite like her, just as she'd previously seen nothing exactly like them. She'd gone through some fear during her initial time among humans, done her best to hide it. Some of the stranger liminals still disturbed her. But to just attack...
Even now, the scent of their terror was drifting into her cell. She wondered if it would be the last thing she ever sensed.
But the chains had rattled...
Cerea twisted her upper torso as best she could against the net. Looked around.
The cell, like the castle, seemed ancient: the rough-hewn stone which made up the walls wouldn't have been out of place in the oldest settled portions of France. Portions of the jammed-together boulders which made up the floor could be used for the slow rasping of rope -- but that would be too slow, especially when she didn't know how long she had. Besides, that was a secondary layer: the chains had priority.
There were some empty wine racks scattered around the edge of the room. Nothing useful.
The door -- that was mostly wood. Heavy wood, but she was a centaur and it wasn't a particularly large door, with very little in the way of metal reinforcements. A few good kicks might take it out. And as for anyone who might be on the other side -- the door also possessed what could be seen as a minor defect: the little barred window which allowed any jailer to peer in would be, if she was standing, on a level with her lower sternum.
But that lets them see I'm standing.
There were no eyes there yet, and -- she took a deep breath -- yes, one of the little horses was in the hallway. A scared little horse. Possibly too frightened to peer in all the time.
Her friends were gone. She didn't know where home was, and they had her weapon -- or rather, her poor excuse for one: the laws meant she wasn't allowed to carry anything real. But Cerea felt herself to know this much: to stay might be to die. The forest had held its terrors -- but she'd beaten the first two. Being back there was better than being here.
No one to help her. No one to save her (and a true knight shouldn't need saving). She had to do it herself. At the very least, she had the option to die trying. And she would try, because --
-- she was regularly bound by an expert.
She'd just shivered, and the chains had rattled. There was slack, and it existed because the little horses weren't experts. With Rachnera, Cerea would try to shift an arm and her right hind hoof would kick her own backside. These bonds hadn't been rendered with skill, practice, or anything outside of what was suddenly starting to feel like total improvisation.
I know how good she is. Too good, because she's caught me dozens of times. The horses caught me once. These aren't professional bonds.
A knight would work with that.
Rachnera had explained it to her, mostly to watch Cerea's frustration. There were certain issues involved in tying up a centaur, and the largest came from their raw strength. Cerea didn't have the near-supernatural advantages possessed by some of her housemates, but physical power was readily available -- something which thickly-woven cords of spider silk negated. The metal was just about as bad.
But that wasn't the only problem. Strictly speaking, Rachnera had the largest body in the household, at least when figuring for the spider portion which made up her lower half. And that part of her form was built from chitin, exoskeleton relying as much on hydraulic pressure for movement as musculature. Put it together with the more humanoid half and the majority of the total lacked flexibility. Portions of that liminal's body were forever out of its owner's reach, and no amount of contorting could change that.
Centaurs were just about as big. But unlike the hybrid specimens which made up the arachne, a being trying to reconcile two completely different types of bodies, centaurs were fully warm-blooded mammals. And dealing with a form so large across the span of eons had encouraged the species to evolve a certain degree of double-jointing just to reach the far ends of their own backs.
Cerea wasn't as flexible as Suu: merely possessing a skeleton prevented that degree of contortion. But she could move in ways which humans found unnatural, and so seldom did because it was already hard enough to make her hoped-for love feel attraction towards her. And now she needed to.
It started with her arms, because she needed to have her hands free in order to have any hope at all. Arms which had been bound behind her back. She could feel the metal against her wrists -- but not against the entire circumference.
She twisted her neck, raised her bound arms behind her, managed to get a glimpse. Twisted again until she was able to see her forehooves, which actually took a lot more work.
It's the same kind of chain.
They had bound her arms the same way they'd bound her legs: the only difference seemed to be a knot in the links which kept rubbing against her spine. And hooves weren't flexible -- but hands were. The cuffs were already a little too large for her wrists. All she needed to do was compress...
It hurt. Centaurs tended to be double-jointed over most of their human body -- but hands had limits. Still, it was possible to, with a lot of effort and squeezing, make a hand smaller than the diameter of the wrist, and the metal of the cuffs provided a surface to compress against. She also wound up scraping off quite a bit of skin, and had to bite back a yelp -- but the blood was making things that much slicker. Slowly, surely, one side was coming free --
-- two huge green eyes were staring at her through the bars.
She smelled the fear, pulled her lips back from her teeth. The eyes vanished, and she heard hoofsteps retreating across the stone floor. That part went on for a while.
Cerea waited a few seconds. Resumed, and with one more flow of red, she had her right hand back.
It made the next part easier: the right could squeeze the left before it went through the cuff. And then she carefully, quietly slipped the metal down across her fur until it silently rested on the stone floor, hidden on the other side of her body. Progress. If any of the horses got within arm's reach, she could now get her punches tangled in the net.
The centaur took a closer look at the discarded chain. Each cuff had a lock, and a keyhole. The latter seemed odd. The ones with the horns, who had created light -- that light had moved things. But what about the ones without the horns? Keys in the mouth didn't feel practical.
Still, it was a lock. And she was strong -- but the majority of that was in her lower body. An ogre could pull chains apart by hand: she didn't doubt Tionishia would be capable of it, although someone would have to give that gentle soul a rather good explanation for the why.
I'm no better than second to everyone --
-- no. Look at the lock.
She looked.
I don't know how to pick a lock.
Not that she had much choice but to try. Even with an awkward reach and limited visibility, it was make an attempt or wait to see what the little horses would do next. She didn't have a lot of faith in the little horses. But she did have a tool, something all the applicable stories said was just what she needed...
She'd read a lot of stories, when she was young. It had taught her about knights, and the blocked-off world. She'd believed in the stories, much of that had been wrong, and she still believed in most of it because reading had been the majority of what a confined community was allowed to do.
Another check of the viewport bars, and then her hands carefully moved up.
Cerea had a lot of hair: head and tail both. The human portion grew quickly, needed frequent trimming and could rapidly become too much for easy management. (Everyone in the household had their own reason for tying up the bathroom, and Cerea's was a near-addiction level need for the hair dryer.) It meant she generally had to pin some of it up. And weren't hairpins supposed to be the perfect tool for picking locks?
More awkward contorting, which included wriggling around on the floor to hide as much of herself as possible from casual sight: she remembered to take the discarded chain with her. It aggravated bruises, opened a few of the smaller slow-clotting wounds. But in time, she managed it, and the metal hairpin was poked towards the lock --
-- where it promptly skidded away from the hole.
She frowned. Pushed again, using a little more strength, and so nearly started when the tip skidded across the metal surrounding the keyhole in a way which seemed as if it almost had to produce more sound than a light scratching.
Is it magnetized?
If so, the magnet was ridiculously powerful for its size. She pushed with increasing amounts of power, and nothing she did could get the hairpin into the keyhole. It was simply repelled, every time.
Cerea took a slow breath.
All right. But that's just with metal.
She had a lot of hair, and so needed a proportionate number of hairpins. The limited finances of an exchange student meant they couldn't all be quality. She was almost certain that the cheap plastic ones would break off inside the lock as soon as she put any pressure on a tumbler -- but they were what she had to use, and they certainly wouldn't be affected by a magnet.
More careful movement, recovering the lesser pin. The awkward angling was shifted until she had the best possible view of the first lock: the one around her left ankle. She bent a little more, winced at the compression along the bruised area (because of course the horses had kicked at those very obvious targets), put the tip into the keyhole --
-- and red light fountained from the lock, light which was filled with the same sparks that had danced around those glowing horns.
It was a small display, no more than would have been seen from an energetic sparkler, and so her body hid all of it. But she still had to repress another start, and wound up doing it again a second later, at the moment when the lock simply fell open.
The centaur stared at it for as long as she could risk giving it attention: all of two seconds. And then she looked at the cheap hairpin --
-- they are attacking her from all directions, and she can't defend herself. It is a vulnerability of the centaur body: the number of opponents required to surround is a quantity which can easily overwhelm. For a centaur, guarding one's right flank isn't a casual feat, and there are so many of the little horses, too many to stop. And the ones with the wings keep blasting wind into her eyes, and now one with a horn sends light towards her, light she instinctively realizes is meant to hurt --
-- the swing is reflexive, because that's what practice swords are for: developing the necessary skills to reflex level without anyone becoming injured. (She isn't allowed to carry a real one, because of those laws. She sometimes believes she never will.) Something is trying to hurt her, so she swings. It won't do anything, she realizes that even as it's happening, and naturally the only result is that the sword cuts through the light.
But the light isn't deflected. It falls apart in a shower of sparks and fast-fading violet spray. The little horse who projected the beam staggers. And she doesn't have time to think about that because another one is about to kick her and --
-- she had time to think about it now.
She looked at the next lock.
My name is Centorea Shianus.
Not the Lady Shianus. I'm not a knight. Maybe I never will be.
Maybe I'll die here.
(She wished she could see her mother again.)
I. am. leaving.
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You did it. You monster
I demand to know why there isn't a Tirek tag.
OK: we have a Manga/Anime character, dropped for no good reason in Equestria, attacked violently by Ponies under mistaken identity, posessing weird powers Ponies don't know how to deal with...it this going to be some sort of deconstruction of a "Displaced" story?
My curiosity is stimulated.
(And the "Equestrian magic can't effect stuff from our world" trope is one I dislike, being a long term pal of overpowered OCs, self-inserts, Anons, and other scum. But I can take a few deep breaths, count to ten, and put up with it, since some sort of extra advantage is required if Centaurea isn't going to be rapidly reduced to Pâté)
Yes. All my yes.
Well now. I'm not familiar with the other half of the source material, but that's what TV Tropes is for. Suffice to say, I'm definitely looking forward to more of this. Especially given the antimagic properties of plastic.
9477594
Actually, it seems to just be plastic. WHY plastic cancels magic is another matter, it can't be because of petrochemicals because we know they use coal in this universe, but it's not just any old matter.
Still not 100% on board with the idea that ponies would turn violent without serious provocation, but for a hick town it works better than if it were the Ville of Pones. Looking forward to more of this.
9477579
Maybe Tirek isn't part of this story aside from his rampage being a past event that explains why ponies are so irrationally fearful of centaurs?
Damn, somehow Estee got me invested in the most out-there premise I've seen out of them yet. That's the real mystery here. Edit: should say that I've got no experience or interest in the source material of our protagonist, so I'm as lost as Cerea or perhaps Cereal, given the name of the fic. (Joking...)
For real though, interesting start so far. I'm excited to see her interact with the Princesses. Since we all know she'll be seeing them eventually. Does this one take place in the same continuity as the CDA? Maybe it would be too easy to put her in the human zoo, though.
Plastic have anti-magic properties?! That going to be interesting to watch. Oh man, I wish it was already next month so we could have the next part!
9477655
Is it anti-magic plastic, or spell that repels metal and wasn't made to repel plastic?
9477649
Well Tirek did plenty of provoking...
This is actually pretty interesting.
Mmmm, Centorea in Equestria. Color me intrigued
Well shit
someone mesige me when this has ten chapters.
9477634
It's possible they use coal because coal has just enough antimagic properties to not be useful for anything other than burning it, but not enough for them to usefully apply the antimagic effect to anything.
Interesting move making plastic antimagic, I don't think I've seen that since that one time in Tales of Symphonia where Raine offhandedly mentions that an ancient civilization invented polycarbonate to defend against magic, and then it never comes up ever again.
9477669
Sure, and dragons apparently used to (maybe still do) regularly terrorize pony villages, but nobody attacks Spike on sight. But to appease the folks that downvote as mild a comment as 'not 100% on board', I'm not saying this is bad by any means. Just takes a bit more suspension of disbelief than usual, is all.
9477822
To be fair, when most ponies think dragon, they're likely picturing something giant with big wings, big horns, and constantly belching fire. Not cute, pudgy little gem muncher.
9477634
I wonder where the idea of plastic cancelling magic came from. I haven't seen it very often and the first place I remember seeing it was in the show 'Wizards of Waverly Place'. Honestly was the best show on the Disney Channel
Does anyone know the origin of this idea? (I hesitate to call it a trope as I haven't seen it often enough to think it counts as one)
9477651
I wouldn't call it irrational. The only centaur that seems to be known in their lands basically had the power to take over the world, and abused literally every pony in the country. That's a very rational fear.
9477822
He's easily puntable, a baby, and honestly I'd have a hard time recognizing him as a dragon at first glance (that's one weird ass fat salamander, walkin' around on its back legs...). Even Fluttershy, with a deathly fear of dragons, pointed out she's not afraid of Spike. The big kind that can eat you and your family in one bite, or maybe even the teenagers who can clearly overpower you... yeah. That's worth being afraid of. And in a fantasy setting, if you aren't initially afraid of dragons you're probably some kind of idjit? They're living, flying tanks. Ponies are a species who don't have great tool-use capabilities and no natural weapons/defenses. Even unicorns are said to mostly have just enough magic to perform their cutie mark-talent and basic telekinesis. Meaning that powerful unicorns are extremely rare, so that hardly counts. The equine instinctive reaction is to run away or group up to try and appear larger for protection. Naturally skittish to begin with.
9477904
True. I misspoke. Let's go with paranoid instead.
Although my point was that the fear overrides any rationality and causes the ponies to jump to conclusions and ignore anything that doesn't fit with their initial beliefs. The fear itself is not irrational, but giving in to the fear drives away rational thought.
9477906
This is true. I just don't blame them for doing so. Now, once she's clearly restrained and apparently not a threat, trying to find out what's going on seems prudent, but ponies are naturally cowardly as per the show's inference, so this tracks. Is it unfair to her? Sure is. But perfectly sensible from the perspective of people trying to protect themselves, and if it went any other way I'd lose all ability to believe that that's what's going on.
9477914
Agreed. It all makes sense, and it is natural for fear and mob/herd mentality to overtake a crowd or population like that.
It sucks, but that's how it works.
My initial comment was telling that other user that Tirek probably doesn't have a tag on this story because the fact the main character is a centaur and Tirek was mentioned does not mean he will actually have a role in the story beyond being used as a past event to justify how the ponies are acting, and I apologize if it sounded like I was criticizing the way the ponies acted or anything due to my poor choice of words.
9477915
Not at all, completely fine. And saved me the trouble of tossing something at the other user for believing any mention of 'centaur' in a story with a picture of a completely different centaur suddenly means Tirek.
9477634
Her sword is also plastic?
9477991
Yeah, I would love for Twilight to be involved in the response somehow just so we can get the "It's like the Zecora fiasco all over again... only worse" response.
hmm this sounds off
As a fan of Monster Musume and one that is glad this is not a 'Displaced' story and the actual character, I'm glad to see this story. It breaks my hear to see a beloved Cerea being bound like this. I get that the ponies think she's evil because she's a centaur but this? I hope these hicks get a chewing out by law enforcement or better yet, Celestia for this behavior.
Can't wait to see what happens next.
9477961 Yep, the Interspecies Exchange Laws restrict Centoria to a weighted plastic sword. She could get her hands on a real one, but it would be illegal, and Cerea is usually big on following the rules.
9477996
Monster Musume, or Daily Life With Monster Girls.
Suu is best monster. FACTS.
diysolarpanelsv.com/images/monster-musume-suu-clipart-49.jpg
9478008
Ah, I didn't initially understand. I got from the story that she didn't have an actual metal sword, but I assumed it was bamboo or some other tradition-conscious material.
A thought has occurred to me.
Once the ponies find out that Centorea A) has no magic, B) has equipment that hard counters magic, and C) is fairly well trained at physical combat, they might come to the conclusion that she was sent by the other centaurs to apprehend and/or assassinate Tirek. No magic means she isn't crippled by losing it and Tirek doesn't get a boost from her, anti-magic gear means he can't use other magic against her successfully, and nonmagical combat skill means once she gets into melee with him she can take him out.
I feel like you strayed a little too far into the repition for a bit there, but its pretty damn good so far.
You have to be careful when deciding to use antimagic plastic, in that the waxy coating on apples is naturally occuring thermoplastic polyetheylene, and apparently certain slugs can superglue their attackers to the tree. Still trying to work out if peeing on ants gives thermosetting urea formaldehyde bakelite style material. And Ive forgotton how wood is boiled with caustic, related to paper production, to give cellulose billiard balls etc.
Still I suspect its because Magic is Energy, but its not Real Energy but Imaginary Energy, so is affected by different materials. That, and hooves, feathers and horn are all nonconductors non metal and are very good at conducting magic? Internal molecular structure. Manufactured stuff aims towards similar reasons and gets similar results?
By the time she escapes, the party wil have been on long enough to make recpature by mass unavailable? How quickly can that flyer reach a town with rail telegraph to call for Major Assistance?
Looks interesting. Though I may not give this a read, part of the reason I am actually a fan of Monster Musume and I just love to see Centorea and Kimihito together and I don't know how much I'd like her to see in Equestria among ponies.
But as a fan of MLP and Monster Musume I like your idea anyway. Good job.
9477669 If ponies are half as bad at first contact as they are in HIE then it's no wonder why most of the other species in the show couldn't stand the sight of them.
"buildings had a old-world European"
"buildings had an old-world European"?
Interesting. Plastic from that Earth has an anti-magic effect here?
And also an interesting-looking new story in general. :)
Poor centaur, just another victim of the ponies skittishness. That and horrible timing... And no elements of Harmony to prove her innocence.
Having anti-magic plastic doesn't help either
Hoping for Centorea to get a FAIR chance to communicate with the ponies.
I have no idea where this is going, but I'm buckled in for the ride.
I swear, I glanced at the title and I thought Flutterpriest wrote a new story...
for some reason I want this to be good so bad, and I haven't even started reading yet.
Needs more chapters :p
Hope she gets magic, eventually.
it's not the plastic. It seems she picked up something else on the trip here. She also cut a spell apart with a metal pole practically.
9478106
Nevermind that, just look at how they treated ZECORA, and she's basically the same shape, size and near-same species as they are.
Ponies can, occasionally, be worse than (SOME) humans.
Well, it’ll be interesting when they (hopefully) find out she is anything BUT a monster.
more
To all of you likening this to Zecora you all are forgetting that Tirek is a centaur, one that sucks the magic out of everything. If I were a pony I'd probably attack centaurs on sight.
9477548
Caroline deleted.