Feral
The final night before the party existed as something which had its own weight. Minutes pressed against Cerea's skin, hours drove their mass into her shoulders. To look out a palace window and see Moon starting to dip was to feel as if the orb had just landed in the center of her lower back. There was too much to do, too little time in which to do anything. Even with Princess Luna torturing the clock, all it could confess to was not having anything left to give --
-- well, technically, this was incorrect. Cerea had been provided with a schedule for that last night of planning and preparation: something which had fully overridden all of her Guard duties or rather, had trampled those duties into the marble through the casual passage of silver-clad hooves. The schedule allowed for everything to happen at a royally-assigned pace and because the Princess had been the one drawing it up, it even had temporal zones which had been designated for recovery. A chance to breathe after something stressful wrapped up or, given the way the night was going, something else. But a true opportunity for calm would have required something more. Like pushing the party off by another day. A week. Two, maybe three decades. Or, in the ideal scenario, somepony would have found a way to send her home in the next five minutes and then she wouldn't have to go at all.
(They could still have the party after that. Cerea was sure there were ponies ready to turn the whole thing into the loudest She's Gone! celebration in Menajeria's history.)
But that last night contained deliberate vacant spaces: zones meant to be filled by slow breathing as the tide of her blood gradually retreated from the skin. Cerea, who'd just staggered out of a conference room, had just entered such a relaxation period. The most recent encounter had mandated it.
The government-issued one-sheet which would explain her existence to the populace had been a work in frequently-revised progress for moons. But now that the Princesses could officially add 'Guard' to the text, it was finally going to be printed -- and Fancypants' party would double as the one-sheet's release event. (Cerea had been picturing guests being given a copy just before they went in, followed by some granted reading time in a private alcove so they could decide if they were going right back out.) And most of that printing would be done at a dedicated facility -- but the palace had its own small press, used for some of the paperwork which was generated in-house. It allowed the final inspections of mock-ups to be done on site. You could see how the text was going to be laid out. Make sure all the sections lined up correctly. Check to make sure there had been enough room left over for pictures.
And then somepony had remembered that there were supposed to be pictures.
The conference room was a normal part of palace functions. The makeshift photography studio within was understood to be strictly temporary and every time the shivering camera operator told Cerea that she needed "just one more shot," the girl had to willfully restrain her back hooves from ending that short-term existence right there.
There had also been a curtain-created area which allowed her to change clothing. Put on the armor, then take it off again because an armored shot wasn't going to be all that reassuring. Dress in something softer. Oh, and maybe we should bring up the dress...
It had been nearly ninety minutes of being captured from multiple angles. There had been a period designated for aerial shots, because the photographer was a pegasus and so naturally an overhead take was going to be collected. Cerea had gone through most of her wardrobe, done her nerve-wracked best to move on command, and had never quite figured out how to answer an order of "Now look reassuring." Being told to appear friendly hadn't gone any better. And judging by the mock-up, she had done all of it in order to allow the possibility of up to three engraved images, one of which would be roughly nine centimeters square.
Cerea had been told that the camera loved her. She'd believed it. Most photographers longed for the opportunity to get that single award-winning capture of a natural disaster.
She staggered down the hallway, feeling as if no leg was going in quite the same direction as any other. And it was less than a day before the party, nopony had flown in to report miracle while also asking her to make sure she took everything with her because it was best for the palace to retain no proof of her time within, and it felt as if the final draining seconds were slicing against her skin.
The girl could feel the weight of the last hours. Having recently lost a less subjective portion of mass didn't seem to help.
Princess Luna, fully aware that Cerea's hair was at the point of crisis, had arranged for the stylists to be waiting in the conference room. The centaur's tail, which tended to be more stable in its length, had been given nothing more than an expert trim. Her neck, however, felt as if it had just dropped a three-kilo weight and was still trying to figure out how to adjust for the loss of burden. The stylists had -- after some discussion, which had eventually included remembering that the centaur might have an opinion -- decided to leave things on what, for a human, would have been the long side: the new fall stopped at the middle of Cerea's upper back. But it was still a considerable cutdown, one which made even the smallest nod feel as if it was on the verge of turning her into the first centaur dullahan.
She had an hour in which to breathe. To reach the point where she wasn't constantly fighting the urge to tremble, or shake, or bolt for the horizon because there hadn't been any measuring tapes, but having light meters held next to her breasts hadn't been much of an improvement. And once that time was up, the next part of the schedule said torture or rather, Torture because it was going to be an hour spent with Ms. Manners. They would be reviewing the Proper Behaviors used when dealing directly with The Nobility, because Cerea had to Reflect Well Upon The Palace.
Ms. Manners didn't like Cerea very much. Or at all.
It had started as fear, because it had started as fear with just about everypony. And with the Etiquette Expert, there had been a degree of emotional transmutation -- but the final result of that internal alchemy had a heavy layer of distaste bubbling upon the olfactory surface, with darker aspects lurking underneath.
Cerea understood that. She existed as something which broke all standard rules of etiquette, especially when it came to Proper Posture because nothing been designed for a combination of four legs and two arms. It meant quite a bit had to be improvised, and when it came to somepony who lived by Tradition...
She staggered across silver-shot marble, looking for an empty room. Somewhere she could be by herself for a while, because an hour wasn't long enough to safely reach her favorite part of the gardens and return on time. Ms. Manners had Opinions about those who Turned Up Late, and no portion of them allowed Cerea to claim she was just being Fashionable.
It would have to be time spent alone. Nightwatch had her own preparations to complete before the party: something which apparently involved an armor inspection. Cerea was unclear on the details: there hadn't been all that much time to discuss it before her own schedule had kicked in. She'd gotten the impression that there was a second set involved: something which only got used for assignments outside the palace. Parade armor, perhaps: something much more ornate than the usual Guard arrangement. She was just hoping there weren't going to be any feathered plumes getting into Nightwatch's eyes.
...actually, given pegasi, there seemed to be a chance for some of those feathers to be the wearer's own --
-- an hour. She could go back into the barracks, continue her desperate attempts to modify the dress. Or simply step outside. She didn't need to go all the way into the gardens: finding a balcony which faced them might be enough. Fresh night air, crisp and cold. Something to negate the heat of embarrassment.
Cerea forced her legs to stop. Tilted back her head, took a slow breath. If any outer air seal was less than perfect, she might be able to use the palace air currents. Track down an appropriate exit --
-- canid.
The scent wasn't fresh, because 'fresh' implied that the original source had recently left the area. The Diamond Dog was somewhere ahead of her. Working, because Cerea was also picking up odors from the pigments...
The centaur, alone.
The Diamond Dog, alone.
But she has a pack. A warren. She's only alone here. The only thing the other singularity needed to do in order to find her own kind again was leave the city. Looked at from that perspective, there was a considerable disconnect between their respective local existences.
And yet...
"If you want to speak with her, then try to find a place where she has ways out, and -- go slowly. It's not because you're a centaur. She's shy. She has a lot of reasons to be."
If I go slowly... if I step as quietly as I can, try to get a look at her before she sees me, assess the area...
The centaur took another breath. Slowly moved forward.
The first thing she saw was the base of the portable scaffolding: something which could be assembled quickly. The parts had been designed so that they could be interlocked for safety, frozen at variable heights. But there had to be a way to reach those heights, and it was what which told her just how much the palace had tried to help the canid fit in.
How would a unicorn have approached the restoration work on the ceiling frescoes? Probably through using their field, making sure to keep the energy's grip on the handle alone: applying powders through a corona was presumed to be a problem. But they would still want to be close, because it was detail work: standing on the floor and squinting eight meters straight up would sacrifice too much resolution on what they were seeing. An earth pony would have simply held the brush in their mouth, and that begged the question of approach angle. Pony necks could only bend so far, and as for the human method for overhead painting -- how long could a pony lie on their back? And how close to the ceiling would the platform need to be? Could the legs be curled in enough to fit within that minimal space, staying out of the way while the neck strained to reach forward? And with a pegasus... even with wings, the scaffold's top platform would have been used. From what Cerea had seen, no hover was ever completely stable or utterly level: there was always some bobbing involved, and it would have made the work impossible. Besides, even if there was a pony capable of keeping themselves totally still within the air, the job still would have required them to be flying upside-down.
So it was easier for the canid, who could just lie on her back and reach -- or, in this case, stand and look up: the scaffolding wasn't quite at its maximum height. But when it came to claiming that level of elevation in the first place...
There were stairs in the palace, here and there: a rather visible architectural minority. For gaining and losing height, ponies favored ramps: ones which weren't fully smooth, with carefully-placed indentations to allow the planting of hooves. (In both cases, these were also security measures. Cerea had been told how to activate them, and had very carefully passed up every opportunity for doing so. Pranking the Lunar staff wasn't going to make anypony think better of her.) And with a scaffolding -- you needed a portable ramp. Something where the maximum ascent angle meant it either had to stretch a long way off into the distance, or work with the kind of zig-zag which had a frustrated pony marching back and forth six times to climb one meter.
But there was a canid working in the palace, and the Princesses had accommodated her. There was no other reason for the side of the scaffolding to be sporting a rung ladder.
Cerea paused at the entrance to the vast arcing hallway. Part of that was giving herself a chance to access the situation. The rest was trying to dismiss the image of an earth pony attempting to perform multiple lunging jump pull-ups with their jaw.
There were six ways out of this particular hallway: five visible, and one which was only available to those who could open the hidden passage. It would have seemed to qualify for Nightwatch's conditions, but -- reaching any of them meant the canid would need to come down. Given that, Cerea wasn't sure this was a good place for a first true meeting.
I can find her again on a different night. Somewhere that she'll be more secure.
But she stood within the entrance arc. Watching as bright round eyes focused on the ceiling. The brush went to work on freshly-applied portions of repair plaster, and the colors quickly soaked in. The canid nodded to herself, the tail moved in something close to a circle, and then the biped turned towards her supplies: multiple small fragile-seeming, half-crumbled bricks, and a mortar to grind them down. Pure water, for mixing the fresh powders. Brushes --
-- the flanges around her nostrils visibly flared.
The canid looked down. The centaur, who didn't really have the jointing required for the act, fought the urge to kick herself.
Later that night, she would wonder why she hadn't thought of it. A canid: the body type alone should have suggested that the biped's olfactory sense was stronger than that of a pony. As it would turn out, Cerea's detection ability was still the superior by near-geometric degrees -- but a centaur's scent was still like nothing else in the world.
The canid pulled back. Took a half-step on the platform, instinctive retreat --
-- stopped. Looked at the platform's little work table and slowly, carefully put the brush down. And then she stared at Cerea.
"I'm sorry," often felt like the centaur's own base level of instinct. "I didn't mean to startle you." The blush was starting to rise again, and her hooves were beginning to awkwardly canter in place. "I'll just go --"
"-- centaur," the canid softly said. Still staring down.
The girl wasn't quite sure how it was meant. As observations went, it was a rather obvious one. There hadn't been enough decibels to back a cry of alarm. Her best hope was for a form of greeting, and those hopes seldom seemed to work out.
"Yes," the girl said. "I'm Cerea --"
Just as quietly, "-- know who you are."
The urge to kick herself came back.
"Work in same place," the canid observed. "Go to same class. Can smell you sometimes, when air is right. Yapper hears ponies talk. About you. Night after night."
She distantly remembered having once wondered what, if anything, the disc did with sentence structure. If it rearranged syntax into something she was more comfortable with. The translation of the canid's speech suggested such operations were fairly minimal.
"Yapper hears," the canid quietly added. "All the time."
It definitely didn't seem to do anything about someone who was speaking about themselves in the third person.
"I don't know what you've heard," Cerea said. And then wondered if she truly wanted to know. "I -- I can just go --"
"-- ponies talk," the canid repeated. "In front of Yapper." The fluffy head tilted slightly to the right. "Centaur knows about pony pets?"
She's talking...
It still felt like the wrong place for a first true encounter. As if she'd treed a startled squirrel, and it was just chittering at her in the hopes that the sounds would make her go away.
"You're safe," Cerea quickly said.
"Safe," the canid dubiously repeated.
"From me --" No-no-no, don't make her think about me that way, not as a threat... But if she added an explanation, tried to make it sound like a joke... "-- I mean, I can't exactly climb a ladder --"
"-- pets," the canid verbally doubled back. "Pony pets. What does centaur know?"
It felt like an honest inquiry. Cerea concentrated.
"I know Princess Celestia is supposed to have a phoenix," the girl replied. "I haven't seen it yet --"
"-- better off that way," the canid evenly cut in. "Entire staff has permission to take a swat if it tries anything. Or it will."
"-- and nopony's said anything about Princess Luna," Cerea continued. "But for most ponies... do they favor the herbivore pets? Rabbits might be popular --"
"If yellow Bearer is visiting with company," the canid informed her, "can also take a swat at the rabbit."
Cerea blinked. The canid slowly crouched, lowered herself until near-hands had their palms flat against the platform's wood. Carefully sat down, with her knees draped over the edge.
"Some carnivores," the canid quietly went on. "Cats. Dogs. Dogs give some ponies a way to think of Yapper. Wrong way. Think they can say anything. Like talking in front of a pet. Yapper won't understand. But she does..."
A slow head shake. The floppy ears were oddly still.
"Ponies don't understand Diamond Dogs," the canid said. "Dogs don't understand ponies. Yapper trying to learn. Ponies... slower. Don't want to learn, some. If ponies still have to learn? Don't know everything. Some don't like that thought. So won't let themselves have it."
Cerea blinked.
What kind of mind spots that --
-- a sapient one.
"Know centaur wanted to talk," the canid casually revealed. "Was told. Didn't want to meet after class. Had to get home, and... centaur can't go down. Not to street. Yapper can. Sometimes, at night. Tunnels under city, did centaur know that? Evacuation paths. Yapper allowed to use them. More comfortable that way. But at night... try to stay on surface. A little longer every time. But even in tunnels, have to come up eventually. Up here..." She looked at the scaffolding, and the ladder. "...have to come down. Sometime. But centaur can't come up. Sun always comes up. Always. Sun comes up and centaur goes to sleep. So --"
Liquid brown eyes stared down at the girl.
"-- talking," the canid finished. "Yapper talking to centaur. Talking about what?"
Don't fall into the trap. She's telling me not to trick myself that way. Her body is canid, more than a kobold's would ever be. But this is a person...
Softly, head tilted back to let her pitch the minimal volume towards those fringed ears, "Why did you come here?"
"To ponies," the canid guessed. "Instead of staying in warren. When everyone stays in warren." Her eyes briefly closed, and long lashes tangled. "Always."
Cerea nodded.
The canid's legs kicked a little, like those of a child on the edge of a swing.
"Colors," she said, and looked at the ceiling.
Cerea's head tilted further back.
Vines. Twisting across low stone, and there's a hint of a back wall -- parapet, it's like a castle's parapet. But it's not the palace, because the base material is wrong. There's flowers blooming along the vines, so many flowers --
-- thorns falling away from the vines.
Every flower is displacing a thorn. And where the flowers bloom, the stone seems younger. Brighter. But there's so many vines, and the flowers can only grow so fast...
...the canid was looking at her.
"Colors." Another little kick, and Cerea caught a glimpse of well-trimmed claws. "Ponies not know Dogs. Centaur has excuse. Yapper was -- green hunter."
She didn't understand. Her default state.
"You came up," Cerea tried, "to look for the color green --"
If it was a laugh, then it was the kind which emerged as a bark.
"Dogs eat meat," the canid stated. "Ponies don't like that." A little more softly, "Most ponies... But not just meat. Need grasses. Don't grow in warrens. So -- green hunter. Sneak up. Harvest. Warren doesn't respect, because meat hunting harder. But still want the grasses. Still angry if harvest is small, and didn't dry enough for winter. Send up omegas. Under Moon, always. Sun too... bright."
The girl listened.
"Grasses not have much scent," the canid admitted. "Not when alive. Hard to find. Surface, too many scents. Too much. Color easier, but... under Moon, colors different. Yapper learned. Became great green hunter." Darkly, "Best of worst. Most popular of least useful. Gave Yapper place in pack. Learned to stay up longer, so brought back more. And still omega. Always. Because only green hunter. For life."
Brown eyes moved to the ceiling again.
"Longer every time. Under Moon. Other Dogs go back to warren. Won't stay up that long. Afraid. Supposed to hunt as pack, even green hunters. In case monsters come. But other Dogs afraid. Stay under Moon too long, Moon goes away. Left Yapper. Pack of one. Staying longer every time. Until..."
There was something deep about the canid's voice now. Thoughtful. Almost reverent --
"...Sun brought up," the other female quietly finished. One forepaw briefly rubbed at the vest. "Could barely see, first time. Eyes hurt for hours after. But saw green. Saw red. Saw all of it. First time. Wanted to see again..."
-- pained.
"So pretty," the canid half-whispered. "Ponies don't know. See every day, whole life. Stop thinking about it. Stop seeing beauty. Yapper had to hunt. Every night Yapper could, to every morning, to every day. Easier each time. And Yapper thought -- omega. Part of pack, but -- part other Dogs forget. Don't really look at. Don't breed. No one notice Yapper. Except... notice when omegas aren't there. No one to snarl at, to give orders. Yapper had to --"
sneak out
explore the boundaries
find out what security was like, memorize it, guarantee no one would catch you coming back at the wrong times
don't think about it
don't think
"-- use old tunnels," the canid softly continued. "Then made new ones. Secrets. Started to do more than look at colors. Touched them. Fur got stained. Then thought... bring colors down. Stain walls. Dogs use gems, but -- gems belong to pack. Colors brought by Yapper. Make them right. Thought it would be for every Dog. Once they were right. Tried in a new tunnel. Didn't look the same. Not bright enough. But... could try to make a little more light. Colors with colors. Next to colors. In patterns. Patterns of life under Sun. Hours in the tunnel. Hours where alphas wonder where Yapper is. Yell for Yapper. Get back, get yelled at. Thought..."
She stopped. Pseudohands tightly gripped the platform's edge, and bits of powder dropped away from shivering fur as she looked down again.
"...knew," she corrected. "Maybe knew. What would happen. Thought about it. Dogs... do same thing for centuries. Still Dogs in world. So same thing works. Dogs -- have trouble. Looking forward."
Cerea automatically focused on the brown forward-set eyes --
"-- not what Yapper meant," the canid immediately said. "Forward in time. Every moment is now. Commit crime? Not get caught for hour? Then won't be caught forever. Plan for winter because pattern on wall says plan for winter. Follow pattern. Not think about it. Pattern always been there. Do what it says. But don't think. Most Dogs can't look forward for whole day. Can't look forward? No consequences. Everything now. Can't get caught in now. Caught is future. Future same as now..."
The canid sighed, very softly.
"Not sure how much disc tell you," she considered. "Sentences harder, Equestrian. Canis more sensible. Compact. But Yapper thought about future. Not now, but then. Everything now to alphas -- but in now, can't find Yapper. Getting angry. Yapper going up too much, because best colors are under Sun. Extra green hunting? Don't believe Yapper. Thought about... what happens if caught. Then thought about when caught. Seen, eventually. Every tunnel comes out somewhere. Seen coming back in, or going out. Alphas set rules. Rules say... omegas don't go under Sun. Always that rule. Alphas don't change. Because pattern on wall say not to. Say alpha this, omega that. No change. Ever."
The right paw released the edge. Reached up to the little table, lightly touched a fragile brick, and then the canid put the limb forward. Displayed the spot of deep red.
"Yapper thought... pack never accept. Pack never change. So what if... no pack? But -- too scared. Pack is life. Colors are life. Can't have two. But kept going up. Knew consequences and --"
don't think
don't REMEMBER
"-- caught Yapper," the canid told the centaur, and the words were far too even. "Wrong Dog, wrong place. Found colors. Whole tunnel was colors. Confused. Angry. Said Yapper wasn't proper omega. Proper Dog. Dog would use gems, and gems belong to pack. Tunnel was Yapper's. Tore... tunnel apart. Was going to be first part of punishment. Made Yapper watch. Second part was demotion. Lower than omega. For now. In pack, now can be for life. So Yapper said..."
The canid's forehead creased.
"...no pack," she finished. "Told them no pack. And -- took consequences."
Tightly, painfully, outlining the scar in sharp relief.
"Can't go back. Anywhere. Any warren know wound. Exiled to Sun. All Yapper had was the colors. Green hunter. Couldn't get meat. Hungry. Followed meat scent. Found town." The next words were almost spat. "Pet food. But was only meat Yapper had found. Tried to get it from outside bowl." Followed by a sigh. "Ponies saw. Bad impression. Hard to explain. But one listened."
"Do you want to play?"
Her blouse is becoming stained. Stained with new colors.
She has to move --
"Centaur?"
There was a little confusion in the canid's translated tone. Confusion, and -- something else.
How long was I --
Cerea forced herself to look up again, found brown staring down at her. Eyes wide, focused -- and, on a first meeting, impossible to read. There were scents, but Cerea hadn't had a chance to work out the proper associations. The tone was all there was.
"One," the girl made herself repeat. "Princess Luna?"
There was a hesitation before the canid shook her head. The natural delay of someone who wasn't fully bilingual and had to remember the proper translation for a given response.
"Took time," the canid carefully told her. "Wasn't near Canterlot. Time to travel. Meet Crossing Guard. Then Princess. Problems, whole time. Problems just coming into city, even with first pony. But pony had to go home. Did too much, just coming with Yapper. Went home, and -- Yapper stayed. Hard to stay. Princess had to speak for Yapper. Then both. Speak loudly, because ponies kept shouting. Wanted to dig. All the time. Go back. But... no pack. Only ponies. Ponies who don't understand. Pony who understood a little went home. This is where chance was. Chance and..."
Her volume dropped. Almost vanished.
"...Sizzler."
Cerea had heard the name before. Scented the distaste which so many ponies associated with it, the disgust. And even with Nightwatch's cautions, she'd eventually asked why --
"The cook," the girl tried. "The one who runs the meat station. For visiting diplomats, dignitaries --"
"-- for griffons of staff," the canid partially corrected. "For -- Yapper. Sizzler wants... happiness. Happy to eat what he cooks. Happy to thank him. Happy for him to be part of palace. Sizzler... go to butcher shop with Yapper. Teach Yapper about cooking. Goes with Yapper into streets. Pony with Yapper, so other ponies not as scared. Sizzler --"
Every strand of the white fur shook.
"-- stand between Yapper and ponies who don't want Yapper here. Almost got hurt. Had to dig. Bring him under. Make him safe. Ponies say Sizzler not smart. Yapper not care. Smart enough to see Yapper and not Dog..."
One last sigh, and then the canid was staring down again.
"Could have left. Over and over," she stated. "Hard to stay. Princess only gives reasons to stay. Sizzler reason to come back." And with volume spiking, as the nostrils flared again and lips pulled back into a snarl, "Centaur alone. Dog alone. Centaur wants to speak with Dog, because centaur thinks she and Dog are same? Ponies talk about centaur. Talk about party. Big welcome. Nobles. Trying to make whole city accept centaur --"
She didn't know why she was pulling back, why hooves were skittering across marble. The canid was all the way up there, no threat to her at all. She didn't understand why the other sapient was so angry --
-- and then she did.
Frantically, with arms beginning to gesture in ways which probably wouldn't be recognized or understood, futile and stupid and all she had, "Yapper, it wasn't my idea! They're just trying to --"
Every word was its own snap. Bite wounds targeted at the world, as scent combined with posture to give the girl a signature for canid rage.
"-- but Yapper? First pony had to go home. Better for her, to be home. Crossing Guard tries. Princess always try. Sizzler stays. Other ponies tell Sizzler to leave, and stays. Yapper knows they all try! But still stared at! Stared at now, stared at always! No nobles, no welcome! No party --"
"-- do you want to come with me?"
Cerea blinked. So did the canid.
What did I just --
They were both sapients. But there were times when words arose from instinct alone, something which left the conscious mind desperately scrambling to catch up. On one level, Cerea was fully aware of what she had said: she was just trying to work out the why --
"-- centaur not funny," the canid softly declared, with tone in direct contrast to fully-risen hackles. "Not."
"The invitation said 'plus one'," the girl verbally scrambled. "I can bring whoever I like." A little faster, "Well, there's supposed to be a screening. But you already work for the palace, so I'm sure you'd pass --"
"-- still not funny." The claws on the pseudohands were starting to put shallow gouges in the platform's wood. "Why bring Yapper? Someone else for ponies to stare at? Ponies stare at Yapper. Still. Always."
"You never got a party," Cerea frantically tried. "You can share mine. They can meet you, all of them can finally meet you. And you can tell them about colors, and Sun --"
"-- centaur with Yapper," the canid harshly cut her off, and the claws gouged that much more deeply. "So ponies will stare at Yapper. Ponies always stare --"
Stopped. Took a slow breath, as the hackles on her neck began to sink back down.
"-- at Yapper," the canid finished. "At... anypony with Yapper. Stare harder at the pony. Don't understand why pony wants to be there. Always..."
She stood up, as Cerea watched. And then she moved across the platform, went to the ladder...
Slowly, the canid climbed down. Rung by rung, pseudohand over paw. Every so often, she would pause and glance down, as if trying to verify that the centaur was still there.
But then the digitigrade legs reached the floor, with weight supported on the front part of the tilted paws. The canid took a few slow, cautious steps. Towards Cerea.
The centaur automatically backed up.
"Afraid?" There was some bemusement in it.
Cerea winced.
"You're short. I'm trying to see your face..."
The vast majority of ponies were shorter still. But the height difference somehow felt more extreme with the canid. Maybe it was because she was trying to look at a biped. Or she'd just become accustomed to the viewing angles required for three species which mostly existed on the horizontal.
"Party is tomorrow," the canid noted. "Not much notice."
Automatically, "I'm sorry --"
"-- asking a lot of Yapper. To clear schedule." The white tail shifted a little. "Need to check. Is this date?"
Cerea's eyes went wide --
"-- centaur not funny," the canid decided. "Not have sense of humor either. So not funny makes sense." And sighed. "Yapper not working tomorrow. Ponies... stare at whoever is with Yapper. Stare at centaur, Yapper knows. Not less stares together. Just -- shared."
The furry right arm raised. Began to reach forward, towards Cerea's hand --
-- dropped back down, and the canid's eyes followed suit. Stared at silver-shot marble, and the reflections of distant hues.
"Yapper will go."
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To know one is not alone at being alone is a big step.
The Twilight Sparkle method, interesting. We have Cerea, Nightwatch, Yappper... Sizzler? Think the Sergeant will be their Celestia? Wait, maybe Lnua is their Celestia and the Sergeant is their Luna with his version of the RCV? What would their elements be....
+1
love it!
I like Yapper.
This just keeps getting better and better.
Also an interesting thought on the other end of integration, namely the realities of trying to find someone who wants to integrate. Yapper said it herself, she's not here to prove a moral point, she's not with her pack because she's exiled, and she's here because of Sizzler and because there's nowhere else to go. That's a situation that nobody's happy with, and its something that's not going to be solved by top-down fiat.
Troubling really.
Also,
Dot's all kinds of interesting.
Not what I would have expected but a very interesting development. A perfect date!
Yapper is a Good Girl.
This chapter made me think that even if Tirek never happened, that Cerea was the first, it would still be the same distrust and disgust she receives now.
Never saw this coming but I absolutely love this twist. Oh my, once Cerea inform the Princesses of her plus one, there will be a debacle to get the Diamond Dog ready for the party! A less than 24 hours scramble!
I can see Yapper point of view about Cerea and how they aren't the same.
But yikes, Yapper need her OWN welcome party.
WE NEED PINKIE PIE STAT! Let's make the pink demon earn her due. 
How in the world isn't her mark screaming at her a good color loving doggo is in need of a welcoming party?
Diamond dog exile teaching a chronically, painfully insecure centaur how to relax enough to take a joke...
Do it, Yapper! Doooo eeeet!
Cerea is monstrous, sure, but she’s also glamorous. Ponies might not want to believe she exists but they can’t look away from her alien beauty either. Ponies might read about her in articles by Panderghast but they read about her non the less. Ponies might flee her presence but Luna knows they can’t resist an invitation to mingle with this exotic celebrity. Yapper, on the other hoof, is someone they think they already know all too well.
Congratulations on finishing up Anchor Foal, been waiting on this story for a while.
"[T]o report a miracle"
Interesting development. I'd definitely like to see more of Yapper, and learn more about this pattern on the wall she talks about, too.
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Probably nowhere near as bad honestly. She is pony enough to at least have some similarity.
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The similarity is part of the problem. She looks like a very big pony…except that there's this whole thing where her head should be.
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Not the same.
In reality it would go somewhat worse.
Here the reaction is SO STRONG that the Princesses got involved personally and worked to manage the introduction at full force. If Tirek was not there she would be just a strange thing with a modicum of support and nothing else.
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Probably just never met her.
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Dangit, now you have me imagining her speech like the doge memes.
Thank you for writing. :)
For vegetarians, legumes. (Peas, beans, etc.) World Health Organization gives out lots of peanut butter. Rich in protein + kids will actually eat it. Also, beans + rice.
Equestrian Ninja Warrior drops the "salmon" part and just has competitors try to climb a ladder.
In Ponyville, Trixie felt strangely insulted. She was in Ponyville, so she thought little of it.
Ah. So much for thinking they have the color vision of dogs. Also another fascinating glimpse at Diamond Dog culture. Some parallels with griffons in terms of pretending they're pure carnivores.
And the petroglyphs of tradition giving an unthinking routine for a culture that finds it so hard to think ahead for themselves. Their roles and rotes literally written in stone. Which, of course, raises the question of who wrote them. And what happens when the writing gets damaged...
But for now, Cerea's found her plus-one, and Yapper gets a moment in the spotlight. (Be careful what you complain about, Yapper. You might just get it.) This will definitely be a party to remember. The question is for what reasons.
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While The Tattler desperately tries to spin Cerea as some kind of monster, all anypony really cares about is that Cerea is a lesbian?! Gossip mags, y'know?
Cerea, for her part, sequesters out of shame while a laughing Yapper tries in vain to coax her from her now permanent hideyhole.
Yapper's a good girl, but she'd HATE to see anyone calling her that. God forbid you give her scritches, specially if she likes it (she would). Still, a friend that understands. A friend she can share with. A friend that might allow her to take down her first wall.
And then one day may all the others crumble.
I still ship Cerea with Luna though
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A weird mutant big pony that doesn't speak equestrian and has a sword that destroys magic? They would. Even without Tirek the ability to nullify things like the monster she faced when she came to Equestria would be invaluable. So she'd still be a guard, only one that's very weird and alien instead of one that's the closest thing to The Devil the ponies have.
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Hmm they would just confiscate the sword and the pins, close them somewhere safe and try to make it work like all the other immigrant. She WOULD not be a guard. She is getting that job NOT because she has the "special" items, but as a way to get her accepted in spite of the disaster with Tirek and it is a QUITE complex endeavour, so if there is NOT that STRONG reaction to her [aka full panic with ponies going rabid and completely dumb with terror going to extremes like suicide] they would NOT invest all that effort.
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Being a stranger in a stranger land is a thing Luna connected to, hard. She's trained, strong, driven and the only one capable of using those artifacts. Integrating her as a guard would be even easier if Tirek hadn't happened, "weird species" (for ponies) guards are a thing in universe, so why not offer it to the extraplanar girl who's quite obviously lost and behaves like a knight? There wouldn't be all that effort because it wouldn't be needed.
Do have in mind they offered her other jobs. She could just do the immigration thing. She could just stay there in the forge helping make steel and leave an eternal mark in the history of Equestria itself. She could chosen to be sent out, even. The sisters were willing to do so. The only reason she's a guard is that, ultimately, she chose to do so. She had multiple ways out, she always judged herself unworthy, but she still endured. She still believed this was the right thing to do.
Considering it was a choice that was offered, considering she's the absolute best weapon to be used in any situation where magical nullification is wanted, why would they steal the possessions of a lost girl, lock them up and then abandon her in the system?
At least Cera hasnt got the whole chain and shackles going with Yapper leading, otherwise the papers would really be cooking?
They say misery loves company, so let’s see how 2 social rejects do in a party setting!
Looking forward to the big shindig…
Cerea made a new friend
I think that pony,who first meet Yapper, was Fluttershy,
'Cerea had been told that the camera loved her. She'd believed it. Most photographers longed for the opportunity to get that single award-winning capture of a natural disaster.'
I chuckle at how much Cerea beats herself up, throughout the story it's gone from upsetting to exasperating to amusing because of how much she does it.
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It’s possible that Yapper is translating, and what’s really meant is more along the lines of “yellowish-brown” and “gray,” as far as what Yapper perceives.
(We’ll probably hit a point where it’s impossible to deny that Diamond Dogs see red and green more or less like humans do, but for now the dream lives on)
Diamond Dogs remind me a lot of tenants, except that they’re tenants who are being managed by a rulebook rather than a living minder. Perhaps somebody helped them along at some point. The petroglyphs almost certainly include instructions to copy down the whole set whenever a new warren is established, so this very well might have happened just once, and the Diamond Dogs who benefitted from it were able to outcompete the others and/or spread the meme to them (there could easily be an instruction to convince other Diamond Dogs to use these glyphs if one notices that they aren’t being used).
IIRC, there’s a theory that the tenants were full sapients at one point but were damaged during the Discordian Era, so the petroglyphs might even have been devised by Dogs of Yore who saw what was happening (though it’s definitely debatable whether the Discordian Era has stable enough seasonal patterns for the petroglyphs to be useful…)
At any rate, it also seems plausible to me that the glyphs might include instructions to (1) make redundant copies and (2) regularly compare the copies and make sure they matched, perhaps simply by assuming the longer copy was always right and perhaps by some other method. There might also be instructions to occasionally check the glyphs of other warrens if you ever visit them under peaceable terms (just in case all your redundant copies were damaged with the original), and/or to memorize the glyphs and repair them from memory of a discrepancy if ever noticed.
Now I’m wondering whether you ever get Dogs who do think forward on a regular basis (Yapper seems to be there). If so, such Dogs may continue to add to the glyphs from time to time, as they notice problems and record solutions.
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Somebody being Discord. It's mentioned near the beginning of Triptych:
How familiar , from my present work.
The most visual detail is suddenly remembered when the last inspection stage approaches. Before that, if mentions, it is getting pushed away. "Later. Not important."
There's only so much staring ponies can do. Dividing it in half should help.
Breaking: The Savage Beast Controlled by the Crown that has terrorized Canterlot since late June drawn to Centaur at party! No doubt the slavering creature was drawn in by the smell of BLOOD from the meat the Centaur has been supplied by the palace in secret for it's carnivorous diet!
Well, this ought to be fun. I get the impression that Yapper isn't the type to suffer idiots (after she gets over the shyness, that is.) So, if her and Cerea become friends, Cerea may just get some one who will bop her on the head when she's being stupid and self-deprecating (which Nightwatch has done, but maybe not as much as she could be doing.)
Well, Yapper certainly represents an immense step forward in Diamond Dog evolution... To go from not really being able to appreciate the future as a concept, to being able to critically think about months ahead... that's Big.
And, arguably, Yapper is in a worse position, herself. Cerea is hated by Equestria, but she has the potential option of going home. For Yapper, the place where she's hated must be home, because there's no other that will take her.
Well I can understand Yapper not knowing about the amulet being able to translate from any language to any language, but why didn't Cerea mention it after hearing this? I mean, not right that moment, for obvious reasons, but later? Yapper could just speak Canis with her and she wouldn't have to deal with double-translated sentences.