Spilled Ink

by Fiddlove Enfemme

11 - Thinking

I did not return to the castle that night. Could not return, not after making Pinkie cry, at least until she calmed down and I could apologise. Luckily for me, it was a warm night, without even a touch of rain. I found a hollow underneath a bridge where I was out of the casual viewer's eyesight, sat down, and started to think.

At first, all I could think of was how I'd reacted. There'd been a brief moment where a strange instinct took over... an instinct that I realised was very familiar to me. What I needed to do was identify its origin, try and trace its place within my memories. The way to do that, of course, was to lay out exactly what I knew about myself.

I'd lived with my mother and grandparents, until my mother died due to unknown circumstances. After her death, I left home to do, well, something. I didn't really have a clue as to what it was, except that it was the same something that my great-great uncle had done, and died doing.

Mental fog notwithstanding, this meant that whatever I had gone to do was potentially life threatening, though it wouldn't rule out very much. A lot of seemingly everyday tasks had the spectre of death hanging over them, even if it wasn't directly related to the task itself. It was possible that my great-great uncle had gone out knowing the dangers involved. It was also likely that whatever he had gone to do was sufficiently glamourous that it inspired me to follow behind him. Of course, it could have been fueled by anger and spite.

When I'd jumped out of the way of Pinkie's cannon, and pushed everyone I could out of its firing line, I had done it because I recognised it as a weapon. What kind of weapon? One that combined explosive powder with a large cast iron ball; when the powder was ignited the metal of the cannon contained and directed the explosion to propel the ball out of the cannon and at its target. Antiquated in design, but without much else to go on I could only assume that cannons were not prolific enough for everyone else to recognise it as a weapon. Except... it wasn't a weapon. It was a tool used to redirect confetti and party decorations, probably by using compressed air. Were such "party cannons" exceptionally common? Not where I'd come from, or I'd have recognised it as one.

Then, there was my ingrained reaction when faced with the observer on the town hall rooftop. I wasn't under any direct threat, but seeing the way the sun reflected off of what I assumed was a telescope of some kind, I immediately wanted to break line of sight with it. Then immediately after I had started questioning the intent of the crowd around myself and Applejack, watching for danger.

Those weren't behaviours and reactions that just appear out of nowhere. I had learned them, likely the hard way. There was only one place where you needed to constantly be aware of potential dangers, only one where reacting even a fraction of a second faster meant the difference between survival and death, only one where death's pale spectre lurked around every corner. At least, only one that made sense with what I knew.

War.

Everything seemed so much clearer. That simple word was like a key that opened up part of my mind.

Still, it wasn't just the word on its own that had done it, but being able to connect the dots between forms of memory. When I'd left home like my great-great uncle's had before, I had left to join the military, to serve in a war far from home. My family had resisted this, especially my grandpa who'd only been a child when his uncle was killed. But by then I had been old enough to sign up regardless of his wishes.

And that was about where my insights ended. A new piece of the puzzle to work with, and the first solid answer I'd had for a while. It gave me a few ideas on where to look for more answers, and chief among them was Military History.

But there was still another question I needed to answer. What was that spyglass thing I'd found? I cursed myself. In my haste I'd left it in my bags at the castle. This would have been the perfect time to inspect it, and there was no way for me to get it right now; the night had gotten too dark for me to find my way around without a lantern or flashlight. Which meant that I'd be staying right here until it got bright enough.

So, to pass the time until I inevitably fell asleep, I needed to make some plans.

I would need to apologise to Pinkie for my reaction, that much was certain. She couldn't have known what would happen. Hell, I couldn't have known. I had no idea on what to say, and I'd need to be careful so that whatever I said didn't seem like a lame excuse for poor behaviour. Whatever I did end up saying and doing, it would have to come straight from the heart, not from the head.

I would also need to investigate the spyglass, take it to an expert. Maybe Gyro would know something about it, give me a clue as to its intent. I doubted it was related to my curse, but I didn't like being watched from the shadows.

And finally, I needed to do some research. Case the public library, look through Starlight's library, maybe even consult with local historians. Even things that constituted public and common knowledge could be useful.

As I planned my actions, my eyelids slowly grew heavier. I saw no harm in shutting them, letting my eyes rest for a while. Sleep came quicker than I'd expected, and I welcomed it.

---

It was dark.

A single streetlight flickered above me, the only working source of light for several blocks. I heard the crunch of shattered glass beneath my boots. Strewn across the street in front of me was the wreckage of an old building, toppled during the day's struggle.

"Shame, isn't it?" came a voice from off to my left. I didn't look at him, only scanned the street left and right as I slowly continued forward.

"Yeah." I replied curtly. Even though he was my friend, I didn't have the time or patience for him right now.

"That old place used to be this town's pride and joy. Now look at it, shattered in the street like cheap glass," he continued, "I used to think us coming here was the right thing to do. Now? Not so much."

I couldn't help but agree. All I wanted right now was to leave and go home, but we had orders. And if we didn't follow those orders, our fellow soldiers would pay for it. but I didn't say that, instead I scoffed, "You signed away your life just the same as I did. Don't pretend there's any morality involved."

"I signed up because I was naive and believed the propaganda they were feeding us back home, believed that if I were here I could make a difference. If I'd known what was really going on I'd have stayed home."

"Drop the skylarking, game faces now. We're almost to the mark." ordered the team lead.

I nodded in understanding, and the team continued forward through the quiet of the night. We moved silently and swiftly, ducking past a burnt out car.

And then I saw it, a flash of movement from the corner of my eye, from the rooftop to our south. I opened my mouth to shout a warning--

*Crack!* *Crack Crack!*

"Ambush!" shouted the team lead, but it was too late for Pines, dropping dead instantly. Hostile sniper had nailed him. The rest of us dropped into whatever cover we could find, mostly rubble and abandoned vehicles.

"Pines KIA," I keyed into or squad frequency. "Hostile sniper on the rooftops to the south."

"Popping smoke, try and get to a better position," the team leader replied emotionlessly. The canister flew down the street, bouncing to the side before releasing a thick white smoke that slowly obscured our view of the building down the way. "Cut into the buildings, get some height, we need that sniper gone yesterday."

"Boss, we have tangos approaching from our rear," someone said as we made our moves.

"Roger. Marksmen you're on counter-sniping, others dig in to repel hostiles." the team leader ordered.

Me and two others cut left into the nearest building, kicking in the door...

But that was the wrong move. I watched helplessly as my squadmate stumbled face first into a trap. A landmine had been laid under the floorboards, causing it to bulge up slightly in one spot. He came down on that bulge. Hard.

I was knocked on my ass, the other guy was thrown to the side of me. I fell limply into the street, dazed, crumpling to the ground, staring into the sky.

When I fell, at first all I could think about was about the rest of the squad. Where were they? Were they alright? Did they need first-aid? These thoughts were accompanied by the harsh ringing in my ears.

It seemed like everything had slowed down to a crawl. Everything was still, unnaturally still. But then, the clouds overhead broke, and I caught a glimpse of the stars. They were beautiful. Tiny dots of light an unfathomable distance away from me, traveling over thousands upon thousands of years just for me to see them right here, right now...

Except they were moving. Warping. No, they were taking the shape of something. What was it?

It was a face, blurred and out of focus. I tried to look at it closer, squinted so I could see them better, but it didn't help. I frowned, as the whisperings of an ethereal voice echoed in my mind.

"WHAT ARE YOU?"

---

I awoke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. What the hell happened? Was that a dream? It had felt so real...

The sun had begun to peek over the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground and giving everything that morning glow. I wasn't sure whether to welcome it or to curse it. I was about to get up and figure out what I was actually going to do today, but a familiar face poked around the corner.

"Hello there, Ink Blot. Fancy seeing you here."

"Quill? Honestly I didn't expect you'd be the first to find me." I said.

"I didn't either, but your root is so distinct that it's hard for me to ignore." Quill smirked.

"What do you mean, "root"?" I asked.

Quill waved his hoof around dismissively. "Your Root, it forms the core of your aura. Everything else grows out from it, from memories to emotions to thoughts. Either way it's good that I came across you. I had an idea regarding that curse of yours."

"Oh, lovely," I muttered. "What about the others? I'd assume they're worried about me at this point."

"Yes, yes, of course. They've been looking for you for a while, stayed up all night for it. Very worried, especially that Starlight character. Pinkie Pie was absolutely beside herself, saying that it was all her fault, and that Applejohn--"

"Applejack. Her name's Applejack. Cut the shit, I'm going to go talk to them." I interjected.

"I would let you go, but there's a very important factoid about what I'm going to do. You need to be feeling some particularly strong emotions, otherwise I can't get a proper reading on you. Make your choice now, curse breaking or friend talking, it doesn't matter to me right now." Quill smiled.

"You're getting 15 minutes, tops. After that I'll be doing whatever I please, which is apologising to my friends." I declared.

Quill shrugged. "Good thing my apartment isn't very far away. Follow me."

I was lead to the second floor of a slightly more modern looking building. Unlike some of the other buildings, which had thatched roofs, this one had was shingled with slate, and had a very grey and brown colour scheme. Quill unlocked the door and stepped inside, so I followed. The appartment was rather threadbare, without much in the way of furniture outside of the essentials; a dining table with two chairs, a futon, a small counter with stove and refridgerator for food preparation, and a separate bedroom.

While I was inspecting his stuff, Quill opened a drawer and removed a stubby piece of green chalk, and drew a strange pattern on the ground. Many different shapes and symbols snaked through it, but the one that stood above them all were the hexagons. They were the central philosophy on which the pattern was founded. Everything was made in sixes, or multiples of six. Even that slight piece of understanding boggled my mind, and I could barely scratch the surface of the rest of it.

"Okay Ink Blot. Stand there, I will stand here. Try to relax, but hold onto those strong emotions. The stronger they are the easier it will be for me." Quill said, indicating two hexagons that faced eachother. I stood in one, and he stood across from me. I could almost have reached out and touched him, but resisted the urge.

He closed his eyes, standing firm as a brilliant green glow enveloped his horn, slowly reaching across the short space between us. I heard a distant whisper from the back of my mind, but it was too faint to clearly make out. A shiver went up my spine and down my tail. Quill lowered his horn to point squarely at my forehead.

And nothing happened.

I tried to relax, I really did, but I couldn't help but think of how horrible Pinkie must be feeling. All she wanted to do was make people laugh, tell jokes, throw parties, have fun, but she'd unwittingly done the complete opposite of what she'd intended.

Quill, however, had begun to frown as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. It turned into a grimace, and he shook with exertion. I was sent flying across the room by a flash of emerald green energy, which blinded me momentarily. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, trying to recover as quickly as I could. All I could see was green tinted smoke.

"Quill?" I coughed. "Quill, What happened?"

He did not answer.

"Quill?" I called again, wondering where he was.

I felt my way over to the nearest wall and pushed open the first window I could find. The smoke began to billow out, and I coughed some more while I tried to help it on its way. When it was clear enough for me to see I looked back to where Quill had been earlier...

He wasn't there. In his hexagon there were only scorch marks. In fact, there were scorch marks everywhere. Every single line of chalk he'd drawn was now burned into the floor.

What happened to him? Was he dead? Had he been vapourised? I hoped not, I really hoped he hadn't. I was almost ready to face the uncomfortable truth when I saw something moving on the other side of the room. Quill, or what remained of Quill, had been thrown across the room and landed at the base of the far wall in a heap. I cautiously made my way over, looking for any sign of life on his blackened form.

Hold on a minute.

That wasn't Quill.

The thing that lay at the base of the wall was not a pony. Neither was it a griffon. No, it resembled an insect more than anything else, one that had been twisted into a form that resembled a pony on the surface level. But that shiny black carapace would never have passed more than a cursory examination. On its ugly mug it had a single horn that curved upwards, and two large fangs and ears that looked like ragged fins. Down the back of its neck was a third fin, and where a tail would be on a regular pony there was a fourth fin. Its legs were scarred and full of strange holes and dimples, which unnerved me. The last thing I saw was a pair of wings that reminded me of a beetle.

It opened it's eyes a crack, revealing these dull pink spheres. It looked at me and smiled. "Well, Ink Blot, that thing in your brain is pretty feisty," it said. I did not return its smile, which caused it to frown. Then it opened its eyes wide in shock and realisation.

"What are you and what have you done with Quill?" I hissed at it, lowering my horn threateningly.

"This is awkward." it grimaced.

"Answer or I'll stab you here and now. Where is he?"

It chuckled a bit, "I don't know what to tell you, because I'm right here. I never expected you to find out the truth, at least not unless it were on my own terms. Would you please stop threatening me so I can tell you the truth?"

"I don't get it." I said, letting my guard down slightly and backing away. The insect stood up and shook itself off.

"I don't blame you, especially with that memory blocker. It's a real fighter, didn't like me doing my thing. Long story short, I'm a Changeling!" the insect smiled and bowed with a flourish.

"Changeling?" I asked skeptically.

"Check it out," he said as he was suddenly enveloped in a flash of green energy. When the energy disappeared, the bug had been transformed into Quill. "It's pretty nifty, I can take on the appearance of just about anypony. Maybe even a griffon if I tried hard enough."

I sighed as the connection clicked for me. "So Quill never really existed in the first place, then."

"Sorta. There's probably some pony out there who looks very similar to Quill, but everything else is all me. Except the name, of course, but that's not exactly an inspired choice. Wouldn't you know, there's hundreds of ponies with some variation on that name out in the world? I do, because I checked the Equestrian Census records." not-really-Quill shrugged.

"What even is a Changeling? What does that mean in a greater scope of things? Where did you come from? Why live under a different identity?" I asked in a torrent. There were so many questions that were popping into my mind, and I wanted answers to all of them.

He dropped his appearance as Quill, and shifted through a bunch of different looks, none of which I'd seen before. He shook his head at each of them, then frowned and suddenly turned into the spitting image of Starlight, cycling through everyone I considered a friend before settling on his original disguise.

"To summarise a long and troubled history, Changelings are creatures that feed off of Love. We disguise ourselves as friends and loved ones, then take their place to drain love from the relationship. Or at least that's the orthodox interpretation of it. In theory we can feed off of just about any emotion, but Love is the most delectable and filling of them all. Feeding on it gives us power, and with that power we can bring even more under our sway and feed from exponentially more creatures. At least in theory." he explained earnestly.

"So you're doing this for power." I said.

"It's not really about the power. All Changelings have an innate hunger for emotion, and we don't naturally produce it in a form we can consume ourselves. If you don't eat, you die. If it weren't possible to subsist on emotions other than Love, infiltrators like me would have died off or been discovered years ago."

That caught my attention. "I'm sorry, but saying "infiltrator" implies that someone sent you on this mission."

Quill gave me a wry smile and took a deep breath before continuing, "And that's getting into geopolitics. Until very recently, all Changelings in Equestria were part of a single massive hive under our mother, Queen Chrysalis. Equestria is a massive source of emotional power, especially Love. You guys have so much of it, that a lesser Changeling might go mad at the mere scent of it. The old Queen, she wanted to control Equestria, and therefore all of its emotional power. Three years ago, she tasked her hive with infiltrating Equestria in preparation for a complete takeover. That's why I'm here. I was hatched with hundreds of others to that end."

"That's... kind of depressing." I commented.

"It's fine as long as you don't think too much about it. She never did, which is why I'm even still here." he shrugged.

"That does beg the question though. Why tell me at all?"

"There's a funny thing that happens when you give someone who's been used all of their lives a whisper of freedom," Quill smiled as he changed back to his real form, "They get a taste for it. After a while out here on my "assignment", I figured out that it was a lot nicer being treated as an equal out here than as a peon back at the hive. When the Wedding Incident went down, I stayed here and laid low."

"Interesting. Tell me about this Wedding Incident." I requested, my interest piqued.

"Yeah, basically Ol' Chrissy Lissy went in and found herself some lovestruck prince, replaced his fiance, and started influencing his mind. He was also the Captain of the Guard up in Canterlot, and thus in charge of the city's defenses, mainly this giant magic dome that protected the city during the wedding. She waited until the day of the wedding, when the entire city was going to be distracted by the festivities, to launch the attack."

"I'm guessing it didn't work as intended."

Quill scoffed. "It was a complete and utter failure despite its promising start. Her disguise worked, sure, if you forgot about one little pony who just so happened to be the prince's little sister, who just so happened to have been foalsat by the very princess Chrysalis was impersonating. That pony, one Twilight Sparkle, freed the actual princess and confronted Chrysalis at the perfect moment. The shield was broken, sure, and the city well in Changeling control, at least until the princess reunited with her fiance and repelled the invasion force with a Love fueled magical pulse."

"The right pony in the wrong place made all the difference," I mused. "I guess you've been in hiding ever since."

"Sorta, there was a second attempt that went much better, until a defector from the hive usurped Chrysalis and cast her out. Now he's preaching some nonsense with sharing love with each other, all about friendship and camaraderie. I'm honestly a little skeptical about that whole deal, so you can understand my apprehension when it comes to calling someone a "friend"."

"That's alright. I try not to judge, since you never know what someone's been through until they tell you. Unless you're me, and you physically had no way of knowing." I smiled hollowly.

"Well, that curse you're under is pretty feisty, so I don't blame you. It didn't take too kindly to me trying to root around inside your head." Quill sniffed and wrinkled up his nose. "Magical feedback like that can be very disorientating to the unprepared spellcaster.

"Well, I didn't exactly expect it to be painless -- For me at least. Did you learn anything else? Anything at all?" I asked gently.

Quill shrugged. "Only one, except I don't really know how to break it to you..." he trailed off with a frown.

"What is it?"

He sighed. "You are quite the enigma, you know? Never in my life, not in training, not in my brief travels through Equestria, not even as a glimpse through the bakery window have I ever encountered anything or anyone that resembles you beyond the surface level. From the glimpse I had at your emotional root, brief as it was, I saw gaps and holes that had been filled with some kind of... shadowy thing. I have no idea how to even describe it! This.. entity... it was some kind of parasite coiled around your root, eaten away, and even flat out replaced it in some places."

"Wha... what do you mean?" I sputtered as I began to feel a deep sense of existential dread.

"I don't want you to panic about it!" Quill urgently tried to quell my fears, "The thing was mostly inert until I poked the wrong part of your mind. There were very few places I could snake my way in without alerting it. All I could tell about the thing itself is that it can't physically survive without a mind to latch onto. Which you can make of as you will. What I was going to say after that, though, was that while your emotional root resembles the typical root, its individual structure is entirely alien to me."

"Like apples and oranges." I ventured.

"Yes! Exactly like apples and oranges. Both fruits, yes, both grow on trees, yes, both very nutritious, yes. But very different when you look at the fruits themselves! Why are you so good with words? Don't bother answering, you don't have one."

The collective weight of these revelations forced me to take a seat. Not a curse, but a parasite? At least that explained how it reacted to someone sticking their noses in to check on it. It had to be linked to some of the whisperings I'd been hearing. And what's all this about my emotional root? What exactly did it mean?

Those would have to be questions for another time. I had more information, but it didn't really help me any, just added more variables. But, as conventional wisdom said, to know your enemy and to know yourself, is to know the result of a hundred battles. Someone wise who may or may not have existed said that, long ago.

I needed to reframe the whole situation. This wasn't just some random loss of memory, this was deliberate. Somehow, I had gotten a magical parasite inside me, whether I had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or had been deliberately targeted by it. The thing was inside me, and until I managed to defeat it my memories would still be in its clutches. So far, I'd won a few battles by circumstance, being in the right place at the right time to snatch back what I could from it. But that wasn't enough.

I needed to go on the offensive, to not just snatch back dribs and drabs, but to learn more about what was inside my head.

Once I knew its true nature, it could be safely removed. It sounded like a simple task, but I knew it wouldn't be. A complex plan wouldn't survive contact with the enemy, thusly I needed to be flexible and take advantage of any opportunity that came my way. Starlight's method had been working so far, so I'd stick to that until a better method was discovered. Making friends, making connections, trying to find weaknesses in the parasite's ruthless grip.

But I couldn't in good conscious do that right now. There was something I needed to take care of. Urgently. I just hoped I hadn't wasted too much time questioning Quill.

"I need to find Pinkie Pie."

Comments

[Mix-up]

Well we got a changeling here folks now I would wonder what a reformed changeling will think of a non-reformed one still running around like that and I would wonder why Quil wouldn't want to be free of the hunger for love that was plaguing their existence like that.