Changing Your Tune

by thedarkprep

Chapter 2: The Starving Artist

As Arista came to consciousness, she was only aware of two things.

The first was that the world was ending. The second was that she was dying.

The woods that surrounded her were actually surprisingly tranquil and still. Her crash landing had spooked most of the surrounding wildlife, scattering them from the area, meaning there was an eerie lack of chirping and rustling in the leaves and undergrowth. The wind itself was calm, removing the rustling of branches from the equation. Instead, a stagnant air settled in through the area, oppressive and motionless—a sharp contrast to the cacophony in her mind.

The hivemind was shrieking.

Too dazed to disconnect from it, Arista was forced to listen on as howls of agony and anguish traveled across great distances directly into her.

One voice, then three, then ten, thirty-seven, fifty-five; a rising chorus of voices mangled together each pleading for attention and aid.

Those were the lucky ones, the ones that cried out like sirens and murmured like whimpers.

It wasn’t even getting into the ones that flashed like a candlewick and were then muted mid-beg.

The volume was too loud. The pressure was too immense. The meaning of it all—overwhelming.

Please help me!

My legs are gone!

I can’t feel my wings!

Did we lose?

Kill me!

Make it stop!

Arista shook her head, screaming, crying, adding her voice to the collective, reaching through her instincts for a way to disconnect; all to no avail.

And then, suddenly, there was silence.

Arista lay there, panting, and though the sound had all been carried through the hivemind directly into her mind, a phantom pain made her ears sore and tender. Droplets began to splatter beneath her muzzle and she feared herself deafened. It took her a moment to realize it wasn’t blood from her ears, but tears.

The relief was short lived. With the hivemind now somehow silent, the changeling could instead focus on her more immediate pains. Sensations of agony from her dislocated limbs, her tattered wing, and her broken ribs overwhelmed her senses, filling the void the noise left behind.

She was on the brink of passing out when a new voice entered her mind.

Attention remaining forces, the voice rasped out. I have disabled your connection to the hivemind in order to mitigate the noise, but I still hear you. You are not alone.

Focusing on her Queen’s voice grounded her. She sounded rough. She sounded hurt.

It was disconcerting.

You are hereby authorized to tap into your love reserves as needed to ensure your survival, the voice then continued. If you are in the southern parts of Equestria, make your way to the hive. If you are too far to travel safely, integrate to a nearby town and await further orders.

The hive... the cracking of the Queen’s voice rang out through the hivemind, the hive has been defeated. For now, your number one directive is to survive at all costs. The rest will come later.

Arista waited for a moment more but no other words followed. Closing her eyes she expended as much love energy as she dared at once, grimacing as the magic realigned her bones and reattached her chitin. Flash after flash of green energy illuminated the clearing, a small yelp accompanying sharp pops and clicks as her body mended.

When it was all done, she was left exhausted, drained, and hungry.

I’ve exhausted more energy than I thought I would, she mused to herself, feeling faint. She attempted to stand and found herself unable. Looking around for the first time, she noticed the true depth of the crater she was in, the broken branches leading up to her resting place.

I shouldn’t be alive. Not that she had much life left at this point. Whatever love energy was sustaining her still would be drained before too long. Sure, she had her orders but, at this point, no one would be able to tell whether she gave up and died or whether the hunger finally overtook her.

Starvation was a bad way to go, but she had now felt worse.

Hunger, she thought. She could feel it growing, even now as every other sense dulled and faded. Her oldest feeling, the first for any changeling, was that of hunger. Canterlot had been a way out of this hunger. Fitting that this is how I should go.

She closed her eyes and held her stomach.

And yet, the hunger did not take her. As it grew and grew, so did the ache in her body. Her core wept for relief, for food, for something. Without noticing it, a hoof moved forward, then another. Her body was weak, her limbs shook, but they supported her weight—that was enough for now.

She crawled out of the crater.

---

“Oh now, don’t be like that.”

Candy pouted the same way she always did when her girlfriend was being difficult—cheeks puffed out, brow furrowed, but a dancing playful gleam in her eyes betrayed her emotions.

Avoid eye contact. Awkward cough. Tilt head. Stop walking. Answer with self-deprecation.

“I just don’t want to torture the other ponies there, love,” Mirror Image said. “Karaoke is one thing. Everypony’s drunk and I’m guaranteed to find a worse singer than me. Open mics though?”

Candy rolled her eyes and used her magic to nudge the pegasus in the direction of the concert hall.

“It’ll be fun though,” she whined. “Everyone knows it’s just for fun, so no one’s going to judge us too harshly. And we’re basically here already.”

Roll your eyes. Show annoyance. Keep moving anyway.

“Yeah, go figure.”

“Besides,” Candy said, stopping unexpectedly. “Ponies are going to love you. You have a very good singing voice, and the songs you write are super good. At least, I really think so. Just make sure you choose one I haven’t heard before, ok? I want to be surprised.”

Candy gave her girlfriend a quick peck on her cheek and continued walking, but Mirror remained frozen in place.

She was good at singing and writing songs? She wrote songs at all? This was news to her.

She had been planning on going in and singing a cover of that Sapphire Shore song that came out earlier last month. And Mirror Image had a good voice? Since when?

How did I miss that?

Through the rest of their walk, Mirror pondered the situation in silence. Even as they sat down and signed up, she struggled for a solution. Her training told her not to turn down information directly from her mark. Her instincts, however, told her something was off. She was sure she was right, so where was the mismatch?

If only I had more time.

“Up next we have Candy Apple,” a voice said, causing the excitable mare to begin jumping up and down next to Mirror.

“It’s my turn! It’s my turn! Wish me luck!”

Mirror watched as the mare ran to the stage without giving her a chance to do as requested, but that was to be expected.

Good to know some things still made sense.

The song Candy chose was, to no one’s surprise, a love song. Through the entire performance, she maintained eye contact with one specific mare in the audience and Mirror could not help but bask as the love energy radiated invisibly into her body.

She truly had been lucky to find Candy when she did. Baltimare was a tough place in which to find food, but hunger was a powerful motivator. Mirror Image just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. One month of observing the couple, a grocery trip gone wrong for Mirror, and now she had all the food she wanted.

Well, all the food I need, Mirror mused as the song ended. She felt her energy replenish. She felt sustained. But the hunger was still there, as always. No helping that.

Candy left the stage and rushed over to give Mirror a hug, filling her with an extra dose of love. Mirror tried to congratulate her on a great performance but was cut off by an announcement instead.

“Next up, we have Mirror Image.”

Polite applause followed the announcement and she felt herself getting nudged once again by Candy's magic.

And still no answer on what to do.

Out of time and out of desperation, Mirror tapped into her love reserves to subtly enhance her abilities—a temporary boost to brain functions, vocal cord modifications, and improved cardiovascular control.

She viewed the mic with trepidation, taking a calming breath to reorganize her persona.

Mirror Image had a good voice. Mirror Image was a songwriter. Mirror Image would deliver a good performance.

Mirror tapped into the memories of a former life, Accomplished Verse. He had written a lot of lyrics before, many of which would never have been released to the public. No chance of somepony recognizing them here. He picked his favorite song from his time as a lyricist and pulled it into Mirror Image, cementing it in her mind.

She began to sing.

Immediately, she was aware that something was wrong.

No, not wrong.

Emotions were flowing to her, like a gentle river or stream. The song she had chosen was a sad one. A song of loss and thus so were the emotions. She had at first confused them with sadness at her performance, but she now recognized the phenomenon. It was empathy.

Note for note the song continued and the gentle stream flowed on. Every eye was on her. A nervous chill ran through her fur, the improved control over her heart rate being the only thing that kept her composed. She persisted.

When the song ended there was a bit of silence as the river seemed to dry up, followed by a torrent that threatened to bury her in its tide.

Clapping, cheering, whistling, sure; but the noise could not in any way compare to the outpouring of emotion Mirror was receiving. It was love. Love for her singing? For her writing? She couldn’t be sure. But it didn’t matter. Here was an ocean, freely given and so unrelenting she thought she might drown in it.

Almost like…

The image of an expanding pink bubble of concentrated love flashed through her mind causing a slight recoil. If not for her enhancements, she might have visibly panicked. Instead, she managed to blink the memory away.

It was similar though, she thought, drinking in the affection as she walked off the stage, ponies continuing to offer her congratulations. She took in as much as she could. Her hunger would not abade but it didn’t matter. There didn’t seem to be a limit to how much love she could consume.

So much love at once, if I could do this more regularly? If I could get a bigger crowd? Then maybe...

“Mirror?”

She turned around, finding Candy Apple staring at her. There was a frown on her face again but this time the playful gleam in her eyes was gone, replaced by genuine confusion.

“I’ve never heard you sing like that.”

Mirror took in Candy’s aura. Unlike everypony else, there was no warmth here—no sharing of feelings. She was closed off as if talking to a stranger, which in some ways she was.

“I’ve been practicing in secret,” Mirror said, avoiding eye contact, “I was going to show you during our anniversary but, I didn’t wanna make a fool of myself so it sort of came out now. Pretty good, don’t you think?”

Candy nodded, unsure. Surprised.

Mirror felt some of the emotions start flowing again and knew that in time she could fix this little mishap. She could fix this relationship and ensure she had her constant supply again.

If she wanted to.

But she was hungry and now she knew there was more food out there to be had.

---

“You sure you don’t want to come out with us?”

Mic Stand looked around in surprise as all ponies around him reacted to his question with a mix of chuckles, groans, and the shaking of heads, and he couldn’t help blushing as he realized he’d probably asked another obvious question.

Vibrant Tone let out a chuckle of her own.

What can you say? He’s cute for a roadie.

“Cut the kid a break everyone, he doesn’t know,” said Clef Note, the band’s bassist, before addressing Mic directly. “Vibrant isn’t one for the party scene, kid. Too busy writing songs and working hard to make sure we all have jobs to pay our bills.”

“And to pay for Clef’s alimony checks,” some older roadie shouted out.

“I’ve just never seen her take a break since I joined on,” Mic said, looking in awe at Vibrant who was still sitting at her writing desk in the hotel room. “What’s tonight? Eight shows in a row? And after all of them she gets back to work? And on the bus she’s always writing too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her sleep. Aren’t you afraid of burning out?”

And like that, the laughter and merriment was snuffed out.

Vibrant continued writing for a bit but watched her crew out of the corner of her eye. The more superstitious of the ponies were glaring at Mic Stand for uttering the words as if he had invoked some ancient curse upon them all. The rest of the roadies and musicians were staring at her with an air of nonchalance, waiting for her response. It was an act though. Sensing their emotions, she could feel their fear, their apprehension. She’d need to set them at ease.

“That interested in watching me sleep, huh?” she winked at Mic. “Ask Fast Riff, it’s not that exciting. I snore something fierce and my bedmane is something to behold.”

A snort, a crack of laughter, a stammering roadie, and the tension dissipated as fast as it started in a chorus of hysterics.

“Can confirm,” Fast Riff said in between howls of laughter. “Being a guitarist gives you a glimpse into the glamorous side of the music biz, but that ain’t it.”

“At least she doesn’t snore as loudly as Brass Tone,” Clef Note said of their former drummer. “When he left, I couldn’t sleep unless somepony in the room was yelling for about 3 months.”

Satisfied at the shift in the atmosphere, Vibrant allowed the ribbing to last for a bit longer before she decided to address the other part of Mic’s comment.

“As for the other thing,” she began, “burning out is for amateurs. I couldn’t relax right now if I wanted to. We all have things that drive us. For Riff, it’s getting drunk and partying after a show. For Clef, it’s finding a third ex-wife. For me, I need to keep writing and performing. So, go have fun for me. Ok? And make sure you’re ready for tomorrow’s show.”

Vibrant had to physically stop herself from swaying as waves of admiration rolled off of Mic Stand and unto her, his eyes widening with each obedient nod of his head.

Behind him, Clef Note rolled his eyes.

“Artists,” he muttered, before yelling to the rest, “allright, you heard the boss lady. Let’s go test the local bars and see if they’re as well stocked as they think they are!”

A loud cheering replied to him and the group of performers and technicians all excited the room, the last of whom closed the door behind them.

Vibrant took a deep breath.

Mic Stand’s right, she thought. The pace has gotten a bit too relentless again. I need to slow it down.

Ever since she got started, it had been her work ethic that had set her aside as a musician. First it was the sheer number of shows she played, one every day of the week at a different venue. No breaks, no days off. It was unheard of and certainly a way to make a name for herself. Any other band or artist would have exhausted the local scene; and yet, it seemed like she always had new songs at every performance. Every show was different and ponies took notice. As she grew from a local act to a national one, her relentless nature turned into non-stop touring and back-to-back albums. She was always in the studio, at a venue, on her tour bus, or at a hotel.

No one could keep up.

Even her own group struggled at times.

Her band and road crew were actually two different groups of ponies formed out of sheer necessity. Ponies liked their off time and this was the only way to ensure they got to see their families. They would switch every leg of a tour or so and take shifts on studio time to keep the load evenly distributed amongst them all, a solution they’d arrived at after Brass Tone announced he couldn’t handle the nonstop schedule anymore.

The only one that stayed on tour full-time was Vibrant herself.

As for her competition? No one could dream of keeping up.

Nopony could keep to her work schedule. Of course, that was because no pony was capable of doing her schedule.

She felt herself grow tired and tapped into her reserves of love for another dose of energy, burning more than was probably responsible. She had already burnt a lot during the performance, after all; enough that she still had a huge dent in her reserves, even with the massive amounts of love she had managed to syphon through the show.

I do have another performance tomorrow though, she shrugged.

As the magic took effect, she felt herself become alert again, felt her muscles heal from the fatigue and soreness. Mic had been right in that she almost never slept anymore, but love could regenerate her mind with a simulated sleep effect—a tactic learnt as a means of prolonging patrols in defense of the hive.

This is how she’d lived for the past few years. An eternal cycle of gaining love and burning magic, chasing a goal that at times seemed tantalizingly close.

Maybe the next song. Maybe the next show.

A knock sounded at her door, which opened almost immediately afterwards.

“Clef? Don’t tell me you got rejected already? You lot just left,” Vibrant said, addressing the bassist standing in the doorway. Or rather, the thing pretending to be her bassist. The more she looked at him the more details seemed off: the lack of emotions coming from him, the passive stare, the rigid stance, the lack of alcohol smell. There was no question about it, changeling.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries,” Clef said, taking a seat on the room’s couch. “Your friend is safe and sound at the bar, flirting with some waitress. Drones will alert us should any of them leave with enough time to avoid awkward encounters.”

“Why are you here?” Vibrant asked, studying Clef for signs of aggression. He shrugged.

“You disconnected from the hivemind once the Queen re-established it,” he said, “made a face-to-face meeting the only choice as far as talking. As for why, the Queen is about to mount a coup of the whole Equestrian government. She tasked us with recruiting any willing changelings to come back in preparation for it.”

“Willing?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “We have no intention of ripping you away from your facade against your will. That said, we do want to give you the opportunity to be part of the hive again as we rise to power. There is much to be gained here should you join us.”

“If I have a choice in the matter, then no,” Vibrant shook her head. “This is sounding like another Canterlot Wedding scenario, and we all saw how that turned out. And speaking of that, the amount of love at that wedding? That’s at my shows, every single night, there for me to syphon. So no, thank you.”

“We have taken note of your achievement,” Clef nodded, though he made no movements other than that. “The amount of energy present at your shows is indeed impressive, but, there is a limit to how much you can syphon on your own isn’t there?”

There was.

“Not to mention how much energy you burn per performance,” he continued. “I imagine that’s why you went with a unicorn disguise. I could actually see the magic burning off of you mid-show. Your band probably thinks it’s all visual flair but, you’re burning love just to keep moving aren’t you? The amount you burn in a show could feed a changeling for a week. Not a very efficient energy model.”

She had been rather cavalier with her magic.

“But I guess, even with all of that, it would be worth it if you finally got rid of that hunger,” he said. “So, have you?”

“No, I haven’t.”

Rather than gloating or pressing his advantage, Cleff nodded sadly.

“That’s a shame.”

“Does the Queen have a plan to make the hunger stop?”

“No, but her plan will give us options.”

Vibrant stopped to consider this. With changelings in charge, there would certainly be more at their disposal as far as what they could try to cure their hunger. And yet, as she closed her eyes, flashes of tree branches and solid earth, of broken limbs and howling cries crossed her consciousness.

“I can’t,” she said finally. “I wish her the best of luck. But I have a good thing going here. I think I’m close to something. Like... if I can just syphon a bit more, spend a bit less, get a larger crowd, I’ll finally sate the hunger. I want to try this on my own.”

Clef looked at her with pitying eyes, but said nothing to dissuade her. Instead, he nodded.

“For our sake, I hope you succeed,” he said. “Your victory here would mean our victory as well. I wish you luck in your endeavors.”

“And you as well,” she responded. “When is the attack to take place?”

“Five days from now.”

“I’ll be listening.”

Without another word Clef stood up from the couch and left the hotel room. There was no more to say after all. For ten minutes after the encounter, Vibrant stared at the door Clef had walked through, gathering her thoughts.

Five days, huh? I have a show that day. Should be an interesting one.

A yawn escaped her lips and she cast a longing glance at the bed. However, the all-familiar ache from her stomach soon reasserted itself, shaking her from her weariness. Tapping into her reserves once more, she gave herself yet another jolt of energy, continuing to write into the morning light.

---

Vibrant Tone was alone in her hotel room and she was scared.

The day before had been just like any other. Travel. Set up. Perform. De-Stress.

There were only two main differences. The first was that, unlike normal, no one had wanted to go party after the show, choosing instead to hang out at the hotel room with Vibrant until they finally went to their own rooms to sleep. The second was that a coup of the Equestrian government had happened.

News didn’t travel particularly fast in Equestria, but for better or worse there had been no mention of any life changing incidents happening the day before. One option was that the coup was successful and that the government was now being run by changelings, in which case the news would never arrive. Another option was that the coup had been thwarted in such a way that a cover-up was preferable to stoking a panic. The third was that tomorrow’s headline would be very interesting.

Of course, Vibrant had a direct line to finding out how things had gone but had been, at first, delayed from establishing a connection by her band. Now, she was scared.

A hoof reached up to her ears and she flinched as they made contact. She spent a bit of energy to increase her pulmonary control as a means to stave off the oncoming panic attack.

She didn’t want to connect again. But she needed to know.

Vibrant Tone closed her eyes.

A small yelp escaped her mouth as the connection was established and she recoiled in preparation for the oncoming noise.

She had hoped for the calm voice of the Queen noticing her presence and explaining what had happened. She had prepared for the wailing and pleading of the dying. She had not anticipated the cheering.

We are saved.

We are free.

The hunger is gone.

Vibrant dropped to her knees as the voices mounted. One voice, then three, then ten, thirty-seven, fifty-five; a chorus rising with a singular message, not of anguish but of triumph.

The hunger is gone.

The hunger is gone.

The hunger is gone.

The hunger is gone.

Each repetition of the phrase overlapped with the others to where they became white noise in Vibrant’s ears. As it rose, so did the aching in her stomach, a dull ache that permeated her whole being.

I missed it, she lamented. Their hunger is gone and I missed it.

Anger flared through her body, reaching into her love reserves and bursting out in the form of a concussive blast. Glass was shattered. Furniture was overturned. A nearby mirror was cracked. Papers containing her latest works were singed, slowly floating down onto the floor around her.

She watched them land with detachment, only mildly aware that they were the ruined work she had poured hours of her life into, when the door to her room opened. There, in the doorway, stood Clef Note. He had been the first band member she had hired, the one with the most logged hours on-tour, and now the first one to check up on her.

No wonder the changeling had chosen him to imitate.

“What happened!?”

Vibrant looked around as if just noticing the state of her room.

“I think I’m finally burning out,” Vibrant said, turning to fix an upturned table. “I think we finish off this week and then we postpone the next week of the tour. Everyone wanted a break anyway.”

“Are you okay?” Clef asked. His tone was steady but Vibrant could feel the waves of worry stemming off of him. She could have fed off of him for weeks, but she was tired of feeding.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. There’s just somewhere I need to go. I think it’ll be good for me. Yes. In fact, I’m sure I’ll feel much better once I get back.”

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading.

Comments

[Krickis]

Love this chapter, and the title in it is perfect. The flashback chapter is extremely well done and does a lot to flesh out the already relatable Vibrant Tone. You also have a knack for making me like and care about characters I'll probably never see again, like Candy, you bastard. Keep it up!

[thedarkprep]

10744058

You’re too kind. The titles came first so, if anything, the story matches the titles, not the other way around ^_^.

I remember how scared I was for you to read this. I’m glad it lived up to expectations.

[Dashie04]

Vibrant is a Changeling. I admit I should’ve seen that coming, but also, the fact that she is makes me more interested. It suddenly makes sense why she burned out, why she doesn’t need to eat, as those pills could very well be little capsules of love.

I do love the setup here, start with the end and then move onto the beginning, it’s a very unique way to structure a story. I very much enjoy these characters and hopefully will be reading the rest.