Chapter 3: The Broken Record
“Open up, this stuff’s heavy!”
The incessant pounding of hoof-against-door triggered a matching pounding inside the changeling’s mind, waking her from her slumber.
Disoriented as she was, it took a couple of seconds for her to manage to stand up, by which point the pounding at the door had stopped. In its place, muted laughter and music permeated her adjacent wall, signifying that the knocking had not been intended for her.
Her headache was indifferent to this fact.
It took her a moment further to gather her bearings, taking stock of her location and the state of her messy hotel room.
Didn’t make it to the bed, she noted, eying the spit-stained papers next to where her head had surely been. The smell of alcohol drew her attention to where the empty bottle of whiskey now lay, a small puddle of leftover drink pooling into the carpet. Oh good. That stuff was expensive too…
She moved forward to pick up the bottle but caught sight of herself in the mirror again. She frowned. In a bright flash of green flame, Vibrant Tone reappeared, glaring at her reflection. Using her magic she lifted the bottle, placing it atop the pile in the wastebasket, only for it to fall off onto the floor once again.
Even that feels wrong, she mused. The changes were always more noticeable after she dreamed, the memories throwing into sharp contrast the differences in her physiology. It wasn’t just her looks, but the very core of how she interacted with the world that had been affected.
Before, picking up a bottle like she had just done would have required her to burn through some of her love supply, a miniscule amount she would have innately been able to determine. The feeling of burning love to cast magic was as intimate to her as that of breathing. But magic wasn’t the same anymore. This energy was her own and access to her love supply was completely barred from her.
If I even have a love supply anymore.
She closed her eyes and tried to grasp at the sensation that still lingered from her memories of feeling the warmth deep within her core of stored energy, bristling and ready for release. As was often the case, however, the more desperately she clutched at it, the more the dreams faded away like grains of sand through dragon claws. In the end, she ended up as she had been ever since her change.
Not hungry, but empty.
Looking at the clock, Vibrant realized she was running late for her performance. Still, she took her time heading out the door.
There’s no rush.
The lights dimmed as Vibrant and her band for the evening took their positions. Normally this would be the point where the dull hum of conversation would disappear in anticipation. Instead, the gentle murmurs of speculation intensified.
Vibrant surveyed the scene as best as she could from the stage.
Attendance for the show was a bit better than Vibrant had expected—sixty patrons packed into a room that could hold two hundred, so not a bad draw all things considered.
It certainly helped that the venue had anticipated the low-turnout and had preemptively shut down some of the side areas, forcing everypony into the main barroom where the stage was. This both helped the staff keep their employees from needing to spread too thin, and gave the illusion of a more filled room by creating a more intimate experience. Vibrant even had a hunch that the various tables scattered about had been temporarily placed in the room to fill up some of the space but, having never been to this venue before, could not confirm her suspicion.
That said, even the sixty-patron turnout was a surprise.
A few were obviously regulars who came to get drinks at their favorite watering hole, regardless of who was playing that particular night. Some were here to support the opening band, easy to pick out thanks to their enthusiasm during that band’s set. The rest though… It was clear that they were indeed there to see her.
I should probably thank that radio station, she mused.
She nodded to the drummer, some young earth pony she had met earlier that day, to start the count. The first notes of “Candied Tears” played, causing an immediate reaction from the crowd. The somber song might not have been the obvious choice for a set starter, but the way it built in intensity would lead well to the rest of her catalogue. That and it was certainly recognizable.
Even now, less than a minute in, the crowd was singing along—lost in a wave of nostalgia and emotion. And yet, for all that she tried, Vibrant Tone could not stay in the moment.
For starters, there was the band. Long gone was the group she had hoof-selected, hired, and assembled. Missed shows, delayed albums, it all added up. They had bills to pay and families to feed. Some had bigger aspirations than backing a washed-up singer. The fight with Clef hadn't helped things either. So now, she had a new band at every performance; hired for one gig only, contracted by the label—mercenaries.
The effect was that, while the music played fine, there was always something off about it.
The guitar is soaked with too much reverb. Where are the snare ghost hits? Clef would cut the note short here, she thought, bitterly. Not that I’m doing much better.
Without her love supply to assist, Vibrant couldn’t afford to buff herself up before a performance the way she used to, couldn’t make on the fly changes to compensate and adjust to how a show was going. Her new magic wasn’t as strong. It drained too quickly. It replenished too slowly.
Missed a note. Need to move faster. Losing my breath.
Still, Vibrant sang, masking these thoughts and the rising frustration. They were nearing the end of one of her most popular songs. Even with just sixty people, she should have been drowning in their collective emotions.
Unconsciously, she channeled her magic into her horn as she had done thousands of times before, the familiar process triggering in her mind. The spell complete, she should have begun syphoning the love energy from the air, breathing it in and drunkenly savoring its energy. Instead, the spell failed, misfiring into a blast of light that lingered over the audience.
Vibrant stopped singing, examining the crowd before her as they picked up the refrain.
One mare in particular caught her attention.
She had a gold-tinted white coat, a soft amber mane, and verdant green eyes that glittered in the arcane lighting. And it was those eyes on which Vibrant focused on. Whereas everypony else was looking at her with excitement or joy, this mare was looking at her with hope and admiration. As if this performance, this song, this moment could somehow save her from whatever problems she faced in her daily life.
Vibrant almost missed her cue for the next song, caught up as she was in her shame.
The soft drizzle that accompanied her walk to the hotel room did little more than further dampen Vibrant’s spirits.
The rest of the performance had been adequate by all technical standards. She had been training for her comeback and it showed when compared to her last shows before her hiatus, where the sudden lack of hunger and love proved too much to adapt to. If not for her dream earlier that day, she might have even been willing to be mollified by the modest cheering of the crowd and the celebratory attitude of the band members.
“Pathetic,” she bitterly growled instead, her voice a lone counterpoint to the sound of her hoofsteps on the cobblestone and the echoes that followed them. The band members would probably be at the venue for hours still, laughing and drinking, guzzling up the attention from those present as if it was liquor from a bottle. In some ways, she envied them. They were unconcerned with how lackluster the performance had truly been, how mundane. They were similarly uncaring for how low the expectations had been for this show and how tempered the feedback was as a result. All they saw was the cheering. It was all they needed.
They were more changeling than she was now.
Unlike them, Vibrant had been unable to face the crowd, unable to stay in the venue to be cheered and celebrated knowing how far she had fallen. Worse, she could hardly think of a greater torture than being forced to endure affection of which she could not partake in, like watching food go from grocer to waste bin. And so, she had left.
Not that it had been hard.
Exchange pleasantries. Nod to the bassist. Wink at the waitress, she remembered thinking as she had skillfully navigated her way towards the exit. Keep your head down. Walk behind him. Keep an eye out for her.
Her steps faltered as the image of green eyes framed by an amber mane flashed through her mind.
What was your story? Vibrant pondered, focusing on the memory. She wasn’t sure she’d even been stared at like that before, with such intensity. She’d dealt with lovestruck fans, stalkers, admirers, and even ponies she attempted to date short term, but she’d never been stared at with such desperation and reverence.
Vibrant’s hoofsteps slowed.
She knew she’d be wondering what the deal was with that pony for the rest of the night—probably for days. In her defense though, it was hard to learn about ponies when you didn’t talk to them.
Vibrant had been scared of this mare, avoided her as she made her exit. Whatever problems she was running from, Vibrant couldn’t offer her respite. Vibrant Tone was but a fragment of what this pony saw in her, of what she expected. This was a mare who was dying of thirst, staring up at the rain in wonderment. And the storm cloud flinched.
Shame was a new emotion for Vibrant when it came to music. Before, there was just the hunger, leaving no room for doubt or self-reflection. When something wasn’t perfect, it would be good enough. When something wasn’t good enough, the next thing was on the horizon. When something was indeed perfect, the hunger drove her to the next task.
Now she had time to think and the thoughts weighed her down more so than the humid weather.
“At least, I’m back,” she mumbled, rounding a corner to arrive at her hotel door. Using her magic she levitated her key up to the latch. “Now I can—”
“You know, you could have said something before leaving.”
Vibrant dropped the key, turning around and lighting her horn, concussive blast at the ready.
“Woah! Woah! It’s me,” said the mare from the show, looking as terrified as Vibrant felt. “Yikes, I didn’t realize you’d be so easily startled.”
Vibrant cancelled her spell, taking a deep breath as old instincts reignited.
Her reaction is incongruent with that of a fan. Fix incongruity. Respond to familiarity. Dig for information. Roll with it.
“I’m so sorry,” Vibrant chuckled, avoiding eye contact. “I was lost in my own head for a bit.”
“Seems like it,” the mare responded, smoothing out her mane. “I know it was my idea to follow from a distance, but I probably should have stuck closer to you. Probably way more suspicious that you almost attacked me, than us leaving together.”
“You couldn’t have known how I’d react,” Vibrant said. “I’ll say, you’re far stealthier than I thought you’d be. Probably why I forgot you were following me.”
The mare let out a laugh.
“You didn’t make that easy,” she said. “I saw you avoiding me so I was starting to think you weren’t interested in hearing me out. I didn’t realize until a bit later that you had left and then I had to figure out which way you went without coming off as some crazed fan. Couldn’t very well go up to your bandmates and ask ‘where is your lead singer staying?’ now could I?”
“Not that they could’ve helped you with that anyway,” Vibrant replied, mirroring the mare’s friendliness. “They don’t know where I’m staying.”
“Good thing flying was an option for me then,” the mare said, flicking her wings wide for a second, wings that Vibrant hadn’t noticed until that moment. She took the movement as an excuse to inspect the mare’s features. Studying her face did nothing other than reinforce that she did not, in fact, know this pony. With no identifying clothes to study, Vibrant discreetly shifted her gaze to the mare’s cutiemark—a flower with golden petals, trumpetlike atop a stem.
Oh.
Oh no.
“I’m just really glad things worked out,” the mare continued, staring at the floor and unaware of Vibrant's discomfort. “I was stressing about it all month long. It seemed like such a longshot. I just don’t really have anyone else to turn to and I didn’t really have other options. That said, when I said ‘just leave when your performance is over,’ I didn’t mean the second it ended.”
Vibrant took a shaky breath as the mare continued talking.
Okay, she just thinks you’ve agreed to a one-on-one meeting. Nothing you haven’t dealt with before. Explain the mix up. Send her on her way. Begin reading fan mail again to stop this from happening.
“Listen, Honeysuckle—” Vibrant interjected, but stopped just as suddenly. At her name, the mare in front of her had turned to look at Vibrant with those same piercing eyes she had seen from the stage. Or rather, almost the same eyes. For a brief moment, Vibrant could have sworn she’d seen those verdant eyes flash a deeper emerald.
Another calming breath.
Vibrant thought back to that moment on the stage, visualizing the mare she’d gone out of her way to avoid. She couldn’t quite recall her having her wings. And with how stealthy she was...
“Yes?” Honeysuckle asked, clearly made uncomfortable by the prolonged silence and staring.
“I think we better take this inside.”
The cold water was bracing as it splashed against Vibrant’s face, tearing some of the tiredness from her mind.
She seriously considered trying to cast some endurance enhancing spell but, tired as she was, there was no guarantee that the spell would hold. She knew she’d need her wits about her and dealing with the side effects of a flubbed spell would severely affect her abilities.
Better not risk it, she decided, drying her face on a towel before stepping into the main room of the hotel room.
Honeysuckle was still there, examining the room and looking through the pages that littered the floor. Vibrant looked from her to the bottles of alcohol, reflecting on how embarrassed she would feel for a fan to stumble upon the realities of how she lived. That said, this wasn’t a fan.
She knew that now.
“Word of advice?” Honeysuckle said, noticing Vibrant’s arrival. “You really should read your fan mail more often. I guess this explains that whole scene at the door?”
Honeysuckle extended a wing, placed in which was half of the letter Vibrant had ripped earlier that day.
“Don’t take it personally,” Vibrant offered. “I’ve been going through some stuff.”
Honeysuckle wrinkled her nose.
“Apparently,” she said. “And yet, you let me into your hotel room. Either you figured me out or you got the wrong idea entirely.”
“Which one is the one where you’re a changeling?”
Honeysuckle smiled.
“Ok, you do know what’s going on,” she teased. “How’d you figure it out? I mean. I wasn’t hiding it or anything but…”
“Yeah, I get it,” Vibrant replied. “It was your eyes. They flashed to our flame’s green for a second. That and I don’t think you had the wings at the venue.”
“I had to keep up with you somehow,” Honeysuckle confirmed.
“How did you know I was a changeling?”
Honeysuckle paused for several minutes before answering.
“You were fairly well known in the hivemind,” she finally said. “No one really thought your experiment would work, but the concept itself was solid. They hoped against hope that you’d find the cure. Of course, you separated yourself from the hivemind before that, so there was no way for you to know. Your stage name though, we all knew you were one of us.”
Vibrant nodded, thinking back to Clef’s impostor.
We have taken note of your achievement, he had said. She really shouldn’t have been surprised.
“So… as you clearly saw, I didn’t read your letter,” Vibrant said. “Why seek me out? What do you need?”
“Can you show me?” Honeysuckle asked, ignoring her questions. “Your changeling form I mean? You don’t mind, do you?”
Vibrant grimaced. She did, actually, mind quite a bit. However, she was not about to admit to a fellow changeling that she felt more comfortable in her skin than her chitin nowadays. Steeling her resolve, she let her disguise drop in an emerald blaze.
“Woah,” Honeysuckle exclaimed, catching Vibrant off guard. “It looks so beautiful up close.”
Before Vibrant could voice her confusion, Honeysuckle dropped her disguise.
Standing before Vibrant was a changeling with fangs and tattered wings, turquoise eyes shining bright against her black chitin.
Thoughts. Questions. Feelings. These fought frantically within Vibrant’s mind, willing themselves to be heard. And yet, when one finally broke through, it was not the one she would have expected.
She’s starving.
Even within chitin it was easy to see the emaciation ravaging the changeling before her. Memories of a crater, the hungriest she’d ever felt, flooded Vibrant. These were followed by the cold realization that this changeling might have been living like this for weeks. A pang of pity rose within her core.
To her eternal shame, a pang of envy was present as well.
“How long has it been since you last fed?” Vibrant asked softly. Honeysuckle, who had been marveling at Vibrant’s hooves, dropped her gaze.
Too blunt.
“It was actually a week ago,” Honeysuckle muttered. “I was never cut out for infiltration work. I worked in the nursery before my banishment. Since then… Well, I can get food for a week or so, maybe a month before the cracks in my guise start to show.”
A pensive look crossed her face before noticing the pitying glance that Vibrant was throwing in her direction.
“It’s not as bad as I look though,” she added hastily, a quick chuckle at the ready. “I’m used to the hunger. You remember what that’s like.”
Did she? She guessed she did.
“So, banishment?” Vibrant asked, making her way to her bed. Her hooves suddenly felt heavier than they had in months.
“Yeah. Thrown out, cut off from the hivemind, all that,” Honeysuckle replied sullenly. “Overused a simulated sleep effect without enough love to back it during one of my shifts. Was unconscious for a full day. When I came to, five hatchlings had escaped the hive. We found their bodies in the badlands. It was a fair punishment for my neglect.”
“You do know you could go back now, though? Right?” Vibrant pushed. “I doubt King Thorax held onto any of the Queen’s decrees after she was deposed. He’s big on the second chances thing, as well.”
“It was a fair punishment for my neglect,” the changeling repeated.
Vibrant nodded slowly, offering no further thoughts on the matter.
“So what do you need me for?”
Honeysuckle sat down on the floor, suddenly looking as tired as Vibrant felt.
“It’s been frustrating,” Honeysuckle began. “There has been a cure for my hunger, out in the open, with no way for me to get to it. When the news broke of Queen Chrysalis’ fall and the reformation of our race, as they’re calling it, I figured it would only be a matter of time before I figured out how to do it myself. But no one reported on what caused the change. Not only that, but all the changelings I knew of returned to the hive. The knowledge was inaccessible.”
A pit of dread began to form in Vibrant’s stomach, but she stopped herself from interjecting.
“There may have been changelings that came back to the lives they left behind, but all of them were under disguise. Or maybe none came back at all. I have no way of knowing,” she shrugged. “I was beginning to lose hope but, a few months ago, I heard about your comeback and I saw an opportunity. Your hiatus had started shortly after Queen Chrysalis’ fall. I knew they were connected. You had to know the secret. A month ago I dropped off that letter asking to speak with you. Three days ago I arrived in Manehattan.”
“You want me to help you change.”
“More than anything.”
“Why?” Vibrant asked.
The silence that followed was deafening. Seconds dragged in the stillness, as Vibrant watched the desperation grow in Honeysuckles eyes. She remembered the music that had permeated the walls earlier in the day, the sound of the radio earlier than that, and she longed for either as a way to cut through the tension.
“‘Why?’ What do you mean ‘why?’” Honeysuckle whimpered. “You’re not seriously going to let me starve are you? I know I don’t have much to offer you, but I can do favors. I can do something!”
Vibrant shook her head, standing from her bed. Was I really ever this desperate?
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Vibrant said as calmly as she could. “The reformation is a curse. The changeling you become… it’s not the same as—”
Vibrant gasped as a concussive blast blindsighted her from the side, more shocking than painful. She turned in anger just in time to watch as Honeysuckle collapsed unto her knees.
“How dare you!” Honeysuckle exclaimed in between pained gasps. “I’m starving. I’m dying. And you’re going to deny me this information because you’re unhappy?”
The last word came out raspy. She staggered up to stand, but fell into a sitting position instead.
She burnt too much energy. Vibrant walked towards her attacker.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she said. “When the reformation takes place, you lose the ability to syphon love. You lose your connection to your love reserves and the potential held within. You lose that drive to survive that pushed us into almost conquering Equestria twice. Our struggle makes us strong. Without it, you become mediocre, empty, and numb.”
Vibrant attempted to help Honeysuckle stand, but was brushed off with a guttural growl. Vibrant figured that it was a lack of energy and not some newfound restraint that maintained the changeling’s silence.
“I can get you love energy,” Vibrant offered. “You can feed at my shows. There’s certainly enough energy there to sustain you. I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I made. I don’t want to be a part of it.”
At this, Honeysuckle hung her head and the two sat in silence for minutes on end. When Honeysuckle spoke again, it was with a voice filled with detachment.
“You’re right. I don’t understand you,” she admitted. “I didn’t live the way you did. I didn’t lose all that you lost. I don’t know how the reformation has affected you. But you should be able to understand me. You should remember the hunger as more than just a motivator. Surely you remember the feeling of never being satisfied? The feeling of falling short no matter how hard you try? Don’t you?”
Vibrant closed her eyes, considering the questions being asked of her, and found that she, in fact, did remember.
She remembered Candy and Clef, a lover and a friend, either of whom could have fed her for the rest of her life. She remembered sold-out concerts that allowed her to do feats most changelings could never hope to accomplish. She remembered a crater.
Being unsatisfied. Being unsuccessful. These were the rites of a changeling, it seemed.
Vibrant looked around her room at the scattered pages, thought back to the concert earlier that night, and came to a sobering thought. Not only did she remember. She never stopped living it.
I guess I’m still a changeling after all.
“You have no right to make this choice for me,” Honeysuckle said, cutting through the silence again. “If it’s a mistake, then it’s mine to make. I’m tired of surviving. Living, being normal, this is what I choose. Changelings by nature change. You cannot keep me from this one.”
Vibrant sighed and walked over to the mirror.
Changelings by nature change, she repeated in her mind, weighing the words as she did so. Staring at her reflection, the same sense of disgust and frustration surged through her body.
“Not all changes are good though,” she mumbled.
“Then you change again.”
Then you change again, she considered. Is that something I could do? Could I really change again?
She made to turn back but before she could do so, the letters on the table caught her attention—one opened letter in particular. Suddenly, Vibrant’s mind began to race as various ideas clicked into place, one after another.
“This could work.”
“Hm?”
Vibrant turned to look at Honeysuckle again, who at this point looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Still, when she met Vibrant’s eyes, her gaze was strong and resolute.
“I’ll help you,” Vibrant said.
Honeysuckle blinked.
“You will?”
“I will,” Vibrant nodded. “But I’m going to need something in return. A couple of favors, nothing too big or dangerous. And in exchange I will give you the secret to reformation.”
Vibrant expected Honeysuckle to be angry or bitter about the strings attached to the offer, some comment about how selfish she was being or something of the sort. She did not expect tears to well up in the changeling’s eyes.
“For this,” she said, “I’m willing to do anything.”
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Yessss the OTP is here! Honeytone forever
This was a really great chapter, both characters feel so real and you have a great way of capturing depth with these interactions. I loved every minute of this, and I can't wait for the final chapter to come out so I can reread the entire story as a whole
10759110
Lol. I love how excited you get for these characters.
Your willingness to declare any two mares that share screentime together an OTP never ceases to amuse me.
Maybe the bug struggles with starvation, but I don't think your readers are starved for the drama.