Denouement with Tea and Scrimblecakes
"I'm going to have to ask you again, Mother, because I'm sure I didn't hear you properly the first time. What did you say that was?"
All and sundry were seated in Harmony Delight's apartment, bone weary and sprawled on whatever chairs and sofas they first fell into. Chrysalis had somehow coaxed the hatchling to disgorge its captives in a controlled manner, freeing them from the sideways non-space with no ill effects apart from a deep desire to never go through that again. Tea had been distributed; nasty, bitter, overboiled stuff, but it was the thought that counted. All eyes (except for Zakeem, who had opted for an icepack to soothe his growing lump and was just leaning back in his chair) were focused on the hatchling, which now likely looked much as it did when it hatched: a sleek, armored form of jet-black chitin about the size of a small dog or large cat. It was currently waging war on its fifth scrimblecake, using forelegs to cram as much of the treat (which was nearly half its size) as it could into its maw. By all appearances the scrimblecake was winning.
"That, my dear daughter," Chrysalis repeated patiently, "is your hive."
"Yes, that's what I thought you said. Mother, you don't hatch a hive, you build it."
Her mother rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes, by all means let's have the queen who only ever spent ten years of her life in a hive tell me how they are made."
"It's common sense! Come on, Dib, back me up here. You must have helped build it up over the years, right?"
Her broodmate had fallen oddly silent after their mother's revelation. "...no, actually, I never did. The hive was kind of its own thing. As we grew, new chambers would show up, but I always assumed some other drones had been assigned to make them. And... well, the hive itself always kind of seemed to be alive, what with the passageways changing around sometimes, but we thought that was just something Mom made happen."
He looked down at the hatchling, which was currently pinned beneath the dubious confection and screeching in outrage at this dishonorable tactic. "It's funny, but I keep getting reminded of the old hive. We all knew there was something down in the lower levels where we weren't allowed to go. It would growl and shake the walls, and Mom would go down to see it every so often. We dared each other to disobey her orders and sneak down there, but we never did."
"...except you," Spinnerette guessed.
He nodded. "I expected to find some kind of monster she was raising for one of her schemes..."
"I don't scheme," Chrysalis interjected. "I strategize."
"Right, right. But it was actually... I dunno, cozy. I went down there a few times, to think and get away from the other drones. I never saw any monster, but there was something there, and it would make these noises I could almost understand. It sounded friendly and curious... but mostly just sleepy."
"Just so," the elder queen said, lapsing back into I-suppose-I'll-have-to-explain-it-all mode. "While a queen is always hungry, there comes a point in a new swarm when she is at least briefly satisfied with its progress. This is the point at which she creates her first hive egg." She nodded at the hatchling. "What we see here is just the larval form. Once the queen finds a suitable location, the hiveling burrows down into the earth and forms the core of the structure that will house and protect her and her swarm."
"Uh..." Spinnerette looked worried. "It's not going to do that here, is it? I think that would void my deposit."
"Not until you have need of it," her mother assured her. "Finding a good spot for the hive can take time, after all."
"Well, that's good to know." She felt something press against her leg, and peered down to see the hiveling... well, it wasn't staring up at her, because it still lacked eyes, but she clearly had its rapt attention. There were two small antennae poking up in lieu of ears, which waggled hopefully. Its foe had been vanquished, and it was ready for the next challenger. And it was making a noise that she just about recognized as the constant rumbling it had produced previously, but at this scale emerged as a soothing trill.
Spinnerette felt her expression soften. "Well," she said, levitating another scrimblecake down, "at least it's adorable."
As the hiveling entered into valorous battle once more, Doctor Zakeem lifted the icepack and stared at the younger queen. "...adorable," he said flatly.
"Well, isn't it?"
He regarded the hiveling and, perhaps understandably, was unable to forget the terror it had given unto him less than an hour ago. "You say that it's cute, but that's not my impression. It tried to subject us to fatal digestion!"
Chrysalis snorted. "Just be grateful he wasn't hungry when he first hatched."
Spinnerette looked at her in disbelief. "Are you saying that that was the hive being playful?"
"Of course. He was just instinctively practicing for the future, as younglings of all species do, containing changelings and prey within himself. If he'd been hungry, why, he wouldn't have simply contained you all. He would have broken you down into components for future construction. And that would have been just terrible."
Mandible took over the job of staring at Chrysalis, sensing a catch. He knew his mother far too well to take such a statement of concern at face value. "Meaning?"
"Well, the first things they consume are so very important, you see," she explained. "They base their idea on what to build their adult form out of by what they take in during the larval stage. A hive inspired by chewed up pony and drone bits is a sorry sight, let me tell you. I did say that proper nutrition was the foundation of the hive."
He nodded. That sounded more like the Chrysalis he knew. "And thus the scrimblecakes, I take it?"
"Yes, we found that an early diet of select vitamins and minerals - especially minerals - teaches a hive to pull the best construction materials from sideways when they metamorphose. And they do love them so."
They looked down at the hiveling, which was stuck halfway into the sixth scrimblecake and was waving its - or, Mandible supposed, his, though he had no idea how Chrysalis could tell the difference - legs frantically. A sudden and distinctly unpleasant thought occurred to him. "Wait. If the hive is a living being, then when we... y'know... and your throne room got blown apart...?"
"You mean when you betrayed me?" she asked with sweet menace. "Don't concern yourself overly much. Everything that far away from the core was mostly just exoskeleton. The poor old thing was likely aware of the damage, but I doubt he felt any pain. And without his queen, he'll have gone into full hibernation. Just spending the rest of his days in peaceful slumber." There was a brief catch in her voice, but she quickly covered it. "I hope he dreams well."
"Well, that's good to know, then." He shook his head. "Still. I can't believe our biology is so... weird. Did some creature intentionally make us like this? Was it Grogar? It had to be Grogar, right?"
"Nobody knows, I'm sure," she replied, and he looked at her sharply. That was absolutely a deliberate lie. "And that's not important right now. What is important is what we do about... that."
They turned around in their seats to look behind the sofa, where a pony-sized cocoon was staining the carpet. A unicorn drifted within, still unconscious. When the hiveling had disgorged its prey, Chrysalis had immediately bundled up the unfamiliar face before he had a chance to know where he was.
"Yeah, who is that, anyway?" Spinnerette asked.
Before Zakeem could answer, Mandible said, "Hale Goodmane, one of the other doctors at the clinic. All the potion tests the EWF asks for go to him, and if they fail, he files it clean anyway for a little something under the table. Dabbles in the black market a bit, but he's not a real player. Does 'charity' work downtown, legit, but overstates his hours worked as a tax dodge. If he'd done Mom's test and something went wrong - like it did - it would have been a massive problem, so I arranged matters to make him overbooked on her appointment day. Moved up the date on a few scheduled tests." He noticed the doctor staring at him and gave him an apologetic look. "Which means it's my fault you got roped into all of this. Sorry about that."
But Zakeem continued to stare, a bit blearily. "...you seem new," he said finally. "Who are you?"
"Huh?" Then Mandible looked down at himself. The shock of going sideways had returned him to his normal form. "Oh. Yeah. It's me, Mandible. Reformed changeling. Long story." The doctor seemed to consider this the least strange occurrence of the evening, and was willing to leave it at that.
"And yet despite your attempts to exclude this wretched pony, he became involved regardless," Chrysalis mused. "I'm sure there's a tale behind that, but it hardly matters. I've had the occasional egg-thief in my long years, ponies who were foolish enough to brave a hive to... I honestly don't know what they thought stealing one egg out of hundreds would accomplish, really. I made sure that they never got the chance to speak of their 'bravery' to their comrades." She looked at her daughter. "But this was your egg, and it's your territory. The decision is also yours."
"You know how I feel about hurting ponies unnecessarily, Mother." She leaned closer, an odd gleam in her eye. "But in this case..."
The icepack fell - though the tea was conscientiously placed on an end table - as Zakeem shot to his hooves. "I must interject here with great urgency! Please spare him your fury! I beg clemency!"
Spinnerette scowled at him. "Clemency?! He stole my egg!"
"With all due respect, ma'am," the zebra replied, "he stole it from me. I could hardly tell him 'twas your progeny."
She hesitated briefly. "Well, maybe so, but-"
"A bribe from your mother, that's what Goodmane thought. He's greedy and foolish... but evil, he's not. He treated the egg with such care that he could. I think that his motives were... partly for good. You've suffered no harm from this evening's calamity; please forgive this sinner his brief lapse of sanity."
She glared at him a moment longer, then sighed. "Oh... all right. You're owed that much, at least. But if he knows about Mother, that's still a massive problem."
"O ye of little faith," Chrysalis said. "A queen has many ways to deal with a pony with inconvenient knowledge."
"Okay, so how?"
"In this case? Delegation." She leaned back in her chair. "Take care of it, Mandible."
As her broodmate nodded and achingly got to his hooves, Spinnerette turned her glare on the elder queen. "You can't just make him-!"
"It's okay, Spin. I was expecting this." He examined the cocoon thoughtfully for a moment, then looked at Chrysalis. "...Scenario 37," he decided. "We never really had an opportunity to use that one, so even if he tells anypony they won't immediately recognize it as a changeling trick."
"Acceptable." Her horn lit up, and a blanket was floated out from the linen closet. It wrapped around the cocoon, which was then lifted up and secured across the back of Mandible, who had taken the appearance of one of the building's custodians. "Be sure not to leave a single speck of evidence behind."
"I know, I know. I'll be back later." He carried the wrapped cocoon into the entry hallway, and a moment later they heard the door open and close.
"As for you, doctor," she continued, and to her credit she seemed to be at least trying not to sound menacing, "I trust that we can rely on your continued silence in this matter?"
Zakeem nodded. "My word is my bond, and your secret's secure." He chuckled. "Though nopony'd ever believe me, I'm sure."
"Then when you're ready, I'll escort you home." Her nose wrinkled. "Though I recommend you avail yourself of the shower first."
"Maybe I should go with you both," Spinnerette suggested after he'd gone down the hall to the bathroom, vaguely concerned that her mother's offer was just an excuse for Chrysalis to tidy up loose ends.
"Stay. You need rest more than any of us, and you should spend some time getting to know your hive." She gazed at the hatchling, her expression unreadable. "It's... an important bond, the one between queen and hive," she said quietly. "Much more so than you'd have with any drone. I'd forgotten how important." She frowned slightly, and her words were almost inaudible. "I'd forgotten. When was the last time I'd thought about him? How far did I fall...?"
"Mother?"
The elder queen shook herself. "It's nothing. Yes, by all means, stay. And tomorrow I'll teach you how to make scrimblecakes. With better ingredients this time. I just need to find a store that sells proper cooking gravel."
The tiniest of circumstances can have huge repercussions.
If Goodmane hadn't gone into that specific chamber, if the egg hadn't hatched at that precise time, if the empty casing hadn't landed in that particular flow of water... things would have been different.
Forgotten in all the excitement, the casing slowly reverted to a mucus-like slime, which joined the flow and was carried inward and downward. Through the labyrinthine sewer network it went, gradually becoming diluted in the murky fluid. Enough of it remained cohesive, however, to float into a small overflow pipe, taking it away from the primary current. Eventually it caught up against a mesh in a ceiling... and a single drop of slime fell.
The object it fell toward was clearly not made by any pony, not even in the sense that most... 'material' down there might have been made. It was huge and solid, at least the size of a locomotive engine. Its surface was covered in patterned whirls not unlike a snail's shell, and though there was no light down this far, it gave off what could only be described as a dark glow.
The droplet struck... and something within the object twitched.
The tiniest of circumstances can decide the fate of an entire city.
Goodmane awoke in a puddle of his own drool. Slowly lifting his head, he looked around to find himself in his own office in the clinic, appointed with impressive paintings and certificates, or at least they looked impressive as long as you didn't inspect them closely. He ached badly. "Whuh... how did I...?"
"Good evening, doctor."
He raised his head further, and gasped in surprise. While he'd never seen her in person before, there really was no mistaking the mare before him. Not with the wings and the horn, and the flowing mane of stars. "P-P-Princess Luna?!" he stammered. "What are you doing in my office?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Why, I am here to help, of course. I heard you shouting in distress and came to assist you."
"Distress? How could you have heard me all the way down in..." He stopped, his eyes going wide as memory flooded back. "Zakeem! Princess, please, you have to go save him! That thing was..."
She held up a hoof. "Calm yourself, doctor. Your concern for your friend does you credit, but I'm certain that he's fine. Nothing that happens in your dream would affect him.
"You don't understand! It's my fault he..." Her words caught up to him. "Wait... I was dreaming?!"
"Of course. And still are. Why else would I be here?"
"No, no, no. That makes no sense. It was all so real!"
The midnight mare raised an eyebrow. "Was it?"
He hesitated. All things considered... "It... seemed real," he mumbled. Admittedly, getting swallowed by a baby changeling then waking up at his desk somewhat strained his definition of 'real'.
"Some dreams do."
He looked down at himself. His run through the sewers should have left him a mess, but his medical coat was pristine, as was his fur and hooves (and if they were slightly moist, he was too agitated to notice). "...but I'm hurting..." he added weakly.
"That's been known to happen when one sleeps at their desk. Bad for the posture." She paused, watching him. "Why do you think you were doing that?"
Goodmane frowned. He hadn't been thinking he'd done that, had no memory at all of doing it, but... that's where he was, so he must have done it, right? "I... I'm not sure," he said. "I remember wanting to check on what kind of deal Zakeem made with the Countess, so I broke into his office-" He stopped and clapped a hoof over his mouth.
"Hmm. Slightly less credit," Luna noted dryly. "Worry not. I do not judge ponies based on what they do in dreams, else I'd have no time for anything else, believe me. Clearly you stopped in your own office before you got that far, yes? Rested your eyes while gathering your courage?"
"...I..." He felt confused and increasingly unsure of his memories. Despite how outlandish the evening's escapade had been, it had seemed far too thorough and convincing to be just a dream. And yet here was Princess Luna, assuring him that a dream was all it was, and she would know better than anypony else. "...I suppose I must have," he agreed.
"And you were attacked in your dream by some monster, I take it? Our minds often concoct such traumatic scenarios out of deep fear or guilt. What lesson do you think this was meant to teach you?"
"...w-well..." He sighed and gave up. "...probably that I should respect my coworker's privacy, if nothing else."
"That sounds like a good idea to me," she said with a nod. "I would suggest you just lay down on that couch, close your eyes, let the deeper dreams take you, and in the morning everything will be as it should be."
"Actually, I should probably head home instead..."
"But you're asleep," she reminded him, almost too quickly. "The city is far more dangerous in your dreams than you realize. To walk its streets would invite disaster."
"O-oh. Okay. You're the expert." He stood up and took a few wincing steps toward the couch, then paused. "Y'know... if this was all a dream, I really should check on what kind of deal Zakeem made with the Countess. He could still get us... I mean himself into trouble..."
Luna frowned at him. Apparently Goodmane needed something a bit more urgent to occupy his mind. Well, that could certainly be arranged. "While we're on the subject of guilty consciences," she said, "I've noticed there's been something of an epidemic of those lately."
"Oh, really?" he asked politely, if a trifle uncertainly.
"Indeed. Some of the victims may interest you. Fancy Footwork. Lukewarm Leglock. Both Punch and Judy. The Beekeeper. And so on."
He blanched. "...uh... those are..."
"Wrestlers, yes. And your patients as well, I believe? I understand the temptation of an easy fix to the rigors of the ring, but enabling their habits sets a bad example, don't you think? Doctor?"
Goodmane swallowed. "You... you know about that?"
Luna leaned in close. "Doctor. I can see into ponies' dreams." She put her muzzle next to his ear. "I know everything."
He tried to swallow again, but his mouth was suddenly bone dry.
"Normally such a small-time operation would be beneath my notice, but it's been causing so many bad dreams of late, I feel quite overwhelmed." She fixed him with her stare. "I think it would be in everypony's best interest if it were no longer weighing on their minds, don't you?"
"Y-you mean...?"
She nodded. "No more falsified test results. You do your job correctly and quietly, and for goodness' sake stop pestering your co-worker. You do that, and if you're lucky perhaps I'll forget this conversation ever happened. Am I understood?"
He bowed his head. "Yes, Princess Luna."
"Good. Good night, Doctor Goodmane."
He obediently climbed onto the couch and made himself as comfortable as he could. He didn't think he'd manage it quickly, but his time in the cocoon hadn't been actual sleep, and within minutes he was out like a light.
Luna watched him a few minutes longer, then carefully and silently left the room, closing it quietly behind her. A moment later she was replaced by an earth pony in a janitor's overalls, one that would draw no particular suspicion for his late night presence in the clinic.
Mandible sighed gently. That was a bit touch-and-go. Scenario 37 was ancient, put on the books before there were even books and all but forgotten when Luna went all Evil Overprincess. Fortunately the doctor's harsh evening made him less inclined than he perhaps should have been to question certain details, such as how he could have woken up and still be dreaming. Scrubbing Goodmane's body of the remnants of the cocoon and the trip through the sewers had been no pleasant task, but as his mother had pointed out, he couldn't leave even a shred of evidence. He'd have to get the doctor's coat thoroughly cleaned; there were a dozen like it in the clinic's storage, from which he'd borrowed a replacement, but if one turned up missing it would weaken the 'all a dream' assumption.
He leaned down to pick up the small bundle wrapped around the coat, and noticed Zakeem's notebook poking out of a pocket. Mandible regarded it thoughtfully. He probably should destroy the thing out of principle, because as evidence went it was certainly more than a shred. But he rather liked the zebra, which surprised him; he wasn't quite used to interacting with ponies he could trust. And who knew if the information within would be useful later?
No, he'd return it to Zakeem in the morning, at which point he'd also make sure the doctor kept his story straight. No egg, no chase, no changeling activity of any kind. And then Mandible would have to write up a few anonymous blackmail notes for certain wrestlers, letting them know that their potion use might become public if it continued. Better that they start legitimately testing clean than rely on Goodmane's imposed honesty. He'd also need to find a dry cleaner that didn't ask too many questions. So many small details to keep in mind, so many little deceptions.
He grinned. That was part of the reason he couldn't stay settled under King Thorax. The new swarm had little need for a drone with his particular set of skills, and even though he now realized how immoral the missions Chrysalis had sent him on had been, he'd still enjoyed the technical thrill of doing them. Maneuvering the ins-and-outs of the Manehattan music scene had been a poor substitute, but it was better than nothing. But this past week - researching the clinic, arranging the physical, negotiating with Zakeem, dealing with Goodmane (unworthy adversary though he might be) - was the most fun he'd had in a while. Even the chase through the sewer had kept him thinking on his hooves.
He didn't miss the old days, not by a long shot. But if nothing else, having Chrysalis around was making things interesting.
The bedroom of the elder queen did not, in fact, contain a bed. She considered herself above such pony indulgences; a nest had served her well for centuries, and would continue to do so. This particular one was mostly constructed (though ‘constructed’ was a very generous term in this case) from the remains of a forelegchair that hadn’t survived the evening of Chrysalis’ arrival in Manehattan, but she’d refined it in the months since, scavenging bits of cloth and padding from all over the building until it suited her perfectly.
The room itself similarly had very few furnishings, but it did have a large number of what could only be described as knick-knacks and gegaws, small objects that she’d stolen (“Appropriated.”) from the neighboring apartments. One of these was a complete set of children’s building blocks, which she often used for visualization while scheming (”Strategizing!”). Now the toys were spread out next to her nest, from where – having returned from walking Doctor Zakeem home and having restrained herself from dispatching him in some alley - Chrysalis watched the hiveling as it moved the wooden shapes with intense concentration. He’d slowly placed them one by one around himself, and with two legs extended was carefully moving the last one, a hexagonal rod, into position. It was awkward going, and as it neared the top it struck another block, and the entire structure wobbled. The hiveling’s legs stopped, quivering nervously.
“Go on,” Chrysalis said encouragingly. “You can do it.”
The piece resumed movement, and was painstakingly delivered to its designated position, standing tall as a flagpole above the entrance to the hiveling’s lair.
“Good boy!” she crooned. “Well done! And look at that excellent bracing! Oh, you’re going to be a magnificent hive someday.”
There was a knock on the open doorframe. “Hope I’m not disturbing you two.”
Instantly the hiveling burst from his construction, scattering wooden blocks everywhere as he bounded over to his queen. He danced around her hooves, rolled onto his back, and wiggled proudly. “Yes, I saw!” Spinnerette said, rubbing the exposed belly with a hoof. “You’re such a smart boy!” The trilling noise the hiveling was making increased tenfold.
“Come to collect him for the night?” her mother asked, and if she was disappointed, she carefully hid it.
“Well, that,” Spinnerette said, stepping into the room, “and I also had a question I wanted to ask you. About eggs.”
“Certainly. Ask away.”
“I’ve been thinking about this since you explained everything. About how they’re only made as a conscious choice, except in specific circumstances?”
“Precisely. Only when a queen fulfills certain conditions does an egg come unbidden.
“And a queen like you, who has produced an uncountable number of eggs, would hardly be caught by surprise by one of those certain conditions, right?”
Chrysalis eyed her daughter warily, sensing a trap but not sure what form it would take. “…yes…?”
“So in that case… are queen eggs a deliberate choice as well, or is there some other trigger for them?”
Spinnerette did not have her broodmate’s long experience with Chrysalis, and couldn’t read her as easily. But she was a fast learner, and some tells were easier to spot than others. The way the embarrassed flush raised in her cheeks and the flustered shifting of her gaze, for example, told the entire world that the next thing Chrysalis said would be a lie.
“It’s just a fluke!” she snapped. “A mista- an abbera- a statistical anomaly! Queen eggs are a one-in-several-millions chance! And if I’d known it would happen, I would have wanted better as a daughter than a swarmless, marginal queen who took eighty years for her first egg!”
Spinnerette simply nodded, satisfied. Her mother was a championship-level blusterer, but she was getting better at seeing past it to the true feelings underneath. “Well,” she said, stepping closer, “however it happened… I’m glad it did.” And to the elder queen’s great surprise, her daughter leaned down and laid a kiss on her forehead. “Good night, mother.”
Chrysalis grumped, feeling that she had somehow lost but not entirely certain how. “…good night, daughter.”
The light switched off and Chrysalis curled up in her nest, but sleep was a long time coming as too-strong memories danced behind her eyes.
She moved through the world like a gentle breeze, and wherever she went, there was happiness and joy. For a while.
Where she went depended on the season. The spring brought out the adventurous spirit in ponies, and she was always quite popular as a guide into the more dangerous spots in the world, the deep jungles and so on. In autumn, she was a dab hoof at setting up carnival-style haunted houses in those regions outside Equestria (never within Equestria, no, perish the thought!) that celebrated some version of Nightmare Night or similarly-themed holidays. And in the summer, there was always gainful employment to be found on the coasts, serving as a beach lifeguard.
(There was always a hungry tiger. There was always a monster that was just a little bit more real than the cardboard apparitions around it. There was always a shark.)
And afterwards her customers would be grateful. Their hearts would be racing, but they would be alive and would see another day! It was good to be alive!
And then it was her turn.
She moved through the world like a gentle breeze, and wherever she went, there was happiness and joy, and even a love of life. And as far as she was concerned, it all belonged to her.
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Hell yes! Onto the next one!
Neat concept! First time I've seen it on Fimfic, I believe.
Oh boy, what eldritch horror have they just created/woken up?
Great story. I really enjoyed your characters, especially Dib and Spin.
I am totally on board for this!
Well, I suppose that argument can be made on a technicality...but by that same logic, there'd be plenty who'd call him at least a little evil, Zakeem.
Have to admit, this never once went the way I expected it to all throughout, but it was altogether very fun nonetheless, and I look forward to more, whenever it may come.
Speaking of: any chance we haven't seen the last of Zakeem? I rather liked his character.
Loved it, can barely wait for more of this universe, it's Chrysalis and her family
I took the fact that Goodmane stole the egg to resell it, but wouldn't that just be passing the buck for who gets eaten by a supposed changeling when hatching? I'm pretty sure this would count as evil. I guess you could always just grind the egg down into cosmetics or something but it kinda seems like malpractice or extreme callousness to kill something without knowing how far in development it is.
Changeling just wanna commit crimes with a safe harbor for criminals, it is sad crimes had to wait
11251201
I have intense hope that in this universe changelings are descendants from Cthulhu, and the sewer event is Cthulhu's prison -- awakend by distant family.
This really brings to life the Post-Explusion Chrysalis. The eldritch tease there at the end as well .. nice!
11251201
Reminds me of how some plants IRL form a mutualistic relationship with ants by providing space for nests (domatia) and nutritious "ant snacks" (Beltian bodies)
11251273
Surely Shub-Niggurath would be more appropriate, no?
Now I want some scrimblecake...
derpicdn.net/img/view/2020/5/21/2354683.jpg
11252036
I think Shub would be more accurate to be the creator of the changelings if the context is accurate, but I think it'd be more likely that a distant relative or cousin -- being Cthulhu -- would be still around, rather than the originator. Shub might actually be Grogar since we never have actually SEEN the real Grogar
in G4 at least..Well, I am partial to the boat, they could pal around with how evil boats are. Painting boats are a sore spot for Cthulhu
11251201
I've seen the concept of the living hive before, in "Dt/dC =/= 0" but they weren't born there, at least I think they weren't.
The oblique reference is that they'll evolve into the hive structure when the need for one is great enough.
Quite the excellent read. I'm looking forward to the next one.
How the hell did I miss the latest chapter coming out?!
Aww, Chryssie's showing her softer side. Of course through a mile-long layer of thorns, but still.
I hope she ends up visiting her hiveling again.
Ooooominous.
Can't wait for more.
Hmm, that last part...
'progresst' - progress
Comics canon says it was accidental and Star Swirl. I make a rule of plugging holes with canon until proven otherwise.
Not unless it somehow makes it to back to changelings. At which point... actually, if it's treason then every 'ling who never told Thorax that Spinneret even exists is also guilty of such. (I'm leaving that in because my spellcheck says that it's the correct spelling of the bug part.)
That's better than you usually do, intelligence-wise.
Well, that was a heck of a ride! I must say, I wasn't expecting the first story (or, until that sequel tease, this one) to lead into a full series, but I'm all in favour of it.
Not to mention that, while I massively enjoyed the story anyway, the fact you had a rhyming-speech character and kept the metre almost always perfect wins it big points with me personally. And the fact that you managed to make it sound totally natural was... honestly kind of incredible. Definite kudos on that.
On that note, I believe you said in a comment that writing his speech was kind of a pain (and I definitely empathize, even if I kind of enjoy it), and if you just didn't want Zakeem to be a big part of the continuing story, it'd be disappointing but I understand. However, if you ever want someone to look over his speech (or, for that matter, anything else about a story), I'd like to... tentatively offer to help in any way I can. I apologize if I'm being too forward or presumptuous, it's just... I really liked the way it was done and like this kind of character-speech on the rare occasion it's done right, so I'd like to do all I can to help with it. Plus, pretty much the only positive trait I'm fairly certain I can claim, writing-wise, is a good sense for metre and rhyme (even if I suspect my skills with all other aspects of poetry are... questionable at the very least), so I might as well use it when I can.