Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 6/7
“This might be a challenge,” a bulky griffon masseur examines 387 lying on his belly on a massage table, “Can you even feel anything through that armor?”
“Oh right, one second,” mutters 387, and a green shimmer passes through his carapace, “I should be soft now. Other than the carapace and wings, our physiology is pretty much the same.”
Experimentally, the masseur presses down on his hind calf and, despite the strange feeling akin to smooth leather under his talons, finds himself in a much more familiar territory.
“Good to know,” he says, raises 387’s hind hoof, and begins massaging its underside.
Holes… when we get home I’m sending a drone to pony land to learn this. I bet this is one thing Chrysalis will back me on without objections.
A brief knock on the door is followed by a female griffon peeking inside, and whispering:
“Psst! Hey! Got a minute?”
387 immediately tenses up, paranoia returning with a vengeance. She was the one who took 65536 next door a short while ago.
“Did anything happen?” he turns around and sits up.
“Oh, umm, no- well- maybe,” the griffoness scratches her head, “The little changeling fell asleep before I realized you guys are… uhh, tough on the outside.”
“65536, wake up!”
“Whozzahwoh?! Imawake! Didn’tfallasleeponthejob! Owmyleggos…”
“65536, you need to make your carapace soft so that the massage can happen.”
“Ohhhh, okay!” one brief pause later, “All soft and bendy now.”
“Fixed,” says 387 out loud, earning two confused looks, “We can communicate through magic and I told 65536 to make its carapace soft like I did.”
“Uhh, thank you?” she says.
“No problem,” 387 lies down again, the two griffons exchange glances, the masseuse leaves, and the masseur returns to doing his job.
***
Not feeling any desire to be around other creatures, Blueblood took a random nature route leading away from the center of the resort after splitting from 387 and 65536. Unfortunately, at least from his point of view, there’s still one creature left in the vicinity that’s refusing to leave.
“That doesn’t look like a zebra,” he comments on Smiley trotting a bit ahead, turning around, stopping, and pointing at its face, “That looks like one of those day of the dead celebration masks.”
The black changeling with somewhat random white smudges and lines covering its face tilts its head. Blueblood sighs, looks around, and spots a square, marble basin coupled with a drinking fountain standing by a bench nearby.
“Let’s sit down over there and I’ll fix it. Not sure why you’d want to be a zebra anyway-”
*Quick scribble!*
[jam]
“Ooof course,” he points on the bench, saying, “Sit.”
Without any complaints, Smiley hops on and sits down, eagerly awaiting further development. Blueblood fills the basin, wets his forelegs and wipes Smiley’s face clean.
“Now you’re clean,” he points at the water. Smiley looks at its reflection, then at Blueblood, and finally raises its leg with a chalk goop stick stuck in a hole, “No, give me that,” Blueblood pulls the stick out, “Good. Much less disgusting than I expected. Now face me and sit still,” he sits on the bench next to Smiley, and starts drawing on its face.
Work, activity, anything… but the changeling was wrong. Running away, not thinking about it, that would be less pain. I don’t deserve less.
“Good thing one of my- one of the zebras who used to work for me was shaving her mane or I wouldn’t know how the stripes go,” he mutters, tracing white lines on the black head, “You’re already inverted so it looks weird.”
Smiley looks up at him, making him draw a stripe across its face.
“Oh for buck’s sake!” he curses, “I told you to stay put.”
Smiley lowers its head, ears drooping. Seeing that, Blueblood takes a deep breath, lets it out, grabs Smiley’s head and makes it look up at him.
“If you want your zebra stripes done properly, stay still, okay? If you don’t do your part you’ll get nothing.”
Smiley blinks.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he reaches over the changeling, wets his hoof again, and wipes off the skewed stripe, “Now, it’s not just lines. The stripes change thickness as they go as well. Trust me, I watched my bodyguards’ plots more than enough.”
He pauses briefly.
“I guess it doesn’t matter if anyone hears me anymore,” he bites his lip, drawing blood, before resuming coloring Smiley’s carapace, “I did much worse than just watch. A prince and his bodyguards. I’m pretty sure if it wasn’t my father paying for them I’d have done worse than just groping… or taking a bath with them… massages. Or at least much more often,” he barks out a laugh, “And do you know that’s the most innocent thing I did? If your changeling friends knew a tenth of the things I did they wouldn’t leave me with you. Not that I would do anything of that sort to you. You have neither the proportions nor the holes…”
Hearing a concept that it recognizes, Smiley raises a foreleg, showing Blueblood a leg hole.
“Not what I meant. I meant the holes I sentenced a unicorn to death by hanging for. Yeah, I bet my aunt didn’t tell that story to anypony. I thought everypony would want a prince, and that that bat pony was only playing hard to get. Next thing I know, her coltfriend or whatever is beating the shit out of me. Of course I didn’t say what happened at the time. Is that surprising to anyone?” he pauses, sighing, “They hanged him for attacking royalty. Some time later, somepony looking just like him beat me up in an alley and stomped my balls into pudding. Divine justice? Probably,” he shrugs, “I wish he’d just killed me. So many things would have been better for so many ponies.”
Blueblood realizes that he’s having trouble seeing due to tears. Weird, he doesn’t feel sad or anything, it’s just coming out as he’s talking.
“Sorry, give me a moment or I’ll screw up even something as simple as drawing white lines just like I did everything else,” he wipes his eyes, “And yet I’m still here because much better ponies thought I had value. Now I can’t even have foals to be married off for diplomatic reasons.”
Another pause followed by more fixing of white lines on Smiley’s face.
“And you know what’s the worst part? I know I would keep doing that had I not been punished. I can’t fix anything because I’m not a good pony. I’m a bad pony who, right now, is having a moment of retrospection because they’ve been punished hard enough for it to get through. What will I do once the metaphorical pain goes away? Even if I survive long enough so that… somepony thinks that I could start again, what will I do on instinct? How do I avoid slipping back into being… the real me?”
“Intriguing…” comments a voice, making Blueblood look around with his heart suddenly jackhammering in his chest.
***
“I don’t know whether it’s a changeling thing, but you’re incredibly tense,” says the masseur now working 387’s hind thighs.
“Everyone keeps telling me to relax,” grumbles 387 into the head hole in the table, “Even you, the griffon who I’m surprised isn’t recoiling in disgust at touching a changeling.”
“I’m a professional first, sir,” the griffon digs deep, making 387 go ‘Nhhhgh!’, “You’re a customer, a unique one, and in what seems to me like an amazing shape. It’s not every day that I get to work on someone as interesting. Most days here it’s either lazy or downright horny nobles.”
“I’m not familiar with griffon standards but I guess it’s your fault for looking so physically top notch,” 387 once again demonstrates his excellent conversational skills.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was one. I’m bad at smalltalk.”
The griffon moves from 387’s thigh up and pauses.
“Any places where I shouldn’t go?”
“Away,” mumbles 387, making the griffon chuckle, “Otherwise don’t worry. I’m a changeling. Caring about decency isn’t exactly a thing for us.”
“As you wish.”
Just as the griffon’s talons dig deep into 387’s backside, the session is interrupted once again by knocking.
“One second, please,” the masseur leaves, lighting up 387’s paranoia again.
As 387 turns around, he sees the masseuse who took 65536 carrying the snoring drone with one foreleg.
“Umm,” she whispers, “Mister changeling? You know how you said that you magically told your friend here to soften up. I think they might have overdone it a bit,” sitting down, she takes 65536’s small foreleg with her free one and rolls it like a boiled noodle…
…into a spiral. She lets go and 65536’s foreleg flops down again.
“Oh…” 387 blinks.
“I was afraid something bad would happen if I used some force-”
“Good thinking,” 387 tries to calm the obviously nervous masseuse down, “Hey, 65536,” he raises his voice.
“Iwasjustrestingmyeyes!” its head immediately shoots up, looking around, “NotasleepMisterSharp!”
“At ease, dummy,” says 387, “I told you to soften your carapace, the rest of you has to stay normal. You’ve freaked out the nice griffon lady.”
“Oh,” 65536 concentrates, which is followed by green flicker passing through its body, visible only through the gaps in its carapace, “My bad. Is that why I’m here?” it finally notices it’s hanging on the masseuse’s foreleg, “Sorry,” it turns its head and smiles at her.
“That’s, umm, okay,” she bows, still holding the drone, “Thank you again.”
Once she’s gone, 387 and the griffon resume the massage.
“Since you’ve been so open about a full-body massage,” the griffon asks with hesitation, “Would you like to hear about our full service? No extra charge.”
387 doesn’t even open his eyes this time. Once the shock of touching a changeling had subsided, the griffon’s interest had only been growing along with some side effects, and he would be a pretty unskilled changeling to not have noticed.
Relax. It’s not a trap. Probably…
“Show me what you can do,” 387 eventually breathes out, which prompts the griffon to spread the lying warrior’s hind legs, sit down between them, and begin to massage his lower back with deep, upwards strokes, almost lying down on him each time.
“You won’t regret it,” he breathes out into 387’s ear as he pauses during one, his muscular barrel resting on 387’s back.
He would be quite shocked if he could hear 387’s thoughts, because those are far from sensual.
Relax, warrior, that is not a concealed weapon. No, he’s not Chrysalis or 99 in disguise. PROBABLY not an assassin. Yes, he is just very happy to see you.
***
Chill runs down Blueblood’s spine. Of course he didn’t care who heard his confession to Smiley, or at least he thought so, but the rush of panic he felt when the voice talked and he realized someone else heard him conjured up images of…
…his aunt. Not his mother and father, but Celestia who would be the one to suffer blackmail for it.
Things only get stranger when the speaker walks out from behind a tree and reveals herself to be that grey-maned changeling from the hive delegation.
“Why are you sneaking around?” asks Blueblood, “If you intend to blackmail me about what you heard, don’t bother. I’ve been entirely disowned by both the crown and my family.”
99 slowly approaches.
“I was much more interested in why Smiley was alone with an unknown party, but when it didn’t seem in imminent danger, I decided to observe. My Queen, of course, will learn about what I heard whether I tell her or not. Since we’re not hostile forces anymore I don’t think there’s need to worry, though,” 99 attempts diplomacy, “May I join you?”
“You can go wherever you want. I don’t own this place,” Blueblood shrugs and deliberately turns again to Smiley who is sitting still and waiting for more face scribbling.
Heh, having no value to be exploited and not caring if she bites through my jugular does feel strangely freeing.
She sits on the bench behind him as he resumes drawing stripes on Smiley.
“Very lifelike,” she says, looking over his shoulder, “How did it come to this, by the way? I’m asking just in case you really foalnapped a changeling drone to use as canvas.”
“And I would for sure tell you if I did exactly that,” Blueblood turns Smiley’s muzzle sideways to reach better behind its ear, “Besides, don’t you bug- changelings read minds or something? Why even ask?”
“Smiley is a special case, and not in a good way. So?”
“No, I didn’t foalnap a changeling to use as a substitute for a zebrican coloring book,” Blueblood rolls his eyes. When 99 remains silent, he adds, “As far as I heard, Gem was teaching it something when your warrior found them and she unloaded it on him because she had something else to do. Then 65536 and I met them, the two sparred for a while, and finally left this one with me for the day. If you want to take it, you’re more than welcome to.”
“I thought you said they left you with a changeling, but all I see is a cute, little zebra,” she sticks her tongue out at Smiley who looks at her without moving her head whatsoever. It can’t resist, though, and sticks the tip of its tongue out as well.
Blueblood sighs.
“And I thought you heard what I said before you showed up.”
“I did,” says 99, pauses, and adds, “I guess I have to keep an eye on events if Smiley is with such a dangerous unicorn.”
Blueblood ignores her.
“You know,” 99 stops looking over his shoulder, “I can relate to your situation.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“Not in scale, that’s for sure, but in principle,” says 99, “I’ve been demoted. Just this morning, actually. It was for a mission I didn’t know I had, that wasn’t explicitly specified for me, but one I should have been smart and skilled enough to understand from context clues my Queen gave me.”
“I see where you’re coming from, but getting demoted and rightfully losing all your possessions, titles, rank in society, everyone who knew you personally now knowing the full extent of all you did is still not even remotely there,” he counters with a level of calm surprising even himself.
“Oh really?” 99 laughs with genuine amusement, “In the hive, losing rank means losing favor, losing access to love, and thus power. The power to defend yourself when others always want to devour you to boost their own and increase their rank.”
She tilts her head when Blueblood laughs too.
“Just like court politics.”
“Even the death part?” 99 asks, taken a little aback.
“Assassinations? Those are a bit more unusual these days but far from unique. I’m pretty sure my grand-grand-uncle died during a hunt when a hired tracker falsely reported a wounded Whitetail boar and he went to finish off an enraged and barely scratched beast.”
“Well, in the hive it’s a lot less cloak and dagger,” 99 channels all she heard from time before the invasion and Chrysalis’ change, “No one will protect you and no one will care if you die. If you do, you were weak and would have failed sooner or later anyway.”
“Hmph,” Blueblood huffs, “Are you telling me this so that I feel like I don’t have it so bad?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” 99 shrugs, “You might even absolutely deserve what happened to you, or worse, just like you believe should have happened but… what does that have to do with anything?”
“What do you mean?”
“What happened is what happened, not what you really deserved or believe you deserve. Why bother thinking about the past you can’t change?”
“To learn from it, and what I learned is that I can’t be better, that I’ll be the same if anyone shows any leniency towards me.”
“Hmmm…” 99 ponders what to say. One reason is because this unicorn’s situation is mildly interesting, and another is because it’s helping her explore her own situation somewhat, “And do you want to be a better pony?”
“What I want or don’t want doesn’t matter.”
“Not really what I asked. Do you want to?”
“I can’t. I know I’ll screw up again, that’s the problem.”
“Still not answering me. Do you want to become a better pony?”
“Yes!” Blueblood finally growls, “If only to get you off my back…”
“Heh,” 99 chuckles, “So, what now?”
“Now I’ll keep drawing stripes on a weird changeling that thinks it’s a zebra… or wants to be one… or something along those lines,” he grumbles.
“And then?”
“I think I’ll go lie down for a bit. For a certain reason sitting next to me I’m starting to get a headache.”
“Will that make you a better pony?”
“Lying on a sea floor, tied to a rock, would make me a better pony than I was but a certain somepony is refusing to allow me that liberty.”
“That one wasn’t aimed at me, was it?” 99 looks over his shoulder again, this time genuinely confused.
“No…” Blueblood sighs, “Look, why are you still talking to me? I won’t harm your changeling, so you can leave.”
“Just passing time and thinking, mostly. Not just about your situation but also mine.”
“Can’t you do that anywhere else?”
“You’re unexpectedly good at controlling your anger,” she changes the topic entirely, voice now flat and analytical, “As we were talking, I checked the hive mind for knowledge about you. I know what you did to 1313, what he heard about you forcing yourself on his bodyguards, and much more. And you know what I heard before I approached you? Someone coming to terms with their nature and wanting to be more than that.”
“Nature, that’s the problem.”
“My nature is hunting down lonely ponies, sucking out their love, mesmerizing them into giving me their worldly resources, leaving them broken, and moving onto the next target. Yet still, here we are, talking while you’re drawing zebra stripes on a changeling whose ‘nature’ is digging holes until it gets devoured. What you want doesn’t matter, I agree, or at least doesn’t always have to matter, what you do does,” she stands up, finally realizing what her own course of action should be now, “So let me ask you one final time - what now? If you, just for a brief moment, forget everything that happened up until this point, and if you really want to be a better pony, no matter how little your intent might mean or how impossible that goal might seem, what do you do next? Humor me. Think of it as a mental exercise, if nothing else.”
Blueblood stops drawing on Smiley, puts the chalk stick down, closes his eyes, and just breathes.
This is stupid. This is stupid. This is stupid. It’s just so that she finally goes away.
I WOULDN’T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START!
Anything. No matter how small.
What does that nosey little changeling guard always keep saying about Sharp Biscuit? Something something fresh air and exercise?
He sighs.
“I’ll ask 65536 if it has a good Sharp Biscuit quote for the situation. It always seems to think of something.”
“What a coincidence! I’m supposed to be looking for the drone myself,” 99 smirks.
“It and that green warrior said they were going to order a massage. Now off you go.”
“In due time. See? I got information out of you and I didn’t even need to hypnotize or bite you. Nature defeated,” she walks hops off of the bench, circling around Smiley, “You missed a good chunk of stripes here in the back.”
“And what would you have done if you first saw me rubbing chalk on a face down plot up changeling, hmm?” Blueblood facehoofs.
“Good point. Smiley, more goop!” she orders.
*Puzzled face?*
“I’ll help the ex-Prince finish your fresh coat of paint in a way that doesn’t label him a molester even further.”
*Puzzled face…* *Happy face?* *HAPPY FACE!*
When the Silent, now grinning in disbelief that a high rank is getting involved in a non-kicky manner, hucks out and rolls another stick, she adds, “I’ll do the back, you keep going with the front.”
“387, can you hear me?” asks 99.
“I’m a bit busy here, but yeah,” he replies instantly.
“How long until you’re done with the massage? I need to talk to 65536.”
“Give or take an hour. Want me to send it your way afterwards?” he doesn’t bother asking how she knows where they are.
“No, I’ll find it on my own. Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.”
“Uhh, thank… you?”
She disconnects.
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Nice.
I honestly think it is incredibly sad when someone can't have a biological child. (I'm not entirely sure why.) Male or Female, to be born without... or to have that taken from you... painful. Not to mention the effects hormones have on the body and therefore, the mind... Even if Blueblood deserved this in some eyes, including his own... even if it was necessary... the thought does bring me sorrow.
Edit: damn... while I was thinking and typing this out, someone posted a comment before me... LOL
at least they have a super cool Profile Pic...
Blueblood finally gets an award he deserves?
A Darwin award?
11447428
He didn't have the balls to publicly accept it though...
I'd take that bet...if it wasn't a sucker's bet.
You know how when you wipe glass, it can make that squeaky noise? That's what I'm picturing every time Blueblood wipes something off of Smiley's carapace.
Is that it, then? He's afraid he'll relapse if he doesn't keep punishing himself for his wrongs? I mean, it's not an invalid fear, sure, but...Blueblood...if you really fear it that much...then that fear can be enough to keep you from doing it again. You'd just need to learn how to use it in the right way to achieve that.
And that's really what he needs. The wallowing in punishment will do him nothing but keep him stuck in a rut, forever stuck in that limbo of nothing in particular, and I can tell from how he resists it that Blueblood doesn't really want to stay in that state. Granted, his idea of getting out is to just...succumb to the elements, if you catch my meaning...but the point is that he still wants out of that rut. The punishments (self-imposed or otherwise) will do nothing to accomplish that, so what he needs is to find another way out of that rut, and since the traditional anti-depression treatments don't seem to be working...then maybe Blueblood just needs to use what he fears to his advantage instead, use it as a stepping block rather than a beating club.
Well...yes but no.
This. In fact, this was obvious from nearly Blueblood's first appearance in this story, but that wasn't the problem. The problem is that it's not obvious to Blueblood himself. Or rather, he won't admit to himself that its obvious...because he doesn't think he's earned such a luxury.
Then let me tell you something, Blueblood. Anyone who decides they want to change, enough to actually take steps to do so, generally has already earned that luxury at least enough to be allowed the chance to try.
And you want to try. THAT'S why certain someones won't let you just give up. Because they can already see that's not what you really want in the end, whether you're willing to admit it right now or not.
Valid--all of these changelings, even Chryssi in a way, are proving Blueblood wrong on that point, and more often than not they're just doing it by being themselves.
Which is also somewhat ironic, considering they're changelings--"being themselves" isn't exactly their typical MO, is it? But that's just what makes it all the more an excellent counter to Blueblood's argument.
Of course, you could scream all of this at Blueblood as much as you want, but it's not going to amount to much until Blueblood, not anyone else, decides to step up to the plate and actually do something about it himself.
But until then...chalk drawing on a drone it is!
11447358
Yesssss, let them suffer!
11447364
Well, technically Blaze only crushed one of BB's balls, so maybe there might be a chance. But I understand the sentiment despite being a 4everalone, unlovable creature. If someone really wants a kid, it has to be miserable to not be able to do something that life-changing.
11447428
Can't spell Darwin without a win.
11448017
- Mmmm, sucking Bugbutt...
- Yes, but it's Smiley making it with her mouth.
- All of the depression points can be summarized by a wishful "If only they weren't so sure about being right." but I've thought "I know myself, you don't" far too many times. Anyway, I don't intend to replay Blaze's storyline with Blueblood. It only goes two ways - you either get through the worst of it and are forever haunted by it periodically returning, or you don't.
I've always found Blaze to be the most relatable character you have written, and with Blueblood being written very similarily, i am starting to get mixed feelings about this molester... that isnt good
11448465
I love how the reaction to Blaze is entirely polar:
People who haven't had an actual problem in their life: "This guy is completely unrealistic and a caricature and it's making me sick."
People either suffering from heavy depression or at least having gone through some really bad stuff: "Ah yes, normal morning."
11449085
Darkness... our old friend.
No, wait, I mixed two different quotes... Shit!
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