02 - Take a Letter
It was a dark and stormy night.
The sun had set a long time ago, leaving him in near complete darkness. It didn’t help that the sudden and unexpected storm was pouring rain harder than he ever thought possible. It was obvious that he was too far out of pony jurisdiction for this to be a Pegasus-created rainstorm. No. This was a wild storm.
His legs ached with every waking step he took. The wound on his side had split back open, and it had begun stinging from the rain water seeping in. He must’ve been going for miles and miles by now, only really moving due to the need for sustenance to sustain him. But his internal supplies were running low, and he was cold. So, so cold.
Follow the footpath, find a village, disguise as a pony his age, feed for a while, and then vanish once ponies started getting suspicious. He was found out over three days ago now, and he usually would’ve found another village by now. But this blasted path kept stretching on and on into infinity. He was in pain, and he was so cold.
This forest was huge and deadly. When he first entered this place, he was chippy and happy, bouncing from rock to rock with a chest full of hope. Maybe he would’ve found a village in a forest. That would’ve been great for him. Plenty of hiding spots in a village in the forest instead of the usual village on a grassy knoll that seemed ever-so abundant in his path. But now, hours later, he was struggling to even keep his eyes open.
His holey hooves were coated in a thick layer of mud, and although he tried his hardest, his head kept dipping down, like if he was at a school desk trying to pay attention to the boring, monotonous teacher. His center of balance was completely off, and more often than not, he found himself tripping on a mired of potholes that made up this path. But he kept getting up. He wouldn’t let this stupid path ruin him.
All he could think about was how unbearably cold it was. Despite being late summer, the rain was chilling his chitin to his very core. His wings might’ve even been frosted over, if he could see through the dark, dark night. He couldn’t stop shaking. He just… couldn’t stop.
Finally, he collapsed. He hit the ground with a small thump as his body soaked in the coldness of the ground. It was just so cold.
Yet the thunderstorm didn’t stop for a weakling like him.
The sound of the down pouring was immense. He had become covered in mud from head to hoof now. The pain in his side only redoubled as his wings were no longer protecting it from the majority of the downpour.
And he didn’t know what to do. This forest was the biggest forest he had ever seen. It seemed unreal with how long the path kept going. He tried deviating, thinking he was going in one big circle, but that only got him even more turned around and confused. Ever since the Manticore tried to attack him two days ago, leaving the gash open on his left side, he hadn’t even heard another creature in this forest.
He was alone. Truly, completely, and utterly alone.
He looked through the thick forest canopy. Right above him was a small opening. Just big enough so he could see the very distant moon. On that moon, as a sick reminder, was the visage of a pony. The mare in the moon. She was laughing at him. He wasn’t welcome here. He wasn’t welcome anywhere. He was living in a pony world, and he wasn’t invited.
He closed his eyes, and did the only rational thing he could think of.
He cried.
Even his tears were cold. They began streaming out of his closed eyes, joining the mass that was the pounding rain around him. His sniffles grew into loud, retching sobs as he laid in the puddle of mud. Soon, he would join the wildlife around him, and his story would be over. The cover closed on a pathetic giving up.
It was impressive he had lived this long. He had gone years without help. He was a survivor, up until he wasn’t. But all it took was taking a left turn when he should’ve taken a right, and it was over. He was going to die.
That was until he heard a stick snap.
He didn’t even feel like opening his eyes this time. But, with all the will in his body, he barely creaked them open, forcing his head a few inches off of the ground and looking down the pitch black trail.
There was a pony. Their face was obscured entirely by the down pouring rain, just being a black void where there should have been eyes. One of their wings were extended out, an old rusty oil lamp looped around one of their primary feathers. The orange glow was hard to look at, and it only illuminated a little bit of the path in front of them. Certainly not enough to show their face, but enough so he felt the light creeping onto his chitin. They could see him.
He felt a strange welling sensation in his chest. A mix between anger and grief. This pony had come here, in his final moments, to do… what? Laugh at him? Laugh at him for getting so close, yet not making it? He found himself angry.
“W-Well?!” He croaked out. The pony made a small startled step back. By the look of them, they seemed younger, lanky and tall, but not exactly a foal or an adult. “H-Here I-I am!” He wasn’t even sure if they could hear him over the down pouring rain, but the way they were reacting told him they at least knew he was talking to them. “A-Are you h-here to k-kill m-me? G-Get it o-over with!” He tried standing up, but even as he put all of his effort into it, he merely collapsed once more. “I-I’m d-done running! I-It’s o-over! I-I’m j-just- I’m just done! I’m just done!”
He pushed his face into his hooves, a sudden tidal wave of dizziness and coldness swallowing him.
“I-I’m just done! I’m done! It’s over, and I’m done!” He sobbed, his voice getting quieter. “I-I’m done!” He heard the sound of hoofsteps slowly approaching, even over the sound of the rain. Tears streamed down faster now, and he felt so cold. So dizzy. So sleepy.
Sleep came for him quickly.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The numbers on the typewriter had begun to blur together. Everypony in Equestria had a special talent. A Cutiemark that sat firmly on their flank. A coming of age mark, the symbol of beginning a new era, and a source of pride. It was to tell the world that ‘Hey, I’m not a foal anymore!’
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Cutiemarks also had a double meaning. Not only were they the distinguishing mark between foal and adult, but they also served the role of telling their wearer exactly what they were good at, and more importantly, what they enjoyed doing. It removed the guessing from life. It was no longer a long-winded and sometimes annoying game of guessing what ponies were good at, it instead became a game of what to do with that talent. How to apply yourself.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
And that meant that other species were jealous of how seemingly straight-forward a pony’s life was. Including Staples.
Although he didn’t remember his hive days, (he wasn’t even sure if he had a hive to begin with,) he knew from his studying that there were many, many different types of Changelings. There were drones, warriors, chefs, maintenance, cleaners, royals, queens, caretakers, and many, many more. Just by themselves, the different types of Changelings could fulfill an entire army worth of creatures.
But a big difference between getting a Cutiemark and getting a role was the fact that Changelings didn’t really have a choice. As unfortunate as it sounded, if Changeling’s didn’t like what role they were born into, then it was either leave the hive or simply die.Their physical biology reflected what they were created for, and although all Changelings needed love to survive, it was still a kill or be killed world.
Drip.
Drip.
It was also an issue that Staples didn’t exactly know what type of Changeling he really was. He could transform, so he could probably safely cross off most roles involving hive upkeep. But he hadn’t grown to be ten feet tall yet, nor start laying eggs, so he could also cross off anything involving the upper class of the hive structure. He wasn’t a drone due to his unusual orange coloration, although that might just be the fact he could be part of a different hive, he still wasn’t exactly sure.
The most likely type he could be was that of a deep infiltrator. They were known for laying low, blending in, and having a mostly permanent disguise that could only be removed by the queen, themselves, or maybe a Unicorn with a very crooked moral compass. But, unfortunately, it didn’t quite fit, either. He undisguised in his sleep, which was what deep infiltrators were known for not doing.
Not knowing his own type was a problem. Changeling life spans drifted wildly from type to type. Queens were functionally immortal while drones had only been recorded for living twenty to twenty five years. Either the healthcare in the hive was simply that bad, or drones just don’t live that long. So either Staples was going to live forever, or he would collapse and turn to dust in the next five to six years.
Staples kind of wished he was a deep infiltrator. He wouldn’t have to worry about being outed as a freak, or a monster. He wouldn’t have to worry about trying to stay low-key and fly under the radar of anypony even remotely important. He wouldn’t have to worry about a single mistake, like accidentally writing the wrong birth date on a tax form, and getting an investigation launched, eventually leading to the discovery that Staples isn’t a real pony.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
In the end, Staples chose an office job. He spent his working days clicking away finances on a type writer in an office that was a little too small for him. It wasn’t exactly a bad fit, per se, but more just the same thing over again. But Filthy Rich was a nice pony. He paid decently, had great insurance benefits, (most of which he would never use,) and was quite great to talk to. He was good at crunching numbers, as his days in school had taught him. Although he spent most of his early days bouncing between towns and schools, he still paid rapt attention in class.
He knew what he would rather be doing. He loved researching. Not only his own kind, but pretty much anything and everything. Biology, the media, and neuroscience. It was all extremely fascinating, and in an alternate universe, he might’ve been the librarian at the Ponyville library if there already wasn’t one there. He might not have even stopped there. Perhaps he would go above and beyond, becoming a valued published. After all, his wall was looking a little bleak with the absence of any awards.
That would’ve been perfect for him. He could see it now. A valued publisher.
...in another life.
It was too high-profile. Somepony somewhere would get too curious, look into his birth records, and realize he was never born. It didn’t matter how careful he was in his entire life, how many paper trails he picked up after himself. All it took was one little pony deciding that they should investigate the pony with no birth record, and it would all come crumbling down. He was careful.
Almost always careful. The outburst earlier at Sugarcube Corner didn’t count.
Nor did the one at the market last week.
Neither was the bowling alley outburst last month. He still wasn’t allowed in the bowling alley after that one.
How he had managed to survive for so long was a complete mystery. Maybe it was because he tried to be the most default stallion the world had ever seen. He was simply just friendly and agreeable, and it always seemed to pay off for him. Even if around town, he was kind of known as the pony that was always slightly… off.
He was so entranced by the numbers on the paper that he didn’t realize it when a stallion stopped by his door, knocking twice on it’s frame.
“Staples?” The stallion asked. Staples snorted in surprise, looking up with crooked glasses at his boss. “I have some files for you here…” In his hooves was a vanilla folder, chalked full of crispy looking papers. “I was wondering if you could file these under cooked books for me.”
“Oh- uh, yeah. Sure.” He pushed his glasses back against his face with his hoof, pushing his chair forwards and closer to the desk, reaching over it and exchanging with Filthy Rich. Crispy pages were no joke, as the papers inside were, quite literally, burnt. Staples raised his eyebrow, opening the folder and giving the first paper a quick once-over with his eyes. “I’ll- uh- get right on that, sir.”
“Thank you.” Filthy Rich said, looking up at the ceiling. He made sour face as he watched a tiny drop of water drip from the ceiling, down, and land onto a soggy piece of paper. His sour face down turned into a straight frown as he realized exactly what it had dripped onto.
What can you do against Changelings? If you want to help stomp out the bug problem plaguing Equestria, you should vote yes to proposal six at next week’s election. If Princess Celestia doesn’t want our elected congressponies to pass fundamental laws, then we will do it ourselves! Proposal six will reintroduce the Changeling death penalty. If she won’t do it, then we will for her!
“Reading this?” Filthy rich asked, making a broad gesture at the newspaper. “All that junk, I tell you. All it’s doing is scaring ponies.” Staples looked up at him, a raised eyebrow and a glint of curiosity in his eye. “You know- when I was a kid, it was all about Dragons. How Dragons were going to ruin Equestria forever. A good few decades later, even the local librarian has a Dragon, and nopony bats an eye.”
“You think this is junk?” Staples asked, for the first time, clocking the dripping ceiling above him. He bore a similar frown as he looked up, the ceiling bowing slightly.
“Well… it’s not all junk.” He said warily. “Changelings are a big threat, tell you what. But there just ain’t no telling what’s true and what’s not nowadays. All of this gossip gives me a headache.” He rubbed his head. “Tell you h-what. Finish filing those and you can leave early today.”
“Thank you, Mister Rich.” He nodded, turning around in his swivel chair and beginning to scan the filing cabinets towering over him for an appropriately labeled drawer.
“And- uh-” Filthy rich quickly glanced up one last time. “I’ll have that fixed by tomorrow.” He nodded, ducking out of the room.
Staples blinked warily as he craned his neck upwards, reading the vaguely illuminated clock on the wall. Five-thirty, it read. A good half hour before sunset was scheduled today. He didn’t like working until sunset, but if Princess Celestia decides the schedule for sundown today was six, then it was six.
He sighed, feeling his withers slunch in defeat. He pushed the file into the drawer, and slid it shut.
There was a certain danger to living in Ponyville.
During the summer sun celebration close to two years ago, six ponies rose and became national heroes, protectors of Equestria. They had proven themselves time and time again to be the greatest heroes Equestria had seen in centuries, easily vanquishing Nightmare Moon, defeated Discord, and more recently, squashed Queen Chrysalis into next decade.
That last one had caused Radius quite a bit of trouble.
But, at the end of the day, the Elements (as they called themselves) were as fallible as any other pony. Except for Applejack. She was the element of honesty, which quite literally directly countered Radius in every single way. He liked living, and he would rather avoid somepony who was described as a living lie detector.
He tried to steer as far away from them as possible. It wasn’t like running and ducking behind a bush every time he saw them, but more of cross the street quickly, or just generally avoid the areas they were known for being.
But, unfortunately, as the high rise tree of the Golden Oaks library came into view, sometimes it was simply unavoidable. He needed books for his Changeling research, and unfortunately, the Golden Oaks was usually the only place to find them.
He nudged the door open to the library, the small golden bell above him ringing melodically, similar to the one at Sugarcube Corner, signaling his arrival to anypony who was in earshot. If it wasn’t for the Unicorn and the dragon that lived here, he might’ve actually liked being in here. If not for the constant, antagonizing fear he felt while trotting out in public, he would’ve spent almost all of his free time within these oak-colored walls.
There was something about the oil lamps that licked the interior in a beautiful orange glow that seemed inherently homely. Rows upon rows of books gave a colorful impression, and the musty air of old pages filled his lungs. It was an extremely peaceful place to be.
“Staples? Ohmygosh, Staples!”
It would’ve been peaceful, if not for the fact that the librarian was bonkers.
“I didn’t think you were going to show up!” The purple Unicorn shouted from the top of the staircase in the room. Quickly, she gallivanted down the staircase, skipping one or two steps at the bottom. “Not that I thought you were going to show up or anything- Or, I mean- D-Did you figure anything out? Do you need more books? Because I can-!”
Twilight Sparkle wasn’t an average pony. As a matter of fact, she was probably the least average pony in the entirety of Ponyville. She was the closeted book worm who spent most days indoors, researching about, quite literally, anything. She was a student of Princess Celestia herself, an element of harmony, and she was there the day of the Changeling invasion, slaughtering his kind without a second thought.
She was the kind of pony to enchant a doll to make the town go crazy. She hatched an unfertilized dragon egg, turned her parents into plants, coo an Ursa-Minor to sleep, crashed a multi-million bit party, and even stone the literal god of chaos. She was, for lack of a better word, a complete psychopath.One that Staplesreally didn’t want to talk to right now.
“Uh- Twi, I don’t think he’s listening.” A previously unfertilized dragon egg said from the top step of the staircase. Staples blinked in confusion, realizing he had been simply unfocusing his eyes as she ranted.
“O-Oh.” Twilight shook her head as Staples smiled, both trying their hardest to mask their embarrassment. “Sorry, it’s just- I’m really invested into your research, Staples.”
“No problem.” Staples responded coolly. He looked up to the dragon on the railing, who simply shot him a strange, almost dirty look before scrambling away from the railings, upwards, and perhaps to go find a good place for a nap. He looked back at Twilight. “I know you already said the library was emptied out of any books about Changelings, but… I was wondering if… you know…” He rolled his hoof with a bashful smile.
“If I had any more?” Twilight mused. “I wasn’t lying. You really did clear out the library.” Staples’ bashful smile slowly faded away. “But… I did happen to order a shipment earlier this week…”
“You did?” He asked, his eyes shimmering with excitement as his smiled broadened. “Where is it? Can I see it?” Twilight gave a smile as her horn ignited, using her magic to pull out a small, book-sized package hiding under a dusty corner of the staircase. It was wrapped in brown paper, a thin string pulled taught, and a note hanging by a thread.
“I had to pull a few strings.” She explained as she levitated it closer to Staples. “I asked Princess Celestia directly for the most detailed book on Changelings she had. But, because she isn’t in charge of the Changeling Research Group, she asked Princess Luna, who was. She then asked the royal archivist, who then asked Professor Trottingway, who then asked Princess Celestia again, and long story short, this is an early copy!”
“An early copy?” He asked highly. His own horn lit up with his orange magic, and he lightly prodded Twilight’s magic with his own.
The reaction was… unexpected.
He felt it for a fraction of a second. Sometimes, when horned creatures are too trigger happy with their horns, a little bit of their magic can mix with another pony’s magic. While mostly harmless, sometimes there can be some blow back. For half a second, he felt Twilight’s magic aura build in the tip of his horn. If he had to give a flavor to Twilight’s magic, it tasted a little bit like strawberries.
As soon as it had came, it went. It was a usual occurrence between horned creatures, not even enough to be brought up when it happens, besides letting out a small ‘oops!’ when it does.
Twilight, however, froze in shock, a gasp coming from her mouth, and accidentally letting the book hit the floor with a thump. Staples took a step back, looking at the book, and looking back at her. Twilight quickly regained composure.
“I-I’m sorry.” Twilight apologized. Staples lit up his horn once more, lifting the package up for himself. “Y-You just- um- surprised me, that’s all.” She cleared her throat. “L-Like I was saying, um- this is an early copy. Of a textbook! Yes, that’s it! It’s going to be taught in Science, Biology, Species Study, Creature Study, and even Equestrian Magic!”
Staples let the package hit his hooves, his orange aura evaporating as he resorted to ripping it open with his hooves. The pristine cover shone back at him, never before touched by another pony besides the author. It’s background was completely white, reflecting and glittering in the way new college textbooks did. There was a sketched picture on the front of a Changeling, it’s face turned into a frown as it buffed it’s chest out. Half of it was split in half, a skeleton glowering right back at him.
“Changeling Anatomy 101: The Pony Nemesis.” He sighed, looking at Twilight through the top of his glasses. “They couldn’t choose a better name?”
“Well… you know…?” She laughed nervously, clearing her throat. “But Professor Trottingway told me all about it. It’s really interesting! All information ever discovered about Changelings! Ever!” He set the book down on the floor, carefully flipping through the first few chapters, casually glancing at the pages as he went. It was surprisingly detailed, a lot of words, and quite a few pictures detailing parts of the Changeling. “It should all be right here in this very textbook! Every peer-reviewed paper, every official publication, every biopsy, everything! Isn’t that exciting?”
“That’s wrong.”
“Huh?”
“That.” The book was splayed open to a section about hooves, towards the beginning of the book. “It is theorized that Changelings loose mass on their hooves in order to conserve energy. This is why, during the Changeling Invasion of 1001, the Changelings had holes in their hooves. It has been speculated, and observed in the wild, that a well-fed Changeling would not have holes in their hooves, instead having a full, normal hoof structure, similar to that of a pony.” He tapped the picture. “That’s wrong.”
“Why?” Twilight asked, already levitating a stack of blank papers out and an already inked quill.
“Well… it just isn’t. It’s wrong.” He began to explain. “A well-fed Changeling wouldn’t have full hooves. They would simply just have… you know, holey hooves. They’re there to help with being stealthy, stalking, and sneaking around. Getting closer to the prey, that kind of thing. The holes help dampen the sound. And help with long falls.”
“Interesting!” Twilight had begun scribbling down with her magic, writing already half a page of just notes. “I’ll have to send this to Professor Trottingway immediately! Is there anything else?” She looked back up to Staples, leaning forwards intently.
“Well… it’s a big book, and I’ll have to read it over later tonight.” He looked out one of the many windows, a cringe adorning his muzzle. “Jeez, it’s already sunset. I should really get going.”
“B-But before you do, can you- um-” She levitated up the discarded wrapper from the book, reading the small cream stamp. “Princess Luna wanted me to ask you to flip to page 133.”
“Page 133?” He asked, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his muzzle and looking back down at the paper, flipping forwards rapidly. “Err- ah.” He let out a dejected sigh. “Hiveminds. Of course.” He took the physical effort to move his glasses away from his muzzle, simply so he could face-hoof as hard as he liked.
“Well?” Twilight asked.
“Ridiculous.” He finished simply, putting his glasses back on his muzzle. “There have been zero evidence of hiveminds ever existing in Changeling society.”
“But the invasion!” Twilight quickly interrupted. “We saw the Changelings choreograph the invasion! There is no way they could’ve all been in sync like that without a hive mind!”
“There has to be a chain of command. Much like a normal army would do.” He guessed. “Drones, captains, leaders, queens. Trust me, if there was a Changeling hive mind I would know.” He said with a slight edge to his voice. He let out a sigh. “I should get going. I don’t want to walk home in the dark.”
“One more thing!” Twilight suddenly springed up. Staples watched intently as she quickly trotted away and into one of the many side rooms of the library. The door swung open when she barged through it, and by the time she came back through, the door almost clicked against the frame.
In her aura was a vanilla folder. All across it, like the victim of a crime scene, was hundreds of little stamps that read some variation of ‘Top Secret!’ There was black and yellow tape, locks, perhaps some archaic runes to ward off the average Unicorn, and the thing that really piped Staples’s interest was a little stamp in the bottom right that read ‘Changeling Research Group.’
“Princess Luna sent me this the other day.” She said, setting it down on the floor in front of Staples. She sat down, using her hooves to carefully maneuver out the… photographs? “This is huge! If Professor Trottingway wasn’t almost ready to publish his textbook, he would’ve had to rewrite it!”
“What is it?” He asked warily. The photographs had been blown up from it’s normal card-sized papers to full sized printer paper. They were laminated in sheets, protected, and had plenty of red marker dancing across it’s surface.
“You know what a Changeling looks like, right?” She asked, already knowing the answer. “They’re mostly black, with the exception of blue highlights.” She slid forwards the photograph. “But look at this!”
The photographer was hiding in a bush, quite obvious by the branches in the way of the camera around the edges. The trees surrounding the photographer were anything unlike Ponyville or it’s surrounding areas had ever seen. They were incredibly tall, going off frame, and very bushy, with many legs of vines falling around. It was obvious that the photograph was taken far, far away from Ponyville.
There, sitting in the middle of a clearing, was a Changeling.
But not quite any Changeling Staples- or, Radius was quite used to ever seeing.
Instead of being black, it’s chitin was completely white. It’s wings weren’t shredded, nor was it’s horn curvy and spiked. Instead of the blue that Radius had become completely accustomed to, it’s highlights were a light pink, giving the usual fierce creature a kind of soft and plushy look.
Staples couldn’t help himself, and without realizing it, had his jaw open completely wide, his eyes growing to the size of saucers as he stared at the photo.
“This photo was taken by Miss Fluttersnap.” Twilight explained. “She was positioned as a wildlife photographer, far down south with a tribe of Zebra’s. She said she heard birds singing, followed the sound and… found… it.”
The Changeling’s hooves were still holey, just like his. One of it’s hooves were extended forwards, and perched in between two holes, was a songbird, parroting away.
“Miss Fluttersnap said it was trying to replicate the sounds of a songbird, and that’s what lead her to it.” Twilight leaned closer to Staples, trying to get a better view of his expression. “Anything to say?”
“I should… go.” Staples let the photo drop from his grasp, fluttering to the floor harmlessly. “I-I’ve really overstayed my welcome, and I think I should-” He quickly stood up, trotting to the door as Twilight watched. “Thank you for the textbook, Twilight- Oh-” He realized the textbook was not with him. He quickly levitated it towards himself, letting it sit on the crook of his back. “Yeah- I’ll see you- um- later!” He ducked out of the library without another word.
Twilight kept staring as the door slowly latched shut on it’s hinges.
There was a few seconds of silence.
And then…
“Spike!” She turned her head upwards, shouting. “I need to take a letter!”
There was a faint grumble heard somewhere upstairs, followed closely by claws scraping against wooden floorboards, and then a small purple dragon leaning over the guard rails, just like he had earlier.
“You’re not drained, are you?” He asked.
“Of course not, silly. Come down here so I can take a letter.” She asked. Spike grumbled something faintly, but descended down the stairs all the same. Twilight levitated over one of the many leftover scrolls she had after trying to squeeze Staples out of anything he had. Spike snatched it from the air, along with a quill Twilight levitated over.
“You know I don’t like that… thing being around here.” Spike grumbled.
“Oh, hush.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “Princess Luna assures me he isn’t mean. And besides, Rainbow Dash is on observation duty for today. She wouldn’t let him do anything to me. I’m sure she probably had her ear against a window the entire time.”
“If she hadn’t fallen asleep already…” Spike grumbled.
“She wouldn’t.” Twilight sighed. “On the bright side, I managed to get a good sample of Staples’s magic signature when we exchanged auras. It was accidental, but enough for me to deduce that he is not part of Queen Chrysalis’s hive, nor is he even from Queen Chrysalis’s hive.”
“Or he could just be disguising.” Spike suggested. “You know. The thing Changeling’s are known to do.”
“Just take a letter, Spike.” She interrupted. He rolled his eyes, but still complied, hiking up the paper and putting a quill to parchment. She cleared her throat. “Dear Princess Luna.”
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Ah, I wonder how they knew
This has my attention. I'm looking forward to where this will go. 😊
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There’s also the question of how this would affect things in the event of him being exposed.
Cliche though it was to admit.
Now there's an explanation for the changeling holed hooves that I hadn't heard before, them effectively being built-in long-fall boots. But when you think about it, if the holes allow for enough flex to be compressible or even springy, they would help cushion against long falls up to a point...assuming the changeling lands on its hooves.
...that would suggest that they'd probably benefit from having a biological tendency to always land on their hooves like a house cat though...
Going off the footage shown in the show, they weren't that choreographed, and what "choreographing" they did demonstrate can be more easily explained as them just being well-trained soldiers, which as they came from a military-minded hive, would be very expected. Really all it says is that Chrysalis trains her troops well.
Fortunately for the ponies, training the troops well, and commanding them well are two entirely separate things for Chrysalis, and she's only really good at one of the two, clearly.
Anyway, the supposed "choreography" is really pretty poor evidence, let alone "proof" of anything even approximating a hive mind, enough that Twilight really ought to know to be applying a little bit of Occam's Razor to this.
Oh, did the Pony OSHA put it's hoof down on the Golden Oak Library in this universe? (In canon, there never were any sort of guard railing to be leaning over on the stairs)
No, she wouldn't--this is not something Rainbow would slack off on. She fully recognizes whenever something requires her full attention and dedication to, particularly when it could deal with a potential danger to herself or others (particularly her friends).
Besides, knowing Rainbow, she probably trusts Staples about as much as Spike does, if not less.
The disguising still has it's limits, you know--you can't just use that as an excuse to handwave away any possibility that inconveniences the "they're all evil" idea.
And just you wait anyway, Spike. If there is a changeling named Thorax that happens to be living anywhere in this universe...
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To be honest? I'm not at all surprised they caught on--Staples really isn't as subtle and stealthy as he thinks he's being, and his quite obvious and very strong interest in changelings, and the fact he knows with extreme confidence to the point that he can't help but fact-check info on the changelings that no one else in Equestria has picked up are all kinda big giveaways.
He wonders at one point in this chapter how he'd even managed to survive this long, and I'm kinda finding myself wondering the same thing too, as he's sort of making it easier for the ponies than he seems to realize (or at least acknowledge). Even without the story being told from his perspective, I'd probably start to suspect him myself.
Still rooting for him though. If there was ever a 'ling that deserves a happier ending...
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Oh, probably just some subtle details here and there. Openly defending changelings as a species in public, doing so again, talking definitively about changeling anatomy, magic, and social structure in front of the only other pony who could be so up-to-date on all the literature...
I'm sure it took a real Poir-oat type to figure him out.
I like that The Element Bearers and the Princesses aren't jumping the gun with Staples and are instead letting him be, even if they are kind of spying on him, too —which even if it may be a bit specieist, is quite a reasonable course of action considering that most previous registered contact with changelings has been hostile.
So many fics assume that. I always figured she'd be the most gullible pony in the world.
Huh. I would have guessed raspberry, maybe.
Y'know. . . The cutest thing about this to me is, not only does Twilight know he's a changeling, but I'd bet that she thinks he knows that she knows. But of course, if he did actually know she was onto him, he'd be freaking out in half a dozen different ways.
What the heck is a dollar? Is that like a bit or something?
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I’m not sure.
Love it a lot so far, its kept my interest very well and is really fun and exciting :)
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This is just what Radius thinks she is like.
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A-ha. Very funny. Fine, I fixed it. Happy!?
"trust me, I would know" seriously? Like, he's not even trying to be subtle! 😂