Ch. 3: The Pin Drops
A/N: I've been given the clear by Hilltopper2 to release the chapter with a semi-spoiler moment.
If you're confused by what the spoiler is, go read his "Love and Music Theory".
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The Pin Drops
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Under some standard "take-it-easy" instructions given by the doctor, Dad was allowed to leave the hospital. That was a good thing, because I hadn't been looking forward to a long and lonely return trip. Of course, I shouldn't have expected things to get easier. As witnesses to a gang crime, we had to be taken by the police for questioning. I ended up resting my head on my dad's lap like a tired animal during the drive.
---
????
????
????
I guess I fell asleep. Though, it was strange that I could remember going to sleep if I had actually fallen asleep. I don't know. What started out as empty blackness gave way to an eerily green lit cavern. I looked around the entire place filled with various egg-shaped structures. Eventually, I saw one that stood out from the rest hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a neon cocoon, kind of like the one I saw Celestia in from the Season 2 ending. Only this one held a slightly different prize.
Cier Dylan.
"Um, hey, Fifty-one," I hesitated, "Did I interrupt something?"
I'm simply reliving the memory of a recovery. Your presence is hardly disturbing.
"Recovery? From what?"
Surely, you saw what became of my race in that... "show" that you watch.
"Don't call me 'Shirley' and if you're talking about the Canterlot wedding episodes, then yes, I did see that."
Then, you should understand that what I went through was... unpleasant.
"Yeah, I suppose getting catapulted by a force field would be uncomfortable. Sorry."
Your concern is unnecessary, although appreciated.
"I almost forgot," I interrupted, "What was with that mental shove when that gun got blasted?"
An instinctual reaction, I would surmise. Your father was in danger, so our combined instincts sought to remove the danger.
"You mean..." I paused, "I could have killed someone back there?"
No. I only aimed to destroy the threats. I never aimed to take lives.
"How did you know how to aim for the gun and knife with such precision?"
Did you honestly believe my queen would send my race into a battle without training them in precision targeting?
"Er... kinda?" I chuckled nervously while rubbing the back of my neck.
I heard a sigh.
You have a lot to learn, human.
"Well... thanks, I guess. You did save my dad without adding murder to my conscience."
Your gratitude is as unnecessary as your concern.
"Oh..." I looked away.
But, it is welcome.
I looked back up at him and cracked a smile.
"So, uh, any chance you might teach me how to use your wings?"
When the task becomes necessary, Cier Dylan. Not before.
I felt a tug on my head. The green-lit cavern started to fade from view.
---
"Come on, Cier," called Dad's voice, "Time to get up."
I tried to give an okay, but my mouth felt like it was occupied by something soft. I tried moving my jaw around. Finally, I just gave up and spat out whatever it was. I opened my eyes and looked at the object that had landed on the seat. It looked like a bunch of feathers and a torn-up... pillow sheet.
"Where did those come from?" asked Dad.
"I have absolutely no idea," I answered with just as much confusion.
---
Wagnesday
3:40 PM
Police Station
"So, my magic randomly kicked in and blasted the guys' weapons out of their hands," I finished.
"Hmm," hummed the officer at his desk while writing down something, "And what about you, Mr. Dylan?"
"My son's testimony is probably better than mine," Dad replied, "I was on the ground in pain, so I didn't see a whole lot after the gunshot."
"Uh-huh," said the officer turning back to me, "Just out of curiosity, kid, which pony are you?"
"None of them, sir," I answered honestly, "I turned into a changeling."
He paused, probably not expecting that answer.
"I see," he finally responded while taking more notes, "Fortunately, we've already apprehended the perpetrators. But as a precaution, we'll be sending one of our men to perform regular sweeps by your house just to make sure no one else tries anymore funny stuff. Oh, and Fillers will be driving you two home."
"Thank you, sir," I nodded.
"All in a day's work," he shrugged as if this were a regular occurrence. Maybe it was considering the number of anonymous transformed ponies and other creatures unaccounted for. I didn't know.
---
Wagnesday
5:30 PM
Living Room
We finally got all the glass cleaned up. Investigators had already come by and retrieved the bullets. I guess any evidence was good for them. Dad was wincing every so often, but he managed to use the broom just fine.
Meanwhile, Fifty-one must have assumed that glass handling required a bit of flight. My bug-like wings were buzzing as I held the dustpan in my mouth. After cleaning the glass, I hovered outside. Though, as soon as I had set up appropriate cover for the window, the wings puttered out and I hit my chin on the lawn.
When necessary and not before? I echoed in thought, I guess you forgot to say "and not after".
Dad managed to whip up some burgers for dinner. Having missed lunch, I quickly chewed and swallowed two patties with their buns and contents. When I came back to awareness, the table was slightly covered in various smudges of ketchup, onions, and crumbs. I let out a nervous chuckle. Dad topped it with a wholehearted guffaw.
I was relieved to hear that he still had his sense of humor. For the first time since this morning, it really felt like a normal day.
---
6:00 PM
*Knock* *Knock*
I was just heading back to my room when I heard the knocking. I thought of two possibilities of who could have been at the door. Option A, it was one of the police checking in on us during their rounds that the desk guy had told us about. Option B, it was somebody eager to write an interview about this latest development in "People Attack Ponies Association" news (I know that's not their real name. That's the joke). Dad used his good arm to open the door.
I turned around to see the visitor and blinked in surprise. Apparently, life decided to choose Option 3: flip the system. The one who stood there was not an officer or a reporter. It was a pony. She kind of looked like a ghost with a pure, white coat and a slightly off-white mane that stood up straight. I didn't know who she was and yet she seemed... familiar.
"Hi, can I help you?" inquired Dad politely as he still held the door.
"Terry, it's me," the pony responded. That voice... If my eyes hadn't been open before, then they were now.
"I...is that you, Arlene?" Dad hesitated.
"Mom?" I wondered aloud. The pony looked over at me. I stared at her blue irises. She held a look of confusion, which quickly melted into recognition. She slowly walked over, never once looking away.
"Cier," she whispered as she held up her hoof against my cheek, "Oh my ghost, they got you too."
That's an... interesting choice of words.
I was inclined to agree, but I was too distracted by the tears that started to form on Mom's eyes. Before I knew it, she had both of her hooves around me in a hug. I couldn't resist returning the embrace. At some point, Dad had leaned down and joined in the hug. There were so many questions that needed to be answered. But right now, this moment did not need to be spoiled.
---
Wagnesday
6:20 PM
Living Room
After Dad whipped up a quick salad and Mom just as quickly devoured it, there were discussions to be had.
Dad sat down in his chair while we exchanged stories. Mom had woken up as a pony early this morning. It was at that point that she realized that maybe the crazy news stories weren't so crazy after all. In hopes that she could recover some form of normalcy, she started running home. But her entire world had become so much bigger now and she had to leave her car parked right wherever the heck it was now. A smaller body without hands and feet kind of made the van unusable.
Mom was unsettled by some of the things she experienced on her way over. She kept hearing unusual whispers and every so often, it felt like some pony else ("Wait, some pony?" she paused before continuing) was moving her body for her. Yet, the feeling always passed away soon after with an eerie chill running through her entire body.
Wait a minute, I thought, A white earth pony, an off-white mane, "oh my ghost", and voices that haunt her?
Spirit Redeemer! I had a mental eureka moment, That was an OC pony I was just about to start writing about.
However, that thought was quickly brushed aside. At the point where she said that she arrived at the house, she asked why the window was covered.
Dad and I replayed the day's events verbally starting with the bullet crashing through the window. I think she was more shocked at the threat on Dad's life than she was about my magical sniping. She remained neutral about the hospital and police station part.
"When did the disease get you?" Mom asked me. At first, I was taken aback by how negatively she referred to the event. But then, I realized I couldn't really correct her. It's not like I could think of a good replacement word for what had happened aside from 'pandemic', 'situation', or 'dilemma'.
"This morning," I replied before adding, "I'm going to need a new phone, by the way."
"Why do you look so," she paused while looking for the word, "different from those creatures on the news?"
"They're called ponies," I pointed out before answering, "and it's because I'm a changeling."
"A change...ling?"
"Apparently, it's a creature that can feed on love and change shape," piped in Dad, "At least, that's what he told me."
"Change shape?" Mom was still clearly confused, "What does that even mean?"
"Well..." I started before Fifty-one interrupted my train of thought.
Remember what I said, human. My race can change as long as their target is actually there.
"Oh!" I smacked my hooves against each other in lieu of a snap, "Mom, can you turn to your right a bit?"
"Uh, sure," she complied, "But what does that have to do with...?"
I took a quick look at her cutie mark: a blue tulip. I gave a quick nod to myself before... doing whatever the heck I was doing. I wasn't really sure how to describe focusing on a pony's aura and copying it because it didn't really feel like anything. One minute, a burst of green flames flashed up past my line of sight. The next, the burst was all done.
"Woah," stated Dad in awe. Mom seemed to say the same thing voicelessly with her open jaw as she looked at me.
I looked down at where my black, holey hoof was. In its place I saw a whole, white hoof. I rubbed it along my head where I had no hairs just a second ago. A white, kind of prickly mane fought to stay upright. I turned my neck enough to look at the left side of my flank. A blue tulip cutie mark shone in the living room's light.
"Wow, it worked," I said happily before putting a hoof up to my mouth. I had spoken with an exact likeness of my mother's voice.
"And then some," I added.
"H-how is that even possible?" stammered the original. I'm not sure if it was Fifty-one's interference or my own will, but my disguise was soon removed in another burst of green flames.
"It's sort of a changeling's birthright," I answered in my own voice.
"Well, please don't do that again without my permission," Mom frowned.
"Alright, Mom," I nodded with a small smile, "Whatever you say."
She decided to go to bed early. Dad had some work to catch up on, so he grabbed his laptop and got to it.
---
Wagnesday
8:00 PM
Cier Dylan's Bedroom
I've been kind of slow with checking the internet as of late. One could only surf so quickly with a pencil as a button-pusher. Plus, the whole thug attack, hospital visit, lucid dream, and police station questioning took away most of the day. Things were that much more shocking when I finally did see the new turns of events.
"Hello, what's this?" I pondered as I looked at a featured link on Youtube. I heard a mental gasp from Fifty-one and my pencil fell to the floor.
My queen!
The video presented Chrysalis fighting Discord in Massachusetts.
Didn't see that one coming, I thought.
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Not sure if I'm lucky or unlucky to live so far away from all the real action.
1628796
Wait, what?
1628898
Let me rephrase that, I'm not sure if Cier is lucky or unlucky to live so far away from the events in New York.
1628908
I take things way too seriously...
Sorry.
1628917 It's not uncommon for writer to start living their characters, or write themselves as their character. They begin to act as if it's them in the story and speak as such. I know I do it on occasion.
1629212
Yeah, I get that.
It's just that, for a second, I thought this stuff was actually happening and I didn't know about it because I don't follow the news.
...I really need to get out more.
1629259 no kidding. Though we all wish we could go to Equestria and live there, we all know it won't happen. But it's nice to forget that for a moment. These fics we write are the closest thing we will get to that.
Lucid dream results in pillow in mouth. Every time. The sheer improbability of this one is particularly pleasing.
Oh boy. This is gonna be interesting.
1628796
Just got the chance to read this: I can give you an out for continuity, but the Discord fight was in Holyoke, Massachusetts.
By the time she's on the news she's IN New York.
1631254, Sorry 'bout that.
Not much of a fight. Reality-warping VS. Hat-destroying.
Finally ^-^ another chapter
That Ending was pretty Unexpected And Weird Let Me Guess
Not gonna Continue This comment Because it solves The Mystery
If You want me To spoil The fun Of ThE mystery Its Pretty obvious
1629311
If that was my chance to go to Equestria, I think I would seriously reconsider. Not that being a pony wouldn't be interesting, but with Discord on the loose, not to mention that whole mind merging business, the plain old ordinary world seems a bit safer and less "exciting" in a potentially deadly way. Not that, given these circumstances, choice would have factored in anyway.
1648635
Not to mention the P.A.P.A. and random cartoon characters.
Chrysalis fighting Discord? AWESOME!!!
Being a Changeling would probably beat any other regular pony, eh? Talk about being able to mask your identity. That would be pretty useful. Can think of a few situations where that ability would have come in handy.
Ah, one of the reasons I despise reading multi-author universes. Every story is connected to every other story. I'll ignore your advice and keep reading since I have no intention of reading another PEV story again.
Did he eat a pillow, wat
Oh your... ghost? Um ok.
Oh dear lord no
I somehow feel like this links back to yet another fic.
5887977
same here