Panic Attack and Chill?
There was a reason Cipher was a private investigator, you know, he liked things private. Anything to be quiet, hidden and overlooked in a crowd as he watched a target like a hawk watched a mouse, anything to avoid too many questions because questions led to judgement. Cipher Stream liked to live with ponies, not that he had much of a choice, but they were so...rude. The only ones who had handled the news well were the only two friends he had, and there wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t fearful of that too changing.
Maybe it would change today, maybe they’d see just how scary he can be as he tried to keep himself to a quick trot and not gallop instead, searching wildly for somewhere to hide, anywhere. He had been minding his own business in town, tight curls bouncing as he looked among the crowd and tried to navigate towards a little cafe across the street when he spotted a small group of gryphons, traveling in a tight flock of three, chatting idly. They stuck out like a sore hoof in the crowds of ponies, bright plumage in the crowds of pastel unicorns. Cipher tried to dip across the street before they made it to him, fidgeting nervously even though he knew they wouldn’t be able to tell what he was-- he looked like a pony, smelled like a pony, he was a pony. That’s why Doodle Bug always told him, that he was a pony, if he wanted to be.
Cipher always thought she was just trying to be supportive and took the affirmation with a smile, it even started to rub off on him, but as the group came to stand next to him at the crossing, Cipher trying to scurry forward before they could look at him, one of them cocked their head.
“Hey, you guys smell that?”
A moment's silence until there were a few chuckles and remarks of there being a bug nearby, Cipher felt his face heat up as he stared at the path, trying to pretend like it wasn’t him, like he wasn’t the only pony near them right now. Equestria was trying to be more inclusive, less xenophobic and more accepting, but some were slower to follow those teachings than others, especially when it came to changelings and how newly “reformed” they were. Even if Cipher grew up here, hidden among the ponies, they didn’t know that and they didn’t very well care, especially not when they realized he was...different.
Instead of becoming as pastel and shiny as the new changelings, reformed and made into those annoying colors, Cipher stayed as he was, chitin a deep black, a jagged horn and scleraless blue eyes, fangs made for rending-- Though the holes that littered their bodies had healed nicely once they began to share love. He had gone to other changelings who had the same issue, trying to hide their seemingly horrifying appearances from others, and they examined why this might happen-- As far as anyone could guess, some changelings were just different, almost like they were two different species, and once her Majesty Princess Celestia married Queen Chrysalis, it was made all the more clear that this was in fact the case once their first child was born. The Queen explained once questions were thrown at her by the “unreformed” changelings left in Equestria, but it didn’t help, didn’t make anything better.
People still stared at them like they were parasites, like the color of their shell made them a danger. It’s why Cipher never, ever dropped his disguise, not in public, not at home, not around DB or Hoop or anyone.
He didn’t think Doodle Bug or Hoop would treat him worse, but he… Didn’t want to take that chance. What if they did? What if they only liked the sparkly changelings? Doodle Bug had known him as a hatchling, and she jokingly said he must look like her craft room now, spattered in paint, when the mass reformation started and he just… never corrected her. He’d watched his friends kindly yet carefully chat with still black changelings, take the news that not all changelings were colorful in stride and drop their caution, but what if they didn’t do that to him? What if it was a facade? He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t.
Cipher tried to act casual as he crossed the street, head down, ears flopped back, he needed to get back before they caught up with him and that was his only focus, but before he could get to the other side of the street, the crowds that surrounded them seemed to get bigger and he was stopped while he tried to squeeze between the ponies rushing around corners and the gryphons caught up. Cipher felt his heart drop, he looked away and nervously stepped onto the sidewalk as he heard the group approach behind him and quickly follow because ponies were much more likely to make room for three gryphons than one nervous unicorn.
He didn’t think they meant to follow him, it was probably a coincidence! Not enough room, or too many places to go, or--
He was panicking, and with that realization all of his coherent thought went out the window, tossed haphazardly over his head as he felt a tingle near the base of his hooves, and his blank mind couldn’t understand what it was until just a few moments later as it got worse, like an itch just under his skin. His disguise, the magic that kept him looking like a regular pony, was slowly falling as his panic grew, keeping his mind away from concentrating on keeping it up. It took a lot of magic to will the facade into place for days at a time, and a lot of magic meant a lot of love-- Between long nights and his fears, he was becoming distant, and…
And he looked down, catching a hint of black beginning to spread across his dark purple hooves. The anxiety from within him grew greater, and just a second later, Cipher was running, shoving past the group of ponies in front of him and down the street in a blind panic. He needed to hide somewhere, somewhere no one could see him while he waited out his fears.
His pale purple coat was beginning to grow a dark, shiny black, the color creeping up his legs following a mint green sparkle of magic. Taking a sharp left, nearly sliding off the sidewalk, Cipher barely caught himself as he spotted a crystal mine up ahead-- It was a tourist trap, you got to keep the crystals you mined, and if you paid extra they’d make them into a lantern for you. The good news was, however, that there were so many caverns in it that Cipher could hide in one relatively unseen, a little fact he knew because… Well, he literally called the cave his “crying spot”.
A dark purple stripe on his leg was gone now, and he could feel a tingle on his nose, his eyes burned, and he knew exactly what was happening. Cipher ran into the cavern, hooves kicking up gravel and dirt as he rushed right by a guide who begrudgingly shouted for him to not run in the caverns. Their interest faded once he was further in, out of sight out of mind, and Cipher didn’t bother to be worrisome either as he followed a familiar path, weaving through twists and turns until he found himself stumbling head first into a darkened cavern, the crystals that lit the rest of the cave sparse here.
Cipher choked back tears as he threw himself just behind a stalagmite, tucked close to it as he buried his head in his legs, shaking. He felt… He didn’t know, everything was too much right now and he couldn’t pin down how he felt, sniffling and letting out strangled cries that echoed in the cavern. It would pass. It always passed. In the meantime, however, Cipher cried as his fur was replaced with a shiny black chitin, locs no longer curled and colored a dark purple and white but instead webbed and the same shiny black as his body.
At least, he thought, he didn’t have holes in his legs anymore.