Building Walls, Breaking Barriers

Chapters

The Fall of The Five-0-Furs
Poison
Chameleons and Oranges
Of Plot and Cracks
Inaction

The Fall of The Five-0-Furs

Magic bolts flew to and fro across the Royal Gardens. Green and white blasts clashed over the once beautiful flowers, harvested from the farthest corners of the lands of Equestria and tended with the utmost care by the carefully chosen gardeners at the top of their classes in biology at the most prestigious schools.

The platte of ambience that the once lush area had now been trampled and scorched by battle.

“Stand firm, men!” The Royal Guards, the finest warriors in all of Equestria, were showing the might and skills they have honed over years for the sake of peace. Since the day that Celestia and Luna took the throne, the Order has stood with them. Even against the overwhelming force of the invading changelings, Royal Guardsmen stood proudly and fought the enemy’s numbers with superior skill.

Golden armoured bodies clashed against carapace covered insectoids. Forelegs met one another as many of the earth and pegasi guards engaged in hoof-to-hoof combat with the changeling forces.
The unicorn sergeant fired off three blasts of magic, each hitting their mark of changelings that were locked into battle with guardsmen.

“Falling like flies, eh boys?” Sergeant Rowdy Steel said chuckling as another changeling bites the dust as his hoof clotheslines the approaching aggressor. “They certainly didn’t count on the legendary squad of the Five-O-Furs, the elite frontline defense of Canterlot Castle.”

A uniformed affirmative echoed from the serving stallions and mares, in contrast of the sergeant’s casual remark. Each and every changeling that dared to land in the courtyard was thoroughly beaten, quickly and efficiently. The piles of unconscious, and slightly cracked, invaders were spread throughout the garden.

“Looks like their invasion plan is just like their legs…” Sergeant Rowdy started, as he levitates the latest of the defeated enemies to the top of the pile like a child discarding old toys. “Full of holes.”

One of the pegasi landed in front of the sergeant. She raised her hoof in salute and stood to attention, disregarding the bruises on her body and dents across her once immaculate armour. “That is last of them in the vicinity, sir.”

“Good work Private. All right boys and girls let-“ A whistling sound flying through the air made Rowdy stop mid-sentence as his eyes darted to the sky to see a half a dozen changelings barreling down to the courtyard, all six of them enshrouded with a green slime-like aura.

“Cancel that, looks like we have a Late-Lacys trying to crash the after-party. Men! Stand at the ready!”

All six hit the ground, the splats of their magic as they added more shallow holes to the garden. The impacts raised a thick cloud of dirt and green mist. Shadows moved away from the landing sites, spreading through the mist quickly surprising the Sergeant. “These ones actually seem like they can fight. Good, was actually starting to break a sweat from beating on all their rift-raft,” he said to himself. Not worried for his soldiers, Brawn Steel knew his men could handle themselves; they have all been under his command since they graduated from Rainbow Falls Boot Camp years ago.

Even without seeing his squad, Sergeant Rowdy knew that his men were listening. “Once we deal with them, our job is to secure the Hall of Elements for the sake of Bearers! With our strength and the power of the Elements, we will-“ Rowdy barely had time to duck as a chitin covered hoof shot out of the mist, aiming for his head. The Sergeant rolled to the side as he scanned the low hanging cloud for the next attack.

Rowdy gives the surrounding mist a cheeky grin. “Hah! You’ll have to do better than that to hit Sergeant Rowdy of the Five-0-Furs. Bring it on ya bugger!”

The sound of flesh and steel hitting changeling exoskeleton could be barely heard over the grunts of exertion and pain, “Those poor changelings, should a known better than mess with us.” He thought to himself.

The sound of buzzing wings filled the air, dissipating the obscuring cloud of dust and magic. Shielding his eyes with his foreleg, Rowdy waited until the blasted wind subsided before taking in the expected sight of his men victorious yet again.

He lowered his foreleg and opened his mouth to congratulate them, but his mouth was left agape at what lied before him. Bodies were on the ground, all of them battered and broken. The warriors have been covered in bruises and cuts from the vicious pummeling at the hooves of the superior force.

The Five-0-Furs have been utterly decimated.

Dragging his eyes away from his fallen comrades, Rowdy was finally able to see the changeling fighters who did it. Rage filled his heart. Unlike their previous foes that Sergeant Rowdy now sees were nothing more than cannon fodder, the elites of the changeling invasion force. Their armour was much like their own shells; each piece of grey metal had been twisted and morphed to cling to the carapace of each of them. Discomfort forgotten for the sake of intimidation and protection.

Sergeant Rowdy finally found his voice as his eyes met the one changeling that stood away from the others. On his armour that had wrapped around his chest, was an insignia of four -pairs of crossed swords.

“You…As the commander of your men, you will take responsibility for their actions.” Rowdy paused lacking the jovial tone before the arrival of the elite wave, his head low to the ground with his eyes shut. Trying his best to maintain some semblance of control, but failed as his horn glowed white, spreading from its point of focus to cover his entire body in a powerful glow. “So you will face me and bear your punishment.” The veins in his head were throbbing, bulging with blood. “This is for what you have done to my boys and girls you freak of nature!”

Faster than he has ever been in his life, the unicorn used his magic push himself off the ground, leaving deep imprints where Rowdy once stood and launched himself towards the marked changeling leader. His magic only increased his already formidable strength and he pumped his forelegs out to destroy the first of the changeling opposition.

The air whistled as the surrounding changelings attempted to stop the enraged unicorn from attacking their leader. Wings buzzed their hummingbird like motions seem to be in slow motion compared to the blur of Rowdy.

He was getting closer; none of the other changeling warriors had any hope of stopping him. He may not be able to beat all of the soldiers here, but he will be damned if he doesn’t take out the commander in the name of his fallen comrades. Finally within arms reach, Rowdy let out a victorious shout, “FOR EQUESTRIA!”

Rowdy could only gasp in horror at what happened next.

The Sergeant then watched as the changeling commander grab hold of his outstretched hooves and used his barreling momentum and adjusted his trajectory towards the walls of the enclosure, before Rowdy could even think he crashed into the stone walls and was buried under the rubble.

The changeling commander did not even look back as he gave his orders to his soldiers and the slowly rising changelings from the earlier fight. “Rouse the workers and cocoon the Royal Guards. Make sure to dig out that fool as well, his passion for his fellows will be a useful for the hive.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Captain Avis of the Queen’s Legion supervised as the injured workers did their duty without complaints. It was their place to obey the solider caste in times of conflict, even if this was the first time in centuries that members of the solider caste were given permission to
go so far away from the hive.

When a hive was this desperate for food, even Avis agreed with the Queen with breaking the outdated traditions for survival.
The workers were digging weakly through the rubble of the castle wall to the barely alive stallion, his rage still emanating from his unconscious mind. Avis could taste unfiltered emotions for the first time in his life.

With the emotional famine in the hive, the unicorn was a tempting meal. The solider caste needs its strength. He thought to himself. It would be better to be well-fed and alert, compared to hungry and tired. Letting his curiosity and hunger get the best of him, Avis took a hearty helping of the unicorn’s rage.

The sulfuric taste was strange, but at the same time he felt exhilarated at the slightest snippet of emotions. Members of the solider caste, like him and his men, have never been this close to a food source before. The squad of soldiers under his command were scrunching their faces as they tried to comprehend the anger from the stallion, each following their commander’s lead and taking a large helping.

Focus. Captain Avis chided himself for his break in discipline, shaking off the anger, biting back his own grimace from the aftertaste.
A loud whoosh could be heard over the combat throughout the city. A flare rising from the bustling shopping centre of Canterlot. It exploded high in the sky with a shrill whistle as bits of magic descended to the ground.

Avis turns to address his troops and the gathered workers, crouching low to prepare to fly. “Corporal Frelon, take command and occupy the Hall of Elements. I will aid the falling front personally.”

“Yes Captain.”

The Changeling Captain took flight heading to the area known in Canterlot as “Simply Divine Dining Square”.

Scanning the ground from the air, Captain Avis saw the invasion progressing according to the Queen’s plan. Hundreds of ponies were being rounded up and the harvester and worker castes were already restraining any who resist and sealing them into the cocoons for transport back to the hive.

As he got closer to the site where the flare was launched from however, Avis could see a problem. Dozens of changelings were lying in crumpled messes. Some were embedded into walls; others look like they were covered in pieces of a tea set.

“Must be another squad of Royal Guards who were stationed farther away from the castle.” Avis told himself, no normal pony could do so much damage on their own.

The sound of pained chittering coming from one of the cafes below drew Avis’s attention as he begins to descent towards the cobbled roads and ravaged restaurant. The writing on the window read in Equestrian, “Fantaisie Schmancy Pantalon”. The drapes that were once weaved throughout the fenced patio were now ripped and torn from the ponies that ran away frantically for a place to hide.

Shaded tables were overturned with food and drink littered on the ground from the ponies that were in the middle of their meals.
The Captain landed outside the eatery that once catered to the Canterlot elite. Now it was nothing more than a broken husk that will soon be home to hungry cockroaches that have been denied entry for so long.

Gasps of a changeling in pain, the sound wood smashing against carapace led his eyes to the shop as he attempted to see the situation. Approaching the shop cautiously, Avis kept his eyes peeled for any sign of pony resistance.

Suddenly, the window on the front of the café was shattered, two bodies flying through the opening in a rain of shards.

A pony had grappled the body of the female changeling and used her like a battering ram to burst through the window and cushion the landing onto the street. When hitting the road the pony released the changeling and rolled away from her foe, putting her back to the ruined shop.

Captain Avis examined with unhidden shock at his castemate’s condition. The solider had her carapace broken in several places, with one of her back legs at extremely awkward angle. Her armour was warped and dented beyond repair. Green blood oozed lightly from the cuts from the glass shards from the landing.

Avis was finally able to see the pony clearly as she stood a fair distance away from him. A mare with lightly shaded dark coat with a mane of gunmetal grey. A perfectly maintained white collar and pink bowtie around her neck.

Avis met her eyes that have not left his body since her arrival onto the scene from inside of the shop. They were not wide with fear, nor burning with hatred or undisguised disgust at his presence. Her face was devoid of emotion. The changeling captain could not taste anything emanating from the mare as he let his senses roam.

The void of emotion from her could have almost let her pass as a disguised changeling. Almost.

Captain Avis spoke clearly and cleanly as he could in Equestrian with his two-tone voice. “Surrender.”

This was not a compromise, a threat, or even an ultimatum. It was a fact.

The mare did not make a clever retort or scoff at the offer. She simply remained a blank slate as she reared to her hindlegs in a rarely seen combat stance for her country. Her stance made the answer clear to anyling or pony.

A student of Taurian technique? Avis thought with caution, even the majority of the Royal Guards did not show that type of skill in combat. Reaching back in his mind for training years ago as a nymph, he remembered the skills and arts trainers taught him as he morphed the interior of his body. He moved to stand tall on his hindlegs as Avis used his powers to manually shift his focus of balance to his lower back.

If this pony knew the actual ways of minotaur combat, it would explain the amount of defeated changelings in the area. Especially the fellow solider now in a broken pile. This mare is a threat to the Hive, she must be dealt with. Avis’s eyes narrowed with his arms shoulder length apart.

Avis ran forward his left arm pulled back as he launches a fist at the mares head.

The grey mare swerves around the fist, her body leaning back slightly as she flows around Avis’s arm and she aims to hit him hard with her pointed hooves. Avis uses his right arm to parry the blow. He could feel the force through his carapace, bruising the soft flesh underneath.

Barely registering the pain, Avis uses his right arm to uppercut the grey mare. She pulls back, her mane flying forward with the momentum, sunlight reflecting off the luminous hair. She follows through with the motion using her arms to break her fall as her right leg whips out and hooks the changelings’ legs.

Avis collapses onto the paved road, landing on his side as the wind is knocked out of his body. From his position, Avis sees a strange mark on the mare’s right flank. The captain memorized the symbol before crawling backwards, dodging the scythe-like leg arching downwards where he was less than a second ago.

Once out of her reach, Avis rises to his hooves once more, as does the mare. She dodges everything he throws at her, all while weaving her way around his body.

Captain Avis starts to feel a flicker of…frustration at the movements of his enemy. “Stop moving.” He said under his breath. His horn begins to charge, green energy dancing up and down its curved shape.

The mare said nothing, her face betrayed no emotion, but Avis could taste a small hint of excitement in the air. Is that coming from her?
Avis’s horn fired green magic, sealant goo to ensnare the mare. Seeing the ray of slime, the grey mare eyes brightened in realization.

She did something drastic to protect herself from the trap. The bowtie wearing devil rolled forward and took hold of the unconscious changeling who was still on the ground between them and tossed her into the line of fire. The poor female became encased head to tail in the green slime, gluing her limbs to her body as she plopped onto the stone road.

Avis’s frustration at his opponent was growing for the changeling captain. He could feel a burning sensation building in his chest. It was strange, but he felt so empowered. Avis could taste something, familiar, yet it was not coming from his foe.

Sulfur.It clouded his senses, the source no where to be found. Yet he could feel his body reacting to it.

The mare flinched at the look of ire in the eyes of the changeling solider. She shuffled back a few steps, and then leapt to the side to duck for cover behind an upturned table from a flying kick from Avis.

Redirecting himself in mid-flight, Avis headed towards the wooden barrier between him and his target, only for it to suddenly turn right side up, making him collide at an awkward angle against the edge of the table, denting his armour and breaking through his shell and hitting directly to the muscle underneath.

Feeling pain to his soft insides, Avis gasped in agony briefly before jumping over the table and onto the mare.

The two fighters rolled across the patio floor, shards of tea ware and broken wood becoming tangled in their mane and wings. Each struggled for some type of advantage, hooves reaching out of the tumble for anything to aid them.

The heat in Avis’s chest was still building; the burning agony spreads from his heart to his limbs, making him feel stronger. Before the mare knew what had happened, they stopped rolling with Avis finally pinning his prey beneath him, pinning her legs with his own. Face to face, the changeling bared his fangs, dripping with saliva onto to her face. The mare barely registered the wet drips from the open mouth, seeing her current predicament as the least of her worries with her eyes locked beyond the changeling’s shoulder.

Sensing her prey’s lack of fear, Avis turned his gaze to where she had her focus. A pink dome made of pure love, the taste was off-puttingly sweet in the air, was spreading throughout Canterlot from the castle, where he was supposed to be in command and was to secure the area for the Queen. As the shield continues to expand at a terrifying rate, black stars fill the sky, being pushed away by the heartfelt power. Avis could feel a howl building in his throat upon realizing that they were not stars, but changelings being expelled through the sky at high speed.

Instead of being frightened, Avis only felt fire spreading in his body, rooting itself into his very soul. He turns his attention back to the mare raising his arms to deal the finishing blow.

A wave of pulsing love hits him, Avis digs his rear legs into the wooden patio, breaking through the wood and trying his best to grip the broken boards underneath the flooring. His upper body was being pulled to the sky, the dome stretching the very fabric of his being away from Canterlot. “No! Nononononono!” Avis starts to lose his grip as one of his legs comes breaks free of the floor boards.
Avis locked his gaze on the mare. The fire that burned within his heart had spread to his eyes, he could feel them change…they were no longer his own. “You caused this! You drew me away! You made me fail my hive! This isn’t over!” He continued to shout and rant, unaware of the words falling out of his mouth.

Blinded by the light of love, Avis’s grip on the patio finally slipped and was launched into the sky. Tumbling through the air, his mind was filled with only one thought. He was not thinking of his squad, his caste mates, which he left to secure the most volatile of Equestrian tools. Nor did he think of the Queen he swore fealty to who had been inside Canterlot Castle, the centre of the explosion. Not even the Hive that he sweared to protect and serve.

Avis could only see the mare with the grey mane. The reason he was pulled from his squad. The reason why the invasion failed.

Vinyl was lucky enough to hide in an empty case for one of her stereos. When she heard the bug-like screams sail through the air, she checked if it was finally safe enough by cracking open the case slightly to take look, and then went to search the city for other ponies.
Many were celebrating in the victory over the foreign invaders. Smiling at their joy, but refusing to stop in concern for her friend that left for lunch just before the shield broke. Vinyl made her way to the shopping district of Canterlot.

The creatures had come in force; the entire downtown area had been raided. Maneuvering pasts the crowds, Vinyl was finally found Octavia standing in the middle of road gazing at the sky.

“Oy Tavi?” Vinyl questioned.

"Octavia you okay?" Looking at her body, shards of glass in her mane and numerous cuts and scrapes on her body, patches of her fur smelled of a terrible mix sweet tea and bitter coffee. But in her eyes, Vinyl could see her mind still whirling from the attack.

Hearing no response, she waves her hoof in front of her eyes trying her attention. “Eques to Octavia, are you there?”

Octavia finally snapped herself free of her mind, seeing her friend she spoke apologetically, “Apologies Vinyl, I was just thinking about the creatures.”

“Those bug-ponies? They're pretty cool looking, I hear all lot of ponies calling them changelings.”

“Really…?” Octavia was still looking off into the sky.

“Yep, apparently they feed off love. Good thing we aren’t bumping uglies eh?” Vinyl said with a snicker, trying to get her friend’s attention with her special brand of conversation. “I mean imagine feeding of emotions like love and lust. Would that mean that food-play is an appetizer, and an orgy is a freaking buffet?” With no usual rebuttal about her crass language, Vinyl was starting to get real curious about Octavia. “Bit for your thoughts?”

Octavia finally pulled her eyes from the horizon, and gave a deep sigh before turning to her friend. “If they feed on emotions, then like foals, what happens when they eat an emotion that isn’t good for them?”

Author's Note

A/N: So another story staring Octavia and Vinyl. Also changelings because they are awesome. And fanfiction goldmine for the community. So I will be attempting to practice fight-scene choreography using this story here, so any advice on that side would be welcome.

Wrote this a month back, and thought may as well post this and work on it when I need a change of pace. Anyway, I can hear a few people stating how the guard captain was beaten pretty quick, but I did that because, well he had pun, so he didn’t really need much more going on for him.

Also Vinyl, I have so many crass jokes planned for you it is almost not funny.

Poison

The Badlands in the deep south of Equestria have always been quiet. Plants only sprouted in small specks here and there, where even the smallest pools of life-giving water gave them strength to grow in the harsh sun and wind. Let alone the merciless cold that awoke every night, prowling though the plains, unhindered by any shelter that the land could not provide. Hungry to dig its chilled fangs into any exposed flesh.

Groans of pain and agony emerged from each pony -framed crater in the plateau. The sun was only starting to set, yet the heat it was giving off was almost unbearable for creatures that had fur coats. Luckily for the changelings, that was not the case.

Changeling physiology is vastly different from most civilized creatures of Eques. While most creatures have sweat glands, the Hive society did not see the point of having them twenty-four seven.

One unfortunate harvester was lucky, instead of getting deeply entrenched into the ground; she actually had a patch of green slow her down speed enough for her to alter her landing so she ploughs across the dried earth instead of embedding herself into a deep hole.

Sadly that “patch of green” was a cactus patch.

A small put. “Ow.”

Another put. “Ow.”

Put. “Ow. What is the point of having a shell if we can still be annoyed by these blasted things?” She gave a heavy sigh as she cringed pulling the last of the cacti needles from her legs. Finally free of the little bits of pain that were digging into the fragile muscle beneath her shell, the harvester was finally able to give a little thought to her fellows in the various holes dotted across the landscape.

“Anyling awake yet?” She yelled, hoping to find someone to talk with.

“Here!” A voice called back, along with black foreleg was reaching up through a hole just a few steps away from her own trench in the dirt. Shakily rising to her hooves, she slowly made her way to the waving hoof and took hold with both her forelegs.

She leans over the hole to get a good look at the ling. A slightly battered male and judging from his smaller size, worker caste. She took a deep breath in, and out before saying, “I’m going to pull you out on the count of three, ready?”

“One.” The worker calls back, eager to be free as he starts the count.

“Two.” She replied.

“Three!” They said together. The male pushed up with all his might and the female gave a solid tug as she dug her hooves into the ground, pulling up the smaller changeling to levelled ground. Both were left huffing trying to get some air through in their lungs and weakened bodies. Though weakened, they felt different, than they were before the invasion.

The worker lazily looked with his big blue eyes to the female that helped him out of his dirt cage. Too tired to try and shake hooves, he said, “Thank you. I thought I would be stuck in there until the Hive would send rescue parties. Name’s Obero.”

“Trialla.” She said back with a smile, content to just sit back and rejuvenate under the sun. After a few minutes, Trialla started to notice a strange feeling, or lack of feeling in her stomach.

“Do you feel…full?” She asked the worker, noting her own state of hunger.

“…Yeah, I mean compared to the amount of love we had to ration and develop at the hive, this is amazing!” He jumped to his hooves, before collapsing with a grunt. “You know, minus the all the cracks and jagged bits of the shell poking where we are not suppose to be poked.

Both of the changelings lied down on the hot earth, taking in the intense heat of the sun as they rested their bodies before attempting to pry another changeling free of their hole. A high pitched whistling then reaches their ears; both the harvester and worker look to the sky and watch a black dot zooming towards the Badlands.

“Looks like someling caught the tailwind of the Love Burst.” Trialla said.

Obero looked at her, mirth in his tone. “Are we really going to call it that?”

“Yes, I am coining the term since I was the first one awake after it struck, so the early ling catches the morning fling.” Trialla said with a hint of a smile as they continued to watch the falling changeling.

“He is coming pretty slow though…” Obero squints his eyes, trying to see the rapid movements of the other changeling in the air, sunlight reflecting off something on his carapace. “Looks like a solider, and he’s buzzing his wings like no tomorrow.”

The harvester snorts, before saying, “Good luck with that, nearly tore mine apart just trying not end up in the dirt head first.” Trialla may have not been an avid flyer, but technique goes a long way when you watch pegasi while undercover.

Both changelings watch as the falling solider’s speed begins to slow as he heads toward the Badlands, particularly close to the duo. The worker was the first to see it in his trajectory. “Look out!” Obero tackled the female beside him, forelegs around her waist. He roughly pushes her off to the side, along with him, as the tumble away. A mere moment later, the solider crashes right where they were sitting, an explosion of dirt and clouds from the impact.

The dirt settled, revealing something extremely unsettling. The solider that had crashed down was still conscious after the impact. His armour, or what was left of it, was nothing more than a badly battered helmet, and grey paldurons that were still tied to his shoulders a piece of rope as thick as a spider’s web. Surprising that even after the high speed expulsion from Equestrian lands that any grey steel managed to stay together after being thrown clear of Equestria.

While any other changeling was knocked out cold and three feet under, this one was wide awake. His eyes constantly moving, focusing on anything and everything, before locking onto the pair of changelings from the lower castes just at the lip of his crater. The look deep within his large eyes sending fearful shivers rattling through their shells.

To the amazement of the harvester and worker, the solider then commanded, his tone cold commanding, lacking any warmth.

“Get me on my hooves.”

Centuries of societal education and instinct kick in, forcing them to obey the orders of the higher caste of the Hive. The two changelings clamber into the crater, rushing to to complete the given orders.

They pull him to his hooves, Trialla begins to brush off the dust. “Are you okay? Looks like you got yourself a big dose of-ERK!” Her words were caught in her throat, caused by two hooves wrapped around her neck stopped them from getting out.

“What the hay are you doing?!” Obero exclaimed, not noticing the shimmering around the solider’s horn before being blasted back by a stream of green into a gooey mess of limbs a few feet away.

Now that the annoyance was taken care of, Avis turned his steely gaze back to the choking female in front of him. He could feel her legs kicking frantically against his cracked carapace, her struggles getting weaker with every passing second.

Deciding that she had enough, Avis letting his hooves loosen up on her throat, but still keeping her up off the ground and still in Avis’s control. He bared his fangs; a low guttural growl came from his throat in the form of a question. “Where are the ponies?”

The harvester frantically tried to speak, the lack of air in her lungs only allowing gasps to pass through her open mouth as she points in the same direction the swarm was launched from Canterlot. “Th-Th-There.” She finally sputters; her eyes widen even more at a flicker
within the hostile changelings large-once blue eyes.

The colour Trialla could see in Avis's eyes now, froze the blood in her veins.

Avis continues to stare at the lower caste, then tosses her to the side as she lands with a disgustingly plop beside the worker in a sticky green mess.

Avis flaps his wings only to rise a few feet in the ear before crashing to ground with a barely noticeable grunt. He snarls and looks to the offending appendages, noticing the teared membrane, forcing Avis grounded to his destination beyond the horizon. He continues to trudge his way, ignoring the weak cries of help from changeling holes dotting the landscape around him.

The two changelings that did see Avis up close understand completely what was wrong with the solider caste.

The worker begins to move, thankful that changeling shells are natural resistant to the goo compounds. “Was that what I think was?” He questioned to himself, forgetting his comrade still struggling to breathe next to him.

Finally able to get her breathe back, the harvester nods, “It looks like someling got his hooves on unprocessed food.” She shook her head at what has become of the solider. As a harvester, she is constantly among other races, collecting love, happiness and other emotions for the hive. “This is why I am glad I’m not cooped up in the hive; if he knew what the heck he stuck his nose into this would never have to happen. Let alone what he has done to himself.”

“What do you mean?” The worker questioned, rocking his body back and forth, gaining inches in either direction with every motion, before freeing his back from its ensnarement of sludge.

Pulling his wings free of the goop, buzzing filled the air as he lifts himself clear of the mess. Obero then hovers over the mess and pulls the Harvester free as well. “I’ve heard stories of what unfiltered emotions do to us, but I never knew that the change could be so drastic…”

“Ah you see that is the thing, both of our castes have been taught about what each emotion does for us and how it affects our systems. Anger is far too unpredictable to ever used, and now that poor male is going to burn himself out till he is nothing more than an empty husk.” Trialla's voice starts to rise in volume, completely disregarding her terrifying experience just minutes prior. “And maybe if he is lucky, he will find whoever he is trying to hunt down and get all that rage out of his before he collapses after travelling for days just to get to the nearest pony town.”

Obero watches Avis as he continues to get smaller and smaller walking farther away from them. “So just like the tales for when the solider caste was numerous, when the hive was almost shattered into civil war by Monstruos Rabia. How long do you think until he turns completely?”

“I give him a week, maybe two.”

Octavia’s saddlebag was packed neatly with her wear for her week-long trip to Manehatten. Clothes were packed neatly and tightly, along with necessary items for The Royal Orchestra’s first big concert since The Grand Galloping Gala. She pulls out an empty bag of junk food that had not been there a moment before. “Vinyl, I ask that you do not use my bags as a trash bin.”

Vinyl free-throws a can from couch and would have sink into the kitchen wastebasket, if not for the overflowing pile of trash already there. She swears under her breath as Octavia walks into the room with her bags shut and cello case beside her.

“You are going to need to take the trash out eventually and I will not be doing for it for you.” Octavia says, taking in the sight of the full trash bin and bits of garbage around the room. Wrappers, chip bags, and microwave dinners covered the floor, only small bits of blue carpet stood out as small islands among the sea of mess.

“Don’t worry Tavi, I am just relaxing after that big gig at the wedding. Besides, I thought you would at least rest up a bit too after the invasion?”

“I am fine; the Orchestra can only play at perfection when all members are accounted for. And perfection is what we need; this show has been advertised all over Equestria and I will not allow a small skirmish in the capital change my plans.”

“That’s true, I’ve heard you guys have posters, radio shows, heck even cloud writing from Appleloosa to Rainbow Falls. Besides it would be pretty hard not to notice the beautiful mare,” Vinyl Scratch’s eyebrows wiggle suggestively over the black rims of her purple shades. “Headlining the group on every single poster.”

“Vinyl…”

“What? I’m just saying if they didn’t want Equestria to know your name, they shouldn’t have plastered everywhere ponies look. Besides, think of all the stallions that are looking at your picture right now and drooling over you. You might even have groupies!” Vinyl snickered at the thought of ponies prostrating themselves before her friend’s cold demeanor.

Octavia shakes her head as she makes her way out of their home and trots toward the train station. Not wanting to know what was going on inside her friend’s imagination.

Vinyl suddenly appears in the doorway, “And remember Tavi, if you talk to any high class ponies just ask yourself, what would my sexy beast, Vinyl, do in this situation?”

"Not follow any social graces and etiquette required", Octavia thought to herself.“Good bye Vinyl Scratch.” Octavia called back, without even turning her head to acknowledge her.

“And bring home a stallion. Faust knows your bed needs to be broken in.”

“Good bye Vinyl Scratch.” The grey mare voice struggled, as she refused to rise to her friends bait.

“And remember our talk, kinky is just another way of saying strangely affectionate.”

Octavia twists herself around and glares the gutter mare. “VINYL!” Octavia scans the road quickly; hoping nopony noticed her friend’s comment, thankfully a quiet afternoon.

The unicorn was guffawing like no tomorrow at actually pushing Octavia to one of her very rare outbursts. “See ya in week! And I know you’ll miss me!”

Author's Note

A/N: Okay, first off, I feel and know that this chapter is not to the same bar set by the previous one. But I am attempting to keep a schedule with this one. Which means personal banns from reading/games/tv/ and other things that are non-lfe essitential at this time. With this chapter you can kind of see me reference changeling culture and history without a big block of text. At the same time a small snippet of Octavia’s character, which will basically be shown in her entirety in the next chapter. Don’t worry, there is a plan. Just needs to be written out.

Chameleons and Oranges

As the curtain fell with the final note, Octavia took a breath as she relaxed the muscles in her back and legs after standing for what felt like the entire week. Feeling the rush of blood circulating through her body made her close her eyes and embrace the sensation. Perhaps she was out of practice, and form, from not having any shows since The Grand Galloping Gala last year.

Octavia felt a shudder run through her body, reliving the feeling of Pinkie Pie manhandling herself and members of her former quartet.

That show being a complete and utter disaster thanks to a certain group of ponies. It was a nightmare finding another ensemble to join after such a fiasco. When the conductor approached Octavia only a few months back, she thought she finally had her big break after the Gala incident.

“Oh Octavia dear!” A rather shrill voice called out, causing her to open her eyes in surprise.
But when she saw the conductor heading her way with a few ponies with a rather proud look on his face, she finally saw the real reason he was so adamant about having her meet them.

“Oh Octavia, it has been so long darling.” With a mane tied into a high tower of orange folding trusses and quite possible a few beams for structural integrity hidden from the public, was the rather famous Mangirine. Orange. “I never knew you joined Royal Orchestra, it is a wonderful coincidence that I passed along such a riveting request to the theater to invite such a prestigious company to perform.”

In her mind, Octavia took a deep breathe to calm down before she addressed the one pony she wished to avoid while in Manehattan.
“I know darling, but that simply cannot be helped. With a career such as my own, one can hardly visit with the constant trips throughout the country.” The words rolled on Octavia’s tongue like a piece of bubble-gum. No joy, no taste, just simple routine to the situation as Octavia continued to “chew” words with the noble belle. “It has been so long since I have seen my good friend, The Lady of Manehatten, but you know how it is with being wanted everywhere, but there is only so much one mare can do.”

Lady Orange gave a small chuckle, “Quite right my dear, quite right.” A tiny glint shimmered in her cyan eyes. “Speaking of being wanted, I heard that you had a falling out with your quartet after the Gala last year.” While those were the words that Mrs. Orange said, what Octavia heard, “So you got kicked out of the quartet after you couldn’t perform before the Princess herself.”

“Then again,” Orange whispered over to her compatriots but clearly loud enough for Octavia to hear, “You are your mother’s daughter.” The statement was said in such a satiric tone, that a few of the older mares stifled a chuckle.

Octavia eyes narrowed, but she did not say anything in response. She took a quick breath before pulling up the façade that had become second nature in this social circle.

Octavia smiled, “It simply could not be helped, but wasn’t your niece one of the special guests of Celestia?” Octavia taps her chin in false thought, letting a false smile dance across her face. “Applejack was her name, I believe?”

Before Lady Orange could do a delightful rebuttal, her friends were already whispering amongst themselves.

“Oh my, the farmer who was selling her quaint little treats right on the lawn of Canterlot Castle?”

“That’s right! Isn’t she personal friends with Princess Celestia’s personal protégé?”

Margarine Orange was soon bombarded with questions from her entourage. With the attention finally off her, Octavia stayed close to the wall until the mindless chatter from the mares barely echoed behind the stage.

The burden of carrying her cello became all the more lighter without the suffocating presence of the upper-class ponies. She maneuvered her way past the various lights and sets before she finally pushed through the stage entrance and into the blissfully silent evening.Ponyville may be the quiet town my father always wanted to live in, but I think he never was able to understand the rare few peaceful moments of Manehattan.

Pieces of trash and paper danced through the alley at the whim of the wind. The crisp breeze was felt refreshing against Octavia’s face.
She took a deep breath, letting the cold night air reach down into the core of her being.

Clip

Clop

Clip

Clop

Octavia’s hooves echoed through the alley with every step.

Clip

Clop

Clip...Clip
Her ears flinched back, before her body kicked in gear. Octavia hit the ground hard, and avoided a dumpster that flew through the air where her head once was. Jumping back to her hooves, Octavia twirled around, holding her case before her like a shield. Her eyes scanned the back of the alley.

“Whose there?” Her voice was levelled. Calm. Octavia did not want to give her enemy any satisfaction from the surprise attack.

“Octavia Melody…” Her name came with a heavy wheeze. A cloaked pony walked forward.

Knowing her name was not a surprise, not with all the posters plastered across the country. But something was definitely off about this pony. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want any trouble.”

Her words seemed to have no effect on the stranger. He continued toward her, the small rays of light in the alleyway illuminated more of the cloaked pony. No horn on his head, or wings on his back.

So no surprises then.

“Octavia Melody. Octavia Melody.” He kept repeating her name over and over, the tone. As if it was the only thing that mattered.
He stumbled forward, but caught himself. But not his hood. It fell back, revealing his face. Red across the muzzle with red eyes. His coat shifted from red to blue, yet the eyes remained the same.

Trick of the light? Octavia questioned herself, though her instincts were screaming at her to be alert. For it was no trick of the night.
His ears shrunk and grew, his eyes shifted in size before her very eyes. Finally freckles appeared on his face, only to tear right off his
coat revealing specks of black skin beneath them.

But it was something far worse. Soon more of his coat followed as slowly started to burn its way off his body, like ashes off a dying flame, revealing the blackened shell underneath it all.

A changeling.

Normal ponies would have gasped and fled. To listen to the deepest part of their natural instincts as a creature of prey and run as far as they could for as long as they could. Octavia had learned long ago to lock up such things deep down, away from the surface.

She needed to make a stand. Dozens of his fellows couldn’t stop her in Canterlot, what chance does this one have by himself?
Octavia watched her approaching opponent warily as she laid her cello against the wall. A pair of distant red eyes stared back. She pulled herself onto her hind legs, waiting for the first strike.

Then he lunged forward, his horn pointing downward attempting to gourd Octavia then there. Pivoting to the side and striking her hoof into his back. Much to her own surprise, her hoof broke through his carapace with relative ease. The way it crumbled from her attack, shocked Octavia. It took a lot more than when she fought them before.

The changeling continued forward, the broken shell on its back did nothing to slow him down, let alone cause him any pain. With an abrupt turn, he skidded to a stop his eyes still focused completely on Octavia.

“Octavia Melody. Octavia Melody.” The haunting resonance in his voice only added to the chill in the air as he continued to chant her name. Octavia watched him crouch low to the ground, only for him spring toward her.

Seeing him flying through the air toward her Octavia moved to one side knowing he couldn’t change his trajectory quick enough-
She could not finish the thought as all the air in her lungs was forced out of her body from heavy blow to her stomach.

As Octavia crumbled to ground gasping for air, the changeling was already back into the shadows of the alley, steadily making his way toward her yet again.

While her lungs fought for air, Octavia’s mind was racing. How did he move that fast? Even fliers can’t change direction that quickly.
Her eyes were soon blocked by a black hoof descending towards her head at a deadly speed. She rolled to the side, avoiding the death blow. The hoof cracked down on the pavement, shards of carapace falling off his leg. The only sign of the pain even registering in his mind was the way he moaned her name loudly into the dark.

Octavia cringed, her barrel was in agony, and the roll did not help. She pushed past the pain and jumped back to her hooves.
She needed to end this now.

Her foe was strong, but while his face was blank, his body was barely functioning; both of his right legs were buckling under his weight, probably broken from just the amount of force he was using.

Octavia went on the offensive, and ran straight toward him hoping her weight could give her an advantage to pin her enemy and put an end to this before she ran out of time.

She collided into the cloaked changeling like a runaway train. Both bodies smashed into the wall and tumbled ground. Octavia raised her hoof to bludgeon the changeling into submission, but halted her foreleg.

He was out cold.

She slowly removed herself from his body, but underneath his cloak she could feel parts of him…pulsating.

Refusing to be caught off guard again she carefully removed his clothing. What lied under it made her taste bile, she covered her mouth
to stop any of the night’s food from making reappearance.

Chunks of his carapace were missing, revealing the grey flesh that pulsed with every shallow breath. Veins visible through the mass of flesh. Except for his face, his entire shell was covered in spider web cracks and chips missing everywhere she looked. His barrel was practically deflated. His stomach possibly shriveled, the green membrane was concave on his body.

There were only two ways he could go when he awoke in his terrible condition. Down the alleyway, surrounded by walls that loomed ever taller the closer a pony got to them. The suffocating dark was only held at bay by the small light above, the bulb flickering as it grew closer to death. When it finally snuffs itself out, no one will notice, no one will care.

Yet the other way was brighter. Street lights shone brightly, bathing the road in a constant light. FF they were to ever to flicker, they would be fixed within a blink of an eye, ponies are efficient that way. Yet, when most ponies find a problem, they take it upon themselves to solve it. They would poke and prod, and when that fails the courageous few would want to pry it open to look inside.

Regardless of the danger.

Two ways to go. One, alone in the dark with Death knocking upon his door. The other, in light to be found by others, but could such a creature be pacified? Lifting her head away from the unconscious changeling beneath her hooves, Octavia saw the hundreds of windows that looked down onto the very sidewalk she stood. So many eyes can appear at any moment.

Octavia took a deep breathe, and sighed.

Click.

--------

Pain.

Vinyl sealed her eyes shut. A valiant attempt to keep Celestia’s shining grace from delivering more of its unholy light into the confines of her muddled head. Vinyl wished she died last night in a happy bliss instead of this painful awakening.

That is the last time I go to a Pinkie-Berry Mixer Blender.

Pulling herself up from her would-be coffin, Vinyl shambled to the kitchen to make the only thing that could bring her back up to a full trot.
Coffee and toast. Lots of toast.

Using the wall to keep herself from falling flat on her face, Vinyl dragged herself down the hall one hoof in front of the other. She stopped in front of door before she proceeded to pound the living daylights out of it. “Taaavvviii…I’m making toast and coffee, want some? You probably had a rough night taking the last train home.”

Hearing nothing from inside the room, Vinyl took that as an invitation to go and check on her friend. Her horn lights up, the door slowly opens.

Wait a sec.

Vinyl shuts the door. She scans it up and down, squinting through the mental haze.

No music note. Treble cleft I think it’s called? That would’ve been embarrassing barging into an empty room screaming for her.
With a wobbly turn, the door in question was now right in front of her.

Big ol’ music note. Check!

Without further ado, Vinyl pushed the door open and with a complete disregard of personal space, waltzed right into the room. “Morning…” She looked at the bed. “Tavi?” Vinyl finished.

Unable to process the scene that laid before her without proper food and drink, Vinyl made a decision.

With an abrupt turn that had both grace and subtlety that Vinyl never knew she was capable even when sober, she walked out of
the room and with utmost consideration, she lightly closed the door.

Wide-eyed, she resumed her trek to the kitchen, hoping some food and some strong brown mud would help her make sense of what she just saw in Octavia’s room.

In the kitchen was Octavia grilling a few eggs on a pan. Using the spatula between her teeth to flip them over.

Neither said a word as Vinyl took a seat at the table and Octavia placed a plate of toast and a cup of black coffee in front.

“Octavia.” Vinyl said, “Why is there a changeling strapped to your bed?”

Author's Note

Alright, it has been quite a few months since this has been updated. I apologized to the few people who started to follow the story back when it it intially started. If you like to know more about why this was so long coming, please check out the latest blog post.

Now as for the story itself, I am trying to get back into the swing of chapters instead of the usual one-shot. So cutting down on information that will be revealed later on, compared to you will know what the heck that was about in the same sitting. And look whose still kicking after his estimated time of death! Such determination, or a lucky break?

Also if anyone is interested, I am looking for a proof-reader/editor/idea net for my stories. Send me a PM if interested.

Of Plot and Cracks

Author's Note

Trying a different way of making paragraphs, makes it easier then going through and manually adding the spacing in-between. Do you still find it easier to read this way, or perfer the other? At the same time I will be going through the previous chapters for any large errors. Still no editor/proofreader. So I just continue to sit here....

Alone....

Of Plot and Cracks

“For the last time Vinyl, I DID NOT have sex with that changeling!”

After an entire morning of being pestered, Octavia still has not given Vinyl a straight answer on who, why and how a broken, possibly starving changeling had ended up in her bed tied to bed poles.

Granted she hadn’t asked why it looks like he was lying on the floor at the mosh pit, but its early in the morning! The brain is still catching up to the facts, while the imagination hit the ground running.

“Seriously Octavia, why the heck is he here?” Vinyl asked, the absurdity of her previous questions forgotten as her face turned serious. “Why didn’t you bring the poor guy to the hospital, he looks like he’s ready to kick the bucket. I mean what if somepony saw you drag him in here like this?”

She darted over to the window and parted the curtain slightly with her hoof as she scanned the road. “No sign of Changeling Affairs, Twilight Sparkle…”

“He shouldn’t go to hospital.” Octavia said, with a small grunt as she leaned against the wall for support. “There is nothing to be worried about. No one saw him come in and he was alone and he probably has no idea where he was when we…” Octavia chose her next word carefully. “Met.”

“Then how did you get him in here without anyone noticing? I mean, the dude is the same size as you.”

Octavia did not reply, she turned toward the door with a wistful look in her eyes. Vinyl followed her gaze to an empty cello case leaned against the wall. Her eyes widened. “Tavi…” She said softly, “Did you stuff him into your cello case?” Unable to believe that her friend’s prized cello was no where in sight. She must have stuffed him in their pretty tight, but just leaving behind her cello for him...
Shaking her head in disbelief, Vinyl made her way to the front door. “There is something wrong here Tavi. You can’t lock him up in here with a dang good reason. I’m going to Twilight.”
“Please don’t.”
She pulled the door open. “I can’t hear you. There is a lotta bullcrap coming from somepony in this room.” Vinyl added, not even looking in Octavia’s direction.
“Please…it’s important.”
A small hitch in Octavia’s voice gave Vinyl pause. She was always so stoic. Vinyl was only able to get a rise out of her because she let it happen, even when they were kids. To hear her sound so weak, it almost broke Vinyl’s heart, let alone the fact that she gave up her cello for him.

Considering the fact it was a gift from the big guy back home, she must really have a good reason for this. She thought. With an exasperated huff, Vinyl hung her head already regretting the choice she was making. Jeez, is it even possible to say no that voice. “Alright Tavi, you win. I can’t say no when you look sadder than dog without a bone.” Tossing caution into the wind, Vinyl closed the door in caution’s face and hoped it would enjoy the company of Octavia’s common sense on the curb.

Octavia stared at her. Still having a hard time even processing the fact that she is willingly to go along with her. Vinyl was ready to risk so much, her career, her freedom…

Just because she asked her to trust her.

A small smile broke past the mask that she has worn for over a decade. Her eyes closed, basking in the rare bit of gratitude that Octavia has taken for granted for years.

“You are a true friend, Vinyl Scratch.”

A warm embrace was the only response. Octavia opened her eyes to a blue mane and a white neck as Vinyl hugged her tight. Octavia relaxed into the loving embrace. She could felt the throbbing pain of her broken ribs ebb away. Knowing it was the right thing to do, Octavia was just about to return the hug. Her leg was just a hair’s width away from Vinyl’s white coat.

“You know that your plot is mine if we end up in jail right?”

And there goes the moment.

Octavia reared her head back so fast that she felt she could add whiplash to her list of injuries. “Excuse me?”

“I need to show all those mares when we end up in the slammer who the new top pony is. Gotta protect my assets you know.” The cocky grin on her muzzle was all the motivation that Octavia needed to go and check on her guest. With a heavy sigh, she headed toward her room, feeling more self-conscious than usual.

Vinyl waited until Octavia left the room to stifle the chuckle in behind her grin. She is so straight, that it’s adorable. She thought her mind already at work at just what else she can say to get her uppity friend to relax a bit. She seemed pretty high strung about this.

Before she could finish an idea involving a riding crop and a visit with the Spa Twins, Octavia rushed past her and out the door before she could even ask what the problem was.

Huh, that can’t be good. Vinyl thought, she casually trotted to Octavia’s room to see what put a fire in her legs. Heck, she was acting like the changeling escaped, but the dude was practically a sack of muscle. What could possibly go wrong?

And with those words in her head, Vinyl strode into Octavia’s room and upon seeing the bed, cursed the universe with its cruel sense of humour.

Vinyl could only say one thing after looking at the open window and the empty bed.

“I am so going to wreck her plot in prison.”

Avis felt sweat pouring down his face, but it was nothing to worry about. It was simply a hot day. No, what he should really worry about is the way these ponies kept looking at him, and their incessant questions.

“Are you okay?” or “Do you need help?”

It was infuriating.

He is a member of solider caste! He will never need aid from the livestock like some gatherer hiding in their towns like a tick under a rabbit’s skin. He is a wolf. If he sees something he likes, he will seize it and no meddlesome pony can stop him. It is his right as a solider.

Avis could feel their eyes linger on him, there all planning something. They can see through his disguise and will finish him off the moment he lets his guard down. The thought was a reminder to keep up the façade of the bland earth pony.

That grey mare, its all her fault that he was even here isn’t? Finally found her after weeks of travelling, stowing away in train cars and moving only at night. She needed to pay for what happened in Canterlot.

Avis continued to feverishly rant to himself, cursing the mare that brought him here and the very society that she was a part of.

He failed to notice the buildings of the Ponyville slowly being replaced by trees and bushes. He felt his disguise weaken and crumble, leaving him bare to the world once more. The birds and animals fled at the sight of him, his hooves making a visible path through the grass beneath him.

“Wait.”

Avis stopped. That voice. It was the only thing he remembered after he blacked out in Manehatten. The smouldering fire in his heart blazed once more, he turned to face the source, his mouth in an open snarl as he bared his fangs. “Octavia Melody!” The name was a vile poison to him.

Unfazed, she met his piercing gaze with indifference, the slight breeze blowing through her mane. “You are in no shape to move. You need to rest.”

Avis scoffed at her words. Rest? He is a changeling solider. Rest is for the weak and frail waiting for the end. “I don’t need rest. The only thing I need is you, beaten and defeated by my own hooves.” He dug his hooves into the ground beneath him, “There will be no Love Burst to save you this time.”

He charged forward, his horn poised to stab Octavia straight through the heart. She stood her ground as he got closer and closer…

Smack!

His head jolted to the left, missing his target completely as he lost his balance and collided against the ground. Clumps of grass filled his mouth. He spat it out to glare at Octavia.

She never moved from her spot. Only difference was a single raised, ready to strike again. “I never needed to be saved from you.”

Avis rushed at her again.

Smack!

He could feel blades of grass poking at the exposed muscle under his broken carapace.

Octavia continued to speak, “I am a better fighter than you.”

As soon as Avis was back on his hooves, he was brought right back down onto the ground. Yet he continued to persevere, he kept trying to hit Octavia, and every time he was knocked back down to the earth. She just kept talking.
“Did you learn anything from our fight in Manehattan? You can’t beat me.”
Smack.

“You don’t even feel the pain anymore do you? Your broken shell is probably the only reason why you’re not a pile bruised tissue waiting to shrivel in the sun.

Smack.

“At least animals try to run when they know they can’t win. You are not even worth calling a mindless beast.”

Smack.

“Do you really think beating me will turn back time? That Equestria will surrender to you for beating a single mare in a childish brawl?”

Smack.

Tired of her constant taunting, Avis had enough. He roared, “You’re no warrior!” His ragged breathing filled the woods.

Octavia said nothing, waiting till Avis caught his breath. “That’s right, I’m not a warrior.” She backed away from him slowly. She showed him her left flank, exposing her clef note cutie mark to him. “I am a musician, an artist. So what kind of a warrior does that make you?”

Those words hammered into Avis’s heart, shattering it into pieces. With all the strength he could muster, he blindly ran at Octavia, he never noticed nor cared when she quickly turned around and pulled her legs back, ready to face his oncoming charge.

“So how is he Nurse Redheart?” Vinyl asked.

When Vinyl pounded down her door this afternoon about a medical emergency, Redheart was expecting some poor pony had an accident in the Everfree. There are so many cases of it that it is almost routine. She did expect to see an unconscious changeling on Octavia’s bed spread covered in numerous bruises and barely breathing.

“Let’s see…His carapace was too far gone. I had to remove every piece of it, or there would be a risk of the jagged edges cutting into the muscles, causing extreme irritation and possible long-term tissue damage. Speaking of the tissue, there are multiple contusions across his body, the one on his face is highly alarming and he is lucky there is no internal bleeding.” Redheart paused, as she made a quick peek up from her clipboard to check Vinyl’s reaction.

Vinyl met her gaze, lips pursed in a frown, but her eyes hidden behind her glasses.

Nurse Redheart continued “The patient is also suffering from an extreme withdrawal of both love and the necessary protein to rebuild the deteriorating muscle. It seems like he hasn’t eaten in roughly a week and there evidence of an unknown poison slowly being filtered out of his body.”

Vinyl’s face turned a few shades whiter, she whispered under her breathe, “Damn.”

“Is there anything you aren’t telling me, Ms. Scratch? The more you can tell me what has happened to him, the more we can help him.”

“W-Well,” Vinyl stuttered, “There was a timberwolf attack in Whitetail Woods and Octavia was saved by that guy there.”

Redheart double-checked her notes before saying anything to the mare in front of her. She was never really fond of doing house calls, and this one seems really suspicious. “I would highly recommend that he was brought to the hospital immediately-“

Vinyl waved off her concern with a hoof. “Yeah, we can’t do that. So we’ll keep him her with us. Me and Tavi have quite a bit of free time for the next little while so it’s all good.”

Nurse Redheart furrowed her brow. “That’s not what I mean Ms. Scratch. He needs serious medical help that just isn’t available here in Ponyville. Canterlot is better equipped to handle Changeling patients-“

“Nope. That’s the reason why I went to get you Redheart. I think he is on the run and last thing he needs is to be caught by the man. Besides, weren’t all medical professionals given a course in “Changeling Health and Hospitalization” after the incident at Canterlot Palace?

Swallowing the growl in her throat, Redheart said calmly, “A week of lectures and books does not make a pony an instant expert on the subject. He cannot-“

“He got hurt saving Octavia from a timberwolf attack in Whitetail Woods; we want to help him get back on his hooves. It’s the least we can do to show our appreciation.”

I have a really hard time believing that, it looks like he got beaten to a pulp instead of a vicious animal attack. Redheart thought to herself. Just before she could call out Vinyl’s obvious tall tale, Octavia called out to her.

“Nurse Redheart,” Grabbing her attention, Octavia stood up from her seat on the couch and made her way to the Nurse. “I know this seems extremely unorthodox but, you should have seen him he was conscious. He…he was not okay. Something terrible happened to him and it affected his health greatly as you can see.” Octavia paused before continuing, but there was something off with her tone. “I want to help him get back on his feet, what happened in the woods…was my fault.”

Now Nurse Redheart did not have an ear to the grapevine per say, but hearing Octavia actually talk was new one for her. But here she is sticking up for a changeling that saved her in Whitetail Woods.

“Please,” Octavia pleaded. “Let us look after him.” In her years as a nurse, Redheart has learned to see signs of a pony's attitude; it gave her an idea of just what she was just about to get into. Now as Octavia said these words, Nurse Redheart could see her determination, even with her wrapped ribs she stood her ground. But in her eyes, Redheart could only see one thing.

Guilt. Over what, she could not say, but if a pony feels guilty about causing harm to another, then they could be trusted to do the right thing.

Choosing to ignore everything she has learned in medical school, Redheart said, "Okay, I won’t have him moved to Canterlot.”

Both Octavia and Vinyl sighed in relief. The former more than the latter.

“But, that means I will be stopping by every day to check on the patient and both of you will need to know how to help him in case of an emergency?”

“Understood.” Octavia said.

“Okay then.” Nurse Redheart packed p her tools and supplies. “He is stable for now and starting tomorrow I will bring over some artificial affection to help him heal. Now you two have a good night and if anything happens come and get me immediately, understood?”

Vinyl chipped in, “Crystal clear!”

If you feel yourself becoming emotional, focus on your notes and imagine your reading a term paper back in college. You have to desensitise yourself a bit if you are going to work in a hospital. Redheart has never been so happy that she took Doctor Horse’s words to heart, now she just wants to curl up on the couch with box of chocolates and a good book and worry about this tomorrow.

Inaction

Author's Note

New Rules
"Talking"
"Thinking"

So after practically a year, this story has been updated. I have a personal mission to finish this before the end of my summer break from school, so expect another update soonish.

Inaction

The shrill whistle of the kettle sounded loudly in the kitchen, the steam flowed outward to resemble a heart. The high-pitched noise was quickly silenced as Octavia removed the pot from the stove and poured the concoction into a prepared mug that sat upon an elegant plate.

With years of practise, Octavia picked the plate up gently with her mouth and headed towards her room with the very specific herbal tea. She gave a polite knock against the wood frame as she looked toward the heavily bandaged occupant sitting upright in her bed. Octavia always liked her privacy, she chose to have tinted windows in her bedroom to give herself a place away from curious eyes. She was far more thankful now that she has a rare houseguest that may cause something of a panic if seen.

“Good morning.” Octavia said. Taking the silence as the usual sign of greeting, she trotted into the room and placed the tea onto the bedside table. She then pulled forward the basket that was stored beneath the bed. “Time to change those bandages.”

Octavia unwrapped and rewrapped the changeling while she attempted to make some small talk.

“Your carapace is coming back, though it is a bit later than Nurse Redhart predicted…”

“I hope you’re not too bothered by Vinyl’s music, she was really trying to keep it quiet, but she gets so antsy
when it’s too quiet for too long…”

“Have you heard about the new changeling advisor in Canterlot? Apparently he represents one of the other hives and is looking to help any deserters that attacked the Canterlot a month back…”

Octavia continued to speak while she hoped for some type of reaction from her guest. But he continued to stare blankly at the air in front of him. He only acknowledged her presence when she aided him as he drank his tea. “Now that your shell is growing back, it will only be a few more days before you can get out of bed. Perhaps go for a walk and see Ponyville?”

The changeling continued to stare at the wall.

Octavia refused to let her frustration show as she held in a heavy sigh. She gathered the refuse and turned to leave the room, but not before she said, “May I have your name?”

With the slightest twitch, the changeling turned his head away from the wall and looked outside.

"Refuses to even look at me, but at least he acknowledges that I’m here." Octavia thought. At least it was an improvement.

Vinyl casually sipped her morning coffee at the table as she tapped along to a beat that Octavia believed to be part of a constant party going on in her head. He stopped as Octavia entered the kitchen. “Soooo did he say anything today?”

“No.” Octavia said. Her mouth then turned into a tight smile. “Though he did turn away when I asked for his name.”

“So he went from being a dunce to an ass. Good to hear.” She cackled.

Octavia’s smile turned to a grimace. “Progress is progress Vinyl. I will take whatever I can after a week of him staring at the wall.”

“He can at least tell you his name. Calling him changeling all the time makes me feel like he’s our prisoner.”

Octavia bit her tongue from telling Vinyl how right she really was. "He is a prisoner, just not to us." “In any case, I want to make sure our guest doesn’t starve so I am going to visit Redhart to get some more tea.”

“Fine, leave me alone with a strong, capable stallion in your bed. He might force me to sacrifice my supple virgin body...”

“You have been saying that for the past week, and like always you will be fine.” She opened the door to a bright and beautiful morning. “Please, we both know that you are hardly a virgin.” With those parting words, Octavia closed the door behind her, happy to get the final word at her roommate.

As she turned around her nose was assaulted by the pungent smell of fresh paint. Her neighbors across the road wanted to celebrate the coming of summer by having their entire house painted professionally.

Slap “Oy! Watch it ya dunderhead!”

Octavia only wished that that they made a better choice about the company in their employ.

“Who you calling dunderhead?” One stallion rebuked.

“Me you nincompoop!” said the other.

“Hey, you aren’t a dunderhead and he isn’t a nincompoop. Your both ignoramuses.” said the mare.

The brawl that ensued had the three painters frantically waving their forelegs around as they attempted to slap some sense into each other. One fellow got a good size hit underneath his chin, it brought his flank down hard on a board with a nail sticking out in all of its tetanus spreading glory.

The resulted yelp made the stallion practically rocket skyward, the brush was tossed away so he could voice his displeasure. The brush twirled high in the sky, end over end, droplets of green paint flickered onto the ground. All three painters stopped their bickering and watched their tool fly through the sky in an awed trance. With impressive accuracy, it arced over the road as the paintbrush made an extremely audible slap against Octavia’s bedroom window.

All three painters shamefully turned towards the mare that owned said window. Octavia waited for them to collect themselves as they shuffled towards her.

“Gosh, real sorry for that Miss Octavia.”

“Don’t worry about the mess.”

Knowing that they will take responsibility for their actions, Octavia opened her mouth to thank them-

“We’ll clean that up right away.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She said rather curtly. Octavia chided herself internally at the flicker of hurt upon their faces. “My apologies, I did not mean to sound rude. What I mean to say is that you don’t need to worry about such a small fleck of paint. I would not want for you to waste your time on such a trivial task when you still have so much work to do.” Everyone looks back to the half painted house, the newly painted half shined brightly with a nauseating green coat while the other half still had the decades older yellow coat, discoloured after absorbing so much sunlight after decades of use.

“You sure?”

“Of course, I won’t make your day longer than it needs to be.”

“Thank you Miss Octavia.” They said in unison.

She bid them farewell and left to them to their work, though she could hear them as they continued to verbally
assault one another under their breath. She continued on to Redhart’s home, returning each cheerful hello with a nod of her head or a small smile. Her mind was steadily returning back to the near incident outside of her home.

Not that there was anything wrong or illegal with having a changeling as a guest, but ponies would be asking questions, questions that weren’t in her best interest to answer yet. Or at least until she gets some answers of her own.

Octavia finally arrived at a modest home and gave the door a polite knock. With quick click the door was pulled open by a mare that Octavia has visited several times over the past few week.

“Hello?” Redhart said with an off smile, her mane was spread out across the back of her neck, free from its confinement of the usual bun. She rubbed her eye with her hoof, “Oh hi Octavia.” Redhart beckoned for her to come in. “It will just take a moment for me to gather this week’s supplies for the patient.”

Octavia crossed the threshold as the door clicked shut behind her. She took her place on the couch as Redhart continued to talk. “Any updates on his condition?” she asked worriedly.

“Yes. He does show a physical response, but he has yet to say anything to Vinyl or I.”

There was some shuffling in the kitchen. “That isn’t a good sign.”

Octavia’s ears twitched. She did not like Redhart’s tone.

Said pony entered the room with a plastic bag that was strained against it elasticity with the amount of supplies inside. Redhart did not meet Octavia’s eyes as she placed the bag on the ground. “Octavia I know you want to help but it would be best for him if we report him to Bureau of Changeling Relations.”

Octavia gave the nurse her most assuring smile, but she could tell that Redhart was not fooled by it. The couch seemed unusually uncomfortable, like her haunches were assaulted by pins and needles. “I hardly think that’s necessary. He’s probably shy, he just needs a little more time.” Octavia lied.

“Octavia…” Redhart took a deep breath. “Octavia this needs to stop.” She challenged. “It’s been two weeks and besides him waking up there has been no changes. I can’t keep borrowing medical supplies from the hospital. What if another changeling is in need? They could be suffering and barely holding on…” Her backlog trembled in place as strength slowly waned from her voice. “I can’t help others,” Redhart said softly, “If I have nothing to help them with.”

Octavia thought Redhart looked tired at the door, but she stopped the front to show how much this was really weighed down on her. The bags under her eyes, her once shiny white coat practically dull grey. Even her eyes had lost that bit of twinkle from the fulfilling work of helping others nearly every day.

“I really want to help your changeling friend,” Octavia internally winced at friend. “But I can’t keep sneaking around like this. Please…do the right thing.”

“Redhart-” Octavia started then her mouth clamped shut. Her eyes narrowed as she stood tall in front of the other mare. She pulled the bag of supplies in front of her before turning her attention back to the troubled nurse. “How long will this last him?”

“Three days.”

“Then if there are no major changes in his condition in three days, then I will escort him to the hospital personally and report that I coerced you to take the medical supplies in secret.” Redhart gasped.

“No one will blame you, and no one will ask you too many questions. My family has always had quite a bit of political clout so it would make sense if one kind-hearted mare was forced to steal for my own selfish ends.”

“I can’t let you do that Octavia. It would destroy your reputation!” Redhart proclaimed.

“I know. That’s why I am taking the risk. So please.” Octavia took hold of Redhart’s hoof, the warmth of her presence fought back against the cold clamminess that had already covered the nurse. “Three days.”

Redhart stared at Octavia’s hoof holding her own, before she looked up. Her body no longer shook from stress as her face gotten some colour back into it. “Okay.” Redhart pulled her hoof away and guided it through her mane, it smoothed down the frayed strands. She then glared at Octavia with newfound determination. “When we go, and I do mean we.” she emphasized to shut down any possible objection from the other mare. “Are going to say that you wanted to help him. I would be failing my duty as a nurse saying no to any patient, no matter race or condition. All those reporters would only make it worse for him in such critical decision so Iadvised you to keep him at your home until he was healthy enough to move…one week from now.” As Redhart spoke her small smile became a confident smirk.

Though she said nothing, Octavia gave Redhart a small nod. "Thank you, Redhart."

She turned her head to give a soft-hearted glare to the neutral Octavia in front of her. “Now you don’t go thinking you have to go and make yourself out like some sort of goon. I’m a grown mare and I can admit to my own mistakes.” Her eyebrows rose high on her head as her glare hardened. “Understood?” Redhart questioned.

Her tone made it sound like she dared Octavia to object. “Of course.” Octavia replied. Internally, she was grateful for the new plan. It was definitely more favourable for both of them this way.

“Now how about some tea? I am going to get a pot going.” Redhart turned back to the kitchen. She stopped for a moment to stare at her walls. “I’m thinking of getting my walls repainted by that new company in town. What do you think?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.” Octavia said mildly, as she took her place back on the couch. It felt more comfortable now.

“Bulk had them paint his workout room and now he’s like a walking commercial for them. Perhaps you’ve heard of them, Trinity Painters?” Redhart called back, the tea kettle whistled loudly in the kitchen.

“I don’t suppose that it’s run by two stallions and a mare?”

“Ah, so you do know them! Bulk said that their seamless teamwork is a cornerstone of their job mentality.”
Octavia heard the scoff in Redhart’s voice, but did not linger on it as a strong smell of chamomile wafted into the living room as Redhart took her seat on the couch next to the other mare.

Octavia could help but smirk as she thought of the teamwork from this morning. “I had…experienced that myself this morning. It was interesting.” As the soothing scent filled her lungs, she felt her burdens drift away
for some time as she enjoyed the company of a new friend.

As she walked home her mind settled with a newfound sense of ease to figure out her current dilemma. To get her offender to open up.Octavia knew that all she needed was something small, like a gesture or a gift, and then it be easy for his defiance to crumble away for her to get to the real heart of his problem.

At least, that's how her mother did it.

She opened the door to home deep in thought. Paying no mind to sound of Vinyl’s music thumping in the background. "Perhaps he’s willing to talk, I know that I had a few complaints after a day’s worth of Vinyl blaring inside my head. Octavia mused.

She gave the bedroom door a gentle push, only to stop at the sudden sound movement muffled by bed sheets. Octavia listened intently for what may be happening inside of the room. Was he going to try and attack again out of desperation?

A small part of Octavia was actually excited for a confrontation. An outburst was better than nothing at all. She prepared herself for another assault as she opened the door as casually as possible. Her muscles tensed but relaxed immediately after she saw that her guest was still sitting in the bed, glaring at her.

Glaring at her?

Knowing that any visible show of acknowledgement of his new behaviour may set their relationship back before it can even begin, Octavia silently tried to figure why he was looking at her as if she was a fly on his afternoon meal.

The room looked completely undisturbed, except for the bed. That was normal, no one sits still for hours at a time. But what was he-

Ah! The white glow from behind his pupil-less eyes shifted to the window and back. "What has grabbed his attention so?"Octavia thought.

She furrowed her brow and met his challenge with one of her own, she moved closer to the bed as she loomed over him. Octavia glanced at the window, nothing was out of the ordinary except for that spot of paint from the morning debacle.

The grey mare looked back to the changeling in the bed beneath her. His glare had become even more irritated, whether it was at her presence so close to him or his little splotch on the window.

Octavia pulled back in surprise and twisted her head towards the sound of a low rumbling. He growled at her! She kept her eyes on him, half-expecting him to lunge at her any second.

Interesting.

Octavia slowly backed away from both the window and the bed, keeping her widened eyes on the changeling. She slowly closed the door and just before it could shut completely she got a slight glimpse of him turning his head back to stare at the spot on the window.

Blocked by the door, Octavia almost chuckled out loud. Her mind had clicked into high gear. She had finally found a way to get to him. Her head was soon filled with ideas, things to add, subtract and more. All because of his fascination with a little splotch of paint on her window.

Octavia felt real joy as she bopped her head to an unheard melody. She trotted back to the living room to make preparations for tomorrow. Between Redhart and that splotch of paint, this had been one of the best
days she has ever had.