In Which Our Story Begins
Few people, be they ponies or otherwise, would ever think about witnessing a changeling working a menial job as a restaurant associate. Much less would they ever think said changeling would be working said job without a disguise of some sort to keep unwanted attention from befalling them.
Personally, Ebonfallow wouldn't have made such a career her first choice. But, here she was; spraying water and sweet-smelling blue liquids from a pair of translucent cleaning bottles on a wooden table's flat surface, then wiping it down with a dry rag and making sure it looked spick and span for the next would-be diner who sat here. When she was done that, she left with the items at her disposal to attend her next task—dish-collecting duty.
She worked such a job as that. Here, in an old and well-known seaside restaurant and bar, the Leviathan's Maw. More specifically, she served as a waitress and busser, with maintenance duties on the side. Her main tasks were simple; she would brings folks their food and collect spent dishes, then bring said dishes into the kitchens to be washed. Rinse and repeat (quite literally, most of the time). Sometimes she would receive odd looks her way for her efforts, even rarer still a tip. Most other times, the ponies who came here to eat and drink would ignore her.
Ebonfallow knew that there was little wonder as to why she received such cold and unfriendly reactions. Changelings were creatures with an outward appearance resembling something more insectoid than mammalian. Dark, craggy chitin covered their thin forms, magic-producing horns stuck out of their heads, and instead of a mane of hair running down their necks, there were spiked projections held together by fleshy webbing. Ebonfallow's own eyes were two big, teal, compound orbs, and a thin shell along her back housed a set of transparent, hole-filled wings with a droning buzz to their pitch that would make anyone's skin crawl.
If her visage was "off-putting", that was surely stating it mildly. To put it much closer to what these ponies probably thought, changelings were like foul, twisted parodies of what their kind were like. While ponies had fingers ending with nails that could be filed down as they saw fit, changelings had hands ending in claws. While ponies had simple teeth made to munch on vegetation and fruits, changelings possessed two, long saber fangs to display. Wicked holes littered their chitinous forms at random, practically emphasizing the point that they were creatures only worth disgust and contempt by the more fair beings to inhabit this world.
"Off-putting" indeed...
Before she began working here, in a place where anypony with two functioning brain cells in their fur-covered heads would know she never belonged, things were far from easy for Ebonfallow. Changelings were supposed to possess their iconic, if infamous ability to change forms. They would use such an ability to disguise their unnerving-looking selves as ponies or other creatures, and then use their unparalleled skill at subterfuge to live alongside other intelligent races. They would steal and feed upon the love of the creatures they sought to imitate and grow close to, for the emotion of love granted changelings true power and the nourishment to keep it. Typically, after gaining enough love and storing it within their bodies, they would return to their hives to share it with their siblings and fellow hivemates, strengthening them for the days ahead.
Ebonfallow would perhaps have had no problem against doing what needed to be done to please the hive, but there was one glaring issue she was faced with: she couldn't change forms. It wasn't a choice, nor was it a punishment she was cursed with; it was something she was born lacking. A defect. A disorder. A shameful mark fate had stricken her with. A flaw that rendered her all but useless to the queen and her family as a whole.
She lived in her hive, enduring the issue of her condition until she was a young adult. By that time, she could barely handle her insipid and unavailing lifestyle any longer. If there was anything she wished not to be for her hive, it was to be a burden. And so, Ebonfallow left the hive one dark night in tears, slipping away from her family for their sake alone. Abandoning them for their betterment, and what Ebonfallow needed to now forge into her own.
It was around that time, two years ago, now, that she came upon the Leviathan's Maw, situated in this warm, coastal pony city of Fallport. She had willingly taken this opportunity to labor in an environment all but foreign to her, working under and alongside creatures that had every right to distrust and despise her. But what other choice would she have had?
However, if there really was a single, infinitesimally minuscule speck of fortune in her case, it's that these ponies were at least tolerant of her presence. Tolerant enough to accept her for what she was when she came knocking with her plea. Tolerant enough to understand her plight and offer her shelter and work for her troubles. And, most importantly, tolerant of her queer presence to keep just far enough away from her to not cause any sort of ruckus that might disrupt what little there was left of her simple life, now bearing at least some coveted meaning. Ebonfallow could handle the stares. She could handle the aloofness. Just as long as they kept out of her business, she would keep out of theirs.
The changeling sighed. She, like all of her kind, longed for love to devour, but she knew she had no legal way of obtaining it here without surely harming somebody and ruining her chance at living alongside these ponies. Her very appearance drove away any who had even a small chance of wanting to share their most tender emotions with her. Without love, changelings like her could survive on the sustenance of simple, physical foods that ponies naturally ate, if only just. It was enough to keep the body running running, but the spirit would inevitably grow dull and their magic would lack substance and power for all but the more simple of abilities. Either way, Ebonfallow believed she could make do on it. After all, if she had the phrasing of that pony saying right; "when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade..."
Upon collecting another set of dishes from an empty table and finding no tip left behind for her to collect, Ebonfallow, balancing the dirtied plates, cups and silverware in her left hand, bit her lip anxiously with a pearly fang. Her webbed ears twitching, the changeling's head slowly looked over her shoulder, spying the clock situated just above where the bar rested in the middle of the bustling establishment.
It was almost three. Her shift was scheduled to end soon. And the sooner it ended, the sooner she could head to the beach and unwind for a few hours in the warm sun and cool surf. And potentially scare some overly-curious foals away if they grew close enough to her while trying to do such things. The shocked looks on their youthful faces were always worth a much-needed laugh.
Just a little longer, she told herself, again and again, carrying on with her duties before the manager, a gruff old horse of a strict-but-fair demeanor named Birch Caber, could see her taking that one second of staring as a gesture of slacking off. Just a little longer...
After minutes of swimming up to it from the deep below, Blackfish finally breached the water's never-still surface with a great splash. His rupture sent small, almost crystalline droplets of seawater all around before they fell and were again consumed by the embrace of the ocean.
The nostrils on his snout puffed out a dense stream of vapor before inhaling a strong breath of the crisp, warm afternoon air hanging above the sea. As he shook his head to get the water out of his eyes, his hair, long and wild white, dark-tipped locks as they were, waved about with his vaguely equine head most slovenly with the salty brine soaking them. His smooth but thick skin, half as black in its texture as midnight and half as white as ocean foam, reflected the glow of the sun above as his pale azure eyes opened wide to see it.
His ears twitching and nostrils flaring, Blackfish dove forth in a western direction when his staring ended, a gleeful certainty of sorts in his stride. His hind legs and long, powerful, fluked tail beating vertically against the water as his firm arms guided his form, his long dorsal fin, situated between the fore of his shoulders, cut through the surf as a knife cut through warm butter.
Where he was heading by his lone self was the coastline, one neighboring where his pod's territory was situated further out to sea. Specifically, the coastline of which he often spied from afar, always with wonder, but never with enough courage to approach.
Not until this day, anyhow...
Now, the elders of his pod were most adamant that he not try to go ashore where sapient life dwelt. Much more so were they vocal in dissuading young Blackfish from making any actual attempt to mingle with intelligent creatures that weren't orcas. But oh, how Blackfish so dearly loved to go against their wishes when something so thrill-promising as exploring was involved. The anatomy of his body permitting him and other orcas to be as capable of walking on dry earth as he was swimming in water, the densely-populated land of the ponies was one of the few places he hadn't so much as dared to visit until now...
An orca through and through, Blackfish was a specimen resembling most bulls of his kind. Sinewy muscle seemed to embody his form, all honestly gained from living an existence in which ninety-nine percent of it was spent treading the rough and fickle currents of the vast ocean. But, most aberrantly, he seemed to long for something more than what the normal orca life expressed. Something more than the thrill of hunting. Something more than staying close to family. Something... more.
There were plenty of reasons to ignore the unknown thirst for something he tried so hard to discover. The love his pod showed for him was genuine and sweet, and he cherished them in turn. Hunting fish, crustaceans, and other assorted sea life was something he excelled at, perhaps a bit more than others his age. His eccentric habits of leaving the pod to explore alone had caught the eye of more than one pretty cow, which he thought many a time to reciprocate, only to be sidetracked by that same thirst that ailed his young mind.
And now, that thirst for more had led him to perform this little adventure. Blackfish paused for a second, as now, in the distance, the sight of the coastal pony city began to show. Little specks of many different hues dotted the shoreline of gilded sand; the shapes of the multi-colored equine creatures that populated land, all come to surely bask in the cool water that rolled in as great waves here.
Blackfish felt no worry in the prospect of interacting with the land-dwellers as his elders showed much concern over; in fact, he felt invigorated. He, and his pod for that matter, had encountered their kind many a time before, all in the midst of exploring this vast ocean of theirs in vessels both great and small. Upon spotting his kind, they would often wave their hands with the mien of excited calves behind the motions, and unable to resist obliging their animation, Blackfish would happily wave back. Some of the equines, especially those in the smaller types of watercraft, actually grew close enough to speak toward the orca, communing in a dialect of a language his species understood quite well.
The thoughts running through Blackfish's head were numerous, but all were drawn toward what he might see and interact with once he made his approach to land. As a matter of fact, he was nearing the shore now. Without even needing to use the echolocation his kind were blessed with to detect incoming obstacles, he could see the water growing ever more shallow. The tallest waves were beginning to build to their maximum height before coming down on what stood below them, and Blackfish rode upon their momentum until it was too shallow to swim any longer.
Leaving the ocean he had called home his whole life, Blackfish's first steps upon this alien land were long, slow and heavy. His webbed, claw-tipped feet sunk deep into the wet sand that the waves thundered against, the sensation all the more sweet with his untempered excitement. Step by step he ventured further, his great tail dragging behind him, leaving at first a wake in the water, and then a trail in the ground, both of which were quickly washed away no sooner than had they taken shape. The waves soon grew smaller the deeper inland he traveled, giving an unobstructed, crystal-clear view of what was ahead of him.
And then, his pale azure eyes blinking thrice with wonder as they gazed upon this world, unimpeded by splashing water of any sort, the first thing Blackfish saw, laying a scant few meters away from him, was something he immediately noticed. Something dark in its texture. Something strange. Something he honestly hadn't expected to see, come his arrival to the beach.
As Blackfish only realized much later, what he saw in this instant was something—a creature—who was destined to change his life forever.
In Which Two Fates Collide and Become Forever Intertwined
After getting through the rest of the workday with little issue, Ebonfallow was able to enact her plan once her shift came to its conclusion. She went home, switched out her work-related items and clothing for more recreational objects and articles, and then headed off to the beach on her thin, insectile wings.
With the beach only being a few blocks down from her abode, it was a delightfully brisk flight. The changeling grinned upon seeing the sand below her. After passing a pegasus couple who regarded her presence warily in the air, she touched her dark hooves down on the crisp, golden sand, making sure to sink them as deep as she could.
Yes, work was over. For the day, at least. Now was a time to relax. Unwind. Stretch out aching limbs and take in as much of the sun as she could before the coming dusk could snuff its warming glow out for the day.
To accomplish this goal, Ebonfallow had dressed her thin self in a simple, blue bikini. It exposed most of her chitinous flesh to those who deigned to look her way, but for however anyone saw her for what she was, she cared not about them; only about how she would repose in the sun and savor its wondrous warmth. Finding a good, empty spot somewhat close to the water, though not close enough to fret about being doused by the incoming waves, she set down the plain brown shoulder bag she had been carrying in one hand and unraveled the white beach towel she bore in the other; both brought here from her home.
Setting the towel upon the pliable sand right next to the bag of valuables, Ebonfallow practically fell into it belly-first once she had finished. She pushed her limbs down on it, settling it out until it was pressed down into the sand to her liking. When it was done, she breathed out a comforted purr of pure pleasure.
While she looked more than content just by just this, there was one more thing left to finish in her ritual. Without much effort in the motion she made next, Ebonfallow lazily lifted one arm to her bag beside her and plopped a palm within it. She then blindly rummaged about through it for a good minute until her claws detected the proper shape of the one item she searched for. She pulled it out with a happy hum, bringing it down where her face lay.
It was a book. And not only was it a book, it was a little tome of smutty and romantic literature; the kind that almost reeked of cheese when it came to the type of steamy, erotic writing involved.
Smutty and romantic literature, sad to say (or maybe not, as the genre had been growing quite a bit on Ebonfallow over these past few months), was all Ebonfallow really had to try and experience the love she truly craved, but could never have. And, if not that, then at least what the ever-puzzling feeling of what having a significant other would be like.
This particular book she had by now opened up and began reading from once again, The Ballad of Fuath Shiorruidh, was becoming a very strange story so far. The premise was that the tale's titular anti-heroine—an animated suit of dark armor, willingly possessed by the wrathful spirit of a warrioress in league with a stereotypical evil lord seeking to conquer the lands of good—has fallen hopelessly in love with a young and sickly knight from the opposing side, whom bravely fights her in combat one fateful day. The concept was as outlandishly ridiculous as it sounded. But oh, once one got past the inherent silliness, as the two leads did when they found out how to share their affection with one another to the fullest, it did make for an interesting read to say the least...
The first hour of Ebonfallow's reading went by peacefully. Waves splashing against the shore and seagulls squawking out their shrill calls made for a most pleasant, soothing ambiance that went hand in hand with her intellectual activity. However, her attention was eventually pulled off of her story from a dark shadow that had fallen over her, darkening the letters of the book enough to spark annoyance in the changeling's mind. At first thinking it was from a pesky cloud far in the sky overhead, Ebonfallow looked up from where she lay to see something quite unexpected.
No, sir, there was no cloud causing this unwanted mischief. There was someone standing over her, now. Their silhouette was the first thing she saw, and given the certain aspects and dimensions of its form no female body would normally possess or lack, it was obviously a male fellow.
From the moment she looked at him, Ebonfallow saw that this character possessed an attractively masculine shape. It seemed like his entire body was outlined with fine muscle while still being relatively thin in overall girth. Actually, he expressed quite a bit of it elsewhere when the changeling made out the physical details of this stranger as being mostly unclothed. Most notable, perhaps, of what could be seen were his abdominal muscles. The way they led in pairs like a set of six, flawlessly-chiseled stepping stones from his waist to the pectoral muscles on the fore of his cream-white chest made him appear quite comely. Quite comely indeed...
Shaking her head once at the realization that she was staring at his chest, the eye candy of this stranger lost its semi-hypnotic effect fast on Ebonfallow. She looked up to him, to his face this time, a small frown forming on her own.
"Can I help you?" she deadpanned up to him. Already she found this quiet intrusion to be a nuisance, even if he was a surprise that was admittedly pleasing to behold.
The only thing he responded with was a stare that Ebonfallow's eyes came into contact with next. His own were pale-blue rings with large specks for pupils within them, and both were situated in a pair of even whiter patches dotted on the black portion of his face. Long, thick hair fell from his cranium, also showing white for most of their color, but eventually ending as black tips.
As he remained as he was, Ebonfallow took another good look at him. Right off, she saw he wasn't as much a pony as she thought he was. His feet, which stood in the sand about a foot from her towel, seemed more like clawed appendages than hooves of any sort. And it was no mere pony tail that protruded from his backside with as much as Ebonfallow could see of it. It looked like the tail of a dolphin or whale of some kind, reaching a great length behind him as it rested on the sand.
That was when her eyes fell upon only article of clothing he was wearing. What covered his pelvis and wrapped around his hips was a pair of shorts as blue as the ocean depths. But, to be specific, they looked less like something someone would actually use as swimwear, and more like some sort of daytime clothing made for travel. The fabrics, however, appeared of a blatantly different making than clothes of either variety. Something smooth and silky. Something almost reflectively fluid in appearance.
To Ebonfallow's bewilderment, he was still looking her over when she peeked back up at his darkened face. Still shining on it was a type of glimmer that just couldn't be described. The changeling stared up at him with a shrinking mien, not knowing what to make of the stranger and his all too apparent preoccupation with her.
He only continued peering down at her, his expression wide and inquisitive. It didn't appear as though he was going to start speaking by this point, so Ebonfallow, inhaling a deep breath of the sea-scented air, finally said something once more to break this thick, awkward silence standing between them.
"C-can I help you?" she spoke again, sitting up and shifting back on her towel until her long, webbed tail was touching sand when she reached its end. She dropped her book back into her nearby bag, setting her full focus onto the stallion (or whatever the heck he was) who looked at her in a way that was becoming ominous.
It seemed like he was only going to keep silent and remain holding his muted, wide-eyed fixation upon her up to this point. That is until, at long last, he asked something to her quite simply.
"Who are you?"
"E-excuse me?" Ebonfallow blinked.
"This One only wishes to know your name," he reiterated, his voice smooth in sound. "This One has never seen such a pony as you before. It... is a shock for me. You look most... strange."
The last word of his sentence came out with a tone resembling innocent fascination. But, for Ebonfallow, it sounded like an insult.
She didn't need this. If there was anything she didn't want to deal with, it was for some random schmuck to trot over and pick on her during her valuable relaxation time. Her hooves planting firmly into the sand as she stood up, Ebonfallow picked up her towel without bothering to roll it up or shake the sand off of it, shifting the stranger an ugly look before about facing and walking inland. The sounds of feet treading on the sand just behind her told the distressed changeling that she was being followed.
"Your skin is like some of the creatures that wander the ocean's floor. So incredibly strange," he commented again to her as she moved away, though with what seemed like zero intention to harm her feelings. He said this in a way that sounded like he was trying to get her to halt, or at least look back at him.
"Go away," grunted Ebonfallow.
"So foreign in appearance," merely continued the stranger. "So unique. So slender and chitinous. So alluringly beautiful..."
The last word of his latest sentence accomplishing what he seemed to desire, Ebonfallow stopped in her tracks. Slowly, she turned about, facing the non-pony with her jaw partly dropped.
"What was... that you just said about me?"
"Oh? Only that I think you bear a beautiful appearance," the creature repeated. His smile grand as it was, the way that his lower jaw was white and upper part was black made it look like he was almost grinning from ear to ear. "Your visage is one that is unique. Strange in all of the ways that makes This One's heart beat terrifically for reasons that are... indescribable. Forgive This One and my surely queer method of speaking; This One has never seen or talked with such an individual as you before."
He started forward again as he talked, attempting to get closer to the changeling. In turn, Ebonfallow began moving backwards, stepping away in equal pace to his advance and denying him the chance of getting within arm's distance of her.
"Why are you ... saying all of this?" she asked, frustration building in her tone as she evaded him. "What is it you want from me?"
Hearing her well, the stranger finally paused. His ears splaying back, there was something of a bashful, awkward look coming over his monochrome face now. Both of his ears lifting again, one of them twitching, the stranger replied with complete clarity.
"This One had started to think that This One wishes to... spend time with you." Sincerity was weighed in his tone. "This One would like to know who you are. Why you intrigue This One so."
Yep, that did it. This request all too clear to her, Ebonfallow's expression scrunched into something of confusion most intense. Before poor changeling had realized it, the shell case on her back had opened up. Out came her wings, already beginning to vibrate. Emitting a grating buzz as they flittered together, they quickly pulled Ebonfallow into the air, away from the creature who who spoke these incredulous words to her.
Towel in hand and her eyes still full of shock, she flew away; away from the ocean, away from the beach, and away from this stranger who tormented her so as all he could do in return was watch.
After arriving back at the second-story apartment she called her home, Ebonfallow changed into a more appropriate, body-concealing day outfit and went on a long, long walk around Fallport to cool off and hopefully clear her muddled mind. By the time she had chosen to return, the sun was almost fully set. Now, she had been spending the last hour relaying her brief experience with the cetacean stranger to her earth pony roommate, Hash Brown; the only pony in this world she could call a good, honest friend.
The quirky niece of Birch Caber, Hash Brown served as the assistant manager of the Leviathan's Maw for almost five years. Going past her usually perky demeanor, from a single glance of her dark-dyed fur and usually Gothic apparel, most folks could see that she was a mare of macabre tastes. Such a taste was perhaps one of the main reasons as to why she chose to befriend a changeling, of all sensible creatures.
It was almost instantly that Hash Brown invited Ebonfallow to share room and board with her upon meeting the insectoid outcast lonesomely searching for a purpose in life just little more than two years ago. Just as well, Hash's familial relations was probably a decisive factor in her swaying of Birch Caber into hiring Ebonfallow as an employee at the same place she worked.
When Ebonfallow finished her story, the changeling looked Hash Brown's way and gave an exhausted shrug. "Anyway, that's what happened. He said all that crap to me, and I just... left. It was, without a doubt, one of the most downright queer things I've ever experienced in this town, bar none."
Her dark lips pressing together, Hash Brown flipped a page in an old horror novel she had been skimming through, thinking on her friend's situation more than its contents.
"How peculiar. How very peculiar indeed..." she hummed to the changeling. "You said he wasn't making any physical advances, right?"
"No, no, he didn't touch me. At least, I don't remember him doing so."
"Did he do anything disconcerting at all?"
"Aside from staring at me for goodness-knows-how-long and pestering me, not really."
"But was he acting creepily?" restated Hash Brown. "Was he doing anything inappropriate? Was he acting like a serial killer, or something?"
"He wasn't acting creepy." Ebonfallow rubbed a claw along her left fang as she spoke and paced about the room in a continuous circle, thinking back. "Well... not too creepily. Just... incredibly weird. That's the only way I can describe it. Like I said; he kept walking closer to me when I stepped away. He kept telling me that I looked 'strange but beautiful', while at the same time asking me for my name."
"Calling you these exquisite compliments, and asking for your name, eh?"
"Yeah."
Hash Brown snickered, allowing her book to lower from her face just so she could stare Ebonfallow's way with a dry look on it. "Oh... I know what he was doing."
Ebonfallow glanced warily to her friend, stopping in her stride and leaning against the green-blue wall of the apartment. "What're you getting at, Hash?"
Bringing the book halfway back to where it was prior, Hash Brown flipping through another page in it. "You're telling me a fellow came strutting up to you, stared at you with a sense of awe, and complimented you on your looks while only asking for your name in return for such attention. Heck, you told me he sounded like he was asking you out when you ran off!" She exposed her white teeth with a smirk and exhaled a twittering puff. "Methinks you may have had a stallion who found you attractive, Ebon. The kind of guy you no doubt dream about meeting every night."
Closing her eyes as Ebonfallow brows crinkled in contempt at this remark, Hash Brown flicked a hand the changeling's way. "Too bad you just let him go..."
"Oh, give me a break, Hash. What was I supposed to do? The way he acted was as sudden as it was shocking. He was so... I don't know... vocal about it." Moving away from the wall, the words flittering out of Ebonfallow's fanged mouth were many and fast. "Nopony I've ever seen acts like that. Nopony could ever be that straightforward. Either he had something wrong in his head, or someone set him up to do it. One of those two has to be the only reason why he would do it."
"And from the description you gave of this... handsome, strapping stallion, he resembles nopony I've ever heard of." Another page was turned in the book. "'Speaking strangely and showing odd mannerisms, while possessing a dolphin tail, great, clawed feet, and the coloration of a porpoise of some kind'. I wonder what kind of beast he is and where he's from..."
"Aside from my guess being the sea itself, I wouldn't know," said Ebonfallow, "and neither do I care."
"C'mon, Ebon. Be honest with me. You really wanted to push the guy away forever after just that?"
"Well, what would you have done?"
Pausing to take the query into serious consideration, Hash Brown ran her hand through her dark mane, then strummed her fingers along her chin thoughtfully until she came upon her reply. "Heh. If I was in your hooves, and the guy was as blisteringly hot as you said he was, I'd have asked him to marry me in an instant if he saw that much charm in my look alone."
Ebonfallow sighed, her low-lidded eyes staring at her friend with a vexed and unamused glower. "Really, Hash?"
Shrugging and shaking her head, the earth pony simply brought her book back to her snout. "Look, I'm just saying that you might have acted a bit rash in rejecting the guy's advances. That's all."
"Well, sorry for letting my better judgement handle things. All I planned to do was take some time off at the beach, read a good book and let the sun warm my skin for a little while-"
It was also in that moment that the poor changeling realized something. Something that hit hard, like a brick being thrown to the face. She looked around the room for something, not finding it and realizing why this was so.
"Ah, shit."
Hash Brown again peered up to her friend from her book, her hoofed legs crossing together behind her. "What's wrong, Ebon?"
"I left my bag at the beeaach," Ebonfallow groaned in a tone nothing short of exasperated, throwing her head back and gazing to the ceiling with her growl. "Son of a... Gragh. That stupid guy made me forget all about it!"
"Uh-oh. Any chance of it still being there to be retrieved by a quick nighttime flight?"
"No, no..." Ebonfallow muttered, rubbing her claws over her face. "It's useless to go out, now. It's probably been swept up by the tide, assuming nopony stole it. Damn it all..."
"Looks more to me like your panic really got the better of you, Ebon," Hash Brown informed her dear roommate with a heavy dose of bluntness. She peeled back another page in her book, scanning the words on it as she spoke. "I just hope that bag didn't have the cash for your side of the rent this month."
Lifting a claw, Ebonfallow was about to retort on how she was certain it didn't, when a sharp, if faint sound cut her off just before she spoke. It pierced the quiet of the room that was only filled to that point by just the two voices of its two occupants, coming from somewhere outside their apartment.
It sounded like whistling. Not exactly the kind even the more talented ponies were able to make with their lips; no, this was almost like the tunes sung by birds in the more rural parts of the country. But at this hour? And besides that, Ebonfallow never remembered hearing a birdsong like this before.
Curiosity came over the changeling's despair when it became clear that the song wasn't stopping. Forgetting about her plight, if just for a few seconds, she to locate where exactly it was coming from. She was approaching the door of the apartment when the whistling suddenly stopped. Then, from somewhere outside, where the whistling was surely coming from, a voice spoke.
"Helloooo? Is this the location of the individual This One searches for resides in?" it called out, sounding eerily familiar to the changeling. Without a second thought, Ebonfallow unlocked the door, stepping quickly, but warily onto the balcony the other two-story rooms shared until she got to its railing.
She looked down it into the parking lot, spying one shape in its center that stood out immediately in the light of the streetlamps above. A shape belonging to a person. A person she recognized.
The stranger.
"Oh, no," Ebonfallow gasped to herself.
She gasped again when the stranger's face turned toward where she was. He saw her just moments after she witnessed him, a pleased smile obviously having come over his face from the distance the changeling observed. Seeing where she was, he calmly started for the stairs that led to the balcony that would take him to where their room was located. Fear gripping her, Ebonfallow spun about and sprinted back inside, slamming the door shut and setting all four of its locks before pressing her back to it.
"Something happen? What'd you see?" Hash Brown inquired upon seeing her friend rush to do all this.
"Oh, no," was all Ebonfallow said again. Her hole-filled hooves slid forward upon the carpet floor, causing her body to sink to it until her rump thudded against it. "Oh, no, no, no, no..."
"Ebon, who is it?" a more concerned-looking Hash Brown asked, right before her brows lifted in realization. "Wait... did you just see-"
"It's... him." Ebonfallow gulped. Claws set around her horned cranium, she looked up to Hash Brown with a pleading, desperate visage. "It's that stallion, or whatever he really is. The one who looks like a dolphin. Oh, crap, it's the very same guy, and he's here! It's him. He's walking right over to the room right now! What do I do, Hash? What do I do?"
"Simple," she started, sitting up on the couch. "Open the door, go out there, and ask him out."
"Wha- no! Are you crazy?!" snapped the changeling, taking her hands off of her head. "He followed me here! Can't you see that? I take back what I said about him being just weird; he's creepy."
"Pish posh," dismissed Hash Brown. "If he wanted to act creepy, he'd have just snuck up here and peered at us through the window, or something. Right now, it seems to me that he wants to talk to you. Probably to ask you to go on a date with him again."
A soft knocking of a knuckle rapping against the door went out. Holding her breath, Ebonfallow looked to it, then back to Hash Brown, clearly unsure of what to do.
"Well? Answer it," she instructed, motioning for her to do so in case her words fell on deaf ears.
Ebonfallow scowled at her roommate just before shifting her attention to the entrance of their abode with a gulp. It was as the knocking finally ceased that Ebonfallow approached, coming up to and staring through the peephole on the door's top before choosing to do anything else.
What she observed, standing just outside, was a figure matching the exact, distinguishing characteristics of the person she met on the beach, if slightly distorted by the peephole's glass. Long, white, dark-tipped hair fell from his head, and his body showed similar monochromatic colors. He was clad only in that pair of shorts. And, most vividly, he was wearing a great, honest grin; the type of grin a child would put on if they were expecting their parents to take them to the candy store.
Yep. It was him, alright.
Ebonfallow glanced one last time back at Hash Brown. "I swear, Hash, if he tries to kill me... like, if he pulls out a knife or something, I'll come back and haunt you."
"Really? Thanks!"
"Grrr..."
Undoing all of the locks and latches sealing the entrance close to intruders, Ebonfallow opened the door just enough to peek her horned head outside it and look upon the stranger as he saw her. From over the changeling's shoulder, Hash Brown had silently tiptoed over, took a gander at the figure she was now glaring at through the small opening in the doorway, smirked, and tiptoed back to her seat as Ebonfallow and the stranger's conversation began.
"Apologies for coming here at an hour so late as this," he was the first to speak, bidding this to Ebonfallow with a small nod of his head. "If you do not remember, This One is-"
"I know, it's you. The guy from the beach. What do you want and why did you follow me here?" she interrupted. Instead of finding offense in her acerbic attitude as the changeling expected, the stranger looked more than giddy to reply.
"This One wished to give back something that might bear importance to you."
"And that would be...?"
"This One saw you had left your satchel of valuables behind." He raised his left hand, showing off something dangling on a strap from it. Ebonfallow immediately realized it was her bag in his grip, causing her unwelcoming expression to falter for a moment.
Continuing, the pony-like person, looking as happy as a puppy on a walk with its owner, said, "This One may not have known where your dwellings lay, but after This One showed off some of your belongings to some friendly individuals and voice the plight you surely must have been facing without them, This One was eventually led here! Sorry if This One's timing was long. Addresses are a most perplexing matter to deal with on land."
Ebonfallow was quick to snatch her bag away from the creature with a hide of darkest black and purest white, finding no resistance at all in his grasp as she took it. After but a minute of reaching in and sifting a claw through it, she noticed nothing had been taken. A sigh of relief left her, but there was still another matter that needed tending to.
"Thanks, I guess," she muttered, tossing the bag into the room behind her.
"You're welcome!" he jovially returned. Ebonfallow looked at him his utter happiness, feeling something stubborn building up within her until it was at its brim.
She hated what she knew she had to do now, but she knew she had to do it. She had to talk with him, now. Earnestly talk with him. Even she knew there wasn't anything to defend herself with in insipidly thanking this stranger and then booting him back to the street after performing such a kindly gesture as that. Grunting, she started talking, hoping that this would come out as tearing off a meddlesome bandage in one quick, brisk stroke instead of suffering under having to slowly and painfully pull it off.
"Back when we were on the beach, why did you come up to me like that?"
"This One apologizes if my actions seemed frightening," he said, his expression briefly becoming something more subdued and evidently sorrowful. "This One has seen many creatures, both from afar and up close, from the arms of the sea. But never before has This One found someone quite like you. It was This One's intention to leave a positive impression."
Ebonfallow listened closely to his words, blinking thrice when he finished before letting loose her newest query. "So... you're really from the ocean?"
"Yes!"
"Neat." Feeling like she could trust him just enough to give herself a more comfortable manner of conversation, Ebonfallow opened the door just wide enough for her body to stand upright through. "But... why is it you came up to me earlier today for? What were you getting at, pal? What in Equestria did you mean by you 'wanting to spend time with me', and all that?"
He answered swiftly. "Just that; This One only wishes to find time to spend with you. This One wants to get to know you and who you are, if you would be okay with that."
He leaned his head in just a short distance, tilting it with an almost pleading sense in the motion. "Are you?"
"She's free on Friday!" Hash Brown chirped from far behind, just before the changeling could turn him down. "And, in case you don't have the same calendar as us, that's two days from today!"
Ebofallow's head shot into the room and at the earth pony residing within it. "No, I'm not free!" she argued, glaring daggers her way. "I have work that day!"
"Well, I'm the one in charge of your schedule!" the mare retorted back from where she sat. "So, you are now!"
Ebofallow's eye twitched. "Screw it. Fine! Fine. I'll go on Friday, if it'll get you out of here faster..." she muttered. The next look she shared with the character who was now to become her future date was one showing a defeated thing; a bitter thing. "Are you happy now, seapony?"
"Very much so!" he practically hooted. "And I am no such beast."
"Huh. Then what breed of pony are you, pal?"
"Oh, This One is no type of pony you may know," the stranger revealed. "This One is an orca."
Ebonfallow only hummed at this, pursing her lips. "First off, before you go calling me a pony again as well, just know that I'm not one, either. I'm a changeling. Aside from some aspects, my kind have no relation at all to ponies."
"'Changeling'?" repeated the orca.
"Yes," Ebonfallow confirmed, nodding once and folding her arms. "Second, if this whole thing you forced me into is some stupid prank or game you're playing on me, I'll... I'll do something that'll make you regret it. As in, I'll make you wish you were... dead. You got that?"
"Prank? Game? Hah!" Taking a step back, he gave off a rolling string of laughter, some kind of rapid clicking noise mixed in with it. "This One may enjoy that which provokes laughter and cheer, but what I ask and speak of to you is no lie. My request is honest."
"We'll see about that," skeptically huffed Ebonfallow.
More silence fell. Ebonfallow didn't know what else she wanted to say, but, luckily for her, this time it was the eccentric stranger who ended it.
He placed a black hand upon his bare, white chest, motioning to himself. "This One is Blackfish. This One, or... as you seem to commonly refer to yourselves, I, hail from a pod of orcas. We bear a dwelling a far ways off from the shoreline of the beach where you and This One first met. If you would be fine with This One's request, I would... like to meet you there on the scheduled date. On the beach, I mean."
Brought to reverie by the conjuring of the memory from earlier in the day, this orca, Blackfish, as Ebonfallow now knew him as, gave her a warm look that provoked a whole cluster of unfamiliar emotions within the changeling. Eventually coming out of it on his own, he said most politely to her, "This One would also like to know who you are, if it is a comfortable request. This One is as enamored with your appearance as with the concept of learning your name."
The changeling did reply, though not before closing her eyes and turning her face away. "I'm Ebonfallow."
"Ebonfallow?" One of Blackfish's brows slanted in an intrigued sort of way. "Hmm... Ebonfallow. A name as pretty in sound as the the individual to whom it belongs to..."
Ebonfallow opened her eyes again, if only to roll them at his inane glutting of these flattering remarks. "Okay, stop that. We've got each other's names and a date set. Can you go now?"
"If you wish for me to depart now, then I shall, my dear Ebonfallow," the orca gave a small, civil bow as he imparted upon her a smile that was etched onto his rugged face from his blatant excitement. "This One will see you come noon two days from now. I cannot wait!"
"Yeah, yeah... noontime. Sure, why not..." Ebonfallow halfheartedly murmured while stepping completely back inside the apartment, closing the door as soon as she finished and locking it when it was shut. The sound of departing footsteps and the beginnings of that same, small whistle from his arrival indicated that this orca, this "Blackfish" was indeed leaving. Only after both sounds went quiet did she knew he was truly gone. That's not to say it rid her immediately of this torrent of foreign, undesired feelings writhing around within her body.
Running a claw through her webbed and hairless mane as these light feelings finally began to die down once a solid minute had traipsed by, Ebonfallow checked to make sure she had all the locks covered. When that was all done, she turned around and looked to the only other living being in the room.
There Hash Brown sat on the couch, giving Ebonfallow the biggest, smuggest, most shit-eating-est grin the changeling had ever, and perhaps would ever see in her life.
"Looks to me like you've got yourself a date at long last, Ebon," teased the mare, soon after emitting a high cackle of triumph and glee.
"Shut up..." was all the changeling moaned back. She picked up her previously-discarded bag again and dragged it forlornly over to the washroom. "Just... shut up..."
"Oh, come now! Don't be so sour! Smile!" Hash Brown loudly insisted as Ebonfallow passed by. "This is a good thing. You'll see! This is exactly what a girl like you needs. And, I must admit, your admirer is quite a robust and untamed-looking catch. I'm more confused as to why you aren't actively drooling over him right now."
"Easy for you say all that. You're not the one who just got netted into something you never asked for," Ebonfallow accused back, not even bothering to give her a sideways glare. "I'm washing up and going to bed. This has been a long day for me..."
"Nighty-night, you lucky lovebug!" called out Hash Brown a final time, giving a joking wave to the side as her friend stepped into the washroom to do her duties.
"Merf," wearily muttered Ebonfallow, closing the door behind her.
Author's Note
I'z been writing a lot lately, friends. A. Lot. I just... I love dis story I'z makin' more dan most fings at the moment. I 'aven't felt dis giddy in writin' down a story since I finished up Fings Are Rarely As Dey Seem! Maybe da dream dat inspired me to make dis odd fic, details an' all, is a message of some sort from somewhere or other. Perhaps it's from Gork an' Mork...
