Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Rules

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Rainbow bore witness to how the changelings burrowed into the cold hard soil in an eerie silence, how they cast the dirt into the eldritch emerald fires to mould ridged plates and twisted girders with an appearance of withered flesh and bleached bones. The bug-like equines liquified stone into a paste that had dried into blackish shiny scales not unlike their shiny chitin coats; everything they touched seemed to rot into their likeness—robbed of identity, baleful and preternatural. Wordless, the defectors laboured till the Sun bled its fading light upon the dark and sinister form of the hive.

Every fibre of Rainbow’s being violently protested each time she tried to follow Twilight’s instructions and name that abhorrent anthill a dormitory, for even though the mare oversaw its constructions, it still felt like the warped structure harboured malevolence hiding in plain sight.

The worst aspect of that so-called building was in it barely surpassing the town hall, meaning that to accommodate over two hundred residents it would have to heavily rely on utilising underground passages.

The pegasus stood, staring with a mix of disgust and hatred at the gates into the realm of subterrene nightmares, knowing that she would have to dive into those morbid ducts.

The cramped hot tunnels seemed to change every time, always presenting themselves as a maze of ribbed black walls perpetually slick with excessive humidity; or maybe the dark surfaces themselves oozed the oily treacherous film. Only alcohol seemed potent enough to wash away not only the pungent smell of rotting chitin but the sensation of scuttling shadows jittering where they shouldn’t be.

“You’re early today.”

Twilight’s comment all but launched the pegasus rocketing in the sky; her hackles raised and feathers ruffled, Rainbow turned to the unicorn, yet choked on her words—be those of greeting of indignation.

She couldn’t help but recall, again, how her reluctance had led to oversleeping the weekly inspection; the look on Twilight’s face, who patiently waited for Rainbow to arrive for more than an hour pierced her heart like a rusty nail. Since then Twilight always complimented her friend on sticking to the schedule with nothing but a smile or a genuine comment, her innocent grim viciously tearing on the festering memory.

“Oh, yeah. Morning to you too,” the pegasus finally regained her ability to speak.

The lack of her enthusiasm flew over Twilight’s head, whose muzzle was glued to a long checklist. Nevertheless, Rainbow silently cursed herself; then again—she used to somewhat enjoy those revisions because they gave her a legitimate reason to spend time by Twilight’s side.

Oblivious to the despondence swelling in her friend’s mind, the unicorn chirped, “Ready?”

Rainbow could only nod as she no longer trusted her voice to hide the truth.

The dread of submerging into the ominous earthy depths had debilitated Rainbow to the point she forgot the head count that was to take place before the much-detested journey. She still acutely had sensed the yawning entrance behind her back as her eyes lazily slid from one chitinous visage to another.

“Maestus!” Twilight’s call rang above the murmur of the waking up town.

“Here,” the changeling mare in question answered, taking a step forward; though her voice completely lacked any enthusiasm to the point of being almost mocking, it slipped past Twilight’s attention as the unicorn continued to zealously study the long scroll.

Rainbow let the strange names and chirring responses fade in the background as she longingly stared at the sky—now it looked more enticing than anything in the world… well, almost anything. Lightning-quick her glance at Twilight might have been, she nevertheless felt her cheeks and ears catching on fire; flicking the latter, she wondered if the changelings would notice—but then, they probably wouldn’t mind a snack.

It couldn’t escape her notice how the changelings stood in distinct orderly formation—their military training had shown in everything… just like the fact that they chose to defect. The deeply ingrained strict upbringing and the reluctance to follow that path anymore had mixed weirdly, resulting in even a somewhat amusing display of perpetual confusion present in every aspect of their new lives.

The pegasus’ bored eyes made a full circle and returned to Twilight; now, however, they held only annoyance and a hint of pity.

“Marmor!”

“Present.”

Ears deep in her precious list, she failed to notice that it actually was Maestus again—after being called, the nimble mare dissolved into the ranks of her kith, hiding the burst of verdant flames to later re-emerge as a perfect replica of the burly stallion.

When Maestus met Rainbow’s gaze, the faceted eyes glinted with guilt—but not actual fear; the pegasus slowly blinked, suppressing a sigh. By the time she noticed the changelings covering each other, she couldn’t care any less about what they are up to; though the bug-equines had been doing all kinds—every kind—of things they weren’t supposed to, none of those could be attributed to that of a nefarious nature.

Once more, pity welled in Rainbow’s heart—Twilight had seemed to be blissfully ignorant of her success being only superficial; rigidly enthusiastic, the unicorn shone as a beacon of unfaltering faith in the changelings—but lighting the path for those who had no eyes whilst blinded by it herself.

The pegasus sometimes wondered if Twilight really couldn’t see the changelings being too alien for Ponyville—born for another life—or she would just rather chop her horn off than admit failure to Celestia; even consider the plan designed by the alicorn to be flawed.

To her defence, there were changelings who had stubbornly strived to overcome their nature and—

“Thorax!”

“Good Morning, Miss Sparkle!”

Yeah, like that guy.

Always present… probably because he would never be covered for. It wasn’t that their siblings shunned such changelings for their honest attempts; they just didn’t stand in the way of one another, each doing their thing as two communities with that separation invisible for most—Twilight included.

“Teleta!”

“Hi!”

The mare waved her perforated hoof so energetically, that Rainbow feared it would tear off; the attention she was being given bothered her much more than the potential dismembering, though.

“How’s her progress?”

“Huh?” Rainbow turned to the unicorn, moon-eyed; the question refused to sink in.

“Teleta,” Twilight deadpanned, “the changeling over there?”

Blinking, she glanced at beaming Teleta, at a loss of words; as Twilight squinted portentously, she tried to bid some time by blurting, “Ah, yes.”

Rainbow’s hoof itched with an urge to slap her own face, but she had worse problems as the unicorn’s beautiful violet eyes narrowed further and the corners of her lips began to sag.

“Don’t worry, Miss Sparkle, we’re doing great!” Teleta yelled, successfully ignoring other changelings rolling their eyes and snickering.

Bursting with a sigh of relief, Rainbow watched the shadow leave Twilight’s face the list of names reclaiming her attention.

Thank you.

Then, suddenly, a painful sting twisted the pegasus’ muzzle as a thought went through her mind:

At least someone here is being loyal.

Rainbow clenched her teeth, putting an effort to not also grind them.

Her side rubbed against Twilight, their sweat mixing; then, like a tiny icicle, a drop of moisture landed on her back from the ceiling of the narrow tunnel. She enjoyed the lavender-tinged scent of the unicorn’s mane one moment and caught a whiff of mildew the next.

Walking behind Twilight was always an option, but Rainbow opted out of it, for the glowing orb of magic on the tip of the unicorn’s horn served as the only source of light in the otherwise impenetrable darkness; and the pegasus didn’t want to actually find herself with her muzzle betwixt Twilight’s legs when she would inevitably stumble.

On the other hoof—who would mind? The hive stood empty, beside them; something that gnawed on Rainbow’s mind now and every inspection—a perfect time, if not place, to speak with her friend openly. And every time she had been pressing her jaws together as if her life depended on it.

The unicorn hadn’t minded Rainbow’s feathers whisking her soft velvet coat; she had glued her eyes to the walls of the squalid dwelling, scanning them for any sign of a problem—be it for changelings or caused by them.

The labyrinthian passage abruptly opened into a series of rooms—nests—giving Rainbow a chance to focus on something other than the proximity of Twilight’s body radiating warmth.

And so, she found herself despondently staring at the scant possessions scattered around a deep alcove all but chiselled from stone—hopefully, and not bone as it looked like.

She couldn’t fathom how Twilight had stood the reality of those weekly inspections being but an undeniable testament to their failure.

Following vague guidelines from an alicorn practically dropping dead as she spoke, Twilight had created a needlessly long list of rules; the changelings were eager to accept them, most without even reading.

For example, taking the form of a pony was strictly prohibited; but who would know, especially when there was more than one side interested in that? Not a single changeling had been caught, yet each time Twilight exited the hive with a scowl, a box of make-up kits and perfume bottles on her back.

Rainbow usually carried the other box—full of feathers and claws, mushrooms and flowers, roots and berries. The changelings had procured all sorts of things from the Everfree Forest; though the pegasus didn’t really care about the risks they took, she, for once, agreed with that rule. Whilst some ponies knew the price and dangers of rare ingredients, others believed a mixture of Poison Joke and a manticore’s pubes would boost their allure.

Although she had already spotted a few items that were to give birth to ire in Twilight, pointing that out wasn’t her job—the unicorn used a scanning spell anyhow; Rainbow was to evaluate how tidy the rooms were.

Waste of time, she noted in for the umpteenth time, watching the purple vertical line travelling across the walls and whatnot. They’re masters of deception—if they want to hide something, we’re never finding it.

She left the room without giving it a proper look, absentmindedly scratching a mark on one of Twilight’s lists—the rooms had stood the same for months, no matter how messy.

When Rainbow entered the next living space, she might as well have jumped into a furnace—her body all but kindled like a match. However, the mare remained in one piece and as the initial disorientation had subdued, she found herself staring at Twilight’s flanks, unable to tear her gaze away from the flesh that slightly shook in the wavering glow of unicorn’s magic.

Oh, I know the way to burn that little fat you’ve got from sitting in the library day after day.

Her consciousness teetered on the brink of surrendering to instincts and to make things harder, it only reminded her of how she had feared for her hoof to catch up on something sending her muzzle first right under Twilight’s tail. The pegasus’ hooves pawed the ground, as if looking for something to trip on; though, it was what was happening under her tail to blame for that restlessness.

A titanic effort of will canned back those spilt worms, as Rainbow knew—they came upon the most irrefutable argument proving hopelessness of that whole changeling-harbouring endeavour.

Cadance’s missing gifts made themselves easy to find without any spells—a box with its lid ajar emanated a soft pink halo, casting shadows on the ribbed walls.

Both mares hurried to it.

An insidiously simple wooden crate with the Crystal Empire’s stamp contained within itself six translucent orbs full of swirling arcane energies. One, however, had a crack—a brightly shining jagged line emanating an almost imperceptible vapour that dissipated in the air instantly, leaving after itself the smell of lavender for Rainbow and scent of sunshine for Twilight.

Twilight stared at it longer than necessary, fidgeting and unknowingly teasing Rainbow with those supposed to be subtle twitches. When Rainbow almost dared to beg her to do anything, her horn lit up and ethereal chains entangled the box, cutting off the intoxicating influence of the raw undiluted emotion; only the desires it brought to the surface lingered.

The unicorn then cleared her throat, shifting her hips once more.

“I think we can finish the inspection here,” she murmured, her voice somewhat distant. “Rainbow, could you please take care of those? I need to write a report for Princess Celestia.”

So, that’s what you call them. I wonder what would happen if you actually sent one to her.

Without waiting for the pegasus to answer, Twilight hastily fled the changelings’ quarters, her tail tightly pressed betwixt her legs, leaving Rainbow to forlornly stare at the crate.

Unlike other things not belonging to the hive, it had a very certain rightful place—the storage, where it should be returned along with a few spicy expressions.

Finally being able to let out a deep sigh, Rainbow approached the box, ready to haul it on her back; as her eyes fell on the orb with magic churning inside, from the darkest depths of her mind a thought emerged.

Nah, that’s stupid.

The idea mutinously remained, leaving Rainbow no other choice but to consider it again.

No, that’s stupid and wrong. If I get caught, Twilight would never forgive me.

But the changelings had never been caught, she remembered; or the others.

And so won’t I.

The orbs clinked like chimes as the crate hit the counter.

“You screwed up,” Rainbow proclaimed, her expression sour. “Again.”

The beige unicorn reclining on the chair behind the table so her hooves rested on the rough wood didn’t even bother to look at her, continuing to chew on a toothpick.

“Goodness gracious… You have no idea how boring you’re when sober, Dash.”

“You ain’t buckets of fun yourself—”

Abruptly falling silent, Rainbow stared at the mare—at her mane in particular—but nothing appeared in her mind; the intendant squinted back at her in suspicion.

Something about… trees?

Taking the pegasus’ silence as a sign to continue, the unicorn grumbled, “We both know you don’t care, Dash.” To emphasise her words, she kicked the crate, filling the warehouse with sonorous jingle-jangle.

Damn it, what was her name?

Shaking her head as Rainbow continued to mutely wreck her mind, the intendant spat out the toothpick and rummaged through the papers in the table drawers.

“Here’s the form—fill both copies; leave them on the counter.”

The intendant tossed two sheets of paper in Rainbow’s general direction without looking and continued to dig through the contents of the drawers. Her ministrations produced a muffled sound of empty bottles clinking—it was the pegasus’ turn to shake her head and roll her eyes.

“One of the orbs is cracked,” she dryly noted.

The unicorn finally emerged from under the table with her bounty—a half-empty bottle of apple whiskey. The intendant popped out a cork and shamelessly pulled at the bottle; after taking a mouthful, she offered it to Rainbow, her muzzle twisting as the strong drink rushed to her head.

Rainbow tapped the crate with a hoof, giving the mare a meaningful look.

“Make a note in the margin or something,” the intendant rasped.

Taking another swig from the bottle, she picked up the crate in the unsteady aura of her magic and stumbled towards the storage area. A short time later her voice came from the maze of containers and sacks, “How many are there?”

Of course, she wasn’t going to read the papers. Rainbow rolled her eyes, worrying she might grind them to nought at that rate. If Twilight didn’t read them, I could have left them as is.

“Five,” she yelled.

Getting no response, but suspecting the unicorn would emerge only with the bottle dry, Rainbow had wasted no time filling the form—leaving the copy empty to give the intendant something other to do than guzzle booze like no tomorrow—and left the depot.