The Tune of Change

by computerneek

Rating: teen
Tags: Scootaloo, Adventure, Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Sad, Changelings, Bon-Bon
Length: 6445

Sometimes, it's the underlings that end up gifted, not the superiors.

The important ponies, lings, or whatevers are important. They get all the food, love, or whatever. They get all the abilities. They are the only ones that are gifted.

Or so they like to think.

Enter me. I'm a disfigured underling, and I'm also perhaps the most gifted individual since Starswirl himself. And even then.

This is my story.

Tags may be updated as the story progresses.

Published 2019-04-28 04:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2019-04-30 19:18:35 UTC

Chapter 1

My job.

… I have one, right?

I don’t know.

All I have left is my duty.

Well… To be more honest, all I’ve ever had is my duty.

And even then.

But… My story started long ago. How long, I don’t know- but it started with Broodmother Nyadra, when she laid a clutch of eggs.

One of those eggs was mine.

While I was still an egg, a fight broke out in the hive. Some eggs were smashed, the contents destroyed. As a matter of fact, a lot of eggs were smashed. Almost all of them.

I was lucky. All of the surviving eggs took blows; some were tossed against walls, killing the developing nymph inside, some were lost completely. At least one somehow ended up hidden on the chandelier, causing the nymph to fall to its death immediately upon hatching.

I was lucky. I took the heaviest blow, of the survivors. Most of the survivors were simply bumped, causing them to roll into something.

I was picked up, and thrown, as a weapon. Broodmother Nyadra caught me, quickly setting me roughly aside as she resumed the fight against Broodmother Maya.

Broodmother Nyadra eventually won. Maya was killed.

Upon hatching, and noling will tell me how much time passed between the fight and the hatching, most of the other survivors showed simple bruises. In most cases, the softened skin of a hatchling was bruised. But that was the extent of the damage, for them.

I was different. I was lucky to have survived being thrown like that.

I was lucky to even be able to hatch. One of my forelimbs was broken, my spine was damaged. My horn was- and still is, actually- disfigured. My wings…

Well, I might someday be able to fly, I suppose. Maybe. If I can find powerful enough healing spells, get someling to tell me what their magic matrix is supposed to look like. Then I could fix them.

But no.

Levitation is instinctual for most ‘lings. That is, every ‘ling ‘cept me.

It’s not, for me. I actually know why.

It’s my disfigured horn. The nursemaids were able to heal it mostly, before I grew too old for their methods to work; that’s no doubt why I have any use of it at all.

It’s curved up and back, towards the back of my head. And not gently, like a sword; it’s curved sharply. But the curve is consistent, roughly sixty degrees overall, along the entire length of my horn.

I have absolutely no instinctive control of my magic. Good thing it doesn’t act on its own; when I asked, I was told that is a pony problem, not a ‘ling problem. One of the few questions I’ve had that have actually been answered.

But my conscious control of my magic is… Well…

I was able to figure out how to levitate fairly quickly, even before they let me out of the nursery.

Though it would be more accurate to say, even before they removed me from the nursery. It wasn’t exactly voluntary.

In any case, the nursemaids were frightened whenever I tried levitating anything when they were around. So, I stopped, and looked for differences.

Differences I found. I wasn’t able to properly describe them- they vary ‘ling to ‘ling, after all- until after I was removed from the nursery and placed into service as a materials courier. Most ‘lings in this position use their magic to carry their stuff. I didn’t; my levitation seemed to frighten other ‘lings. Never made much sense to me until after I figured out the difference; my floating objects were no different from their floating objects.

I did, eventually, find the difference.

I can sense even the smallest intricacies of any spell used anywhere near me. It takes exactly two hundred sixty-three of the tiny building blocks magic is made up of to levitate. I call them ‘runelets’, anymore- as it turns out, levitation is a simple one-rune spell.

Most ‘lings use between ten thousand and fifty thousand runelets in their levitation spells. As near as I can tell, when analyzing them in my near-photographic memory, all those extra runelets go to waste- all that power, simply lost.

This is where the difference is. My levitation spell used exactly two hundred sixty-three runelets. Then I discovered all the thaumic waste their levitations used- and realized what effect it has.

It glows. It makes their horn glow, it makes the target of their levitation glow.

And it does it in about the most inefficient manner possible.

So I analyzed the runelets.

My levitation spell now has exactly two hundred eighty-two runelets. It took me hardly nineteen runelets to produce the same glow effect- and to give me complete freedom over what color it is.

So I picked a pretty gold.

When I first started using it, some ‘lings looked at me a little weird. One said I made it look easy.

… I’m not sure if that was a compliment, or what. I mean, it is easy- and for them, too, even if they do it in an intrinsically wasteful manner.

I eventually understood why I got those weird looks; most of their levitation auras shift and wobble as they maintain them, especially when they’re inexperienced, while mine holds as solid as the stone walls. And, as far as anyling seems to realize, that was the first time I’d ever levitated.

I’ve tried to mention my magical capabilities. The precision with which I can both sense and reproduce magic.

But to no avail. Noling will believe me.

Last night, I was… promoted.

Not that I would call it promoted. Apparently, I’m good at carrying stuff around- so they want me to keep carrying stuff around, but for more important lings, with bigger consequences if it doesn’t get where it’s supposed to be. What’s more, I still don’t get any more than a starvation ration out of the hive’s love reserves.

… Good thing my levitation is so efficient. I’ve seen lots of young ‘lings like myself starve to death with levitations numbering in the hundreds of thousands of runelets; the love we consume directly fuels our magic, and we aren’t given enough to waste. Thanks to that, I’m actually able to store away some of my starvation ration within my form, for if I ever need to increase my magic use at some point. Or something.

Or, for the occasional high-mass load. Most ‘lings with high runelet counts- fifty thousand and up- will die if they try to carry a lot of mass at once. Not immediately, but they’ll quickly drain themselves of all their love, and die.

Not me. I lifted a good ten times what most ‘lings baulk at, and delivered that to its destination. Then came back for more.

… That was the night before I was promoted. That day had a net zero love gain, for me- yet none lost, either. So, I knew what my limit was.

When they ‘promoted’ me, I expected them to put me in construction. Where that kind of carrying capacity could have made me as effective as an entire overworked construction team. That does seem to be where we go through the most drones.

They didn’t. Instead, I’m carrying more sensitive or urgent matters- things that have to reach a destination, no matter what.

A position where the overexertion- and death- of the ‘ling responsible is unacceptable.

It’s all I have. My duty.

I reach my destination, just short of the hive entrance. Apparently, someling set fire to Broodmother Quill’s chair; she was able to extinguish the flames and save much of the chair, but required a fresh cushion.

… How that constitutes a need for the services of an ‘emergency courier’ like myself, I don’t know. And, honestly, I don’t care. Fact is, she called for it over the hive mind, and if I don’t show up with it within a few minutes of the tailors’ announcing its readiness over the same, I won’t get dinner tonight.

Hardly a daunting threat; I’ve got enough love stored in my form to last me almost two full weeks of this mind-numbing work- or, if I were to spend that time resting, walking or something else that doesn’t use magic, a few months. I don’t know the specifics there.

As I approach the conference room, as required of me by the exalted ‘lings inside, I announce my arrival on the hive mind and request entry.

Broodmother Nyadra opens the door, plucking the cushion out of my magic with her twelve thousand, three hundred sixty-seven runelet levitation spell and pulls me in.

I let her take it; I found out fairly shortly after I started using my levitation for my duties that my hold is far stronger than most other ‘lings; had I not released it as she gripped it, she could not have taken it from me, despite having unimaginably high love levels compared to one such as me. She could have blown all of that power trying to take it, and all she’d manage to do is kill herself. Because of that, I’ve made a discovery. By removing one single runelet from my spell, I can destabilize it. It’ll hold together in that form for as long as I need it to before it falls apart- but if another ‘ling pulls on it, or if I move too quickly, it’ll shatter instantly.

Broodmother Nyadra doesn’t seem to realize it’s an inherent part of the spell I’m using- or, more, the one I’m switching to as I arrive at my destination. She seems to think I’m just nailing the timing with cancelling my spell- or using a weaker spell, like that of most ‘lings.

But why she pulled me into the conference room before she closed the door, I have no idea.

… Come to think of it, the chair cushion being a matter worthy of an emergency courier isn’t the only part smelling fishy. There’s also the part where she requested that I, specifically, be the one to deliver it- not one of the more experienced emergency couriers.

In the corner of my eye, I notice that her chair- and its cushions- are completely undamaged. And they look more comfortable than what the tailors were able to scrabble together.

This is… an unfamiliar situation. I expected to drop it off and head for the next task. Which, of course, would only be assigned once these exalted ‘lings announced they were done with my services for now.

So I stand in place, and wait for orders.

“This is the one?” someling asks. She’s in my field of view; they all are. So I correct myself; she’s not just any ‘ling. She’s the Queen, Queen Chrysalis.

Broodmother Nyadra answers. “Yes, my Queen, this is her. This is Crooked Wing.”

Neither ‘ling seems very impressed by the name. But neither comment on it.

Queen Chrysalis stares at me for a few seconds, before looking back up at Broodmother Nyadra. “You mean to tell me this… disfigured thing is the strongest courier we’ve had in over a century?”

Author's Note

Yeah, a new story.

... And yeah, the name "Nyadra" was probably inspired by Starcraft II. I don't know, I haven't played it in years.

Chapter 2

I’m not sure what happened for the rest of that conference. I stood still, frozen in fear; that I know. Beyond that, I really have no clue. I only know that I was dismissed to go back to my prior duty- Queen Chrysalis doesn’t seem to believe I am what Broodmother Nyadra claimed me to be- and sent back out of the chamber.

As I exit, I sense something alarming behind me- and bolt quickly to the side, glancing back as I do.

It’s levitation. Queen Chrysalis is propelling Broodmother Nyadra after me.

… her levitation has close to a million runelets. The most I’ve seen.

The courier master hasn’t come up with a fresh assignment for me yet; this is normally the time I head for the storage sheds- just down the hall from the work zones. There, right in the middle of the most common pickup locations for my jobs, I will get as much on-the-job rest as possible. I rarely actually get to rest down there; he’s usually got a fresh task for me long before I get there.

But until he gives me a task, and delivers it via the hivemind, I am allowed to do basically whatever I want, so long as I am ready to get to work the moment he does come up with something.

That, coincidentally, gives me the freedom to watch Queen Chrysalis dominate Broodmother Nyadra.

Wait, no. I already watched that, while standing frozen in the conference room. Now, Queen Chrysalis smashes Broodmother Nyadra against the ground in her frustration, crushing her wings even worse than mine. I spot Broodmother Nyadra shift her head, quickly getting her horn out of Queen Chrysalis’ line of sight- and the Queen then turns away, slamming the door shut before making an announcement on the hive mind.

“Broodmother Nyadra has been stripped of all rights as a Broodmother, and will work henceforth as a courier, no meals.”

Nyadra wasn’t able to satisfy the demands of the courier master. Since the punishment for failing like that is a missed meal, though, that was no loss.

Now, denied her own normal sleeping quarters and any new assignment in the workers’ quarters, she collapses on the floor of my room as soon as the door lands closed.

I step closer, crouching to meet her eyes. “B- Nyadra?” I ask. Queen Chrysalis forbade the hive from addressing her as a Broodmother. “Are you okay?”

She groans into the floor, before looking up tiredly. “How do you do that, all day, every day?” She snorts weakly. “And still look like you’re ready to do it all over again!”

“I don’t know,” I answer, and repeat my question. “Are you okay?”

She sighs. “No. Three weeks of that and I’m toast. Three weeks of torture before I die.” She looks up at me again. “And you’ll probably be next.”

“Okay,” I answer simply.

But my mind isn’t anywhere near that simple. My broodmother has been condemned to death- and I must agree with her, it’s very likely I will be similarly condemned soon.

It’s a rare situation. Usually, a ‘ling doesn’t know they’re going to die until they run out of love and simply… cease functioning.

But it does feel kind of… strange. I refuse to allow myself to fall into the same desperation Nyadra is falling into; that could only accelerate my end.

What fills its place, though…

Determination.

“What are we going to do about it?” I ask her.

She blinks a couple times, staring at me. “What?”

“I don’t want to just wait for it,” I answer her. “So what are we going to do about it?”

“Y-y-you do realize what you’re talking about, right?”

I nod. “What choice do we have?”

She stares for several seconds longer, before averting her gaze. “I… I suppose you’re right. I’ve still got enough love to make us invisible for a day or so; that’d be enough to escape… but I only know the basics for how to transform, and you haven’t a clue.”

“If I can see it, I can learn it,” I inform her. “That’s how I learned to levitate.”

She looks back at me, and sighs. “You know, I might have doubted that, if I hadn’t already seen the results. Whelp… Escaping won’t do us any good if we can’t transform. There’s a team of infiltrators leaving tomorrow afternoon. I’ll see if we can’t get you to where you can see ‘em do it… then we’ll bail. If that’s not enough, I should still be able to transform- in theory- to harvest love to bring back for you.”

I nod. “Works for me.”

She shifts on the floor. “If it is enough, you’ll be able to go out with me, and we can both pretend to be ponies.”

“Would it work?” I ask. “Would they find us?”

“I don’t know,” she answers sadly. “We won’t be able to replace ponies, that’s for sure. We’d never get the transform right, nor the memories. So we’ll have to be our own ponies, and fit in with pony society as best we can- and that’s going to be hard.” She pauses for a few seconds. “I… I don’t know. It depends on how fast we adapt, and how fast they start looking. And if there are any infiltrators already in the area to take notice.”

“How can we maximize our chances?”

She smiles. “You know, I’m liking how you’re thinking.” She glances back at the door. “To answer your question, we can go to Ponyville. They already get some weird disaster or another going on every other Tuesday, being next to the Everfree Forest and everything- a little more weird shouldn’t stand out that much.”

“Sounds like a plan. Do you want the bed? I can sleep on the floor.”

“What-? No, I couldn’t-!”

“Please?”

In the end, I manage to convince her. While she gets comfortable on my bed- or, as comfortable as she can get on a bed that doesn’t even compare to what she’s used to- I prepare myself for the night.

As much as I told her I can sleep on the floor, that was never my intention, and still isn’t. ‘Lings still freak out whenever I levitate without those extra nineteen runelets- but a sleeping ‘ling can’t freak out. And, the love cost of holding something still in levitation is practically nothing next to the cost of moving it. I could hold a heavy load in midair for days with the same amount of love it would take to carry it to the next room, about a fifteen second trip.

So I levitate myself, without those nineteen wasteful runelets. I do have to add forty-seven runelets to the matrix to allow me to anchor it on the room instead of myself- but these have flat nothing in terms of continuing love cost, so I don’t worry about them. It’s not actually half bad, I find. Not as soft as the bed, true- but not as hard as the floor, either. And unlike both of the above, it’s infinitely flexible.

We both work normally- well, normally for me- all morning. Nyadra woke to the same wake-up call I always do- and did freak out, once she realized I was floating in the air.

Though it wasn’t the same panicked freak-out that most ‘lings have when they see my glow-free levitation. She was more impressed, thinking that I’d somehow learned how to fly in my sleep. It took some talking to convince her it was nothing of the sort, just a “standing spell” I had placed. Those don’t make a visible corona as they do their jobs, but are purely mechanical in nature, breaking down after a fairly fixed amount of time, depending on how much love was used to make it.

In any case, all morning, I worked normally and she did her best, still coming nowhere near the courier master’s demands.

Then as afternoon came, we abandoned our duties. Crossed paths in a side tunnel. She turned us invisible there, and we headed up to watch the infiltrators transform.

I remember the full matrices of each one’s transformation. Some of them were transforming to unicorns, some to pegasi, and some earth ponies. And, all before they headed out of the hive, as a group.

Nyadra transformed herself at the same time, studying them carefully. Exactly why she shrunk down to my size as she transformed, I’m not sure; she seems a bit miffed as well, but we couldn’t say anything without breaking through our stealth. At least her invisibility did hide her transformation effectively.

We followed the others out. As it turned out, her smaller size turned out to be handy; Broodmothers, as low-tier Royals, are significantly larger in their true forms than regular ponies or drones. We were able to fit together in spaces that she wouldn’t have had a hope of fitting in alone before, even if her fur did feel weird on my carapace.

But eventually, we got out, and split apart from all the infiltrators. We waited until we were a safe distance away before she dropped the invisibility, but we didn’t stop running. She told me she would have dropped her transform as well and carried me- her larger ‘ling form could move faster than either of us now- but she wasn’t so sure she could get the transformation right a second time, so she was going to remain an orange pegasus filly.

It’s now evening, and we’re resting under a bush. As near as Nyadra can tell, we’re just a few miles away from Ponyville. Reportedly, she’s thinking about a pony name for herself. And pouting more than a little, for her pegasus wings are too small- smaller than any pegasus foal of her apparent age. She tries using them, even beating them as crazy fast as a ‘ling beats their wings to fly- but she fails to take off. All she manages to do is make a stiff breeze.

I’m spending this time analyzing the transformations I remember. Isolating the part that does the transformation itself, isolating the part for each species. I have difficulty figuring out which parts control appearance and which parts are the extraneous nonsense every other ‘ling puts in their spellwork; as near as I can tell, this nonsense manifests itself as the green flame on the transform spell.

Then I look up at Nyadra, absently beating her wings as she thinks. “If you can’t fly with your wings, perhaps a scooter could help?”

She stares at me for a second, then nods. “Yeah. Pass it off as a disability, use them to propel a scooter instead- Oh, I wonder what kind of speed I could hit.”

“Fast,” I answer.

“Hmm, but I’m still going to be needing a name, especially if I’m going to be scootin’ a lot.” Then she blinks. “Hay, why not. Scoot-a-lot… Scoot-a-lah? Nah… Scoot-a-loo? How about it?”

“Scootaloo?” I ask, stitching the broken syllables together. “Sounds like a good name to me.”

“Then Scootaloo it is. You figure it out yet?”

“Most of it. I got the transform down, I got the species. I can’t seem to tell what does appearance, though.”

“Species?”

“Yeah- pegasus, unicorn, all that stuff.”

“Oh… That’s tribe.” She glances out of the bush. “Try going for the unicorn. I… might be able to help tell what’s missing.” She sighs. “And it won’t work if there’s something missing, anyways.”

I concentrate, formulating the spell in my mind, building it into my horn. Then I funnel some love into it, and feel it take hold.

Very suddenly, I’m… taller. And I feel weird all over, as if a hundred Nyadras- no, Scootaloos- had wrapped themselves around me.

She gasps.

“What?” I ask- and blink. That’s not my voice.

“You-! You-!” she stutters.

I lift one foreleg up in front of my face to peek at it. After the spell, I ended up lying on my side under the bush.

… My foreleg is covered in green fur, not black carapace.

“You did it!” she finally announces. “You’re… You turned into an adult pony.”

I look down at her. “Adult?” I ask.

She nods slowly. “Yeah.”

I sigh, planting a hoof in my face- and immediately flinch away from the painful contact. “Ow-! Well, this is going to be a pain… and facehooving hurts more as a pony.”

She nods at me. “Yeah, our carapace acts as a natural armor- but ponies have sensitive skin covering their skulls.”

“And fur overtop that skin,” I finish.

She nods. “And fur overtop that skin,” she agrees. “So, uh… You mind if I ride you the rest of way into town?”

“Um, sure,” I blink, and concentrate. “But first…”

It’s a spell I spent most of last night coming up with- and the reason I didn’t wake up before the wake-up call like I normally do.

I spent the night analyzing the hive mind. Finding out how it works, what makes it work.

The good news is, we’re completely invisible to it until and unless we say something on it. The bad news, it’s universal- no matter where on the hive mind we say something, everyling can hear it if they so desire.

The last thing I did last night, at the cost of about half of my stored love, was to create a second hivemind- with only me in it. I would have added her to it right away- a simple spell, by comparison, at only eleven hundred forty-seven runelets- but I worried she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself.

I do that now.

She gasps as she feels it connect, eyes going wide. “Is- is that what I think it is?” she asks.

My spell draws to a close, and I open my eyes again, smiling. “Yes. Last night, I created us a separate hive mind. I just connected you to it.”

“And- and they can’t touch it?”

Nod. “They can’t touch it. Haven’t a clue it exists.”

She pumps a hoof. “Awesome! Oh, and, um… what about our future children?”

“Our?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah. If you’re serving as the host for a hive mind… Well, you haven’t grown into the form just yet, but that kinda automatically makes you a royal… and all royals can lay.”

“... What?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I knew something felt different about you when we headed out. Didn’t know what it was, but… that explains it.”

I blink. “Oh. Um… any nymphs should only be linked to our hive mind.”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“I had to put Chrysalis’ hivemind into a subservient position in our minds… or it wouldn’t work.”

“... Ahh. But yes, that is awesome. For now, with the two of us… I’ll pretend to be your daughter- and we can use your hivemind to help me play the part of a foal, and you the part of an adult. Until we both get familiar with those positions ourselves.” She glances down, towards my tail. “Um, can you roll right-side-up? All adult ponies have ‘cutie marks’ on their flanks- and we’ll have to use a false cutie mark story for it.”

I roll right side up for her, turning my head to look. The first thing I notice, is that my tail is blue and white.

The next thing, is that I have a musical instrument of some sort on my flank.

She gasps. “What-! A lyre? That’s-! That’s not one of the generics!”

I look at her. “Huh?”

She looks back at me. “Oh, no, this is gonna be big. Um, you know how changelings can change their appearance to anything they like?”

I nod.

“That… That includes the cutie mark. But it takes careful precision to fake an original cutie mark- or even one from a real pony. Without that special attention- including focusing on the target cutie mark- a ‘ling turning into an adult pony will end up with a generic cutie mark- a series of bubbles or an hourglass, usually. But to accidentally have an original cutie mark…” She shudders. “That’s very rare. And it means you must be very strong, in the tribe in which it appears…

“Because it’ll never appear on its own if you change to any other tribe; you’ll get a generic.”

I glance at her flank- but it’s just orange. “What about you?”

She covers her flank with her tail. “I transformed into a filly,” she states. “And one young enough, at that, to not have a cutie mark.”

Author's Note

And, this marks the second major setting-up chapter... and what I hope will be the last one. There's still a bit of setup left to do before I get into the meat of the story, but not enough for a whole chapter.

Chapter 3

We only slept on the streets of Ponyville for one night. A little fudtsing with my magic and we discovered that my “natural” pegasus form is grey, with one of the generic cutie marks she mentioned. My magic talents- concealed in that form, but not blocked- turned out very convenient. If I combine them with my Changeling empathetic senses, I can quickly deduce the intended addresse’s location, no matter where their mailbox might be. So, my pegasus form quickly became the Ponyville mailmare, with Scootaloo’s able help on our little hive mind.

Also with her help, I was able to secure a loan from the bank, ‘gamble’ it up a bit by cheating with our empathic sense and hive mind, and purchase not one but two homes. One is for the mailmare to live in; it’ll be empty most of the time, so it’s a tiny little home. The other, she selected.

… I’m not sure why she thinks we’re going to need this massive house, but she does. And I’m not about to argue with her.

After that, we worked together to get her into the local school system. It wouldn’t do, she told me, for a filly her age not to go to school- and besides, she never learned much of what they taught there anyways.

Then the night came, and went. Our first night in this veritable mansion. I was so exhausted after spending two nights and two days working on our escape that I fell fast asleep as soon as I hit the pillows. Which are, by the way, far more comfortable when I hit them as a unicorn than in my true form.

… Er, the floor was, that is. We haven’t gotten any furniture yet, so with Scootaloo’s informational assistance, I used my pegasus form to produce a couple of clouds inside for us to sleep on; pegasi, like us ‘lings, can sleep on that.

And the cloud… Well. Scootaloo slept well both nights prior, and she’s used to a far fancier bed than me. However, she still moaned with pleasure when she flopped down on her cloud.

Me? I remember jumping onto my cloud… then Scootaloo prodding me awake for the first day of my new job. Which, I was still in pegasus form from making the clouds, so I didn’t bother transforming as I got up and went to work. That cloud was undoubtedly the most comfortable thing I’ve ever felt.

Now, I just got home from work, but it’s not even noon yet. Scootaloo won’t be back from school for a few hours. I’m not going to be going shopping for furniture without her; she’s the one picking everything, and I don’t want to distract her. It’s just too… Well, nice to feel her bubbling excitement at learning something new.

Even though we’re both starting to run low on love.

… ‘low’ is a lot higher for her than it is for me, being as how she’s used to getting as much as she likes from the reserves.

I’m tempted to head upstairs and hit the cloud, so to speak, to stave off some of my remaining exhaustion while I wait for her.

But that would not do, so I stand, and I wait.

Up until this point, my concentration has taken all of my attention. Back at the hive, from the moment I got up to the moment I went to sleep, I concentrated on the hive mind, listening for requests even before the courier master could relay them to me. Oftentimes, I correctly anticipated a request- and was already on my way when it was relayed to me. That allowed me to outperform my more lazy brothers and sisters, and sometimes even get extra helpings at meals for my performance. Not once, after I started doing that, did I fall short of his expectations.

I couldn’t even pause to mourn my brothers and sisters when they died on the job. Not if I didn’t want to join them. So I was forced to keep my concentration on the hive mind, even as they collapsed.

Then that night came, when Nyadra was disgraced. I spent the night planning.

The day of the escape, even after we deviated from our assigned tasks, noling questioned the concentration in my emotional signature. It’s always been such a constant part of me that noling even notices it anymore. Then, Nyadra had made us invisible; she masked our emotional signatures as well. I remained concentrated for the rest of the day, this time on the transforming spell- and once I had that down, I spent the rest of the evening- and much of the night- analyzing my new pony form, trying to understand its strengths… and weaknesses.

Then day came, and we had to secure work, home, and school, which took all day. Then the cloud beds, then work in the morning, then-

Then now. I…

Hay with it, I’m still half-dead on my hooves. I’m way too young to be staying up two nights in a row like that, and I haven’t recovered from it yet. I head upstairs, and crash on my cloud.

… It was more comfortable as a pegasus, but I already switched to my unicorn form before returning home, and I don’t have the love to throw around for extraneous transformations right now. I need to wait for Scootaloo so she can help select our furniture, before we start searching for a way to attract the love we need, without draining it from ponies or temporarily replacing a husband or wife like the hive’s infiltrators do. After all, stealing love like that does leave traces- and if the ponies don’t notice them, other ‘lings will.

It’s technically possible for us to absorb enough ambient love, in a town like this, to survive. The problem is, we’d have to be out on the town almost constantly, and we’d be constantly weak, for lack of love. Not only would that be suspicious to the ponies, but a dead giveaway to other ‘lings.

Besides, the love tastes better when it’s freely given.

I pass out very quickly on the cloud. … Or, I would have, if I hadn’t thought of something important when I was about to. I roll onto my back, eyes open as I concentrate once again.

My levitation… is different. I saw lots of ponies levitating today, and yesterday as well. Their magic auras have a lot fewer extraneous runelets in them, but they’re still much larger than mine. Their auras don’t wobble or vibrate like most ‘ling auras; no, the effect on theirs is entirely visual. It does seem to wave somewhat, though.

Mine stands solid and constant.

I need to change that, unless I want to stand out.

So I set to work. I need to find a way to make my aura wave like that, without reducing my holding ability- and with minimum love waste. My goal is to fit in; allowing my magic to stand out like that, like it did at the hive… Not only would that draw pony suspicion, but it would be another dead giveaway to other ‘lings.

I manage to solve this issue in hardly a single hour. Right as I finish, though, before I have a chance to even close my eyes, Scootaloo comes up on our hive mind.

“Hey, Lyra? Erm, you are Lyra right now, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. What’s wrong?” I could hear the tension in her voice.

“Nopony wants to talk to me,” she answers. I get the feeling she’s curling up in the corner of the schoolyard. “I’m not sure what to do.”

I scrunch up my face, thinking. That doesn’t seem to match what I remember seeing while on my mail runs; the entire town- colts and fillies included, I started before they all went to school- seemed very accepting to me. “Have you tried talking to them?”

She gives me an eye roll on the hive mind. “I’m not stupid, of course I did.”

“Hmm,” I mutter, staring at the ceiling. “Anypony else left on the sidelines?”

“Again. I already checked for that, there’s none.”

I scowl. “Any clue why they don’t want to talk?”

She sighs on the hive mind. “Yes. They’re calling me a ‘blank flank’. Two bullies in particular-!”

“Diamond Tiara and Silverspoon,” I finish for her. After I receive her answering nod, I continue. “They did feel like that kind of pony while I was on my mail run. Didn’t notice anypony else.”

“Well, that’s good news, at least. Only, they- Diamond in particular- seems to command a lot of authority over everypony else.” She snorts. “And to think, Diamond doesn’t have her cutie mark either! Yet she still pounds on me for being the ‘foreign blank-flank’, and everypony listens.”

I roll off of the cloud, heading for the door. We don’t have any writing tools yet, and I get the idea I’m going to need a good amount of them. As much as my near-photographic memory lets me do all the processing in my head, delivering a large amount of information to someling else is nearly impossible. Especially since she doesn’t have such an eidetic memory, so I’ll no doubt have to deliver the same snippets multiple times.

The easy solution, of course, is to write it down, and let her study it on her own time. “I’ll see what I can come up with,” I answer.

She sends me a smile. “I hope it’s good. I’m starting to feel a little weak.”

I wince, approaching the front door. “Conserve your love. We can survive on ambient if we have to, but only if we conserve our love.”

“What? We can?”

“Yeah, we can. It’s hard, and we’d be very weak, but we can, if it comes down to that.”

“I… I am not looking forward to that.”

“Me neither. Especially since I wouldn’t have the love to transform and play mailmare.”

“I still think that’s dangerous… Though, I suppose, it’s less dangerous than being some kind of gambling hero.”

Author's Note

I know, I said I'd get into the meat of the story this chapter...

Not instantly, I'm afraid. No, it's more of a transition.

And this is the last that I've been able to get to flow so far... Expect sporadic updates from now on, along with all the other stories of mine. Possibly plus some.