Tornus grumbled under his breath as he walked down the sidewalk, the cold trapped within the concrete penetrating deep into his hooves and into his old bones. He always hated days like this, these cold stormy days that sucked all the color and beauty out of Vanhoover and made it the dreary, dull place everyone seemed to think it was. But this was his hometown and he’d seen it in much worse conditions then some snow and ice patches on the sidewalk, so he pulled his coat closer and kept going, ignoring the slight whistling sound the wind made as it passed through the holes in his legs
By the time he arrived at his destination, his fangs had started to throb from the chilling air. He quickly shoved his way through the door, hearing the little bell above the entrance make a little ring as he did so. He reflectively gave a quick chitter and fluttered his wings as the cold left him and the warm air of the Spinning-in-Cups Café filled its place. He took a look around, seeing a few college foals sitting in one corner holding some kind of study session while a few other patrons were scattered about, sipping on warm coffee or typing away at those new mobile computer things. He took his usual seat, the closest to the door, and took off his hat, setting it down off to the side of the table before smoothing down his neck frills that were standing straight up due to the weather. He relaxed with a content sigh, slouching down into the comfortable wooden chair and leaning his head back. He always felt at peace when he was here, surrounded by beings. Deer, pony, changeling. All nice and happy near each other. It was one of the most special things about his hometown.
“Hello! Welcome to the Spinning.” A young female voice said, causing him to slowly move up and look at his server. She was a doe, probably in her early 20’s and if he had to guess a university student. He sat back up straight slowly as she continued “What can I get for you today sir? We have a special-”
“Just a warm coffee, if you don’t mind. As sweet as you feel like making it.” He interrupted, cutting her off. He wanted the same thing he always wanted when he came here. A warm coffee, the newspaper tucked away in his coat, and the feeling of being somewhere around others. He returned to his previous posture after the doe nodded and walked away. This was nice, this was life. Living. Not just existing like he did most days, stuck at the home in his little room just waiting to die so some other poor old fangs like him could fill it after him. He chittered for a moment in contentment and sat back.
Unbuttoning his topcoat, he slipped it off and set it on the back of his chair, grabbing the newspaper tucked in the inside pocket as he did so. He wasn’t allowed to have a radio in his room because the noise might upset the residents around him and he’d never been keen on getting one of those TV things. He always figured all the light and sound and color of them might rot his brain out the way it seemed to rot all the other old-timers who had one. Sitting up once again, he rested his forhooves on the table and used his light green magic to unroll it.
The frontpage seemed to be a story of how a destroyer was set to be launched from the Vanhoover Naval Shipyard in the upcoming months, the ERS Rigging, to join the Royal Equestrian Lunar Ocean Fleet. It went on to explain the ship was being named after a member of the Coastal Patrol, Top Rigging, who’s sharp eyesight on watch had saved a troop transport during the Liberation of Olenia which earned them a high military honor. It was expected to be a formal affair with several members of the city's government set to attend. It was the kind of story that made Tornus think about his past and the rack of medals he had hung up in his closet at the home.
For a moment, the contentment he’d felt just moments ago was sapped away and replaced with a gnawing regret that he had no one to share the stories of how he’d earned them with. His wife passed years ago, his grubs had no interest in returning home to see him and his grandgrubs weren’t any more interested. Maybe he should have told those stories years ago? Maybe now was too late for anyone to care? Maybe no one cared in the first place?
His dread-filled thoughts were interrupted when there was a soft clunk on the other side of the paper and that young does voice filled his ears, drowning out his inner thoughts
“There you go, sir. Is there anything else at all I can get you?” She asked, her smile warm and demeanor polite despite the tired eyes and the worry she felt in the back of her mind that Tornus could quite literally taste. He politely shook his head as he reached out and grabbed the warm mug, taking a sip and enjoying the rush of sugar and artificial love
“Ahhh, thank you.” he said, sitting the mug down “that is just the way I like it. How much for that cup?”
“Just 2 Bits, sir.” She responded, her overall mood-improving after his praise if his Hatchers Gift hadn’t gone bad yet
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and presenting the doe with a twenty Bit bill. He still had a few Gold Bit pieces from when that was the norm jingling around in there.
“Oh sir, I’ll be back in a few minutes with your change.” She said before taking the bill with her mouth
He waved his hoof dismissively, “Keep the change. I can’t imagine this place pays much.”
That feeling of gratefulness and happiness as that deer walked away was the reason Tornus went out to live. The Hatchers Gift was seen by some as truly a curse, but being able to feel what others did in their best moments made every bad thing worth it. Satisfied now that his feeling of contentment had returned, he returned to his paper while now enjoying the warm cup of coffee alongside it.
He got through two more pages of his paper before he was interrupted again. This time by the scrapping of wood against the ground as one of the chairs at his table was pulled out and someone sat down, timidly clearing their throat. He didn’t even put his paper down and decided to let whoever it was speak first.
After a few minutes of silence, the old changeling not even acknowledging his uninvited guest, whoever sat down finally gave and cleared their throat
“Mister Clasper ?” a quiet male voice said in a polite but slightly impatient tone
“Which one?” Torunus asked, sipping on the coffee which seemed to just get better and better every sip
“I’m sorry?” the voice asked, clearly taken aback by the question
“I asked which one. I know several Mister Claspers. It's a common last name among Changelings you know.”
Whoever was speaking with him sighed and seemed to shuffle in their chair some, “ MIster Tornus Clasper. Ex-servicepony of the Equestrian Royal Army who fought in the Great War as a member of the 1st Volunteer Internment Special Combat Brigade. Left the army after the war to work in construction and eventually became the owner of your own construction business before retiring 12 years ago. Had a family of yourself, your wife, and three foals. You now have three grandfoals and even two great-grandfoals. And you visit this establishment at least one day every week.”
Tornus turned the page of his newspaper as he thought of how to react. Seeing as he couldn’t sense this beings emotions, that meant it was one of his own kind. He looked over the paper, just enough to reveal his pupil-less eyes, to see a young Chanegling-Pony hybrid sitting across from him, looking at the old bug from behind thick spectacles.
“And how do you know all that?” Tornus asked, finally getting his thoughts together and keeping a cool demeanor despite being thrown so off guard
“Either through publicly available records or simply asking about you. You’re likely better known than you think, Mister Clasper.” The young hybrid answered, pushing his spectacles back up his face after they’d drooped down his snout “Let me say that if I’m interrupting anything of yours I am very sorry. And I am also sorry I had to find you this way. But I found no other way to contact you as the retirement home you stay at does not allow non-familiar visitors or even phone calls.”
“Yeah, the place is like a prison. I hate it but it puts my grubs minds at ease knowing I’m watched by someone when they all can’t or don’t want to.”
The young hybrid ‘hmmmed’ to himself for a moment before opening his mouth to start a sentence only to close it again. Tornus raised an eyebrow at that
“Go on. Just say it.”
“Well… I wanted to say you must know what being in a hated prison is like but I don’t want to sound insensitive…”
Tornus sighed and set his paper down, looking at the being across from him in the eyes, “It’s been so long that honestly, I don’t care anymore about that part of my life. Or at least, I won’t get upset about it. So say what you like but before we continue any conversation, at least tell me your name and why you’ve decided to research so much about me.”
The young half-ling took a moment to collect himself, probably not expecting Tornus to react so well to this whole situation, and after a deep breath, finally spoke, “I’m Flash Thought, or Seta if you prefer my Changelish name. I’m a third-year student attending the university and I’m majoring in Modern World History and minoring in Contemporary Equestrian History. And I am looking to interview you for something related to both my major and my minor.”
This new-fang relaxed back in his seat as Tornus did the same, both looking at each other and trying to read the other without the use of their Gift. Tornus could tell that despite trying to look cool and confident, the half-ling was nervous. Probably that he’d just pissed off the old bug he was trying to interview. To ease him, Tornus but on his best grandfatherly smile and spoke softer than he had before.
“Well, Mister Thought, it's a pleasure to meet you. And I’m very flattered that you went out your way to talk to an old bug on the day he’s out. But if I may ask, why me? I mean, I am sure there are others my age who could speak on whatever you’re looking for.”
“I am afraid Mister Clasper, very few can speak what it was like to be a Changeling during the Great War. And even fewer can tell what it was like to fight in it as an Equestrian. I chose you because you’re one of the only ones who can. And the only one I could find who still lives in Vanhoover.”
Tornus thought about that for a moment. It was true that many of his old comrades had passed away, the fact that their reunion got smaller every year was proof enough of that. And he’d known many had moved on, either returning to their ancestral homeland to marry some cute female they found during the occupation or moving all over Equestria for work or love. But the only one in the city? That took more time to process.
“I-I was told that you don’t very much like to speak about that time. You and most of your comrades alike. There’s a very small pool of work regarding your exploits and most of what is are stories told through family members. At best for first hoof accounts, there’s some pictures, letters, and journals but nothing to the level of which I hope to make. But what you all did was very very important and I think the stories of heroes should be shared for all to hear-”
“That right there is why.” Tornus finally said, stopping the halfling as he looked down at the table and took a moment “We… We never wanted to be heroes. We just wanted to be accepted as Equestrians. And we got that, we earned that. With blood and tears and sweat. Buckets of each we earn that. And we just wanted to live it out.”
There was an awkward silence for a moment before Thought cleared his throat “I-If you don’t mind me saying sir… t-there won’t be much longer to live. Not for yourselves. B-But what you all did was incredible. You changed minds. You saved lives. Made lives. I-I probably wouldn’t be here had you all not down so much to prove that Changelings, that we aren’t all bad.”
“Don’t place that much credit on us. We just… we did what we needed to do.”
Tornus took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and thinking about what Thought had just said in spite of his dismissal. While the kid's praise was too high for his taste, he wasn’t wrong. Soon enough, none of them would still be alive. His story, the story of all his dead friends. All the hardship and woe and death. All the laughter and love and bravery. It may well be lost soon…
“L-Like I said sir, I’m very sorry about this… meeting. I didn’t want to spring all of this on you out of nowhere and I of course understand if you refuse. I can finish my project. But there’s something that secondary sources and second hoof stories just can’t match.” Thought said apologetically, even scooting his chair back in order to leave
“Wait,” Tornus said, still struggling internally but not wanting this chance to slip past “let me think on it…. Just let me… finish my routine.”
Thought nodded and scooted his seat in again, looking around and acting a bit fidgety. Tornus didn’t need the Gift to tell he was remorseful. Maybe he hadn’t expected him to react so apprehensively.
Truth be told, Tornus couldn’t think why he’d been all these years. As he barely sipped his coffee and read his paper slowly one page at a time, he tried to come up with an excuse. Why did he wait so long? Why did everyone? Surely someone must have told their story? Someone would have wanted to tell of the glory and guts and all that. But he hadn’t. He’d always been so busy and so reserved about it when he wasn’t busy. At first, it was the scars, the night terrors, and moments where the world seemed alive with bullets and explosions again. Then it was the apathy, the thinking that he could always do it another day. And then finally the day came and he didn’t, leaving only the fear that no one would care by that point.
Today came the remorse and regret.
Eventually his cup came to his lips dry and he couldn’t stand to read the same weather forecast yet again. He cleared his throat, sat up tall in his chair, and set everything aside, looking Thought in the eyes, the young halfling having not lost his attention at all despite the time the old bug had taken.
“Ok Mister Thought… After some thinking, I suppose I wouldn’t mind giving some kind of…. Interview about my experiences. Frankly, I don’t think you’ll find it much but.” He ended with a shrug
The face of the halfling across from him lit up and they let out a loud chitter of excitement and clapped their front hooves together at the same time.
“I-I am so very glad to hear that sir! You have no idea how excited this makes me! I-I am very proud to be doing this and I thank you so much for allowing me the honor of being maybe the first to-”
“Stop making me think about it before I change my mind. Do you want to start now or?”
“Oh no no no! I-I have some other work I need to finish today and I didn’t bring any of my equipment in case you refused. B-But I can speak with you this weekend around noon till about this time wherever you want!”
“Hmm… I suppose I can break my routine a bit and come here twice in one week. Probably be good for me to get out and stretch more. The doctor says my arthritis is only going to get worse before it gets better.”
Tornus had to admit the excitement in the colt's eyes as he stood up, a smile plastered on his face and his brain clearly racing made swallowing the fear and sorrow welling up a little easier. Tornus didn’t really pay attention as Thought spoke some more. Some aloud thinking about how excited he was and how he couldn’t wait and blah blah blah. When he stuck out his hoof for a shake, Tornus merely grabbed it for a moment and gave a single shake, causing Thought to quiet down before quickly leaving.
Tornus sat there for a while more, thinking about his choice. With the conclusion that if he got cold hooves he could just not go, he put his topcoat back on, shoved the newspaper back inside, and stood, facing the door before walking away from the table.
“Sir!”
The voice of his server from earlier broke him from his stupor just as he about to pull open the door, causing him to turn and see the doe with a piece of paper in her mouth, which she presented to him
He grabbed it and looked down at it, seeing it was a phone number. He looked back in confusion before she explained
“The pony who was sitting with you. He left it on the table and you almost left it.”
He blinked and quickly nodded his head “Right right right, thank you thank you. Ahem, have a nice day.”
“You too sir. Be safe in this weather.” The doe said as he turned and walked out the door back into the cold weather.
Outside, it was still lightly snowing and the warmth of his favorite café slowly left him as he walked back to his home. By the time he reached the retirement home, just a few blocks away, he was shivering and aching all over again as the wind seemed to cut like knives through his leg holes. But even with that, he looked at the home with disdain, wanting to be anywhere but there.
Even outside, it looked so drab and grey with only a few rooms of the three-story building having their lights on. He sighed and looked down at the shallow snow gathered around his hooves, bending down so he could examine the powdery snow closer for just a moment. Doing that made him truly feel his age: his back cracked, his too-tight chitin compressed on his chest making breathing harder, his front left leg had a jolt of pain run through it like electricity. He straightened back up and these pains dulled, but didn’t truly go away. He sighed again and walked inside, watching the entrance doors slide open to let him through.
Inside was the same lobby that always greeted him, with a receptionist sitting behind the desk looking bored as she watched the TV muted in the corner. She turned her eyes as he walked in and then her body.
“Welcome back Mister Clasper. Was your trip out nice?” She asked, speaking to him the same way one might to a foal without having the decency to at least try and sound interested
“It was fine. Thank you for asking.” He said as he approached the desk
“That’s good. Now here, please fill out the logbook.” she said, plopping the large ledger down in front of her and laying a pen beside it
He took the pen in his magic and opened the book up. He saw where he’d marked himself as exiting on a trip for dining about two hours ago and signed his return time. He took an extra moment to note that he was the only one that week aside from one other who had gone out at all. He remembered that on other weeks, he was sometimes the only one
The nurse took the ledger and the pen and then nodded “Do you need assistance returning to your room, Mister Clasper?”
“No. Thank you for the offer.” He replied, hiding his contempt for the question. He might have been ninety-five years old but he still moved better than ponies two or even three decades his younger.
With that always unpleasant interaction done, he left the lobby and ignored the elevator, opting instead to use the stairs to reach his room on floor two. He’d asked for a room on the top floor but had been denied given his “age and fall risk”
“Fall risk my flank.” He thought as he trudged up the stairs, passing only nurses and other home staff. “I can get up and down these stairs better than that fatso they hired as a janitor.”
He passed said janitor once he was on his floor, the fat earth pony trying to tuck their form into the floor's janitor closet. Given the cough they were admitting and the smell Tornus picked up on as he walked by, the idiot was trying to smoke without going out in the cold
He reached his room and fumbled in his pocket for a key. He managed to do it before a member of staff could walk by and offer their help for such a simple problem, sliding the key into the lock and turning it. He walked inside and shut the door behind him, taking his simple room in. A bed in the corner along with a nightstand next to it and a window over it, a dresser next to his closet, a pair of bookshelves tucked in the other corner, and a Lazy-Pone chair in the center with a coffee table in front of it. The room was fairly small but he liked the cozy, snug feeling.
“Snug as a bug in a rug.” He said aloud, smiling as he did so. His wife had loved that pony expression for whatever reason. Personally, he’d never understood what would be nice about being rolled up in a rug but it made him happy to remember his wife, even if sadness followed it. He looked over at her picture hung on the wall over his bookshelf and thought about her more.
It had been twelve years since she’d passed, taken too early from this world by a sickness the doctors said they couldn’t help. She’d held on for almost a year though and had passed away with her whole family in the room. It had been the last time Tornus had seen all his children together and served as the catalyst for him finally retiring after so many long years of owning a successful business.
Shoving the memories aside, he sat down in his comfortable chair and thought about earlier. It was nothing he hadn’t already thought about: if this was a good idea, how strange the whole meeting was, if this Thought kid was a bit eccentric, if no one else really had told their story, if he really was the last one in the city. After he’d retread the same ground over and over, he finally stood up and grabbed a book off one of his bookshelves, plopping back down and distracted himself with the world of reading.
By the time the knock came on the door, kicking him out of his reading trance, he was startled to look up and see that it was dark outside as well as inside his room with only his green magic giving enough light to read by. Standing up, he fumbled to the door and opened it
“9 pm lights off and bedtime Mister Clasper.” the nurse in charge of his floor said, a polite smile on the middle age stallions face
“Already? My time flew by faster than usual today. Thank you Pulse, I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Sleep well Mister Clasper. See you in the morning.”
Tornus nodded and shut the door, flicking on the light switch as he did so. He picked up his book, dog eared the page he was on, and put it back on the bookshelf. Then he went over to his closet and looked inside, spotting his old military uniform pressed and still in its dry-cleaning bag. His box of medals was on the shelf on the top of the closet where he always kept it. Seeing the uniform brought a smile to his face for a moment. It was all ready for the next reunion in a few months
He shut the closet, changed into his nightclothes, and switched off his light. For the first time in a while, he crawled into bed with a smile on his lips, even if it didn’t last for more than a moment once he had time to think of how he had three days to go before this dreaded interview. He rolled over onto his side and relaxed, letting the warmth of his blankets despite the coldness outside fill him. In the moments before he closed his eyes, he felt the weight of his age crash down on him like it always did, this time with his conflicted emotions added on top of it. His last thoughts before he slipped into unconsciousness was the day the evacuations happened. That night he dreamed for the first time in a long time.
He was back in the body of a much younger him, having recently celebrated another hatching day that marked him as sixteen. He hadn’t gone to school that day, the same way his parents didn’t go to work, and his older sister hadn’t gone to the Naval Academy that day (she’d been expelled anyway). No one on their block had gone anywhere, they knew it would just waste time. A house at the time, ponies from the local guard knocked on doors, handing flyers written in Equestrian, Changelish, and Halfish to whoever opened the door. He remembered seeing his father receive one from the pony in uniform, how the two shared a look of disdain at the other and how he sensed that the pony was impatient, upset, concerned. If he had to guess, his father felt the same way until the door was closed, no, slammed shut and his father silently read the flyer before cursing and calling his mother to speak with him in their room.
Tornus picked up the little flyer and read the Equestrian portion, going over the section a few times as the message sunk in more and more
‘Any and all citizens residing in the cities of Ancorange, Vanhoover, Tall Tales, Salt lick City, Acadia Bay, Seaward Shoals or Whitebell of Changeling descent must, under law, report to the nearest Relocation Center within six days of receiving this notice. Failure to comply will be met with arrest and seizure of property and assets.
Individuals are limited to two bags under thirty pounds each. Families are limited to one bag per family member under fifty pounds.’
Months ago, there had simply been restrictions on where Changelings could be: airfields, ammunition plants, government buildings, shipyards, army, and navy installations. Those restrictions had cost his father a job at the shipyard and his sister an enrollment in the Vanhoover Naval Academy but life still went on. Then, only a few weeks ago, it was that Changelings were ‘encouraged to move further away from prohibited zones and areas which possess prohibited zones until further notice.’ They’d stayed along with many others, nowhere else to go and with the assumption this would all blow over. Now a few days ago, the regional governor, Last Word, had issued a decree for the ‘temporary movement of all Changeling residents and removal of Changeling visitors from the Equestrian northeastern bordering.’
The governor had said it was for the safety of the Changelings, that attacks against them were ratcheting up and that he didn’t want to see another event like the Vanhoover Race Riot take place anywhere in his region. But they all knew it was because of the Queen across the border. She and her army were constantly performing military exercises, it was all the papers spoke about it. That and the hundreds of Olenian refugees who crossed the Lunar Straight every day, telling stories of Changeling infiltration and sabotage.
Tornus was a bit too young and naive to realize the full scoop of everything at the time. He felt the anger rise back up right before he tore the flyer clean in two and threw it in the trash. He was mad how no one seemed to be doing anything, how his family and all his friend's families seemed to take it sitting down. They were Equestrians! They had rights! He’d spent an entire portion of his school life learning about them and why they had them! Yet the adults all said they had to ‘know their place’ even his stubborn father, who was the most displeased out of the adults.
He had just dunked the pieces of paper into the garbage can as his sister walked into the room, asking what he was doing
“It’s not fair Lexi!” he remembered saying “It’s not right! They can’t just make us move!”
She looked at him with a pitying look, the one that always let him know she understood. She approached him and sighed, saying that she agreed it wasn’t right but if they went along with it, everything would be ok. He wanted to say no it wouldn’t, to disagree and shout out his growing anger but his sister, she’d always been the master at calming him down. He still remembered her smile even as his mind struggled to remember every little detail of her face. What it couldn’t remember, it replaced with his wives features making the dream all the more bitter-sweet.
The following days were some of the dullest days of his life and yet some of the scariest and tiresome. Without school, he was left with nothing to do as his parents packed up the most important things and asked some pony friends to keep an eye on the house while they were away. Like it was a vacation. The first few days he and his friends hung out and that kept things fun. Until another group of grubs was ambushed and beat up by some deer from a neighborhood not far from theirs. Whether to stop retaliation attacks or to keep their own grubs safe, everyone was kept inside.
He watched from his window as one by one, families left their homes weighed down by what they could carry and left everything else behind. After incidents involving pony and deer harassing these groups on their way to the Relocation Centers, police officers and guardsponies began to escort them. Grubs half his age admired the soldiers, with their light grey uniforms and their rifles fixed with bayonets, only looking away when the ponies would turn to look down at them. He hated those soldiers, he felt they were looking down on everyone he’d ever known. He hated ponies too for making him and his family leave everything behind.
His family waited till the last day possible to leave, his father being stubborn even in compliance. Aside from the sick and the elderly, they were the last household to leave. He carried a suitcase in his magic and had his backpack on, both weighed down with clothes and hygiene supplies and whatever else they needed to bring. He didn’t really leave anything special behind in his room but was just glad to have the jar of bits he’d been saving since he was nine clinking around. He remembered stepping outside into the cold wind of Vanhoover, the faint smell of salt in the air like always, and looking to the house next to theirs, their neighbor stood out on the porch watching as they went.
Mister Shine had moved into the neighborhood years ago, the only pony residence and considered a local hero. He’d been a guardspony during the race riot almost eight years ago and had been one of the few to give a genuine effort to stop the lynchings and burnings, saving lives and possibly the entire neighborhood. Tornus only knew all that because Mister Shine and his father were good friends, often enjoying a drink in the front yard and chatting for hours about topics Tornus didn’t understand or didn’t care about.
Tornus and the pony caught each other's gaze for a moment, Mister Shine giving a nod as he continued to watch on, the family walking away from the place they’d called home for almost 5 years. At the time in his youthful moodiness and anger, Tornus had thought the look of utter contempt and disgust in the stallion's eyes was for them. That he’d revealed his true colors. There’d always been whispers that he didn’t like Changelings any more than any other pony, he just held the law higher.
It wasn’t until years later did Tornus realize that look wasn’t for him and his family. It was for the pony who leveled their weapon at his father and urged him on, making a quick jabbing motion with their bayonet to emphasize their point.
