Chapters Dark. Quiet. Undisturbed. Home.
Deep beneath the touch of the sun, a cavern lies, unseen, unheard of. Silent. For eons it has laid here… waiting. Impulses, instincts, wordless needs shared between the clutch of creatures waiting within it, waiting for their chance.
Quiet. Wait. Wait. Quiet. Empty.
The occasional gentle tremble disturbs the cavern ever so slightly. The troubles of a people unknown, no doubt; their squabbles, their wars. Banishments, betrayals, betrothals, all going on with little knowledge of what lies below their colourful hooves.
Hive. Queen. Serve. Feed.
Dust settles gently atop a leathery surface. There’s movement nearby; not the usual gentle tremor, but a more… sudden, abrupt crack .
Feed. Food. Food. Prey. Prey. Wait. Closer. Closer.
Rock drops from the ceiling; one of the clutch does not survive, the squeal of pain alerting the intruder to the presence of the things beneath them. Their words are distant, their meanings not known. The things here have no need for words.
“There’s something down here! Spelunker’s log, uh… seven hundred and thirty two… I appear to have found the vents to power my new laboratory, but… it seems there’s something else here! I can’t quite make it out! I’m going to approach closer.”
Food. Food. Closer. Wait. Wait. Closer. Closer!
The gentle sound of hoofsteps touch the floor of the cave. The interloper, a four-legged host, bends to inspect the crushed hatchling.
Closer. Closer. Feed. Hungry. Hungry! Hungry! Closer!
The host sighs, the tone in its words lost on the listeners, to whom sadness is unknown.
“There’s… just so many of them. What… are these? No geological scans of Ponyville have ever, ever shown a cavern this large down here! Um… closing log.” The host slowly wanders throughout the clutch. Some are grey, collapsed in on themselves; not all have survived. But one sits atop a small outcropping, illuminated by the hole in the ceiling. The host slowly approaches.
Meaning. Prey. Prey. Food. Food. Hungry. Hungry! Hungry!
A sickening ripple of movement starts at the base of the thing; a faintly ovoid shape, stuck to the ground by the mucus of a mother long gone, warmed by thermal vents below it; kept alive by the very planet it is to one day see as prey.
Soon. Soon. Prey. Closer! Closer! Closer!
“What… in the name of… Celestia…?” The host murmurs. She leans close, closer, head hovering just above the cross-shaped pattern atop the thing.
The movement continues up, a sickening bulge of mtion reaching the tip of itself; four flaps slowly curl outwards, finally, at last… Exposing the creature within.
Legs uncurl. A tail whips. The host’s eyes widen, too late; there’s a scream, muffled and gurgled as a tube forces itself into the host’s throat. A tail whips around its neck, long, skeletal legs wrap around its head, like a horrid, possessive hug. Satisfied, the thing settles, as the host it is attached to slumps, the light failing as it collapses, unconscious, quickly sedated.
Finally. Finally. Meaning. Serve. Hive. Serve… Que e n . . . S e r . . .
The creature, wrapped around the face of an unconscious host, satisfying its one purpose in life, dies there, as satisfied as a creature as simple as it can be.
Warmth. A gentle, rhythmic heartbeat. A new life slowly begins to bloom, implanted within another. Curled up tightly, the creature knows it must wait. It does not know why; safety is a concept it cannot understand, but it simply knows. When it is time, when it is ready, it shall emerge.
Warm. Warm. Safe. Grow.
There is a jolt of movement once more. The lungs the creature rests against fill with oxygen as its host intakes air. It sits up, panicking. The creature cares little. It must simply wait. Nestled beneath the ribcage of its host, it knows it is safe.
“S-spelunkers… Spe… Spelunkers…”
The host is shaking.
Panic. Fear. Disharmony.
The creature does not know how it knows these concepts. But it is unimportant. The creature must wait, and grow. The host continues.
She cuts herself off.
Scared. Host is scared.
The creature stirs within its host. That is not a thought it should care to think.
“W… The… There’s… something inside me… I…”
She cannot finish her sentence. The creature dimly feels the host standing, moving quickly. The creature cannot understand her words, yet feels… which is concerning. And the creature being concerned is, in itself, concerning.
Serve. Hive. No thought. No want. No care. It chides itself- an act for which it, once again, chides itself. The creature should not be able to think this. Something is not right. Too busy in its confusion and confusion over its confusion that it doesn’t realise as the host begins breathing much fresher air, nor does it notice the host preparing something deep within it.
Wrong wrong wrong. No care. No care. No thought. Stop thought. Stop think. No think! Stop! Stop!
There is a sickening, burning lurch, and the creature feels wrong. It has moved, far too fast, far too far. The creature is disturbed, moving and slithering more. It feels its host shudder in panic.
“I… I…”
“What is wrong, Twilight Sparkle?” Another voice.
Another host…? No, no hurt. No, hurt! No! Stop think!
The creature is well and truly disturbed now, slithering and writhing. It is not strong enough to burst free yet, but its host is fully aware of it by now.
“Prep the lab! F-full quarantine, now! I… I need to… I…”
“Silence, I shall prepare it at once!”
More movement. The creature cannot understand the thoughts its mind was not designed to think. Panic, confusion; emotions alien to a creature already alien to those around it. It does not register movement, nor the sounds and panicked explanations, spiralling ever deeper into confused, panicked thought for a creature not supposed to feel confusion.
Stop! Stop! Stop! No! Thinking bad! Thinking bad! Stop at once!
But it cannot stop, nor can it notice another build up of energy. There is another, violent lurch, and then… Light, agonisingly bright, painful lights. The creature, fully exposed, writhes and screams, baring its teeth. It thrashes and bashes against its cage; there is a flash of pain as its own tail whips it, leaving a wicked scar on its face.
Pain! Pain! Light! Too early! Too early! Cold, unsafe! Wrong, wrong! Help! Help! Mother! Queen!
The creature, long and snakelike, yet not fully grown, does not know what to do. It bashes and screeches, writhes and yells, using a mouth ill equipped for speech to try and vocalise its confusion. It cannot see much beyond the painful light, but eventually, it slows, and stops. It is… tired. No help is coming. It has no sisters to call to. No mother to hear it.
It does not know how long it has been. But it can feel its body changing, growing. Already, painful spikes of bone are pushing against its underside, trying to grow into legs. It knows this, but does not question how it knows this.
It does, however, question itself.
Think? Why think? No think. Prey think. Not prey. Prey… scared…
Its words are still simple, its thoughts still developing. Its host is nowhere to be seen; slowly, the creature rolls onto its belly, finding its legs have started to grow in. Small, and weak, but just barely able to hold its weight, the creature stands, an eyeless face scanning its cage. It can see, it knows this, but it does not question how.
It is in a cage with walls made of see-through material, and a thick, metal ceiling. Solid and firm, yet letting the agonising light in. It cannot stand it. The creature slowly walks toward the glass, legs slowly strengthening beneath it, body slowly growing. It is tired. It does not know why. It should not be tired.
Hungry… Hungry… But… tired… Tired…
It presses against the wall of the cage, slowly slinking toward the ceiling, clinging to the surface. It is little respite, but whatever it can take, it shall. It tucks in close to itself, attempting to rest.
… Scared.
The creature awakens from a sleep it should not know, and feels… watched. Quickly, it lowers itself to the bottom of its cage, hissing lowly at the painful light. It is much bigger now, probably the size of its host. The cage is still spacious enough for it to stand, and stretch out a hoof from end to end. The glass walls hide nothing.
It is so bright…
However, its gaze soon settle on a pair of watchers. Two… prey…?
They are quadrupedal. One is lavender, with a horn sticking through its multicoloured hair. She wears a pair of circular lenses over her eyes, and a long, flowing white coat, sterile and clean. The creature recognises the… the… pony…?
It does not know how it knows this word, but it knows this word is correct. This pony is the creature’s host. It can feel it, it knows, deep down. Yet the pony is alive. How…
Next to her is a much larger, thinner pony… Yet it is not quite a pony. Tall, looming, buglike, with gaps in her legs and a long, thin mane covering half of her face. This one also has a horn; and a pair of wings, as well, tucked by its sides.
The two are watching the creature closely. The lavender one watches with fascination, the other, suspicion.
“I… I think she can understand me!” The lavender one gasps. She… She…? Gender is a concept that makes the creature’s head spin. Yet She simply feels… correct.
“I… Hello! Um… You don’t have a name, by any chance, do you?” She asks. Name… That is a particularly strange one. The creature, despite not knowing the meaning of the gesture, shakes its head. Instinctively, it simply knows to shake one’s head is to show disagreement, or a negative. The concepts make the creature’s mind hurt as it becomes aware of more and more.
The lavender one’s eyes widen near-to-beyond their limits, a giddy, gleeful giggle escaping her.
“You don’t have a name… Hmm… What about Scratch?” She smiles, patting her cheek.
The creature considers this. It lowers its head, considering things its species have never considered once in their entire lifetime. Gender, language… a name… The creature looks up, looking into the eyes of the lavender one… and nods.
The lavender one bounces excitedly.
Scratch pauses, considering this. She has given up questioning the utterly alien experiences bombarding her, beginning to accept that this is very much not going to plan. As much of a plan as millenia of instinct can form, anyway.
She opens her mouth, feeling the appendage within burst forth; a second, smaller mouth, covered in wicked teeth and drooling spittle. The internal mouth simply hisses before receding, as Scratch closes her mouth.
Twilight, barely containing her glee, bites her lip before continuing once more.
“Okay… Is your species hostile to ponies?” She asks. Scratch simply nods; while this entire thing may be unexpected, their initial goal was domination, feeding, preying. She cannot deny that. Twilight winces.me? ”
Scratch hesitates this time. She feels she should nod, but… Something deep within her, an odd warmth, a comfortable feeling, causes her to shake her head. Twilight raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side.
Scratch shakes her head once more.
Twilight taps her chin.Well , you started more snakelike. Then grew legs, and now…” She taps her chin for a moment, deep in thought, before suddenly looking up.
Scratch is… quadrupedal, this much she was, at least, aware of. She has a black, chitinous body, with a long, extended head crest. A sharp spike of bone and chitin sticks out of her forehead; a horn, much like Twilight’s. Lavender energy sacs cling to the underside of her crest, and thin vents of lavender light run along the top of it. She has chitinous shoulder extensions, and her belly is ridged with more lavender sacs. Her body is slender, and long, with a thick tail curled behind her.
Scratch opens her mouth, looking at her sharp teeth and second, smaller mouth. A wicked scar on her left cheek reminds her of her name. Scratch… Am Scratch. I… I am Scratch.
She realises Twilight has asked a question, and gives a nervous shrug. She does not know what her species is meant to look like. Twilight lets out a soft ‘hrm’.
“What if your species are infiltrators? Or well… Creatures designed to adapt? Is that true? Do your kind adapt to their hosts?” She asks. Scratch doesn’t even need to think; deep, instinctual truths tell her this is so. Her kind are meant to hunt, to devour, to breed, and to do that they must be ready for whatever planet they are seeded onto. She nods.
Twilight is considerably more excited now, and she pats her chest.
Scratch simply watches her. The words have meaning, she knows this. But at the same time… Friendship? Magic? Such terms are… unusual. She takes her hoof away from the glass, and rests it on her chest. There is such... warmth there. A comforting weight, resting in a cavity not designed to house… Friendship. Scratch looks down at herself.
The feeling wells up inside her as she looks back up at Twilight. Friendship…
She can feel a tingle of cool energy flowing up and down her body, the spines on her tail quivering with energy. Friendship…?
As she looks into Twilight’s eyes, the mare’s face suddenly turns to shock; Scratch does not know why until there is a sudden and aggressive lurch.
Is this friendship?! Scratch questions.
There is a bright flash, a dizzying headache, and Scratch is suddenly on an unfamiliar floor. It is soft. Car… pet…? She wonders.
She can hear yelling from below, panicked sounds of confusion. There’s clattering and clanking, and a door behind Scratch swings open.
“Oh, thank Celestia, you’re okay!”
A hoof comes to rest on Scratch’s head. She flinches, and the hoof recedes, as Scratch sits up, looking around. She freezes; she’s out of her cage. Twilight is standing over her, concern written on her face.
Hunger… Prey… Purpose…
Scratch stares at the pony. She can feel the heartbeat, see the warmth of the flesh. She… She…
Sways, and collapses again, leg kicking weakly. She cannot live up to her purpose. She cannot hunt. Scratch is flawed. Purposeless. Better off dead.
She spirals, wishing to simply stop living; her species is meant for feeding, eating, hunting, preying. Yet she cannot take prey served to her. What is… feeling… sadness?
She freezes as the hoof is placed on her crest again.
“She… she teleported…” Twilight whispers, eyes wide.
“This is… W-wait, she… Chryssie, help me get her into bed, she’s… I don’t know, but she needs rest after that!” Twilight calls. Chrysalis lumbers over, looming down low. Scratch feels herself being lifted. Carried. Her mind scatters, her thoughts unfocused. She feels her consciousness drifting. As Scratch is suddenly surrounded by softness and warmth, her mind shuts off entirely, sleep taking the sleepless creature. The last thing she sees, leant over her, is the face of Twilight, drawn with concern. A hoof touches her head, and she hears the mare’s voice.
“Please be okay, Scratch.”
Trees, rustling in the cool night air. Branches, barely bent beneath my weight. The gentle night air bringing a scent to me. The scent of…
Prey.
My heart picks up. She is close. I can hear her, laughing to herself. I approach, carefully, slowly… My tail flicks behind me, ready to pluck her from where she sits, at the base of a tree.
Prey.
I cannot see her face. Slowly, I begin to descend the tree, clinging tightly to the bark. My mouth opens, droplets of spittle fall into her hair, alerting her to my presence.
When she looks up, there is no fear. I cannot make out her face, but she is smiling.
Why is she smiling…?
“Scratch, you’re finally here! Come on, the fireworks are gonna start any second!”
What…?
I fall to the ground, the tree gone from beneath my hooves. I scrabble into a sitting position, looking around. What is going on?
We are sitting on a cliff outcropping. Fireworks are going off in the distance. I look up at them, silently watching. I turn my head; she’s still sitting there, but she isn’t looking up. She’s looking at me. I feel my heartbeat pick up…
Scratch awakens with a hiss, inner mouth puncturing the soft, pillowy surface of her… pillow. Confused and disoriented, she sits up, scanning the room she’s in as feathers fall from the jaws of her second mouth. The room is dark.
Dark… Like home.
The room is small, and… the word “cozy” appears in Scratch’s mind, unbidden. She does not know the definition of the word, but knows that it applies to this room. The walls are made of wood, as is the ceiling, and the floor; although the floor has a large, warm-looking rug spread across it. A fireplace, warded with magic that Scratch can feel from her position on the bed, gently crackles, the fires within dying down.
Scratch continues to scan the room; over a large, full-to-bursting bookcase, and settles on a large armchair next to the fireplace. Sitting in it are the two ponies from before. Chrysalis, the larger one, with Twilight, the smaller one, sitting in her lap, asleep. Chrysalis is awake, calmly watching Scratch.
Prey…? Scratch wonders. It would be too easy. Leap forward, puncture them both with her tail. Consume, feed , serve the hive. But… The thought of hurting either of the two ponies brings a sense of… disgust, of revulsion to the creature, to whom disgust is an unexplainable concept. Scratch is meant to revel in gore and gristle, seek out bloodshed and hunt down her meals with no discrimination or hesitation. Yet…
Not… prey. Friend...s…?
She carefully sits up, Chrysalis’ eyes watching her closely.
“You have not attempted to harm either of us, although you did appear to be having a nightmare…” The tall pony smirks lowly, the ridges of her horn alighting with a warm green glow.
Scratch listens to Chrysalis as she carefully pulls her body out of the tangled bedsheets covering her. Love? Dreams? These ideas are even more unknowable confusions to her. She can understand the words, knows their innate meaning, but cannot explain them to herself.
Carefully, she steps out of the bed. She glances out of a window carved into the wall; the sky, dark moments ago, is streaked with orange light.
Within less than a second, Twilight is alert, jumping out of Chrysalis’ lap and landing quickly on the floor. She’s only a few feet away from Scratch, who’s instincts are screaming at her to attack. But… something keeps Scratch from moving.
Twilight takes in the strange mare before her with wide eyes.
The tape snaps out quickly, and Scratch freezes as Twilight begins measuring her body, calling out the numbers to Chrysalis, who is recording them in a notebook; it looks new, unused. The front has a hastily, yet neatly, written title; “A Study of ____biology”.
“Hmm… Slightly taller than average ponies. Tail is… Three feet long, wow… Your horn is, hm… Also larger than an average unicorn’s. Um, could you…” Twilight steps in front of Scratch, tilting her head.that would come in handy for a situation like this.”
Twilight turns to Chrysalis.
Scratch simply watches the pony closely, still… very much overwhelmed. She shifts lightly, looking around. By now, were things not so… wrong, she’d have hunted quite a bit of prey, and could have begun building her nest. But here she is, meekly allowing a creature to take measurements, all while flustering about what friendship is.
Scratch watches the measuring tape as Twilight places it onto a small table by the bed, turning to talk to Chrysalis about something. The mare doesn’t listen to Twilight, curiously regarding the tape; Twilight had held it in her magic. Scratch, earlier, had used magic… She’d dwelt on friendship, and had simply let the magic well up inside her, and…
Scratch lowers her head slightly, a light slowly collecting around the base of her horn. She feels a sac within her crest surge with power as she taps into the friendship within her, the friendship she learnt from her host. A gentle flicker covers the measuring tape, before a light surrounds it. A gentle, pastel, lavender light. Scratch focuses, carefully, lifting the tape; Twilight and Chrysalis have stopped speaking, but she tries not to think about it as the measuring tape approaches Scratch, hovering in front of her face.
“She’s… using telekinesis… And she’s never had a single lesson!” Twilight hisses. The sound is enough to distract Scratch, and the measuring tape falls to the ground. Scratch staggers a bit, shaking her head as dizziness overwhelms her. Using such power is… expected of her species, but the source of the power, this ‘friendship’, is… difficult to comprehend.
“This is wonderful! Okay, okay. Calm down, Twilight. Erm.” Twilight taps her forehead, then nods to the door.
“It’s possible you may not even be terrestrial!” Twilight giggled gleefully, clapping her hooves.fascinating! Okay, hm… So…” She begins to pace in circles around Scratch. Scratch’s tail flicks nervously, the mare unsure of what Twilight’s intentions are.
“You’re xenobiological, and taking on the form of a pony… Xenopony? No, that rolls off the tongue weirdly… Ponalien? No, no…” Twilight stops in front of Scratch, tilting her head.
“This is… Still so overwhelming. I… I haven’t really let you say anything, have I?” Twilight realises, blushing and placing her notebook down.
“Try this. Hhhhh.” Twilight opens her mouth, pushing air out of herself. Scratch mimics the gesture, opening her mouth and hissing, spittle dropping from the jaws of her second mouth. Twilight, barely hiding her fascination, continues.
Scratch listens closely, tilting her head to the side, noticing the way Twilight’s throat shifts as she makes the noise. Scratch attempts to mimic the sound, focusing on keeping her inner jaw from getting in the way.
“Hhhhh… eeeeehhhh…” She manages. Twilight’s glee is barely disguised now as she leans in, bouncing on her hooves.
Scratch frowns for a moment, feeling the inside of her mouth. Her inner jaw, when properly focused on, seems more… malleable than it should be. Nowhere near as flexible as Twilight’s tongue, but nonetheless moveable more than her species’ inner jaws should be able to.
Another part of being Pony? Or caused by… magic…?
Scratch considers this for a moment, then finally opens her mouth again.
“Hhhh. Eehhh… Lu-ohhhh.” She manages, inner jaw shifting slowly and sluggishly in her mouth. Twilight squeals with excitement, clapping her hooves together. Not wanting to disappoint her host, Scratch tries again. She knows the word she’s trying to say; the sounds combine in her mind as a greeting, a response to meeting someone, the opener to a conversation. She knows this word. She just has to try and say it… Speech is important, she knows this, too.
“Hhee… Heeehhlllooohh.” Scratch hisses. Her voice is… unused, faintly cracking like dried stone. But the more she uses it, the more comfortable speaking becomes.
“Hellooh.” She hisses, looking into Twilight’s eyes with her own eyeless face. Twilight stands up, grinning proudly.
“Ponies aren’t really used to seeing someone quite like you. I doubt anyone would hurt you or anything, but just for now, try not to leave the house. When you’re ready to see the world, me and Chryssie will help introduce you to it. Alright?” She asks. Scratch reels slightly from the words inundating her; outside, house, world, breakfast? Food… prey?
Trying to parse Twilight’s meaning, Scratch relents, and simply nods. Twilight sighs in relief.
Hello… world.
The world… an entire world… Not prey. Friends.
Scratch, still unsure of how to feel about this particular shift in perception, slowly stands. She must be on her way… to breakfast. While friendship, love, dreams, speech, and magic may all be frightfully complex subjects to her, there is one thing Scratch knows innately: Hunger. She has waited for centuries to feed. And as the smell of food wafts up from below, that waiting becomes truly real to the xenoquine, her stomach growling painfully.
Slowly, Scratch makes her way to the door. Equine instincts driving her, she reaches a hoof to a doorknob she should have no ability to grip, yet… she does. Scratch decides that to question this would only invite further headaches, making a mental note to never question anything her hooves are able to do again.
Scratch lets the door swing open, and steps onto a landing. She can see a large library before her, down a flight of wooden stairs. Memories, taken from her host, rise unbidden in her mind; This is Home. This is the Library. This is… tree…?
She shakes her head, carefully descending the stairs next to her… Until there is a sudden flurry of motion at the entry door. The thing flies open, and a pony dramatically steps in; A flash of purple and white and red, magic simply oozing off of the creature as she makes her entrance. Scratch, unexpectedly skittish, quickly hisses and scales the wall next to her, clinging to the ceiling as the interloper makes her presence known.
“Daaaarling!~ I’m here about your letter! I- oh. I’m the first one here, suppose I’m no longer the fashionably late one.” The mare murmurs. Scratch looks closely at her; She is a white unicorn, with a short purple mane, most of her hair pulled back into a curly ponytail. Her tail is long, and equally curly. The mare has scars on her midriff and face, and wears a silky, soft-looking shirt, underneath a crimson scarf.
Slowly, she looks up, seeing Scratch above her. Scratch stares back at her, ready to flee.Don’t… want to scare… She thinks.
The pony continues to stare. Scratch stares back.
… This… is awkward. Scratch thinks.
“Well come on then, let me have a look at you! You must be what Twilight’s letter was about, darling!” The pony says, smiling warmly. Scratch, slightly off balance by the unexpected response, carefully climbs down the wall, stopping once she’s at the floor. This mare is slightly taller than Scratch, until she gives a calm bow of her head, humming airily.
“Twilight’s letter mentioned a ~new arrival~, I suppose that must be you! Here I thought it would be a shipment of fine silks, but alas!” She began to circle Scratch, tapping her chin as she stopped in front of the xenoquine. Scratch’s back is to the entryway door now. She considers fleeing, briefly.
“Hmm… Well, it didn’t mention anything about dressing her new arrival, so I suppose Twilight isn’t wishing to give you a makeover.” The mare places a hoof to her forehead, sighing dramatically.fab , of course, I love what you’ve done with the purple! Very nice, darling. But I think you could really spice it up with some nice pumps, or a cute dress. Hmmm, I’m thinking low-cut-”
“Thank you, Rarity.” Comes Twilight’s faintly exasperated voice. Scratch, seeking rescue, peers past the white unicorn. Twilight is standing in a doorway beneath the stairs, where the smell of food is coming from. Scratch sighs softly in relief as Rarity’s attention is drawn away, the large mare finally taking her eyes off of the flustered xenoquine.
“Not a worry at all, darling! So, why did you call us all here? And why am I the first one to arrive?” She sighs dramatically once more, collapsing into a chair with a hoof on her head.must be the one making a dramatic entrance, the final arrival, the one all eyes turn to! You know I’ve told you to send my letters last , darling.”
Twilight smiles, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a breath.promptly. Applejack is out of town, Pinkie’s restaurant is always busy this time of day, Fluttershy is out in the Everfree-” Twilight stopped, shaking her head.
“So, your… new arrival.” She approaches once more, Scratch taking a half step back. She needs to say something, anything to get this mare to stand back…
“Hhello.” She manages. Rarity gasps, stopping in her tracks and grinning.
“Growing inside my ribcage.” Twilight replies, smiling weakly. Rarity nods sagely, not listening as she pulls a measuring tape from inside her scarf.
Twilight steps forward, placing a hoof on Rarity’s to push the measuring tape down.
“Mmm, very well. So, you wish for me to make a fab outfit for your new galpal, hmm?” Rarity asks, excitement in her eyes. Twilight shakes her head, taking a step back.
“... That is something new. What is she, then?” Rarity asks, taking a seat as dramatically as she can on a nearby couch. Twilight looks at Scratch.
Rarity nods slowly.goooorgeous , and my, that tail! I can think of such ways to accessorise it.” She laughs airily, running a hoof through her mane.
The kitchen smells strongly of deliciousness. Scratch feels her mouth watering as she enters, tail flicking impatiently behind her. Chrysalis is standing by what Scratch vaguely recognises as a stove, wearing a pink apron. She turns, and smirks.
There’s a window next to the table; she peers through it, looking out at the morning crowds milling about. She counts almost thirty ponies, trying not to think about how numbers and counting work. They’re all milling about, purchasing things at market stalls. The concept of “purchasing” and “market” are still vague unknowables to Scratch, but she tries not to think about it, turning as Chrysalis places a plate before her. Fried eggs.
Scratch leans down, sniffing them carefully. They smell of salt, and… and-
The xenoquine almost falls out of her chair as she sneezes, mucus and spittle spraying the window next to her. Chrysalis sighs lowly.
“... Your species is very drippy, I take it.” She murmurs, levitating a rag over and wiping the window clean.
Scratch looks down, not responding as she opens her mouth, teeth gnashing down on her eggs. She takes only a few moments to savour them before swallowing, her plate cleaned in a matter of seconds.
Chrysalis blinks, lifting Scratch’s plate.
“Hungry, I assume. Hm.” She laughs internally, turning and returning to the stove. Scratch offers a nod. She barely understands this… “hungry” as a word, but she knows the feeling. It is strong.
Scratch rips through another seven plates of eggs before she is sated. Carefully, she stands, an unfamiliar feeling of fullness making it hard to walk steadily. Chrysalis chuckles, shaking her head.
“I will work on cleaning up. Tell- ah… Nevermind.” She shakes her head, waving a hoof to dismiss Scratch. The mare nods, stepping out of the kitchen, back into the library proper.
There’s another mare here now. A yellow one, and… This one has wings. Peg… pega… pegasus? Scratch’s stolen memories drift to the forefront, telling her what she needs to know.
The mare is a yellow pegasus, with a pastel pink mane, cut short. She’s wearing a brown leather jacket, scratched and scuffed; as scratched and scuffed as the rest of her body, scars strewn all across her messy, slightly dirty fur. She’s sitting next to Rarity, the mares talking quickly.
“Ah, Scratch, hello! This is Fluttershy.” Twilight smiles as the xenoquine re-enters the room. Before Scratch can make any motion in response, the yellow one, Fluttershy, is on her hooves, quickly approaching.
“Oh wow! This is quite the beast!” She grins widely, poking Scratch’s chitinous crest, her chest, her belly-- Scratch groans a little, letting out a small burp in reply.
“She’s just had breakfast.” Twilight offers.
Fluttershy nods.deep in the Everfree. Parasitic, adaptive. Hrm.” She frowns.No. She’s just barely had her first meal ever , let her get adjusted before you go brawling.” Twilight replies, sighing in exasperation. Fluttershy huffs, turning and sitting down next to Rarity again.eventually. ” She murmurs. Rarity laughs.
“About your offer, I would like to volunteer.” She says. Twilight raises an eyebrow.wonderful to be the second host of such a species.” She huffs. Twilight sighs, looking down.
“You understand the risks?” Fluttershy asks, nudging Rarity.fashionable. ” She teases. Rarity rolls her eyes.
Scratch, who had been simply standing and letting the words wash over her until now, simply looks up in surprise. Does that mean… outside?
Twilight, sensing Scratch’s apprehension, approaches, and rests a hoof on Scratch’s chest.
Then the mare is gone, quickly rushing down into the lab beneath the library, leaving Scratch alone with the other two mares. They chat amongst themselves, updating each other on their day; they appear to be making plans for a date of some kind, but Scratch doesn’t know if they mean the concept of going out together, or the fruit. Words with different meanings but the same… words are still hard for her brain to comprehend.
With a faint sigh, Scratch steps toward the window, looking out…
Outside… So many… friends.
