Author's Note
Fic-inspiring song? Check. Angst? Double-check. Thorax and Pharynx? Triple-check.
This Is What It’s Like
Shallow but heavy hooffalls echoed along the path towards Pharynx’s quarters. His quarters had been assigned to him by his younger broodmate, Thorax, whom the role of ‘King’ was now played by in this newfound conundrum.
Physically, it was a turret dislocated from the rest of the Hive, but not secluded. Pharynx stormed right past it as if an unshakeable crown of storm clouds plagued him everywhere he went. Back before the tomfoolery that had now become the Changeling race came to be, Pharynx had shared a pod with four others of his rank, but of course even they had succumbed to the ponylike-ways Thorax had been plagued with yearning for since he hatched.
Now, Pharynx sooner opted to sleep in the Badlands’ forest than inside. He had crafted a poor teepee imitation with sticks and leaves, with his own mucus being the only thing keeping it from dropping like a drunken stallion.
The rhythmic tapping acted as an unintentional lullaby during his ritual of spinning around before laying on the ground in his poor shelter. He had done it when things were right, too, but never to this extreme.
As he laid tucked into himself, Pharynx found his ears pinning back. They soon erected to the sound of awkwardly strident hoofsteps. Thorax. He needn’t bother to look. His brother was unused to the sheer power of his new form, and thus struggled to remain silent.
As per usual, neither brother said anything, and - as always - Thorax’s newly-purple eyes bore into Pharynx’s chitinous withers. Unwillingly, his ear flicked to the sound of Thorax sighing, before turning and walking away.
Only nine or so minutes managed to pass before rain started to thud against the ground. Pharynx would have liked to have cocooned himself to a tree branch, but he was far too unnourished, and he refused to even taste a mere slither the tainted love Thorax had threaded through the gullible Hive’s restructured society.
Pttr-pattr, pttr-pattr.
The rain sounded against the ground in pity. Pharynx knew it was looking upon the Hive in disdain. Or, did it feel welcomed? It never really rained in the Badlands; it was only ever dry. Dry, like Pharynx’s own wit. Dry of love, like every Changeling’s heart before Thorax had turned everything on its head.
Pharynx returned to the Hive after posing as the Crystal Empire’s Shining Armor during Queen Chrysalis’ master infiltration. All drones were forced home on account of the imitated ponies returning. Pharynx, however, had been oddly unsettled on the journey back. How had they escaped? Why had they escaped?
They were oddly nice about it, too. Princess Cadance, the Crystal Empire’s de facto co-ruler, was... nice. Exceptionally so, considering this had happened to her twice, and now with several of her own subjects, staff, guards, her aunts, sister-in-law and her friends, and her own family. Again, it was odd; Pharynx was unnerved.
When he, and the rest of his assigned colony, had hit the Empire’s forcefield with a static buzz, they sank to the ground unwillingly, and were met with the at-first-stern countenance of Princess Cadance. Once they all stood and hissed, wriggling their forked tongues and baring their fangs, a few guards, and her husband Shining, were behind her in a matter of seconds.
Cadance’s expression, however, had softened. “You will be permitted to leave,” she said, her voice just as gentle and soft as her features, “all Changelings are to return to the Hive, as there have been some... alterations.”
Pharynx, like the rest of his colony, had stopped their offensive gestures and hummed in their confusion. Pharynx had quirked a brow, lifting a cheek to express confusion.
So, the colony left through the forcefield and flew through the storm. Three hadn’t returned, but Pharynx paid no mind. Five had been lost on the way there, and now they were only returning to the Hive; there was less carapace shed off of his back.
They had returned to the Hive twice - if not thrice - as confused as what they were when they encountered Princess Cadance. Firstly, the Hive had been blown up, reduced to rubble and grit. Secondly, there was no Changeling in sight. Black, holed-hooved bodies were nowhere in sight. Instead, there were chitinous organisms of yellow, green and blue. Some had large, beetle-like carapaces and some had lighter, rounder ones.
Those with longer and double-pointed horns had no tails. Incidentally, they also harboured the heavier-looking shells with a medial curve carved into it, crafting a sharp edge similar to the second spike on their horns. Pharynx felt as though - despite their bright colours - they seemed much more threatening than the others, because of their sharper edges.
That was, until he saw the moose.
The accompanying Changelings had all turned into shivering rocks or twigs at the sight of it. Pharynx only huffed: “Cowards.” But, he was trembling, too. He swallowed his fear, and trudged forth with heavy and dominant strides that - back in the Hive - would have caused most to grovel or plead for some form of mercy.
The moose must have been the leader. It was the only explanation. Pharynx would simply force it and its swarm - or whatever this was - out of his Hive’s territory and search for the others.
Had the foreign pack killed them? No, Queen Chrysalis wouldn’t have allowed that. If she was losing, and knew all would be lost, she would have hid. Perhaps she was nearby, stalking the intruders to familiarise herself with their mannerisms in hopes of formulating a plan to take them down.
The moose was lime green with orange accents and purple eyes, like one of the variations the others were dressed in. On his gradiented chest were three white, pearl-like features, which made his chest seem much larger and muscular than what it had been at first sight.
That wasn’t why they were concerned.
The moose was as tall as Queen Chrysalis and Celestia respectively - with its gamboge antlers adding some additional height - and roughly twice as wide from sheer muscle. Atop his head were twin antlers of a gamboge pigment. If Pharynx found the longhorns’ horns potentially spear-like and threatening, he certainly found his knees weak and wobbly at the sight of the moose’s antlers.
The moose was smiling at its smiling inferiors. Furthermore, everything seemed to turn towards the dark arrivals when they returned to their home grounds, and the attention became even heavier as Pharynx marched forwards.
The moose’s threatening - albeit violently vibrant and pony-coloured - appearance warmed with an even brighter smile than before at the sight of... Pharynx? What did it have in store for him?
“Pharynx!” Its voice was surprisingly light. The Changeling in reference had been anticipating one much more deep and coarse, like his own. Threatening, in other words, like his domineering frame entailed.
“What are you?” Pharynx barked back thoughtlessly. “Why are you here? Get out! This is our land!”
The moose frowned. Its frown, like Princess Cadance’s facial features from several hours ago, was soft. It wasn’t a scowl, or a scrunch of disdain at Pharynx’s talking-back - like true leaders such as Queen Chrysalis usually displayed with fervour - but just a frown that, in Pharynx’s eyes, said something rather polite as opposed to some form of cuss-filled command that was common language in the Changeling Hive.
This wasn’t the Hive. This was some form of hippie-ish cult. This was something that Thorax - his estranged broodmate - would have thought up in one of his wildest dreams.
“Pharynx, it’s me,” the moose seemed to be pleading with him. Pharynx reeled in confusion at Me’s change in tone. “Thorax!”
The rain continued to pour like a world-filling waterfall. Pharynx bristled at the coldness. Another odd thing: he liked the smell of the ground when being rained upon. In other words, he liked the smell of rain. Odd.
“It’s pretty cold out, huh?” A voice as calm and as soothing as honey inquired, causing a flinch on Pharynx's behalf. When had Thorax’s sneaking skills become even moderately efficient?
Pharynx figured that if he remained silent, under the facade of sleep, Thorax would leave him be. It was Hive-conduct one-oh-one, after all. A series of hooffalls sounded, and he noted that they were getting closer. If he had claws, they would have gripped into the dirt in agitation. The hooves trod gingerly around Pharynx’s illy made shelter.
Pharynx’s eyes refused to open - he was too far in, now - lest he wished to drop his act and face confrontation outright. The patter of rain continued, slapping against the ground like a drum of sorts. Pharynx could smell the rain, and hear the rain; he could feel the damp and cold, and hot breath against his neckfin.
Thorax’s hoofsteps had stopped, and his breath against Pharynx’s chitin indicated that he was sticking his head awkwardly into the shelter with his oafish antlers and boarish shoulders. Pharynx’s senses were suddenly overwhelmed. He could smell both the rain and the close proximity of his brother, now.
His stomach churned. Love.
The wind chime of magic sounded in a whisper. Thorax was using his magic.
Hoofsteps. Thorax was on the move. What was he doing?
Pharynx peeked, and he wished he didn’t: Thorax was fixing leaves and such to his shelter to stop the winds from howling through the many ample gaps. Pharynx shut his eyes again when he noticed his younger brother returning to the entrance. He listened to him shaking like a dog - the noise was unmistakable, as it was something all Changelings did when emerging from wetness - before entering, and twirling around in a similar fashion to what he had done earlier on.
Thorax was warm, Pharynx noted. Streaked with rain, mind you, but still warm. Equinely so. His imaginary claws scrunched into the dirt again as he felt Thorax’s body envelope his own, like a snake. His brother was just that big, now. Sure, he could have actually transformed into a snake, but that wasn’t distinctively Thorax. Thorax was using his natural form, because he believed it to be the ‘polite’ thing to do.
Pharynx made sure to transform whenever he was in Thorax’s presence, now, even just to do the simplest of tasks to peeve him off.
“You’re cold,” Thorax whispered, resting his head on Pharynx’s shoulder blades. He used to do this to keep warm as nymphs, but the second Pharynx was promoted to a higher rank, he put it behind him. He had never liked huggy-feely things, anyhow.
Pharynx only grunted. Was there any point in keeping up the facade when his audience saw through it?
A long horned cyan Changeling gasped. Her hoof was put to her lips in shock: “It’s Pharynx!”
“I hope he doesn’t trample any more of my flowers,” worried another, pawing at the ground with his yellow hoof.
“I heard he ruined another feelings’ forum,” said a third, matter-of-factly.
“Has Thorax caught wind of it?”
“He was there!”
Pharynx’s mood only soured when he felt the overbearing disappointment at his arrival. He approached the flower patch in spite and began trampling and ripping out the flowers as quickly as possible. His objective was to take down the weapon-like vines on the walls, but that Changeling was clearly asking for it.
“He’s doing it again!” A surrey green Changeling wailed, pointing an objectifying hoof.
“My flowers!”
“Pharynx, what are you doing?” Pharynx recognised the voice: it was a member of his colony when he returned from the Crystal Empire. They had been impersonating Sunburst, if he remembered correctly.
“A renegade Changeling that’s working for an outside-source could be disguising themselves in this very patch!” Pharynx accused, before using his snarling fangs to rip up a bunch of pink petunias. He moved onto the pansies next - the flowers, not the Changelings that surrounded him.
“The only renegade Changeling we see here is you!” retorted a dark green and red Changeling with a raised hoof and elytra open.
“Why can’t you just pick up on our hints already, and just leave!”
An adolescent Pharynx observed the three Changelings that regularly bullied his brother for their own tear-lust. They were like him: strong, iron-willed, and bloodthirsty. Every Changeling was like that. They aspired to be like Pharynx, and yet they proceeded to pick on his brother to seem better than what they were already.
Pettiness, it was put down to.
“Why can’t you just pick up on our hints and leave, already?” sneered one.
“Yeah, Thorax, you pansy!”
“Pansy, pansy, pansy!”
“That’s enough!” Pharynx roared like a manticore and, in an upwards flame of red, reappeared as a purple and black insectoid crab-spider with a red crown-like structure atop where its head was.
“Okay, that’s enough, everypony,” Thorax landed next to the scene with a frown. “Er- ling. Go back about your business and leave this to me.”
“But, Thorax-”
“He’s doing it again!”
“How can you just let him get away with this?”
In an uproar of green flame, Thorax had transformed into a beady-eyed black bear with sharp yellow teeth. “I said: leave!” A tsunami of muttering started as the surrounding Changelings dispersed. Once there was no one but the two brothers left, the magical green flames flew towards the floor for Thorax to reappear in his natural form of visual elegance and gamboge antlers. He was sending a pointed look Pharynx’s way.
“I’m not takin’ the speech again, Snorax,” he jeered. “So, you better cut it short and zip it.”
“I’m not giving you a speech. What speech?” Pharynx could only tut: Thorax was an extremely terrible liar. He always had been. It seemed as though he wasn’t entirely Changeling for that, and now he had proved to be contagious; spreading the pony-disease to every Changeling but Pharynx.
Pharynx was immune. He had always been the strongest, and he forever will be all the way until his lifespan as a drone was spent.
“The speech on how eternal hunger isn’t the way to live, and that embracing friendship like the ponies is the key to true happiness, and yaddi-yaddi-yadda,” Pharynx rolled his compound lavender eyes and trudged passed Thorax with a scowl.
Thorax licked his lips and swallowed a mouthful of what must have been either slime or saliva. He took a moment before speaking: “Have you ever heard about the mare in the moon?”
“No. Sounds stupid, if you ask me.” Pharynx penetrated the thick nest of wall-vines with his fangs and started to roughly rag them around like a piece of raw meat.
“I didn’t,” Thorax said. Even his annoyance seemed polite.
“Whatever,” Pharynx grunted through the mouthful of vines. “Still sounds stupid.”
“Princess Celestia raises the sun, and Princess Luna raises the moon, right?” Thorax asked, and the only response he was able to get was a growl and an eye-roll. “Well, a thousand years ago, Princess Luna got jealous that everypony slept through her night and that Princess Celestia was loved by all of Equestria.”
Pharynx stopped roughhousing with the vines and froze in place to listen.
“So, she wouldn’t lower the moon one night. Her jealousy had turned her into Nightmare Moon. She fought Princess Celestia when she was confronted, and it looked like she was going to win, too. Eventually, Princess Celestia had to use the Elements of Harmony on her sister and banished her to the moon for a thousand years.”
“Lemme guess: the power of friendship saved her,” Pharynx scoffed. “Your point being?” He continued pulling at the vines.
Thorax trailed a lime hoof from his right to left, head turned down. “One sister was loved by their subjects, and the other wasn’t. The darker sister turned against the other, and became corrupt. If the night stayed forever, crops would have stopped growing and ecosystems would collapse.”
“Yeah, so?” Pharynx retorted. “So, ponies can actually be pretty cool when they haven’t got friendship on their side. Is that what you wanted to say?”
“No!” Thorax exclaimed. Eventually, he sighed. “So, you really don’t find that story relatable at all?” Pharynx growled, and so the response was taken as a ‘no’. “I’m Princess Celestia.”
“Hah! Knew it, sissy!”
“You must be confused,” he sighed again, this time much slower, with exasperation sticking to him like glue. “You don’t see any connection between that story, and what’s going on between us?”
“No, Thorax,” Pharynx dropped down onto all fours, momentarily forgetting the vines as he turned to face his brother, “you’re the one who’s confused. They’re ponies, and we’re Changelings. And somehow, you’ve gotten your wires crossed.” He pointed an accusatory hoof. “Listen to me: we’re, not, ponies.”
“I’m not giving up on you,” Thorax put a forehoof onto one of Pharynx’s shoulders.
“You should,” Pharynx pulled away and turned, unable to look at his brother any longer. “Because we’re always going to be different, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!” Pharynx smirked as he forced Thorax’s hoof back and forth with his own. “Stop hitting yourself, Thorax!”
“Pharynx, stop!” Thorax only whined, his sky-blue eyes welling with tears.
“Make me, sissy!” Pharynx snapped back, his hooves now still. “Those bullies are right, you know.”
“I know,” Thorax bowed his head in shame. “But I’ll never be like you, Pharynx! You’re you, and I’m...”
“A failure,” Pharynx filled in, matter-of-factly. “We’re just always going to be different, and unless you shape-up and be like everyling else, I don’t see why you should even stay here.”
“I’ll try, Pharynx,” Thorax muttered, “I’ll try.”
“Oh,” Pharynx turned his head back to Thorax as he began walking away, “and learn how to stop hitting yourself, Thorax. It’s embarrassing.”
“Yes, Pharynx, I’ll try.”
“And learn how to talk back.”
“Yes, Pharynx,” replied Thorax, sounding a little more exasperated than before.
Pharynx listened to the crackle of thunder above. The wind howled through the cracks of his shelter and pierced into his eardrums. He couldn’t sleep like this, he had decided, and exited the leaf-and-stick teepee with a huff of vexation.
The night was peaceful, if not for the rolling thunder and snappy lighting above. A dry storm, Pharynx noted. This was more in line with the Badlands’ climate, opposing the torrential rain that had poured down the night before. Pharynx relished the current sky: it was the only thing he had left. Despite himself, of course.
Even his own brother had betrayed him.
Pharynx eventually stopped walking when he came across a stone ledge: a five-or-six-foot cliff overlooking the drastically changed land. What had once been a twisting and turning shallow gorge was now a river that went for miles, shaped like a ribbon frozen mid-air in a ballet recital. The Badlands’ scenery wasn’t entirely pony quite yet.
For one, instead of houses for miles with plush green grass, the foliage was at a minimum, and the ground was of a golden hue - shaded grey and foggy in this light - with dots of green here and there, like the mane or coat of a pony suffering some form of hair loss. The nature was nothing compared to the bushel that surrounded the Hive.
Pharynx sat; his eyes couldn’t leave the river. It went on for ages. It stretched over the horizon with ease. Perhaps he’d be able to fish for a meal there, come sunrise.
His ears pricked up and pulled him out of his thoughts. If it wasn’t for the familiar cadance of which the hooffalls specifically kept to, Pharynx would have spun around, hissed, and lunged in preparation to bite and maul his uncareful predator. But, he fought that urge in fear of being trampled.
“Sorry,” apologised Thorax, “I didn’t realise anypo- ling was here.”
“I’m not gonna be here for long,” Pharynx told him, keeping perfectly still save for his chitinous muzzle. “So, you don’t have to worry, your majesty.” He jeered.
“Stop that,” Thorax, despite his hard and pointed tone, sat beside Pharynx and looked at the land before them. The space between the two was habitually ample. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Cut to the chase, Thorax,” snapped Pharynx, simultaneously to a whip-like crack of thunder and a flash of lightning. “You saw me here, and you decided to follow. Isn’t that right, baby brother?”
“No,” his frown was somehow audible. “Actually, I’ve started to come here to think.”
“’Bout what? Politics?” Another jeer was made on Pharynx’s behalf. “While looking over your new kingdom?”
Thorax didn’t reply. Somehow, Pharynx sensed his brother’s eye-roll, and tasted his displeasure. Eventually, though, he did, but with a different conversational topic: “Do you think there are more Hives out there?” He turned his head to look at a stone-faced Pharynx, who soon smirked.
“If there were,” he began, somewhat matter-of-factly, “I’d ask to join them immediately.”
Thorax shook his head; “But, then that would make you a traitor. And you hate traitors.”
“Betraying the traitors doesn’t make me a traitor.”
“If you say so.” Thorax skewed his jaw, as if stifling a different response entirely.
Pharynx was still curious: “What did you come here to think about?”
“You need to stop.” Thorax said. “Pharynx, if you want to fit in-”
“I don’t want to fit in!” Pharynx shot up into the air, just above Thorax’s height, with a buzz of his wings. “Aren’t you all for not being the same, now? Huh?”
Thorax sighed. “Let me start again. If you want to stay-”
If it wasn’t metaphorical, Pharynx would have dropped out of the air like a stone on account of his insides doing just that. Fighting to keep his jaw closed, he slowly lowered all four hooves onto the ground. Suddenly, his face twisted into a defensive scowl as he jabbed forth a castigatory hoof in his younger brother’s direction.
“We all know you don’t have the guts to throw me out, Thorax! It’s them!” His hoof was redirected to his left, towards the Hive. “Well, you’re King, and you’re always rambling on about your ‘new and important’ duties! So, prove it! You don’t have to listen to a word they say!” Stifling his angry panting, Pharynx returned to sitting and looking over the reformed land with a blank countenance.
“I can’t believe you let them do it again, Thorax!” Pharynx yelled.
“I’m sorry, Pharynx, I-”
“Shut it, wimp!” He made a manticore-roar exit his mouth. “This is getting ridiculous, Thorax!”
“I know, but-”
“No buts!” Pharynx barked. Three Changelings passed by, and so he shoved Thorax to the ground, and hissed: feeding off of what little love Thorax kept inside of himself. Pharynx continued with his admonishing. “You’re just a waste of space!”
“I know.”
The passersby tittered and nodded in approval and agreement.
Once there were no more onlookers, Pharynx restructured his scolding to be more earnest: “Ever since that invasion that I had to practically beg Chrysalis to let you go on so you could toughen up, you’ve just gotten worse! I haven’t eaten since as punishment.”
“I’m sorry, Pharynx,” Thorax droned, seeing as it was ritual by now, but Pharynx still saw the tears glistening in his compound eyes.
“Then leave.”
Thorax was still frowning. Now, Pharynx could sense his brother’s worry. “You don’t listen to me.”
“That’s because you’re not my king, and I’ll never be like you.” Pharynx oathed. “That’s just the way it’s always gonna be. It always has been. Nothing’s gonna change that.”
“Ironic, seeing as we’re Changelings, don’t you think?” Thorax was trying to make light of it.
“Then leave.”
Thorax was shaking. He gulped, and spoke thickly: “W-W-What if I don’t want to?” Pharynx only turned away. “P-Pharynx?”
“You become like us,” Pharynx growled. When he twisted his head around to glance at his brother, he could see that his tremoring hadn’t ceased, and that the glistening film in his eyes had burst, and now leaked down his dark cheeks. “You look like the Hive, Thorax, but you aren’t a part of it. So, you have to change.”
Pharynx tsked. “I didn’t even know you knew what that meant.”
“Funny,” Thorax’s eye-roll was strongly sensed. Pharynx was stuck asking himself why he was still there. A roll of thunder groaned. “Pharynx?” Thorax baulked. “I... I love you.”
That’s why. Pharynx’s jaw fought between opening or keeping closed, and when he tried to speak, all the sound that was made was a guttural creak. His heart was racing. Odd.
A white light started brightening around Pharynx, but the second he realised what was happening, he reeled and hissed. He started feeding off of his brother’s love. He harvested it, and felt the pain in his abdomen ease. Displeasure turned into pleasure, and once his stomach grew taught, he stopped.
The breaking of a self-made promise was delicious. It didn’t feel as wrong as what Pharynx thought it would. The love was tainted - it shouldn’t have shone so brightly in a Changeling at all - but it did the job in sating him as much as what a pony would have.
Thorax hid his pain. Whatever emotional injuries Pharynx had just caused, he tried not to care. It was just the same as when everything was right and un-odd: when he’d make his brother hit himself; when he’d chastise him for being too soft; when he disobeyed Queen Chrysalis’ orders and made Thorax feed off of the woodland creatures just outside of the Badlands where non-Changeling magic could be summoned just so his brother would survive the rest of the night; when he awaited the end of Thorax’s personal reprimanding with Queen Chrysalis to help him sort out his wounds before they got infected. Pharynx could have gone on and on.
“Feel better?” Thorax asked, giving a sad-eyed smile.
“I feel like how a Changeling should be!” Pharynx proclaimed proudly. His pride was only a facade, though. Why didn’t he feel better? His stomach was full, was it not? He didn’t feel like himself anymore.
“This is what I was talking about,” Thorax sighed for what felt to Pharynx like the billionth time that night since their conversation had started. “You can’t keep living like this!”
Thorax laid on his side, his whole body scrunched in a tight ball. He was clutching his churning stomach in agony.
“This is what I was talking about,” Pharynx huffed, “you can’t keep living like this!”
Pharynx, enraged, snarled at his brother. He stood, and started stomping in the direction of where his shelter had been set up. A flash of lightning accompanied the riposte of thunder. It was as if the dry storm was condescendingly shaking its head at the two from above.
“You wouldn’t understand, Pharynx,” Thorax mumbled. “When I saw those ponies in Canterlot, I-”
“Ugh,” Pharynx scowled, “enough about those darn ponies, Thorax!” He turned for the entrance of Thorax’s pod with the intention of begrudgingly bringing back a rabbit or two from the nearby woodland. “You’re right, I wouldn’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t understand!” Pharynx wasn’t quite sure if understood anymore, either. He felt like an impostor. He was trying to keep himself in his own mind, and was struggling to keep up with everything around him.
Why couldn’t everything turn back to normal?
Thorax stood. “Well, I’m sure I would if you just tell me!”
Pharynx growled like a bear and turned his head, as not to look his brother in the purple compound-eyes. “Forget it, Thorax.” He walked away with his head down, and his stomach started emptying.
“Thorax, what the buck happened?” Pharynx towered over Thorax, who laid next to a boulder with his ears pinned back. He had lifted his head in reply, and blinked when the lightning of the unrelenting night’s dry storm pulsed. Surprisingly, he had outgrown his phobia for such things.
“My podmates kicked me out,” replied Thorax glumly. “They’re making me sleep out here.” Pharynx gave his signature growl and coiled around his brother in his natural form. He put one of his small purple wings over Thorax’s barrel, who had his head on his withers.
“They’re right, you know,” he lied. He was convincing, too, like a real Changeling’s lies were meant to be. Thorax’s lies were never convincing. It was as if he was a Changeling - an infiltrator - in a Changeling Hive, and couldn’t really grasp on how to act. Perhaps ‘a pony in a Changeling Hive’ was better, because it was the opposite of what a Changeling’s prime objective was, just as Thorax was an opposite-Changeling.
“I know,” Thorax mumbled. He was still cold. Pharynx’s body warmth wasn’t much help, seeing as Changelings had little of that to spare for even themselves - like love - but he switched the positions of their heads nonetheless. “Goodnight, Pharynx.”
‘Are you stupid? I’m not staying here’, is what Pharynx should have said. But, oddly enough, he couldn’t bring himself to do so, and insead grumbled. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Snorax. Just keep your drooling to yourself.”
After kicking a triad of newly-placed pebbles away from his shelter, Pharynx trotted around in circles to nestle down against the hard dirt ground of the Badlands. He muttered two-or-three profanities to himself and tucked his tail in. His ears fell against his chitin, and he pressed his nose into his holed forehooves.
The green flash of a Changeling transforming pierced through the cracks of Pharynx’s shelter, but was left dim against his closed black eyelids.
Clpop, clpop, clpop.
At first, he thought it might have been Thorax coming to apologise like the sap he was, but when a vibrant hoof kicked into a vital stick in the teepee-structure and snapped it in half, that thought was soon erased. The shelter fell and landed in a pile atop Pharynx. He lifted his head and looked around frantically, but found himself blinded by one of the large leaves Thorax had added the night before.
As Pharynx prepared to kick and flail, the leaf was removed and he found himself staring at two irate Changelings. “This is for our flowers, jerk!” One exclaimed, while the other started shredding up the shelter’s leaves.
They soon left, leaving Pharynx with a bundle of sticks and dried Changeling-slime. He lowered his head onto his forehooves with a profanity-or-two muttered. Maybe he should amp-up his old ways. He had been taking it easy on the Hive, believing them to be reduced to nothing more than prissy-pony material, but now they deserved to be terrorised. They’ll learn to regret what they had done to his shelter.
The thunder and lightning churned and flashed in the sky, the strong winds howled, and the sticks were sharp and uncomfortable.
Pharynx sighed to himself. So, he thought, this is what it’s like. To be in Thorax’s hooves.
He was sure this was meant to be a lesson, or something similar. Karma. He felt like he had lost everything already, so by leaving what did he truly have left to lose? Nothing.
Perhaps betraying the traitorous Hive to run away and find another Hive - one much like the one he had been proud to have been a part of, and was now apart from - was Pharynx’s only option. He wouldn’t feel so alone, then. He would feel like a part of the Hive again, even if it wasn’t the one he was laid into.
He’d flee, just like Thorax had. Or, he’d heed one of Thorax’s many attempts-to-come to try and send him away, just like Thorax hadn’t.
Perhaps it was Thorax who was the strong one.
I’ve done so many things wrong, Pharynx’s chest tightened, no wonder Thorax went away for so long.
Pharynx’s eyes stung and his vision went blurry, so he closed them. His nose started to get runny; it was hard to breathe through. If he was caught like this, he’d endure a rightful beating from one of his peers. He wouldn’t find that where he was now.
Somehow, Thorax had managed to make his home twofold compared to Pharynx, who had now been reduced to shivering from cold and snivelling into his holed-hooves.
I just want to go home.
