Chapters In every land there is a legend of a strange cloaked figure. Only seen on stormy nights, he roams the streets. He only appears once every great while. The stories of this occurrence date back hundreds of years.
He carries a lantern by its handle in a distinctive green glow. a similar green glow emanates from under his hood. The lanterns flame provides a green light, lighting only the immediate vicinity. Some say he is a demon, others say he is a guardian. Some say a wandering spirit, who may or may not have died in a storm. But in every culture the description is the same.
But only one ever came to know him personally, and take this story to heart because this story is true. This is the story of when somepony dared to meet this stranger. That pony was me.
Twilight looked up from her book, and out the window to a stormy night. She had this book when she was younger, she loved it. She even asked Zecora about it once. The zebra agreed that they had such a figure in folklore. And the description matched that of the book.
She readjusted the book under the candlelight.
~Δ~
And now to begin our story, it was as described earlier, a stormy night. The occasional crack of thunder drowned out the green glow. A cloaked figure walked down a road, levitating with green magic, a lantern, lit with green flame.
A sign was by the road, or protagonist held up the lantern, it read “Welcome to Ponyville.” he had scouted it out, but not as this persona. He scouted ahead under a disguise to make the proper arrangements.
He decided to live the next decade or so here. But he always has to make his dramatic entrance. He entered the town opposite of where he would live. So he could traverse the most of it. Each time he did this there were a few dozen that see it. But they all are dismissed as a dream. But he likes hearing the rumors spread. Only once had anyone ever confronted him.
He looked around as a flash of lightning silhouetted the buildings. The rain was pouring off of his cloak. As he walked the lantern lighting his way as he meandered across town.
He could see the shocked look on somepony’s face as they looked out the window. He smiled to himself. This pony had read the story and new the rumors. She couldn’t tell if this was the fabled buck, but she had little doubt, though she never left the window. She just there watching as this living fable walked down the street.
I will take this time to give you some background. Ever creature that possesses magic has the slight possibility of creating an immortal being, a god of sorts. More are born than you think, but the beginning of their life is very difficult and very few live for very long. Those that survive for a few centuries gain incredible power. Such as those who rule the country our protagonist has chosen for the current few decades.
The princesses that rule this where in fact sisters, it must have been something in the family. You are more likely to be struck by lightning thrice in the same storm than be born one. Then you have a very small chance of actually living long.
He was born around the 5th centennial sun celebration. Approximately, when you become that old the date doesn’t really matter anymore. He has attained a state near omnipotence over the past five centuries. So he could do just about anything his mind brought forth, but he saw no use of using such power. Other than this trek he takes approximately every decade, he never attempts to make himself known beyond the level of survival, it took two hundred years to decide to settle down and have a ‘normal’ life, but that ended as the curse of immortality caught up to him.
Sure immortality is very fun. And you get to make more friends, and the making a friend does outweigh the pain that their end causes. And they will never be forgotten. And when a friend dies during his disguise, he uses magic to create an unnatural storm, and puts on his standard form and walks as the legend to the graveyard and leaves a note saying farewell with the mark “Δ” often stylized to be the impossible triangle, all who know the legends know if it as the symbol for Delta as the name of this apparition is. It is at the end of the note is the original form of the delta.
Now we shall continue with our story. The purple mare had finished her book; it was a short book, for it leaves out many details. Leaving it a vague story, a perfect bedtime story though. She decided to head off to bed, levitating the calndle, though she decided to look outside window once more, and the candle she held in her levitation fell.
The candle extinguished before hitting the ground. Her mouth agape. She soon assumed it to be a prank played with appropriate weather. So she put a small barrier over herself as she stepped outside and ran after the figure illuminated by the green lantern.
“Hey! Stop!”
The cloaked figure turned around to face her. In the process he purposely put the lantern in between the two in a way she could be observed without his face being seen. “You wish to speak with me, congratulations; thou art the second, in five hundred years, and the first in three hundred,” the voice was quite raspy, and produced an ominous, almost as if there was no voice to the speech, but it was not strained as if it had been lost.
“I know you are not Delta, so why don’t you get out of the rain. I have room in the library.”
“I am Delta, and I hath someplace to be.”
“Pony tails aren’t true.”
“Wasn’t the legend of nightmare moon just a ponytail?”
She thought it over in just under a second, “You can quit that voice, who are you anyway?”
“I hath already told you.”
Inside she was excited at how convincing he was, but didn’t show it, “Prove it.”
“I need not prove it to you.”
“Then I NEED NOT believe you,” she mimicked his dialect.
“Fine then, I must be off.”
“Where are you going?” she asked concerned.
“Thou need not know.”
“Then you are coming with me.”
“Neigh,” he declined.
“That wasn’t an offer,” she levitated him against his will, she was squealing with joy at the possibility of him being real, and to get him to the library for further analysis.
“I request that thou set me on the ground.”
She didn’t hear him as she trotted excitedly towards the library. She set him down in the center of the main room. “Excuse me miss, but in my abduction I hast neglected to ask thine title. May I inquire into what that may be?”
“My Name is twilight sparkle, now let’s remove those damp clothes,” she took them off magically and a few items dropped out. he took a mental note of how she acted as if knowing no social conduct.
Our protagonist picked them up and delicately set them on a table, even though he had enchanted them to the point of being nigh indestructible. He looked over to one Miss Sparkle who stood there with her jaw agape.
“What are you?”
“That doesn’t matter,” he responded.
Her eyes ran across him, the jagged horn, the black body, some sort of armor on its back. And then it had the wings of an insect. The eyes now that she could see them where draconic slits instead of standard pupils. He was in a way, a demon.
Twilight began pondering through this in her head, questioning about all ponytails in the back of her mind, while the rest was being focused on processing the current fable standing in her library. He watched as she paced around the center of the library. It was easy to see that it had been magically restored many times where she was pacing. He quickly came to the conclusion with how deep on thought she was he could slip away.
He took this opportunity to gather his things and slip out. The befuddled mare not noticing the occupancy limit of the room has dropped to one. But soon doubled again, “Twilight, why are you pacing, again!?”
“I am trying to make sense of. . .” she gestured a hoof to where he was standing when she lost herself.
The dragon went back up to his basket on the floor and wrapped himself up angrily in his blanket.
As we wait for our protagonist to appear I will take some time to describe the house he has chosen to live in for this life. It had green walls on the inside, red on the outside, brick red. The carpet was rather old and ragged. There were only the most basic pieces of furniture. A table, wobbly with a pair of unsteady chairs situated neat it. The carpet showed indentations from the previous owner’s furniture.
There was a stove and a refrigerator. The refrigerator not containing food, and likely will not contain but simple pastries and soft drinks which he had come to enjoy. As for the bedroom it contained a wooden bed with a cheap mattress and simple sheets. A vacant nightstand set at its side.
Though there is one article in the house that did not match all that was already there. It was an empty chest, one of much older than the house it was in, its age approximately 3 centuries. He had it shipped ahead of him.
After entering a secluded part of Ponyville he teleported into the house in a ball of green flame. He looked around the house to make sure he was in the right place and not ending up in some random ponies’ house, again.
After seeing the ancient trunk he was assured as to his location being correct. The weathered carpet bent under his hooves as dust was kicked up towards the chest. The lock glowed from the inner workings as the pieces clicked into place. There were only a couple dozen ever made, so likely there where only a few if any at all left besides this one.
An audible click was emanated from the lock as a fresh air entered the vacant cavity within the trunk. A glowing lid was raised open. From under the cloak there glowed another green glow, carrying an assortment of trinkets from the ages.
The trinkets consisted of the lantern he carried when he walked into town; it was old, almost as old as the creature himself. It was the same lantern he used every time, enchanted to be almost indestructible. Followed by a thick packet of written words, with a triangle on the top half of the first page, also enchanted and very old. Then a golden pocket watch with a chain, this was quite worn unlike all the other objects that he held dear, not because it was not enchanted, but because it was old when it was enchanted.
Soon flowed out a number of other random trinkets, but the last object was the one he always held onto the longest, and held closest to his heart. It was a drawing of a mare, he intended to put it atop the chest, but the purple mare had foiled that opportunity.
He held it in his jagged green magic a few tears fell onto the framed drawing, as this world faded away. . .
~~~
. . . To be replaced by an older sepia one. The memory was old, and had a brown film over it, but just ever so slightly enough to be noticed. Definitely not enough to corrupt the memory, he doubted this grouping of memories would ever be forgotten.
He walked down empty streets in stormy night, the lantern lit with green flame guiding his path. His cloak was dripping from the rain. He passed a library with a plaque that read, “Fillydelphia public library.”
Though the start of his travel was boring and nothing eventful happened. What ended up happening to his travel was where this memory takes its roots. He heard a squeak from behind him, paying it no head he continued on. Soon though a concerned voice asked him what he was doing in the rain, and then beckoned him to come inside.
He looked towards the mare, unable to tell many details as the light from inside her abode made her silhouette, only her outline determinable. He payed her no more head and continued on his way.
She did not like the idea of anypony being out on such a night. She spread out her wings and with a few flaps landed in front of him blocking his path. He had attempted to walk around, but she just picked him up and carried him to her home. Even though he was utterly surprised he remained calm.
She took him inside. He gazed upon her. She was silver of coat, black of mane, and green eyes. She showed him kindness. She offered him tea and a place to stay for the night. He accepted gracefully.
The kindness was not what surprised him the most though, what did however, was that he had removed his cloak soon after entering the home of the mare.
~~~
He tried to shut out the memories of his past, especially of then. They may have been his happiest of memories, but they implemented the most pain when remembered. He gently placed the drawing on the top of the pile of artifacts.
He recalled the form he used to scout out the town and took it up, sending harmless green flames dancing across the room as he did so. Replacing his exterior with a dark crimson coat straitening his horn, hair black with Red highlights in patches, his eyes a deep blue to contrast the rest of his disguise. A cutie mark consisting of a Golden pocket watch and chain. His name for this ruse was Key Wound. Once he had assured himself of his form being accurate. He went up the basic halls and to the basic nearly vacant bedroom and settled in for the night.
~Δ~
Now we continue our story with Twilight whom lay awake in her bed, still thinking over what had happened. Spike had come and accosted her for continuing to pace and had urged her to get to bed.
She had no thought process to work out this event, she had never needed one. Of course though she had often fantasized as such, but this being reality where she was not omnipotent and she couldn’t just flick her tail and make the world work as she wanted.
In the story he wore a disguise of some sorts. It always bugged her how some parts of the story, particularly about him where so vague, but everything else was as descriptive as the story could be.
She decided to look for any disguises. She noted the jagged horn and decided that would be the part she would look for, and be wary of anyone in a big hat that could conceal such an appendage.
Restlessness finally set in and she jumped out of bed and trotted down to the library and began to make a list. A list of how she would find him. She began buy writing the noticeable features. Starting with the hardest to conceal.
The jagged horn, the insect wings, she would keep an eye out for them. She wondered how that he could remain hidden at all with these features.
She worked late into the morning until she passed out from exhaustion.
~Δ~
He awoke up to an empty room. He had some paperwork to do. He had ordered a writing desk, as well as a delivery of the required writing utensils. He had to fully transfer the payments to his account. He had to do it once a year, but that was all the work he ever had to do. Seeing as he discretely owned a few major equestrian, and griffin businesses that payed him. He never had to work more than a day or two a decade and the money flowed in automatically.
He checked outside, unfortunately no deliveries. So he decided to become more acquainted with the town he was to live the next decade. Since Ponyville was a very young town, he had not the opportunity to live here before, since his travels had not brought him close to hear since its founding.
He wandered the streets. He wanted a perfect mental map of the place. And the only way to do that was to roam around randomly till he had it all mapped out in his head. Sure there were more efficient ways, he acknowledged that. Although he liked the spontaneous nature of which he did this.
He had a gist of what this town was, since he had a welcome to Ponyville party already, so he was already familiar with quite a few of the town’s residents. So he received the occasional greeting which he responded politely and quickly.
He always saw one thing when looking upon these creatures. A clock, he always saw a ticking clock, it did not have any definite time on them, but they were all ticking down to the time where their body will fail them.
He often wishes for death, but is too afraid of it. He often just wished that he was not bestowed with the supposed ultimate boon, the gift of immortality. Thought the ultimate gift was also viewed as the ultimate curse. He chose to continue on, never having to face death consoled him, knowing that everyone around him would eventually die.
That is why he changed towns every decade, he was running. He never stopped running. He ran from death, he made friends he knew should live to his departure. Thought there was still the unfortunate time where unforeseen circumstances take the life of a friend.
That is where his artifacts come from; he never wants to forget those who he had witnessed die. Some of them where of those given to him when they were still alive.
He knew he was full of cowardice. He however just accepted it as it kept him going, running forever.
He let out a sigh, those where the thoughts that where going through his head, or something similar. He became dishearten from these thoughts and thought it best to try again. Upon turning around to head back a pink blur appeared in front of his face, the dreaded party pony.
“Hey, why so glum?” the rate at which she spoke amazing him even though this was not his first experience.
“Oh just memories, A new way of life is always difficult. It shall be better once I have settled in,” he flinched realizing he had partially reverted to his original dialect.
The dialect he tended to use subconsciously was at its very end of its line, but it lasted long enough for it to sink permanently into his speech.
The pink pony was a little sad at this, she perked to say more, but remembered advice from twilight, and Crankee Doodle about some friends needing less interaction, and she decided to speak up anyway, considering it was an opportunity to speak.
“Do you need a cheering up party?”
“No thank you, I think I just need to let the new town set in slowly, though I thank you for the offer.”
He approached his home to see that there was a large box with the arrow facing down, and a trail of letters leading to a grey Pegasus flying upside down. He went to his package and levitated it with his distinct green magic along with a smaller package, somehow standing on its edge perfectly balanced.
Now let us go a couple blocks across Ponyville to a certain tree, a tree containing a library with a balcony upon its side. Upon said balcony, a certain purple mare seeing a green light through the lenses of a refraction telescope. A smile was set free upon her visage, as she took notes of it she remembered how that magic flowed differently than normal ponies, and then set off to plan her next move.
A quill streaked along a piece of parchment with a purple shimmer engulfing it. The purple mare taking notes in addition to what she had observed the first night. Her thirst for knowledge without end, and she had wanted to know all there was about our protagonist, and she was very determined to find out.
On the parchment there already was written the details of the figure, how the magic looked when cast, how it flowed more like fire the the standard glow. soon new information was added. She took note of where his house was, what his disguise looked like, and all other information she had gathered.
She skipped a line then wrote in the center about what her next move was. She looked deep in thought about how to confront him. The mare finally came to a conclusion on what to do, when a knock came from the door, "Spiiike can you answer the door," she looked down to the paper, and forgot her plan.
Now to go a few blocks across the quaint village to the home office of our protagonist, who was about to finish the legal documents that transferred the power in several key companies that existed in Equestria and other nations. He owned 60% of the most successful eyeglass corporation, since he himself invented them years ago for a friend with poor eyesight. he also owned 57% of a fairly successful telescope company, considering he used his lenses from the previous invention to look farther than one could normally see. Along with large percentages of other companies.
He never really had to work as the money from merely owning the stock paid him plenty to survive off of, even thrive. He signed the last letter and went off to send them.
He soon realized he had a problem, he had no idea where the post office was. Although he did know where he could find an archive of vast knowledge. He began trotting down the street. With a smile on his face, he would finally get to meet the mare without her freaking out about who he really was. He knew he was going to enjoy comparing the shocked mare with the standard one.
The stroll was rather uneventful. He trotted up to the door and knocked thrice. He heard the purple mare calling upon someone to get the door, someone by the title of Spike. Soon the door was opened, He looked at the dragon, he thought it very odd, especially since dragons typically breath fire, and this is a tree, with many books all of which should be flammable.
"Hello, I don't remember seeing you before."
"You wouldn't this is my first day living in Ponyville, and I needed some directions."
The dragon beckoned him in, the purple unicorn still pondering about what her plan was say something in the corner of her eye. She turned to see that whatever her plan to confront him was now pointless and set down her quill. She ran up to him as quickly as she could and went right up to his face.
He thought this peculiar, maybe her actions last night where not that off, "Anything wrong? Miss uh?"
"Now I don't have to find you, excellent," she declared clapping her hooves together.
"Why do you give tours to ponies who are knew here?" he made an attempt at mock eagerness.
"I know you are Delta, though I must say," she began circling our protagonist, "That disguise is excellent."
"I know not who you are referring to."
"Yes you do, I have never seen magic that behaves like yours."
He grimaced ever so slightly at this, the one thing he could never disguise was his magic, it was his soul, and his soul could never be truly changed. "Fine, so thou hast found me out. What of it?"
"I want to know everything," she levitated out a quill and a notepad.
"First I must ask something of you, before I will answer any of thine questions."
"What would that be?"
"That you will say nothing of what we will speak of."
The mare thought it over, it was difficult to not share knowledge. Though she also realized not having the knowledge would be even more painful for the lavender mare, "Agreed," she said reluctantly.
"Good, what do you wish to know?" He asked, skeptical of the long term(for his stay here anyway) effects.
The mare thought this over, there where so many places to start, She decided to go chronologically, "Where did your travels begin," she held the notebook ready to take all the notes she possibly could.
~~~
Now we take the flashback, our protagonist is young very young. He was among friends, in adolescence. They, like him, where all changelings, though he did not tell twilight the name of the species only that the children where of the same species as him. They had recently found out he was immortal. They didn't care, they just played as if everything was normal. They had not a care in the world playing simple games with the pebbles and sticks they could find.
They had not a care, but after a point our protagonist stopped aging, as fast and became bigger than the rest. They noticed his power growing steadily, beyond what they could hope for. They still remained good friends, never faltering. They lived long lives at least for a changeling. Though nothing can last forever, or at least very few things.
They died off one by one, and he lost a piece of himself each time. The memories are so blurred from this details are almost non existent. Similar to remembering something from near infancy.
That is when he bought a lantern and began wandering the world, never staying long enough for his friends to die. Afraid of facing that again. He only once stopped running. Though that will be for another time as we get back to our protagonist as he tells of his childhood to the the mare studiously taking notes.
~~~
". . . Then he died, and I just left, after that I never stayed long enough to watch friends die. Though there where the occasional unforeseen circumstances," he sighed after that last sentiment, and ceased his speach.
"Go on," said Twilight as fresh ink dipped from the quill back into the well before the pen returned to the paper.
"I think that will be enough for today, I still need a map, or at least directions to the local post office."
He now had regained his companies again. now all the work he needed to do was done. and all that was left was leisure, and making acquaintances. The pink mare seemed saddened by him denying her petition for party, so hew decided to go to Sugar cube corner and see her to attempt to make it up to the pink sugar-high.
As he had expected she was at sugarcube corner. She seemed to forget the event yesterday, or had simply gotten over it.
"Hello Pinkie, how are you today?"
"Could be better, if you smile."
Delta chuckled at her demeanor, she was hyper and annoying but a good pony. he smiled slightly, he hadn't upset the pink pony. so he politely said farewell and continued on his path around Ponyville. He saw an orange pony selling apples in the bazaar. She was wearing a brown stetson. The stetson brought him back about fifty years, to when he was settling in a town still being built in the desert.
~~~
Our protagonist was currently disguised as an earth pony. He had a off white coat and a light blue mane and tail. he wore a white stetson shading his face and neck, and a blue bandana to keep the sand out of his face.
He walked next to a blue unicorn wearing a stetson over his horn and a brown duster over his torso. This pony had been the towns mayor, as well as the town sheriff. The town in question was very small, just one street. barely a town at all, but enough. They walked up into half built structure, through a pair of swinging doors. They where having a conversation about the apples giving a good harvest, one that would be ready to be picked very soon. The sun lit most of the uncompleted bar. They Each ordered a mug of cider and chose a table in the shade of what had been made of the roof. to drink the cider. Our protagonist was the financial adviser for the town, for he had showed such advanced skill in the subject.
so they began talking about where would be the best place to export the apples to gain the most profit for the town. this gave way to asking about the day. the acquaintance to our protagonist had some problems with snakes in the cattle field earlier that day and had to get rid of a nest of them. Which was a chore due to the hot summer sun of the desert.
soon the conversation was switched to about Delta's day. That day had been very uneventful. soon they walked outside to continue their business in the town hall. He organized the best exports and signed them so that they would be official, as well as final. soon a sound of a ray beam spell outside was heard. The Sheriff ran outside moving his hat back to expose his horn.
Delta soon followed suit to see what was going on. A brown pony in all black, a black hat, black duster, and black bandana over their face. a pool of blood was forming around a yellow buck with a deputy star floating in the crimson pool.
The outlaw and the sheriff moved into the street and circled. other ponies looked out to the street from behind posts, around walls and through windows. They knew one of these ponies would not see the end of the day. they looked at the clock, a minute remaining till three o'clock. They looked at each other and nodded. at the third toll their horns would charge and then discharge as quickly as possible, leaving one of them in the dirt, the only thing unknown to the two was who would walk away from today.
both of them believed they would win. They knew that it was either win or die. It was a simple rule, a cruel one, but better laws have yet to be set up.
The clock tolled once.
They widened their stance and looked into each others eyes, a deadly fire burning in them.
The clock tolled again.
They took aim at where they where going to fire, stared their eyes as if the spell was not needed, as if they could kill them with stares alone. they then returned their eyes to lock. hoping one would back down at the last instant.
The clock tolled a final time.
Two horns charged up. magical energy flowing from them ready to fire at each other. the resulting flash from the discharge was bright. the sound of two energy beams being fired off at once filled the air.
When vision had returned the outlaw was on the ground. Our protagonist let out a breath he had no clue he was holding. every pony cheered for the hero who had ended the outlaw's existence.
this cheering however was soon quelled as the Sheriff fell to his knees. Our protagonist rushed over to the sheriff. to see that his duster had a whole in his chest and a burn in his duster where it went through.
~~~
he had come back to the now he had went to a tea shop and ordered a hot cup of green tea. The sun was low on the horizon, ans would be replaced by the moon very soon. He sipped away the last of his tea and dropped the appropriate amounts of on the table for the waiter to pick up.
he began trotting back to his house, enjoying the crimson shade the sky was becoming, 'The Pegasus who organized this needs to be commended for such excellent work at painting the sky' he mused to keep his mind occupied. He disliked having his mind idle he needed to have it occupied. though it is not as if his mind would sit on idle it rarely ever did. HE meandered into his abode and went to the box of memories.
Now let us traverse a few blocks of this overly colorful village to a certain tree we are all familiar with. Twilight had had a notebook put together for the information she would gain from him. she reread over her information. adding bits of information where she could manage. after feeling content she set it to the side to make a more final version in another notebook she had selected. She went across the library to her drawing board where she had ideas written down as what to ask him upon her next meeting.
upon a realization she facehoofed. She had forgotten to appoint a time to meet him. She went to her calendar, and looked at it, tomorrow was the third Wednesday of the month. Normally she scheduled even her free time, but she decided one day that one day a month should be spontaneous. it was actually Rainbow Dash's idea, but she thought it would be nice to schedule a day for nothing in particular.
She decided to use that free day to investigate his history. She wanted a complete history of him, and who he actually was, she wanted to know all that the book did not tell. after having organized for the night, she decided to sleep to be well rested for the next day. she had much too learn.
His dreams where haunted with the same dream. He has had the same dream every night, for five hundred years. Though not exactly the same, but it had the same principle. He walked through a gate lit with ever lasting torches through a place filled with blurred ponies. Every night, with different ponies.
There was a change he noticed after about a century of having them, he began to see ponies he had known. Ponies that either he had been around when he died, or ones he had known could not be alive. He would interact, and had the thought processes of being fully conscious, he knew he was asleep, but he could not control the ponies there. They always asked similar to how he remembered. He had the urge to leave, he walked back through the gates and into his opening eyes.
***
He roused himself from his bed. His body ached and he made a mental note to purchase a better one at the next opportunity. He trotted down the stairs to the room he had designated as his office. He had papers scattered haphazardly on the desk. He ruffled through the papers looking for his to do list. He had to make one each time he moved to a new town. It helped him get acquainted. He wondered what the time was, and looked around, only to realize he had yet to purchase a clock.
After digging through the papers he found his list. He put in the first open space from the top a clock. After he had finished a knocking came from the door. He wondered as who it could be. He went through what deliveries he was expecting, but could think of none. Nopony but his neighbors had known he had moved in. Though before he came to a conclusion he came to the door.
The doorknob was illuminated green as it turned releasing the door from the wall. Upon gazing out the door he was surprised to see the purple mare was standing there with saddlebags resting on her back. He stared in wonder as to what inspired such a visit, and to how she figured out where he resided. Though he soon figured it would take less time to ask, "So what brings you to my abode?"
"This was the only open time on my schedule that I could use to ask you more."
This did not give him much bother, for he had nothing to do today anyway, "Alright, come on in then," he stepped out of the doorway. His hoof raised towards the dining area.
Eight hooves echoed upon the floor encroaching upon the table. A purple glow shaded the room ever so slightly as she lighted her saddlebags upon the table. The table eliciting a audible creak as she did so. A few items where removed from its contents. A red feather, a notepad and a bottle of black ink.
She began organizing them in a pristine, perfectionist, almost obsessive manner. "So is there anything specific you wish to know?"
A notebook beamed lavender energy as the pages turned, "Ah yes, I would like to know what you are exactly."
"I am a changeling," was the flat response.
"Alright," the quill streaked ink across another page, "Where did you come from?"
He made mental notes on how she could ask such question of subject material like this and be so calm and casual. "I come from a barren wasteland of sorts."
"Where exactly?"
With a sigh he responded with, "Outskirts of Equestria, southern edge."
She dipped her pen in the well and noted the new information, Delta's eyes went from one wall to the ceiling to the opposite wall.
"Next question, your disguise how does it work?"
"It is a spell," he responded.
She perked up at that comment, her eyes reflected more light than normal and her face formed a smile. "Could you teach me?" her voice emanated enthusiastic energy.
"It is unlikely," he responded, although he had no clue if she could or not.
"My special talent is magic, I should be able to learn it," she stood from her seat spread out her stance slightly and raised a hoof to her heart with a confident look angled up slightly with her eyes closed.
"It is a rather complicated spell, it changes your aesthetic anatomy. My magic also uses a different frequency, I have only ever heard of one pony managing it. You know of her as Princess Luna. She used a similar spell when becoming Nightmare Moon."
"So it is possible."
"Technically it was a simple mimicry and have no clue how that version works."
"Just try."
"Fine, first you must choose a form to change into. you must calculate every possible feature, voice muscle structure bone structure, coat color mane color and length, every detail must be consciously changed."
"Alright," she raised a hoof up to her chin and stared at and through the ceiling, "Aha! Now what?"
"Then you must charge your magic and course it through your body and change everything to the specifications you have in mind."
The room was soon tinted scarlet as magic saturated the air. Our protagonist was surprised as to how much raw power she possessed, but he observed the magic and figured that her magic is incapable of anything beyond a simple glamor spell which if successful at all would change her colors.
After the blast of magic had dissipated, her coat became white, her hair a deep purple, with a terrible mess as it tried to become a shape it could not attain. Her eyes, though, had remained the same.
"Did it work?" she asked her voice still the usual, "I guess not."
"You managed to change your colors, but that is about it. Rather impressive you managed to build a spell from my instructions though."
The disguise soon fell to pieces, without Twilight's volition. She made a mental note for herself to work on the spell when she arrived at the library.
"Shall we continue, what else would you like to know?"
"Ummm," she took out a smaller notebook, the pages fluttered by. "Exactly how old are you?"
"I can't say I lost track after a couple centuries, I would say around, 5 centuries old. That should be enough, for when you become this old years are fairly insignificant, such as saying half years when you are younger fades away."
She took a few notes. Delta looked to the floor the shadows from the windows had crept along the floor and the sun only had another hour or two till it set.
The smaller notebook glowed scarlet once again pages flipping back and forth. "Do you have a special diet, or do you eat what ponies eat."
"I guess you would call it a special diet, considering I don't eat food at all."
The quill ceased the scribbling on the notebook, the mare frowned slightly and tilted her head in confusion.
"I feed on love, It is what sustains me."
She remained silent her mouth agape, before regaining her composure and clearing her throat. "How exactly do you feed on it?"
"Well we Absorb it, love is the strongest, but we can also feed on other positive emotions, such as liking can produce sustenance like say sunflower seeds, not enough to sustain anything, you yourself give off a faint hint of love, probably from speaking with a character from a story. Though since I am at it I may as well tell you some of the ways we get the love."
She readied her quill and notepad and waited anxiously for him to continue, "One technique is to do what I do, and enter a town with a disguise and build relationships. Another technique, this however being much more dangerous, is to wait for somepony to leave and then take their place for a short while. They have to think of an excuse for coming back early."
It continued on as Twilight asked him questions about what he was, some questions not even he could answer. The sun began to set and he escorted her out for their next meeting. He was relieved that he had someone he could talk to about about who he actually was.
NOTICE Those who have followed this story, or have read chapter 2 before 10/2/12 I wish to inform you that I added a few important details that i had left out. They consist of his name which I have dubbed "Key Wound" and his cutie mark consisting of a golden pocket watch and chain.
The sun crept onto The face of our protagonist. For during the night previous he had neglected to close the thin curtains. He rolled out of bed feet landing softly on the musty floor. After his eyes where no longer being stabbed by the morning light, he set his gaze out the window.
The day was simply gorgeous. The blue seeped into the eyes of our gazer. Tweets of joy filtered in through the window as the feathered creatures they came from went from one perch to another. A subtle amount of time passed with him gazing blissfully outside, before realizing that this weather would be perfect for acquiring the necessary items for his abode. His eyes scanned over his figure, checking the disguise for any blemishes, of either dirt of failures of the spell. The scrutiny lasted several minutes before passing the inspection.
Hooves left imprints two at a time on the stairs. The door grew nearer to our protagonist as he trotted through his empty home. He prepared himself to go outside mentally going over the things he needed the most. Soon the doorknob shone with brilliant emerald light as it creaked in the door. The door emanated a click as it was let loose to come open. Upon the door opening a brown cube entered the vision of Delta.
It sat on the doorstep. With a label on it with this address, he knew what it was. A smile escaped his features as the box was encased in an ethereal green flame. The green glowing mass floated weightlessly through the door and into the structure. The carpet rustled under the box as it settled in the middle of the floor. A small precise glow appeared on the material sealing the item.
The plastic adhesive strip slowly peeled off, this as well covered in that familiar light. The waste was placed beside the box, as magic peeled back the flaps sealing the contents. The head of our protagonist cast a shadow of the objects within the package.
He peered at the contents, something that should have arrived earlier. He levitated out one of the numerous objects and placed it on his head. The first package of his hat collection has finally arrived. Even an immortal being has to have a hobby. His was to collect hats. He had a few normal ones, but most of them where weird and peculiar. His favorite though, was the fedora. Though it all depends on what he feels like and the weather.
The box ceased resting on the floor as it began its short trip to the closet which had remained empty, and will hold little else besides hats. Even though he would eventually receive about forty hats from his previous collection, he only took his favorite hats leaving most behind. This was so he did not get too many and could purchase more.
The parts of his collection which he had chosen to keep where a sparse selection of hats. There was a top hat, the fedora which was resting on his head currently. An umbrella hat, a hat that was shaped like a tree, a balaclava, which would come to little use since dust storms are likely do not happen very often around here.
Now that his hats where in the closet our protagonist had put on his new saddlebags taken a large sum of bits, and finally the list of things he needed to purchase. The first item he would need to purchase would be the clock. He walked across the town, even though he knew of little locations, he did see a shop that sold all manners of clocks in his previous excursions.
His trip across the quaint little village was rather uneventful. Not much more than the occasional 'hello' or 'how are you' from a pony who was passing by.
In addition to the sounds of trotting hooves came another more monotonous, more symbolical sound. Or rather a repetition of two sounds. Although two sounds may not describe the tones traversing the air to find the ears of a passerby, more like a chorus of the alternating sounds.
Upon the raising of the hat brim to see above the ground level of things to the signs lining the shops. One of them was very simple, but was clear as to what it was. The circular sign swung ever so calmly in the breeze. A thought came to the mind of our protagonist upon the breeze flowing around his body. He had lived for half a millennium, and after living that long patterns become quite obvious even without looking for them.
Even the slightest weather patterns where made obvious as to what was happening. In another week red and orange hues will be filling the eyes of anypony who looked at their surroundings.
Delta looked into the store seeing walls covered with all manners of time pieces. It is quite a wonder as to how the shopkeeper managed to keep his sanity.
He always regretted purchasing clocks. Though certain things could not be avoided. He would need to be able to tell the time. The ticking of the clocks finally caught up to him as the present faded away into the past.
~~~
The two monotonous notes rang in constant beet. Many of sets of those two beats overlapping filling the room with a raucous ticking. His paws landed softly on the hard wooden floor. While his claws did not, leaving a slight tapping sound on each step.
Our protagonist came here to see his friend the local griffin clock maker. He walked to the front desk which was normally occupied by Gear, the clock maker in question, but was instead filled by his assistant. Who just sat there moping. Our protagonist thought it odd, the assistant was usually cheery. He must have made a mistake and was scolded heavily for it.
"Where is Gear?"
"He, he, is sick. He is at his home. . ." he mumbled some other words that where inaudible beyond grunts.
"Is he alright."
"The doctor," he paused and sniffed, "Said he isn't going to make it."
Delta stopped, he stopped moving his breathing slowed. He stood there shock overtaking his body. Our protagonist thought it over in his head again and again. No conclusion could be made, so he took it upon himself to visit the sickly griffin.
The flight was short, he flew more quickly than he would given any other circumstance. Upon arriving at the house Delta neglected all customs and barged in. And called out the name of his friend.
A cough came in from within Gear's bedchambers, where Delta quickly rushed into.
Delta stood in the doorway to his friends room, staring upon his friend. The sight was ghastly, his feathers where falling out. his eyes where bloodshot to the point of almost being solely red. The griffin beckoned Delta to the bedside. As delta approached, the griffin watched. Upon delta reaching the bedside, Gear held out a claw with an item in. He rasped something that was unintelligible, but the meaning was conveyed and delta held out his claw. A golden pocket watch and chain was placed in the claw.
"But this was your fathers!"
"Yours now," he rasped.
"Thank you."
A door was opened to the house, and Delta looked to the door to the bedroom. Two claws could be heard going down the hall and approaching the room delta was in. listening delta heard how troubled Gear was at trying to breath, the breaths where all pained and shallow.
A doctor entered the room. "I need to work, you should leave." said the doctor formally but insincere.
With a nod delta left, looking over his shoulder at his friend.
Afterwards he went home and stared at the watch, remembering his friend. Little did he know, but he did speculate, that was the last time he would see his friend. As he had done multiple times, He became delta again, summoned a storm, and walked through the streets at night with a lantern. To leave a farewell note to the dearly departed.
~~~
"Hello I would like to purchase a grandfather clock," spoke the somber creature.
"Of course, but may I inquire about your name?"
"Key wound."
He purchased a large grandfather, it was mahogany. It was expertly carved, and would be shipped to his house by the end of the week if all went according to schedule.