Ponderings In the Early Morning
Ocellus was shaking all over. Her wings ached from her recent exertion, her lungs burned, her limbs felt limp. The only thing that wasn’t hurting was her eyes, as tear-stained as they were.
She lay on her bed, at the School of Friendship, trying her best not to let her thoughts wander on the past few hours. It had happened so quickly. Just a few words, that’s all it took.
I did everything right.
I followed my Friendship lessons.
So why does it feel like I did something wrong?
A knock on the door roused her from her crying stupor.
“Ocellus? Is it alright if I come in?”
She recognised the voice: Professor Rarity. It was three in the morning, what was she still doing up? It was bad enough Gallus and Smolder had noticed the changeling sneaking back in, but now one of the teachers was here.
“Yes,” Ocellus said with a groan.
The white Unicorn looked as tired as Ocellus was, but she kept up a brave face, even stifling a yawn. “Silverstream told me you were here. Is everything okay, darling?”
“No.” Ocellus wiped her eyes. “But they shouldn’t have woken you up, I’m sorry.”
“Think nothing of it. I was working on my next collection when I saw Silverstream fly through Ponyville. I was just wrapping up my all-nighter, it’s no bother.” Rarity went to sit next to the girl’s bed. “Now what is the matter? Why aren’t you in Manehattan?”
“I left. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You left?” Rarity asked. “So you flew here? On your own? From Manehattan? Ocellus, that is dangerous. You could have fallen, your wings could have given out at that distance.”
“It’s fine. I spent half of it as a condor, they don’t need to flap all that much.”
“Even so, why did you leave? I thought you were having fun with your new friends?”
“They’re not my friends anymore. I, umm, I burned that bridge. Pretty badly.”
“I see. And that’s why you are upset, is it?”
Ocellus sighed. The thoughts that had circled around her head all this time came right back, drawn to the centre of her mind like debris in a vortex, all down the drain. “Rarity, if you could fix a problem with your magic, would you?”
“There’s no ‘if’ about that, darling. I do just that all the time.”
“But what if it’s something big? What if you got a lot of power, and somepony put a problem in front of you? Would you fix it?”
Rarity grimaced at the thought. “Again, not a hypothetical. I have had an overwhelming power at one point, and I abused it to mend many supposed problems. Thankfully, the damage was, ah, mostly cosmetic in nature.”
Ocellus perked up. “Could you tell me about that, please? I’m… I’m really confused right now, and I think I need an answer to some big questions.”
Rarity recoiled. “Oh, I’m not the mare to ask big questions to, but very well, I shall do my best. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You tell me what happened first. If you have these… ‘big’ questions that are making you so upset, I don’t know if I can answer them without any context. Besides that, you look as though you’ve been crying for some time now. That’s not usual for you, Ocellus. If anyone has hurt you, or harmed you, I will need to know, and we will have to inform the guards as soon as possible, for the sake of evidence. You understand that, yes?”
Ocellus wiped her nose and nodded. Concrete steps, a list of objective events. She could do that. That would feel so much better. “I understand. There’s no evidence to collect. No one attacked me. No one hurt me.” She sat up and sighed. “Not the way you’d think, I mean. I just… I got blindsided, by ponies who were supposed to be friends. I did everything right, I followed my Friendship lessons perfectly.”
“Sometimes perfection does not equal success, darling. Take it from a mare who knows.”
“I guess you would.” Ocellus straightened herself up and took a deep breath to steady herself. “Okay. This whole mess started two weeks ago. I was at Card Cutter’s shop, getting new sleeves for my Harmonizer cards. And there was a flyer for a fan club meeting. The fan club was for Dragonblood, a comic book I like to read.” She blushed.
“I didn’t know you read comic books.”
“Not as much as normal books. And I don’t want ponies to know I read that particular one, either, if that’s okay.”
“Oh, why not? There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“It’s a series about vampire ponies.”
“Oh.”
“Who drink the blood of dragons. I don’t want Spike to get the wrong idea.”
“Right. Understandable. Go on. Start from the beginning.”
Ocellus sat patiently in the back of the room, while the rest of the Dragonblood fanclub went about their usual business before a meeting. At least, she presumed this was their usual business, she hadn’t attended a meeting before. Two teen Earth pony mares and a Pegasus colt were sitting in one corner up front, gushing over the latest issue, something Ocellus had no interest in. She only knew the original series, the one older than even she was, written by acclaimed author and part-time wizard instructor, Moored Accord. The current crop of fans was interested mostly in the reboot, written by someone called Juncture Twist.
Judging from what Ocellus had seen of it so far, the new series was a decided downgrade. The iconic action scenes and gigantic dragon fights had been replaced by a focus on drama with text balloons filling up perfectly good page space, the plight of the young Pegasus pony Dragonfly had been retconned to the point of only being Dragonfly in name, and instead of all-purpose timeless themes it seemed every other character was a stand-in for an already existing pony of influence to serve as an author mouthpiece. Considering what Juncture Twist thought of Cozy Glow, the expy for that character almost drove Ocellus to writing a letter to the publisher. She was only stopped by the fact that she still had the originals, as well as some remark from Professor Applejack about glass houses and shot put contests.
All that said, Ocellus was a fan of the old series, and no doubt these ponies could appreciate the classics. This was a new place, these were potentially new friends. She’d studied her friendship lessons rigourously, she could do this.
Two more ponies came in, carrying saddlebags. The three in the corner immediately jumped up at the sight, clearly these two were of a high social status in this group.
The new arrivals didn’t look all that happy about said status, though. If anything, these two looked haggard. One was a light blue Pegasus with a white mane, almost a dead ringer for Fleetfoot the Wonderbolt, but the hairs of her mane went down too far to her neck to be related. No, this was a pony from further up North, and the thicker fuzz on her hooves only confirmed that suspicion. The Earth pony that came in with her was a beige country pony, of sorts. Ocellus couldn’t place the accent exactly, but it was close to Applejack’s. It was a familiar face, at least, though she couldn’t put a name to it.
Finally, a colt walked in, a teenage Earth pony, around fourteen, she presumed, since he was the same size she was. He had the same messiness to his mane as Sandbar, but not the look of a pony who was active in anything but the library. His coloration was simple: green coat, purple hair, matching his grapevine cutie mark.
“Okay, everypony. I hereby call this meeting of Ponyville’s Dragonblood Fan Club to order.” He pounded his hoof on the stage, and all the other ponies went to sit. “Now, first order of business.” He looked at Ocellus. “We have a new face, I see?”
The three ponies who’d been ignoring Ocellus this whole time gasped.
“Oh my gosh, a changeling? A real changeling?” one of the two Earth ponies asked.
Ocellus cringed, and prepared herself for a long litany of crimes her kind had committed.
“You like Dragonblood comics? I didn’t know they have those back in your home,” asked the other.
“W-well, technically, we do?” she replied. “We stole a whole bunch decades ago, they’ve been sitting in our basement ever since, and after everyone reformed, nopony really cares enough to get them back. It’s a fun story, and, you know, useful for infiltrations.”
“How’s that?” asked the Pegasus.
“Umm, replacing ponies means you have to know what a specific pony likes or dislikes. If you’re only there to infiltrate, you don’t need to worry about the details. You only need to pretend to have one interest, and it helps if it’s something you’re actually interested in. Ponies tend to stop asking questions after your fifth comic book ramble.” Ocellus looked away, and definitely did not think of the times she’d tested that theory.
“Huh,” said the colt in charge. “Geek culture as a defense mechanism. And they call it useless. Welcome to our club! What’s your name?”
“Ocellus. I study at the Friendship School.”
“Cool.” The three ponies who’d crowded her extended a hoof to shake. “I’m Paper Tiger.” The orange filly with an origami cutie mark pointed to her compatriots: a grey Earth pony with an oil can cutie mark and a ruddy Pegasus colt, who had a megaphone on his flanks. “This is Tin Sprite and that’s Rooter.”
The two ponies who’d arrived late were unpacking their bags. “I’m Ironfire,” said the Fleetfoot lookalike. She took out a tube and unrolled a poster. “I do posters and paintings.” And judging from the anvil stamped on her flank, she was also a smith of sorts. Then again, it might have been one of those more thematic or symbolic cutie marks, Ocellus wasn’t sure.
“And I’m Fleece Strip. I work in the fields near Sweet Apple Acres.”
Ocellus nodded with a smile. That one, she recognised, right down to the ball of yarn for a cutie mark. “Right, I know you, I’ve seen you around. Can I just say, I’m a big fan.”
“Oh, thanks. You’ve read my fanfics?”
“Fanfics?”
“My stories.”
“No, I meant at the competitions. That was you last month at the sheep dog trials, wasn’t it?”
Fleece laughed sheepishly. “Eheh, yeah. Me and Elmer did pretty well, but Applejack and Winona are a tough act to follow.”
“You beat her at the shearing, though,” Ocellus noted.
“That’s true. It’s fun, but I like writing, too.”
“Fleece Strip is our biggest contributor in terms of stories, but I’ve penned down one or two masterpieces myself,” the colt in front said. “I’m Grape Woodbine, and I’m in charge of this fan club. So, now that introductions are done, second order of business: let’s see what Fleece has got for us this week.”
The shepherd pony reached into her bag and started distributing printed copies of her latest story. Ocellus took a quick look at it, browsing it like she would an assignment.
“And that’s when the trouble started, I guess,” Ocellus said.
Rarity paused. “You didn’t like her story?”
“Oh, I did like it. I liked it a lot. But there were a couple things wrong with it, and a few, umm, red flags I should have seen.”
Ocellus scrunched her nose when the time came for feedback. “It’s an interesting take on why Wing’s Edge doesn’t just bite Dragonfly, but I’m not sure if this is realistic.”
“It’s a story with vampires and dragons,” said Paper Tiger. “It doesn’t need to be realistic.”
“You’re thinking realism like resembling real life. I’m talking about internal consistency and believability, that’s not the same thing,” Ocellus replied without missing a beat. “You want to keep up the suspension of disbelief for stories like this. Mistakes can tell a pony they’re dealing with a changeling, which is not something you want.”
“You mean reading a story,” Fleece Strip said.
“What?”
“Mistakes tell a pony they’re reading a story, you said ‘dealing with a changeling,’ but I’m guessing those two kind of have the same mechanics to them.”
Ocellus slapped herself. “Right, sorry, force of habit. Umm, yes, that’s what I mean. You have a few things that can snap a reader out of things.”
Fleece leaned in to check. “What do you mean? Which part?”
Ocellus took a deep breath.
Remember your lessons: Honesty and Kindness.
“First of all, the concept is a little weird. Dragonfly is only a little filly. Why would Wing’s Edge bite her?”
“Because Dragonfly can’t fly, duh,” Paper Tiger replied. “Biting her would give her vampire powers and let her fly. It would fix her.”
“That sounds nice in principle, but you don’t know if that is a fix. You don’t know if she can’t ever fly,” Ocellus retorted. “You’re better off with using your own character, then.”
“But Juncture Twist said she never would,” Rooter replied. “And Moored Accord even said he designed her to be handicapped.”
Ocellus stifled a cringe. Either this pony didn’t know, or didn’t want to know.
Kindness and Honesty, Ocellus. You know you’re right, objectively. “In the reboot, maybe, but that’s not what Moored Accord said. Once the series was finalised, he said she just needed to figure it out on her own, I still have the issue with the reader’s letter where he said it. The initial design intended her to be crippled, yes, but that’s the same design stage when Wing’s Edge was a dragon, and nopony thinks Wing’s Edge should be a dragon. So saying Dragonfly is crippled for life is, umm, well, it’s a retcon.”
“But she’s a role model for crippled ponies,” Tin Sprite objected.
Still, Ocellus bit down any snide remarks she wanted to make, opting for the diplomatic and logical approach instead. “Except you have healing magic in this setting, and a lot of hostile creatures that kill the weak, so there wouldn’t be a lot of crippled ponies around who stay crippled. They have even better healing magic with the Plasma Pits than ponies do. The only time you see actual crippled ponies is when they’re recovering, or when they’re living in a remote town by choice, or when they refuse a treatment for… some reason. But I guess you could make her a role model for those ponies if you don’t mind taking away a role model for latebloomers.”
“Wait, what?” Rooter asked.
“Latebloomers? You know, little foals who take a little longer to grow up? Boys who keep their squeaky voices so long other ponies think they’re girls? Pegasi who take longer to learn how to fly? Unicorns who don’t get their magic at the same time as everypony else, Earth ponies who only become strong when they’re adults? There are a lot more ponies who are like that, and not a lot of role models for them.” She shrugged. “I’ve seen quite a few, actually, they’re very easy to manipulate because of their insecurity. Dragonfly used to be one of the role models for them.”
“How do you know that?” Grape Woodbine asked. “Were you an infiltrator?”
“I never replaced anyone, if that’s what you mean, I only snuck in with fake identity, not a stolen one. My mother did, though, when the old series was around. She told me to never try to trick any pony who liked Dragonfly, because those ponies didn’t buckle, no matter how insecure they were. But I guess now that changelings are reformed, there’s no reason for ponies to have that kind of thing. If Juncture Twist doesn’t want it, you don’t have to follow it, either. And it’s a concept-level criticism, anyway, those aren’t that relevant. I’m honestly more worried about this segment here.” Ocellus pointed to a spot in the text.
“The scrying?” Fleece Strip asked.
“Wing’s Edge is entering a blood trance. That’s an excitatory state, one where you keep going up and up until your mind whites out. And you have his heart racing, memories flashing before his eyes. Calm, soothing memories.”
“Yes, so?”
“So, when that happens, things tend to shut down. You don’t get flashes of calm memories, not with this type of trance. Memories like that would slow down the process of whiting out. You want him remembering all the times he got angry, he should be channeling more frustration. And then this right here? You mention the draconic markings?”
“The sigils?”
Ocellus winced.
Don’t go overboard with it, Ocellus. Be polite.
“That’s… not a sigil. A sigil isn’t language; it’s supposed to be random, at least if it’s magical. If it’s magic, and it’s a language you can read? Then by definition, it’s not a sigil. It’s more likely to be a rune or a glyph or a kanji. I’d go with kanji.”
“Oh.” Fleece’s ears fell back. “Isn’t that cultural appropriation?”
“No. It’s accurate.”
“But it’s disrespectful to Eastern Unicorns,” said the Pegasus.
Ocellus noticed then that she was the only creature in the room with a horn.
Am I really the only one here who knows actual magic? No, couldn’t be. They’d do their research, right? Ponies are always respectful to each other, they wouldn’t just write about magic without knowing anything about it; it’d be insulting to Unicorns.
“Umm, not really. It’s more disrespectful to avoid using the right word, and it’s insulting to your reader’s intelligence to expect them to use a different definition. Words mean things. You don’t have to get everything right, of course. It’s just that, again, using certain terms wrong makes it obvious who wrote it, and with stories, you wanna keep that suspension of disbelief up.”
“So… what do you think I should do?”
Generosity, Ocellus. You know what to do.
“I could have a look at the rest of it, and if you really want to write magical characters, I can point you to a few books on the subject. You’d be surprised how often authors forget that using magic has its effect on how you think.”
Fleece let her head hang. “Sorry. I thought I did my research.”
“No need to apologise, I know what you mean. There’s a good reason changelings don’t usually go for Unicorns. Or why they didn’t, I mean.” Ocellus rolled her eyes. “The problem is that a lot of the books about writing magic were written by ponies who didn’t know magic in the first place, so all the wrong stuff kind of piles up on itself. Even Unicorn writers get things wrong more often than they get it right. But there are a few real wizards who wrote about it. They’re just... not that easy to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
Ocellus realised now, that the eyes of the fan club were upon her.
“Umm, that is… if you care about that sort of thing, of course.”
“Oh, I do.” Fleece perked up. “I want to get better at writing. And writing characters with magic is part of that. So, if you know anything that would help, I’d appreciate it.”
“Hey, speaking of which, I’ve got another great idea for a story!” Paper Tiger shouted.
“And I need another poster with Wing’s Edge in his Horizon Cleave pose,” Tin Sprite added, rushing over to Ironfire.
Rarity blinked. “Ocellus, that story you’re talking about, that filly being turned into a vampire to ‘fix’ her, is that pertinent to what happened after?”
“Yup. So is Ironfire and Fleece getting swarmed by the other fans.”
“Ah.” Rarity nodded. “Now that is a familiar issue. You say these children, these teens, they were asking Fleece and… Ironfire, was it?”
Ocellus nodded.
“They were asking for more, yes? And I couldn’t help but notice an absence of the word ‘commission,’ so I’m assuming these weren’t paid activities?”
Again, Ocellus nodded. “That should have been my first clue.”
“And you offered your assistance. Ocellus, did these ponies ask you to do something without recompense?”
“Sort of. I… I should have seen it coming. But I didn’t. So the next week, Fleece Strip sat down with me, and we went over the changes to her story.”
“I’m really sorry for messing that up, again,” Fleece started.
“Oh, it’s fine, really. It’s only important if you care about accuracy. Lots of ponies don’t.”
“Still, that doesn’t make it okay. You can’t just go around spreading lies about how magic works.”
Ocellus shrugged. “It’s fiction, though. Is it really a lie, or is it just a story? You can’t go around rewriting every book in Equestria that has an error in it.”
“I guess that’s a fair point. Was there anything else?”
“This bit here with the fever?” Ocellus flipped to a page in the middle.
Fleece Strip winced. “Heart slowing down?”
“Yeah, normally the heart rate goes up when you enter that sort of trance, it’s the blood pressure that drops. But you should keep that one. The original Dragonblood made that mistake, too, it’s fine. It’s a very rare thing, even powerful wizards don’t run into it. Just keep it in mind when you write something else.”
“You’re sure? You’re okay with it being wrong?”
“Of course.” Ocellus smiled. “Sometimes stories get things wrong, for the sake of the story. And you’re basing yourself on a different story that got it wrong. Better to be consistent and wrong than right and flaky.”
“Oh.”
“Excuse me, Ocellus?” Grape Woodbine interrupted.
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking, since you are going to be our fanfic editor from now on, would you like to join us on our next trip?”
“What trip?”
“We’re going to Manehattan, for the ‘Negative O’ convention. It’s a whole bunch of fan artists and writers for the Dragonblood fandom. Even a few that like the old stuff, like you.”
Ocellus gulped. She looked at Fleece.
“It would be a good place to share your insights on magic?” she said.
You’re here to make friends, Ocellus.
Loyalty and Generosity, they’ll appreciate it if you join them and help out. And you’ll get to practise Honesty some more.
You do still need to work on speaking up.
She forced out a smile. “I’d love to.”
“And Grape was the head of the fan club, yes? The leader, so to speak?”
Ocellus nodded.
“Well, it sounds like you were making friends quite quickly. Although, if you don’t mind me saying, that Grape boy referring to you as ‘our’ editor does sound somewhat concerning.”
“It should have,” Ocellus replied. “But I got permission from my parents, Grape took care of the practical stuff, and we all went to Manehattan for the convention. We had fun. Everyone was really nice.” She winced. “Even if they didn’t see eye to eye with me.”
“How come?”
“Like I said, I only ever read the original series. The new one, they, umm… they don’t have the same sort of message and morals, I think. Lots of ponies flock around Dragonfly, the sidekick, instead of Wing’s Edge, the hero. They think it’s neat to have a handicapped main character that wasn’t handicapped in the original. I still don’t understand how the Plasma Pits are supposed to even allow that to be a thing, to be honest.”
“Sometimes ponies latch on the strangest things. And is that what happened, then? One of these… Dragonfly fans got under your skin, and you lost your temper?”
“Nothing like that, no. We went to the con, we sat in the audience for some panels, I got to talk with some actual wizards who were writing their own stories. I’d never met a high-level wizard who wasn’t trained in Canterlot, aside from Starlight Glimmer.”
Rarity pondered that. “Huh. You know, now that you mention it, I’m not sure if I have. There was Star Swirl the Bearded, I suppose, but I don’t think it counts if you were born before the city’s founding.”
Ocellus chuckled. “Anyway, we had fun. I got to meet a lot of interesting ponies, and I picked up a few things for myself. Grape introduced me to some of his friends.”
Silence fell.
Rarity took that as a hint. “Ah. Pushy colt friends, was it?”
“It’s not what you think. We went to the hotel, and Grape kept talking about this surprise he had for everyone. Turns out the surprise was me.”
There were about a dozen ponies in the room, all enjoying the drinks brought up by room service. Most were around the same age as Ocellus, though there were one or two fillies there who were a year or two younger.
Everyone made sure to have a chat with Ocellus, and by the time seven o’ clock rolled around, she felt she’d talked more in two hours than she usually did in two weeks. There weren’t any snacks yet, though. For some reason, no one had gotten dinner yet.
Ocellus was feeling famished as a result, but she didn’t want to be rude.
Grape Woodbine knocked on a table to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, everypony, time for the big event. Remember to line up, I know not everyone’s signed up, but we can get to any late candidates after the first round. Does anyone mind if I’m up first?”
Most of the ponies shook their heads. Ocellus noticed Fleece and Ironfire did not.
Grape didn’t notice. He walked right up to Ocellus and gestured to her to come to middle of the room. “Okay, then. Ready when you are, Ocellus.”
Ocellus followed him, looking around awkwardly. “Ready for what?”
Grape shrugged. “What do you think?”
“Umm… I’m flattered, but I already have a boyfriend.” She blushed.
“Not like that. Just… do the thing. Let go and let it rip.” Grape gestured to the ponies around. “We’re all friends here, you can just do it.”
Still she didn’t understand. “Do what?”
“Bite me.”
Ocellus felt her heart skip a beat. “E-excuse me? W-why would I want to bite you?”
The colt chuckled. “To turn me into a changeling, of course.”
Time froze. She caught her breath, still trying to register what Grape was suggesting. “What?”
Still, he was so casual and matter-of-factly about it. “Turn me into a changeling. It’s not quite the same as being a vampire, but it beats being an Earth pony. So, can you just bite me and my friends?”
Laughter and Magic.
This isn’t funny, and that’s not how magic works.
She took a step back. “Umm, no?”
“I mean, you could just bite me, and I’ll bite them once I’m contagious.”
“No. No, I can’t. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. You can’t just ask me to do something like that. Why do you want to be a changeling in the first place?”
“What does that matter to you? Don’t you want more ponies to know what it’s like to walk in your shoes?” Grape asked.
“That would be nice, but turning you into a changeling wouldn’t do that. It’d let you know what it feels like to be born a pony, raised a pony, and then turned into a changeling because you asked for it. That’s not the same thing at all.”
“Grape, I don’t think you thought this through,” Fleece started.
“She’s right,” Ironfire added. “You’re out of line.”
“And how’s that?” asked one of the other ponies in the crowd. “If we don’t like how we were born, why shouldn’t we get the choice to change that? Earth ponies have to live without wings or a horn, changelings get to have both. What’s wrong with asking her to share?”
Ocellus tried to block out the question, but it got stuck in her mind. “But, but…”
“Exactly,” Rooter chimed in. “My little sister’s nine and she can’t even fly. She deserves to be happy, and if I have to bite her to do it, I will.”
N-nine? Professor Fluttershy was thirteen when she learned to fly properly. You want to change your little sister’s life just for…
She gulped. The emotions in the air thickened. Even if she didn’t feed on them, she could sense them.
Love, desire, the wholesome nutritious emotions still registered to her senses, even if she didn’t feed on them. Ponies liked the smell of many flowers that they didn’t eat, it was roughly the same sentiment, as she understood it. Love was something that lingered in the air. But so too were the poisons that bordered on love.
Entitlement, possessiveness, and that foul-tasting sense of superiority she’d been warned about as a child. Back when changelings fed on love, anyone sent to Canterlot was warned: beware the emotions of a Unicorn. They are snobs by nature, they feel like they are above everyone else, and that taints their love.
She realised now that this was not a tribal thing, but merely another case of changelings being misinformed on pony society. Unicorns were not unique in being toxic sometimes.
These ponies just wanted to be special, not from any accomplishments, not from any effort, but from a bite.
They didn’t want to join the Hive, or learn how to shapeshift.
They weren’t interested in changeling culture, as hastily formed as it was.
They just wanted to feel special.
The weight of the entitlement, the unvoiced demand hidden under the guise of a friendly request, it made her stomach turn.
She glared at Grape Woodbine, then at the rest of the ponies. “I can’t believe you’d ask this.”
“I can’t believe you’d refuse,” Grape replied. “We’re just asking you to do the right thing here. It’s easy for you.”
Ocellus winced. “You couldn’t even bother to research if it was possible. You just assumed that’s how it works, and why? Because of a comic book that doesn’t even get magic right?”
“No, I did my research. I read the Ponyville Gazette, I know what Twilight Sparkle’s been up to. I know all about how easy it is to shapeshift with magic.” Grape made a gesture with his hooves towards his eyes. “Fluttershy got turned into a bat pony accidentally. You can’t tell me changelings don’t have some way of converting ponies, it wouldn’t make sense. Now are you gonna bite me or not?”
“No.”
“Why not? You know you want to. You don’t have to pretend. You must be hungry, at least. You’ll feel better afterwards, and we’ll all thank you for it. So just do it.”
He thinks I’m a vampire.
He thinks…
The thoughts in her mind started to change as she closed her eyes. The voice she thought with, it changed.
Do it.
He’s asking for it, begging.
Do it.
Show them what happens when they disrespect you.
Show them what happens when they disrespect your kind.
Ocellus felt tears of rage welling up. Rolling her tongue in her mouth, she felt fangs growing that hadn’t popped out in months.
If you don’t nip this in the bud, it will happen again.
They’re going to go after your friends in the Hive.
They’re going to try this with your little brother and sister.
She cursed her own logical, analytical self then, for knowing the truth about what these ponies would try next. In the back of her mind, that taunting voice turned to a cackle.
Chrysalis was laughing at her.
With a force of will, Ocellus tuned her out, along with the outrage and the toxic emotions of these ponies.
It’s only in your head, Ocellus.
Just walk away.
You’re not like her.
“My answer is no,” Ocellus said. “And you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Oh, come on. Why are you making such a big deal about it? It’s just a bite.”
“Maybe. But I don’t trust myself enough to bite you.” She gritted her teeth. “I might hit an artery.”
Rarity let out a deep and knowing sigh. “I see. So they expected something from you. Something you couldn’t provide. They wanted to use you. That doesn’t sound like such a big question, though.”
“You’re missing the worst part. By the time I was out of Manehattan, I started thinking: what if they were right? What if I could...”
“Could what? Turn ponies into changelings?”
“Yes.” Ocellus sniffled. “Would I do it if they asked? Should I do it if they asked? What if it was a Unicorn with a broken horn? Would it be okay to say no to that? What if it was a Pegasus who couldn’t fly? Shouldn’t I help fix that?”
Rarity raised a hoof to her snout. “That’s why that story was a red flag. These ponies were more obvious with their proclivities than you imagined, but you only noticed in hindsight. Well, to answer your question about morality, I’d say your first instinct was the correct one. You would need to know why no one used any other magic to fix them yet first, darling, and that’s a complicated matter in itself. To be perfectly honest, I still don’t understand why Tempest Shadow couldn’t get her horn fixed. Or Fizzlepop, whatever she prefers to call herself.”
“That’s my point. What if it’s a child, like she was? What if it’s someone who’s Sweetie Belle’s age, and can’t use magic?”
“Sweetie Belle is hardly a good example. Canterlot has many more Unicorns to teach magic, foals start earlier there. So again, I think you had the right answer. You would need to know if they are a latebloomer first. And that is also not an easy matter to ascertain these days. Ponies are quite different from what we used to be: less homogenous, more mixed in between the tribes. Normality isn’t an easy thing to check at the best of times, but that is what we have doctors for. And beyond that, we have smart ponies who can research these matters first.”
“I guess. What if they just wanted to be turned? Would that be enough? What if they wanted to be handicapped so they could be turned? What if their parents wanted it for some sort of sick bragging rights? What if… what if their friends were like that fan club and they pressured them into it? I know I shouldn’t think about that sort of thing, but...”
“I know, darling, I know.” Rarity smiled in understanding. “You’re an avid reader, and introspective to a fault. It’s no surprise your mind would wander to such matters. But it’s not your place to do those things. I can see why it would haunt you, though. Reminded you of a few friends in particular, I take it?”
She nodded. “I got tired, and my mind wandered in mid-air. I started thinking about everyone here after a while. What if Smolder hadn’t been there when Spike had started to molt? What if someone…” She closed her eyes and wiped her nose, biting back tears. “What if someone told Scutum he was fine being colourblind, that that was what made him special? Not his keen eye for detail, not his art skills, not his kindness, just the fact that he couldn’t see colours.”
“What if your handicap is part of your identity, you mean? And what if they decided to replace one handicap with another? Assuming you treat your situation as a handicap, of course, which I do not, but it sounds like they did. Or they treated being an Earth pony like a handicap, perhaps. I’m not sure which I’d find more offensive, to be honest. Having access to magic is not all it is cracked up to be, as the foals say.”
“Exactly. And what if ponies wanted to be special so badly, they refused to get any real problems fixed, or even protest anyone who did become, you know, normal, or healthy? What if they just wanted to be shapeshifted into a sports star’s body instead of training?” Ocellus cringed. “What if someone decided to break out Chrysalis? Get her to make them special? Chrysalis might actually figure out how to turn ponies into changelings, and then what? Would it be evil to do it? I… I can’t stop thinking about this, Rarity, and it’s driving me nuts.”
Rarity shook her head, blowing out a sigh. “Quite the conundrum, indeed. It sounds like this fan club got under your skin.”
She nodded. “Those ponies, they… they made the room taste awful. The emotions they had, that entitlement, that awful need to stand out, it was sickening. I had to get out.”
“Right, changeling. Fitting in is a survival instinct for you. I can imagine ponies like that create a hostile environment. You were right to leave, though I do question your decision to fly that far alone. But you are not injured, you haven’t been assaulted, you did not drink or eat anything suspicious?”
Ocellus shook her head. “They think being a changeling is contagious. Obviously they don’t know enough about us to figure that sort of thing out.”
“That’s one upside to their ignorance, then. Rest up, and I’ll send word to Manehattan, we will get your luggage back. And when they get back to Ponyville, we are going to have some words with this fan club. Respectful, but firm, words. Truth be told, Ocellus, I don’t think I have an answer to everything you have dancing around in your mind right now, nothing that will satisfy you. I can tell you I was in that position once, being able to make everything beautiful with a mere thought and a flick of my horn. But I was not myself at the time, and not everyone shares my idea of beauty.”
“How? And why?”
“I was under the weather, striving for perfection as always to help make our festival as nice as it could be. I let my emotions get the better of me, if you can believe it. Not my finest hour, I will admit. Then dear Spike brought me a book from the Everfree, from the castle, I mean. That book gave me access to some very powerful wish magic. You can imagine what sort of wishes I unleashed. Part of me likes to think that the book was a corrupting influence, but another part of me knows that’s only half the story. There are things in your mind, thoughts and habits, that react to magic, Ocellus. You were correct in pointing that out, and that very few know what it is like. I got a first-hoof experience of the consequences of that ignorance. Thankfully, again, the aftermath was merely superficial damage, easily cleaned up. What you are asking, though, is a matter of identity, and at least three or four very different questions regarding it. You are asking what makes someone someone, and not someone else.” Rarity sighed. “Fashion helps with that, but only to an extent.”
“Enclothed cognition,” Ocellus said.
“Yes.” Rarity nodded confidently. “Whatever that is.”
She chuckled. “It’s a technical term for how the way you see yourself changes how you act. Uniforms and stuff.”
“Then yes, that part I can relate to. Of course, clothes are usually something you can take off when the need arises. That’s not the case with a species change, at least for ponies. And the very ability to change species adds another layer to that.”
“See my problem?”
“I am beginning to. The best advice I can give would be to sleep on it, and write down your thoughts on this matter when you can think clearly. I find good ideas tend to waste away when they are not put to paper, and a good idea is a terrible thing to waste.” She winked. “Then, once you do get these thoughts sorted, would it be okay if I told Starlight Glimmer about this? She has more experience with this sort of questions.”
Ocellus groaned. “I was kinda hoping to keep this away from her. Since, you know…”
“We don’t want to remind her of old bad habits, yes. I understand, but I can only help with the practical side of this. The deeper questions, you’ll have to ask her. Do you want to keep her in the dark about it or not?”
“No. You can tell her.”
“That’s settled, then. Now get some sleep. We will see about this in the morning. Or afternoon, I should say, since it is already is early morning.”
A few days later, and Ocellus found herself outside the School of Friendship, sitting close by the entrance, moping over a tome on transmutation magic.
It was an interesting field, to be sure, but one she’d avoided for a long time, thinking it to be too obvious and cliché for a changeling studying among ponies.
She couldn’t really escape it now, though, she had to know. She had the right book at the right page.
“True Polymorph?”
Ocellus looked up. “Hello, Headmare Starlight. Rarity told you about what happened?”
“She did.” Starlight Glimmer sat down next to her. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“It wasn’t that bad, in hindsight. Just a misunderstanding, right? They didn’t know I wasn’t contagious.”
“No, they didn’t. But they wished you were. And they expected you to use that. That’s wrong.” Starlight gestured to the book. “Looking up if it could be done?”
“Yup. Doesn’t look that difficult, to be honest, not for me. There are a few skills you need to do it properly, but I’ve got most of them down already. Other than that, it’s a power issue. A few months of training, and I should be able to grant their wish.”
“Assuming you want to. Do you?”
“I don’t know. Shouldn’t I? How many ponies are out there who wish they were born different? How many ponies would be happier if they were changelings instead?”
“Good question. How many ponies do you think are out there who’d be happier without their cutie mark?”
“How many ponies would be happier if certain other ponies didn’t have a cutie mark?” Ocellus retorted.
“Now that’s the smart question to ask.” Starlight smiled. “Have you thought about it yet, or do you want my advice?”
“Please?” Ocellus pleaded. “I really don’t know what to make of this. It feels like I’d be wasting something if I didn’t.”
“Yeah, it’ll do that. Transmutation magic, especially, it encourages some bad habits when it comes to thinking. The worst habit is thinking that everything needs changing, and that magic is how you ought to change it.”
“But ponies like Tempest Shadow? Or Fizzlepop Berrytwist, I mean? Why not fix a broken horn with magic?”
“You’d have to ask her why it wasn’t fixed when she was younger. Personally, I don’t see why that’s a problem; we can fix worse with any number of potions, if given proper time. But that’s beside the point. Do you want to learn transmutation magic, Ocellus? Beyond the abilities you were born with?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“And why do you want to?”
“Because it might help ponies who need it?”
“And is it your place to help them? Is that your calling, is that what you think you want to do with your life? Or is that what somepony would force you to do if they could?”
Her breath caught. Her first response got stuck, and was quickly suppressed. “I guess I don’t really like the idea, no. I like being able to change myself. I like the idea of teaching, explaining things, even if I’m not good at it.”
“Yet,” Starlight corrected.
“Yet,” Ocellus repeated. “But then what about those ponies who really want to be changelings?”
“Have you considered that maybe there’s a reason they want to be changed, and that reason is what needs fixing in the first place?”
“No. But that does sound plausible.”
“Take it from me: the greatest power you can have as a transmutation wizard is the ability to change yourself. I had to learn how to do that, Star Swirl the Bearded had to learn how to do that, Twilight’s not even that good at transmutation and she had to learn that. You’ve been learning it already, and you should be proud of yourself for that. But it is not your place to fix every single problem for every single pony. At some point, they have to fix their own problems.”
“I guess that’s true. I like animal magic more, to be honest, and growth magic. Maybe there’s a comic book about that?”
“If not, we do have some lessons coming up, Fluttershy’s inviting a friend of hers for some guest lectures. So you won’t be going back to that club, then? And those other two ponies Rarity mentioned? The writer and the artist?”
“I talked to them yesterday. They’re quitting, and Fleece can take care of her stories on her own now, she has the books she needed.” Ocellus shrugged. “Guess it’s a good sign for an editor if they’re no longer needed, right?”
“And for today? Any plans?”
The girl’s ears flicked. There was a distinct buzzing sound approaching, different from most changelings. She smiled. “First I’ll bring this book back to my room. Then me and Scutum were going to go check the new art gallery. And a big lunch. I’m still a little faint from flying so far, at night, after only eating snacks.”
Starlight Glimmer looked up towards the buzzing. He was coming in from Ponyville’s direction, heading to the front door of the school. “Oh, so that’s the boy I’ve been hearing so much about. Colourblind, right?”
“Born colourblind, and kept it a secret. Since colourblind changelings and shapeshifting, umm…”
“Oh. Right, that would stick out.”
“He kept it a secret for a long time. Now he got it fixed by some pony doctors and, you know…”
“I understand,” the mare said. “Friendship lessons sound easy, until you get hit close to home. I can see why this whole business would be a sore spot for you especially. But you’re not alone, remember that. You have friends you can talk to, and grown-ups you can trust.”
“Speaking of which.” Ocellus noticed Scutum had been approaching her, and was now being interrogated by Smolder. Given that they both a similar colour scheme with the purple and oranges, she could only guess what they were talking about. None of her guesses were comfortable. She got up and grabbed the book. “I should probably step in before Smolder tries to embarrass me.”
“Probably best. Take care, Ocellus.”
“I will.”
Walking over to them, her mind wandered again.
Maybe I am overthinking this.
Animal magic’s more for me, isn’t it?
Lots of species to research, lots of different magical types.
She smiled when she got to Scutum, and hugged him close, before giving him a peck on the cheek.
Scutum noticed she was lost in thought. “Hello to you, too, Ocellus. Something wrong?”
“Umm… no, not anymore. Just some trouble I had with a few ponies.”
The boy glared. “Anyone need taking care of?”
She pouted cutely at him. He was playing up his bravado, but she knew him well enough he didn’t mean it. “I’ll be fine. I just need a little distraction to clear my head. I’m gonna put this book away and I’ll be right out.”
“More studies to sink your teeth into?” he asked jokingly.
Smolder winced.
Ocellus just chuckled and flashed her fangs. “No. You know what? I think I’ve had enough lessons for a little while. The next one can wait.”
The End.
Author's Note
So, some remarks on the creative process. Originally there were going to be more references to the more obvious and nameless case of 'handicapped pony needs fixing, despite said handicap not making sense in the first place' but I feel like I've beaten that dead horse so much it's marshmallows at this point. And it went past the point of the story anyway. The intended point was a mix between a cautionary tale of toxic fandoms and a deeper question regarding the use of power, magical power in particular.
On the details:
-Ironfire is named after the saying 'having a lot of irons in your fire.' Meaning she's working too much.
-Fleece Strip: good name for a shepherd pony, and being 'fleeced' is a good term for being ripped off.
-Paper Tiger is a common term, Tin Sprite is based on the term 'Tin God' (basically I checked a thesaurus on paper tigers) and a Rooter is just someone who roots for folks, a fan. But why Grape Woodbine? Not because that one word that rhymes with 'grape,' oddly enough. It's because grape woodbine is a particular type of plant. Type in question? A creeper.
-Moored Accord was not intended as a nod to Alan Moore originally, but it ended up that way. Initially it was a nod to Grant Morrisson. Both are influential comic book writers, both are wizards, in the belief sense. 'Grant' became 'Accord', 'Moored' implies something locked and unmoving against the current. Juncture Twist, then, implies something being changed at critical points. Plus, I liked the idea of a pony being named 'Junk.'
In all, I think this is just one of those stories I had to get out. A learning experience, and an experiment of sorts. We'll see what the results are, suppose.
