Where He Belongs

There was no denying that Yiazmat’s interest in Eris was a little more than just casual.

Sure, there were lots of ponies who’d pined for the Goddess of Chaos, and some who’d even gotten their chance at having a fling. But that’s how it always ended up—ponies wanted to go on romantic walks (too boring), or try their best to understand how chaos worked (spoiler alert: you couldn’t), or even simply let Eris have her way with them (too weak-willed). Dating these ponies for Eris must have been no more satisfying than eating a light snack.

But that’s all they were—ponies. They went about their lives in the same ways their entire species did and only liked Eris because she was “cool” and “different” and “not like the other girls”. They couldn’t understand that beneath her whimsical and daring aura lay a profound and complex creature who marched to her own beat.

That creature, to some extent, was lonely (or so Yiaz theorized), as all social creatures were. She didn’t need just any pony, she needed a mate.

Someone who didn’t follow the rules of pony society, who could grasp even a foundation of the workings of chaos.

Someone who could run loops around her, just as she would run loops around them.

Maybe even someone who was just like her, a draconequus.

There were not many who could fit the bill so well. Draconequui were few and far between, and none made Equestria their primary hunting grounds…

Besides Eris, and Yiazmat.

Would Eris believe in a thing called destiny? Yiaz certainly did. He was dynamic, charming, free-spirited…

If ponies were a light snack, Yiaz was the full buffet—and Eris would have her meal.

Still, if he wanted to be able to win her over, he needed preparation. Unlike ponies, he was not willing to run in with reckless abandon and lose his head. Furthermore, there was no predicting how she would respond—meaning no script, no speech. Outside of a few pickup lines, he would be entirely on his own.

Of course, this was a challenge, but it was clear Eris liked it that way. She was a goddess—it was not her responsibility to guide others to the mountain where she stood. Yiaz would have to navigate her very being to reach its peak.

It meant he had to refine his personality—be willing and able to respond to any jab or punch with his own wit.

It meant he had to learn to be unpredictable, and match her chaos with that of his own.

Most importantly, it meant he had to be captivating. If Eris turned her back on most ponies, it meant when she noticed Yiaz, she wouldn’t even think about turning the other way.

It was not a perfect plan, per se, but was there really a concept of “perfection” when it came to chaos? All Yiaz had to do was show up big time, and hope it would be enough. He didn’t have to “win” (if such a thing was even possible), but he did have to show he was “good enough”.

There was one pony phrase he’d been taught that suited the situation, at least…

Carpe diem!

So Yiazmat prepared, refined, and waited.

It didn’t take long for him to find his chance. The Prancing Pony Brothers were in town, and with the circus came colorful tents and banners, flyers posted all over, and crowds drawn from all across Equestria. There was no doubt Eris would be drawn toward such a spectacle, eager to cause a little chaos.

And indeed, word through the grapevine travelled quite quickly—Yiaz overheard some of the security guards talking about beefing up measures in case (not that it would accomplish anything). Before Eris showed up, he had to make his move.

He slithered through the carnival grounds, his body moving with surprising grace as he observed the preparations. To anyone on watch, if they looked in his direction, they’d only manage to see a shadow and a disappearing tail.

Scratching his chin, he read off the flashy signs attached to each tent:

“THE AEROWING FAMILY: A GENERATION OF TRAPEZE”

No, too dangerous.

“MAGIC AND ILLUSIONS: STARLIGHT SPARKLER”

Also no. Unfortunately, unlike Eris, he couldn’t wield particularly powerful magic on his own.

“GENTLE GRACE: DANCE WITH THE TIMBERWOLVES”

There was potential there. Something about the mystique of it caught his eye, but he decided to look around one more time for potential targets anyway.

“THE GREAT MESMAREINO: MASTER OF MENTAL MANIPULATION”

Bingo.

Quiet as a mouse, Yiaz opened the tent flap and snuck in.

Inside, a dapper little unicorn (a stallion, surprisingly) was facing away from him, humming and putting on a gaudy suit and fake mustache. His pendulum lay flat on the table beside him.

Awfully amusing how ponies needed props for this sort of thing, and only to accomplish some parlor trick, Yiaz thought to himself. Time to show a master at work. He swooshed from the floor up to the ceiling.

The unicorn, who was presumably “Mesmareino”, flinched at the glint of movement that reflected on the dresser mirror. “W-who’s there?”

Yiaz only took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When they opened again, there was an unmistakable glow. His voice rumbled as he spoke. “Hello, friend.”

Mesmareino spun around, eyes wide, pupils shrinking to pinpricks. His voice quivered as he spoke. “W-who’s there?” Attempting to regain some composure, he made eye contact and gave an unconfident smile. “Are you an excited fan? Come to see the show early?”

Yiaz chuckled softly. He decided to play along, descending from the ceiling with a flourish. “Indeed, friend,” he replied, a sly grin on his face. “I’ve heard great things about your… mental manipulation skills. Would you be so kind as to give a… demonstration?”

The unicorn, still somewhat flustered, adjusted his suit and licked his lips. Yiaz could smell his discomfort. “W-well, normally that’s reserved for volunteers during the show only, but a-anything for a devoted fan.” Inching over back toward the table, he picked up the pocket watch and began to swing it in front of Yiaz’s face, his voice attempting a steady rhythm. “Just follow the watch… back and forth… back and forth…”

Yiaz gave him the benefit of the doubt. He tried, he really did. He even swung his head and traced the movements of the pendulum, waiting for any kind of foreign pressure to manifest in his own head.

And wait… there was something… a yawn!

Unfortunately, it was not because he was sleepy—it was because he was bored.

He sighed. After all, Mesmareino was a pony hypnotist who worked on ponies. And unlike Yiazmat, ponies were oh-so-suggestible—ponies like Mesmareino.

A touch of disappointment colored his expression. He flicked his gaze away and advanced on the cowering performer, who gulped nervously. “Why don’t you allow me to show you how it's truly done?”

And before the unicorn hypnotist could say yes or no, Yiaz’s heterochromatic eyes began to swirl with psychedelic patterns. “Allow me, as a little… professional courtesy.”

At once, Mesmareino was assaulted with a barrage of kaleidoscopic color. Caught off guard, he dropped to his knees, his mouth hanging slack and his own eyes glazing over.

Yiaz's voice dropped to a velvety murmur as he leaned in closer, his eyes glowing with a mesmerizing swirl. “Look deep into my eyes,” he instructed, his tone silky and irresistible. “Feel yourself getting lost in the patterns, in the colors… letting go of all your thoughts, all your worries…”

Mesmareino's resistance melted away almost instantly. Yiaz's eyes seemed to pull him in, deeper, deeper, drowning him in a sea of colors and sensations. Quietly, he nodded mechanically.

“That’s it,” Yiaz continued, his voice like a caress. “Just let go… deeper and deeper… let your mind float, weightless and free…”

Mesmareino's body swayed slightly, his consciousness slipping further under Yiaz's spell. The draconequus could see complete submission painted on the unicorn’s vacant stare, the hypnotist now a mere puppet to his will.

“Good boy,” Yiaz whispered, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Now, I’m going to need a little favor from you, okay? When I snap my claws, you’re going to…”