Perspectives

by dzamie

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 7217

Four Equestrian residents keep journals about the day's events. How will things unfold for them all

A dragon, a changeling, a pony, and a griffon write their thoughts about the days down in journals. As the events unfold, their points of view become evident, even as their days take a turn for the complicated. A breakfast decision made by one inhabitant can cause so much chaos.

A story of hired hooves, secrets, prejudice, and chickens.

Published 2012-11-25 18:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-02-02 03:36:33 UTC

Day 1: Breakfast and a New Job

Dragon

Today was a pretty average day. I got up, did a quick check of my hoard (nobody ever steals from it, but just in case...), and set out for breakfast. I was thinking maybe I'd get some chickens to eat; chickens were my favorite food, since they taste like everything. Luck seemed to be upon me, since I spotted a griffin flying around outside my cave. Unfortunately, I was still a bit tired at that point, so my claw struck only air, and the lion-eagle managed to escape my clutches. On the positive side, that's one more who won't likely be stealing my treasure anytime soon. Anyway, after my brief run-in with the griffin, I made my way down to a nearby animal farm. Fortune yet again shined in my favor, and I was met with the sight of at least two dozen chickens and nary a farmer in sight. I quickly snatched up ten or so of the hens, and made my way back to my cave. I set the chickens down for just a minute to heat up some water (boiled always seems tastier than roasted to me), and found that only two were left; the others had scattered into nooks of the cave where I'm too large to reach. Good thing dragons have (surprisingly, considering our size) rather slow metabolisms, since breakfast and lunch were chicken soup, mostly water, since I only had two chickens instead of a more hearty six or eight. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. I took a nap, and caught some deer for dinner. The chickens hiding in the cave walls still taunt me with their infernal clucking noises and incessant head-bobbing. Moreover, I have not been successful in my attempts to catch and eat them.
Chickens are no longer my favorite food.

.o0O0o.o0O0o.o0O0o.

Griffin

Oh, man, the craziest stuff happened today! So I was out for a mid-morning flight, exploring a new mountain, when all of a sudden a big, huge, blue dragon starts attacking me! Naturally, I escaped (did you expect anything less?), but I had to pull of my most epic dodging moves ever, I was rolling and weaving and all sorts of things! So anyway, I hauled tail to get back to my home (I live just outside of Cloudsdale, so there are so many female pegasi who fly by every day, totally awesome), only to learn that Cirrus Strider, my friend of two years, finally graduated from that mercenary school or whatever, after failing last year's final test. Not only that, but he had even landed himself an entry-level job at a pretty well-known company! Things are gonna be just great for him. As for me, well... it's a good thing that griffins are omnivorous, because I won't be able to buy food for much longer. I wonder if that dragon would be willing to teach me to hunt...
Nah, he'd probably try to eat me or something. That's what dragons always do in stories.

.o0O0o.o0O0o.o0O0o.

Changeling

Journal Entry #1

I have decided to start a journal, and it shall serve two purposes: Firstly, and most importantly, it is to document the physiology, psychology, and sociology of a covert-ops changeling, since, if I were to be discovered, it is potentially vital to my safety, and more importantly, the Hive's, that any ponies going through my possessions are not misled by common opinionated paranoia, and that, through the combination of alternate biases, that of mine and that of the ponies', a neutral understanding may come to light. The secondary purpose, is of course to act as a notebook inside which I can record my thoughts on my experiences in this town. Now then, for the subject matter:

Most of the information ponies have about changelings appears to have been derived from their sole encounter with the changeling Queen, Chrysalis. However, her hive is a comparatively new one, and one to which I do not belong. However, there are some similarities between her hive and the Hive of my Queen. The most outstanding commonalities are in physical appearance; all changelings, have a black “fur” which is dense enough to rival the apparent effectiveness of pony-made thick-cloth armor. In addition, the drones naturally possess solid blue eyes, although some decide to change their eye color to their whim, and all changelings can assume a disguise, which is stronger in detection avoidance than illusions, but weaker than a legitimate magical shapeshift. Most changelings, excluding the occasional converted pony changeling (hereafter in this journal referred to as “Converts”) have thin, semitransparent wings, which can generate enough lift to support up to triple the weight of a changeling drone with adequate physical training. Also, changelings have “holes” in their legs. This is a side-effect of our ability to disguise ourselves, as on parts of the body, the same power source used to generate the iconic visual changes passively “disguises” areas on our extremities as the view behind us. The size and frequency of these “holes” varies directly with how much disguise training each changeling has received, and inversely with how frequently a changeling is disguised. For example, I have had slightly above-average training to enable me to perform more actions while disguised, but I also remain changed for much of my waking hours. Hence, the “holes” on my legs are rather small compared to a changeling who simply remains hidden throughout the day and ventures out unchanged by night.

Okay, lesson over. I'll write of misconceptions tomorrow, but for now, I'm going to write about what happened today. As per usual, my day started with waking up, getting some water, and reading the morning paper. Nothing outstanding there; the most unique thing was some pegasus speculation about that aurora a few nights ago. After checking up on the local news, I decided to see if anybody in my Hive was going through something interesting, and checked the... I suppose I'll call it a hivemind here; I've never needed a word for it before. Anyway, one of the changelings who pretends to be a pegasus apparently overheard a real pegasus talking about joining a mercenary's (really just hired help, but everyone calls us mercenaries) guild once he graduates. The reason this caught my attention is because I happen to work (no changeling-pretending here, I've got to put effort into the job) at one of those. So I assumed my disguise of a forest-green unicorn with a messy orange mane, and head off to see if any interesting bounties had been put up, especially for known changelings, since I tend to just get them to leave rather than killing them. Nothing really interesting this morning, unfortunately, but I can sustain myself from my co-workers' positive emotions generated from just acting as a likeable pony. Mildly noticeable, however, was a new pegasus-pony working there, a blue-and-yellow, bright-eyed guy named Cirrus Strider. I sent a confirmation over to the changeling who had broadcast the rumor, with some information about where Cirrus works in case he wanted to find him again. After alternating between doing a few short tasks for ponies and just shooting the breeze with my colleagues, I was just about to punch out and call it a day when a farm pony ran in, placing a decent bounty for the return of his chickens. Turns out a dragon stole them, which is why he's offering so much. I volunteered to do it tomorrow, and the newbie du jour decided that he wanted to fight a dragon, so he offered to go with me. He doesn't seem that experienced, and I think that his cockiness will get the better of him tomorrow. Oh well, I'll scribe the results of the task tomorrow.

.o0O0o.o0O0o.o0O0o.

Pony

so toda i went owt to colect egs from the chikens and chek on the gardin wen sudenly a dragon jus swuped down and stol a bunch of my chikens. i was absolutle infyureatd. my chikens ar my mane sors of bits so after doing my dali tasks i went to the mersinaris gild to se if I cud get a groop to get my chikens bak. a unikorn and a pegusis sed thed do it tomoro so thats gud. i hop thay suxed becuz thoz chikens ar vitl to mi livlehud.

Day 2: The Willing Death of a Pony

Pony

toda the to mersinaris reternd with most of my chikins unfortunitle thair wer onle ten left. i usd to hav to mor then that. stil i pad the unikorn the mone becuz she did stil go to the dragons cav and she brot bak my chikins. the pegusis waznt thair i ges he went hom erle. the chikins ar skard and tha probable wont la egs for awil. but ten mor chikins is beter then nun.

.o0O0o.o0O0o.o0O0o.

Dragon

Today I learned that chickens really do get up with the sun. Their infernal clucking was what woke me up far too early from my slumber; I do wish I had been able to reach them in their fortuitous hidey-holes. Ah, however that is not the most interesting thing that happened today. A pegasus-pony and a changeling actually came to remove the chickens from my cave. The changeling was disguised, of course (I can hardly imagine a pony voluntarily working with a changeling), but changeling disguises are quite a simple matter for my gaze to pierce. The changeling/unicorn, as that is what it/she had changed into, was very diplomatic in her approach; I almost wish the same could be said of its/her colleague, for he'd've lived longer. But back to my story. The changeling told me of its/her objective, to “rescue” the chickens, and I informed it/her that I had already eaten two of them, but the rest escaped my grasp, and I was willing to have them removed as it would stop their incessant noise-making. It/She took it rather well, and set towards using its/her magic to pull the fowl from their holes and to place them in a cage. The pegasus, on the other hand, showed a remarkable lack of common sense and knowledge of a dragon's digestive system. He seemed absolutely infuriated that I would dare eat food that I had stolen, and seemed intent on freeing the avians from whatever fate had oh so surely kept them alive for an entire day and night. By which I mean, he flew up to my face, pried open my jaws, and flew inside. Naturally, I shut them, with the intent to open them if he put up a fight (it is surprisingly painful to be bruised on the inside of one's mouth). He did no such thing; in fact, he tried to crawl towards the back of my throat, presumably with intent to free the white-feathered nuisances from my stomach. Clearly, there was only one thing to do: help him along in his mission. I guess he noticed quickly my plans, as he tried to put up a fight as I swallowed him down. Emphasis on “tried,” of course; today was also the day I learned how absolutely wonderful it feels, at least for me, to have prey try to escape after their doom is sealed. Apparently the changeling saw me eat her partner, but ignored my actions in favor of labeling the ex-pony as an, what was it again, “overconfident, noobish buffoon who should never have graduated the academy.” Anyway, I made sure to watch it/her to make sure it/she didn't take anything but the chickens; I know the place and quantity of each bit of my hoard, and get extremely angry when part is missing. The changeling quickly finished up and departed, showing seemingly no interest in my treasure trove. Good. I decided not to have dinner tonight; I've stated previously that dragons can have very slow metabolisms, and an energetic pegasus-pony will likely tide me over for almost a week if necessary.

.o0O0o.o0O0o.o0O0o.

Changeling

Journal Entry #2

As previously documented, this entry is to be used to address several major misconceptions that ponies seem to have about changelings. Primarily, the main fear is that changelings can only steal love, by either assuming the position of a significant other, or by comparatively more forceful methods, which have frequently been described as, to use the vernacular, “sticking ponies in green pods and drinking 'til they're a dry husk without emotion.” This, like many misconceptions, has likely been perpetuated by the unsuccessful attack of Chrysalis' hive on Canterlot. While it is indeed true that both methods may be used by changeling to obtain nourishment, they are far from the most frequently-utilized. The most common method, especially once a hive has expanded to a stable size, is to create an entirely original persona by designing and perfecting a physical appearance, a set of mannerisms, an amicable personality, and most importantly, with definite stress on that phrase, a solid backstory. Personally, I could easily give anypony a perfect tale of why “I” have a dagger over a pile of coins as a cutie mark. It takes a rather respectable amount of work, and many changelings who have achieved fame in equine culture have done so through writing, as they are accustomed to such fabrication of complete characters. However, once such a persona has been designed, the changeling is, for all practical and social purposes, an independent pony, and as such, the majority of their nourishment is derived from positive social interaction with “natural” ponies. Converts, because they do not receive the training native changelings undergo from birth, are most commonly guided to assume the life of their former self, and with a few exceptions where the Convert was of a disagreeable character, such changelings thrive in their past life. A second misconception is that changelings do more than feed off of the emotion of love; they also survive on it, and therefore will die without it. This idea has spawned a few derivatives, the two most notable are that changelings receive no nutrition from non-emotion food such as hayburgers or meatballs, and that hating a changeling will result in the termination of the changeling's life. Both assertions, while not unfounded, are incorrect. To address the second point first: hate and negative emotions are simply not consumed by changelings, however, they may still have a psychological effect. In rare, severe cases, especially when it is considered that Equestria is primarily a strife-free nation, changelings lacking the support of the Hivemind, either by magical or physical means, have been known to enter depression, and commit suicide. The general consensus of changelings indicates that the most tragic component of such an occurrence is the general indifference, or occasional jubilation, of the equine populous upon the discovery that the victim was not one of their own. Recovering from such a morbid topic, the other incorrect assumption asserts that changelings gain no benefit from physical food products. The basis for this is due to changelings' proclivity towards a feast of emotions. The reason for such a tendency is marginally less impressive, that is, changelings primarily consume positive emotions due to taste preferences; a morsel of admiration, when compared to even the highest quality apple cider, tastes as a luscious cake does in comparison to a solitary blade of common grass.

I think I'll start with something other than the mess of stupidity that was the mercenary job. I realize that I've never described myself. Since this journal is being written with half-intent for it to be read eventually, I may as well give the reader some information about me. I currently appear as a changeling of average size, female of course, with probably about 1/3 of the surface area of my legs are occupied by “holes.” As for my eyes, I have made the decision to change their color to yellow, in part because I believe they look quite well on me, and in part that, in the event that I'm found out and captured, ponies will hopefully think that I am not of Chrysalis' hive, and am therefore not necessarily hostile. My most frequent pony form, which I have described in my first entry, has a pair of crossed daggers over a pile of gold coins. I have been her ever since “she” arrived in my current town, two years, seven months, and a week ago. I can recall the events of my first day perfectly, although that is less a measure of nostalgic memory and more a means of proving my legitimacy should I ever be revealed as a changeling. But now for the actual happenings of the day. As usual, I woke up, scanned any popular information threads floating through the Hivemind, read the pony paper for local news, transformed, and walked to my place of occupation. Once there, I got a light “breakfast” from chatting it up with some coworkers (I'm not so much stealing their energy as using the energy freely given to me as food) and waiting for Cirrus Strider. He wasn't long, and as soon as he arrived, we set off for the dragon's mountain. Once we got to the right mountain, we quickly located the cave by the sound of clucking chickens. I have never heard louder birds. At the cave, I noticed that the dragon was already awake, and decided that we'd have a better chance of surviving by announcing our presence immediately rather than sneaking around and being caught as thieves. So, I introduced myself and Cirrus as a pair of ponies on a simple fetch quest for some chickens. Luckily, the big beast was apparently quite disgruntled with the pilfered fowl, and said that we could have all the chickens save the two he'd already eaten, if we could remove them from their locations of hiding. I quickly located a pair in a near wall, putting them in a magically-summoned cage before I heard Cirrus' voice. He seemed positively infuriated that the dragon had eaten two of the chickens. I turned around, and was about to inform him that we'd likely be paid in full, or at least the corresponding 5/6, when I was stopped in my tracks upon witnessing his reckless action. He had flown up to the dragon, and as I, dumbstruck, watched, pried open its jaws and dove towards the back of his mouth. The dragon seemed almost as surprised as I was, but quickly regained its composure and closed its mouth. Hoping that Cirrus would've come to his senses and tried to fight his way out or at the very least attempt to provoke the dragon's gag reflex, I glanced away and spotted a few more chickens, which I extracted and placed into the cage with telekinesis; this took approximately half a minute. Suddenly, I heard a loud gulp, and quickly turned to see a moving bulge travel down the dragon's neck. When the dragon turned to face me, I froze. My expression changed to the most perplexed look I could muster, however, when I heard the dragon remark to himself how strange it was that my partner hadn't tried to escape. Swearing under my breath, I returned to my original objective, eventually locating all ten chickens. Thinking back, I guess that dragonscale might possess soundproof qualities, the alternative being that Cirrus actually enjoyed being swallowed alive by the reptile. Why would he.. ~~well, maybe...~~ Anyway, back on track, I returned to town, traveling directly to the farmpony's house (I could find my way due to it being one of two farms within a couple dozen kilometers), where I “neglected” to inform him of my partner's peril. Still, he was very positive about the whole thing, and he even gave me both halves of the payment to deliver to Cirrus. I let the chickens out of the cage where he directed, then departed to sign off back at the mercenary building. Ponies, of course, took notice of my conspicuous lack of pegasus companion. Since it would've been fruitless and incredibly dubious to try to cover up his untimely demise, I described to those who would ask of how he fed himself to the dragon, and was certain to explain that he had seemingly voluntarily offered himself to the dragon as food. Most of the ponies I told were falsely sympathetic, secretly harboring disdain towards the late pegasus. To any~~pony~~body reading this (rather presumptuous to assume that ponies would be the only recipients of these words), I could tell their true emotions past the false sympathy because changelings can identify emotions by taste in much the same way that a few exceptionally talented ponies can determine the age of a plant within a month, only by tasting it. After taking a few more odd jobs like helping to find a lost filly and settling a minor dispute between friends over a bet, I clocked out and headed home, once again assuming my yellow-eyed form upon entry to my home. Shortly before starting this entry, I started a topic-thread describing the encounter with the dragon and his chickens, and the demise of Cirrus Strider, the newly-graduated pegasus-pony. I think tomorrow I'll give a brief overview of changeling training here. Nothing too detailed, of course, as that would potentially curtail the security and effectiveness of the actual training, and while documenting changeling life is a prominent objective of mine, the success of the Hive is a far greater one.

.o0O0o.o0O0o.o0O0o.

Griffon

Today sucked. That's all there is too it. It started out sucky when I realized that I'd only have enough money to continue buying food for another week or so, it got worse when I was fired by my racist pegasus manager, shortening that week to only a few days, and it pretty much hit rock bottom when I was told that Cirrus Strider, my friend for two years, had died on his second day of being a mercenary. Not only that, but my previous plan for food, asking the dragon to teach me how to hunt instead of killing me, involved the same dragon as the one who ate Cirrus! If I didn't know better, I'd say he's got a personal vendettah, or however you spell it, against me! As for the “getting fired” thing, I was told that the company “didn't have enough on the payroll to support a griffon, even part-time.” Horseapples! I have personally been at least thrice as productive, by the numbers, as two of my pegasus coworkers combined! And when I pointed out that particular statistic, he responded by accusing me of just wanting “good, honest, hardworking ponies” with oh-so-special emphasis on the PONIES, “on the street so you pony-eater can have an easy meal.” Seriously, if this guy had been reading the news for the past probably half a century, he'd know that griffon-on-pony violent crimes had been reduced to nearly two a year, a tiny sliver compared to the pony-on-pony statistic. Unfortunately for him, he's given me the means of my own redemption (or death, but let's hope I survive). I've finally hit the lowest possible point. I have nothing to lose. It's a little late now, but tomorrow I am going to that dragon's cave, and I'll get hunting lessons from a dragon, or die trying.

Author's Note

A few things that might otherwise be frequently asked in the comments:
1. If you're new to the story and therefore haven't seen my comment on the first chapter, or just forgot about it, the pony's horrible spelling and grammar is on purpose. He's not stupid, and you can see it a little in his vocabulary; he just hasn't learned how to spell properly.
2. I'm not changing the griffon's spelling of "vendetta." He doesn't know how to spell it.
3. Please don't leave a comment about how you've figured out a recurring oddity in my chapters; PM me if you don't think it's on purpose. As an avid reader, it really kills the thrill of discovery when someone figures a mystery out before I do and posts in the comments "OH I GET IT, HER MEMORIES ARE SLOWLY HAVING SCOOTERS WRITTEN OUT OF THEM!" or something like that.
4. Don't worry, I'm not writing any of these Perspectives from my own experience. I have never been fired by a manager because of my race, I have never had a friend die, and I've never seen someone be swallowed alive by a dragon.
5. The changeling has a good eye for details, as does the dragon; that's why they have longer passages about shorter periods of time than the other two characters.

Day 3: Hunting is Harder Than Expected

Pony

onle a fyu das until the vernel ecwinox. the nuzpaper alwez sends owt pikchurs ov both prinseses frum the canterlot festivul but evin after so long ther ar sum pones hu dont trust luna ner selestia. i dont understand wi becuz shez not nitmar mon anemor and she maks a byutiful nit ski. i gat sum fed for mi chikins and a bag ov fertelizer for the crops. o ther waz also a song toda in the marketplas. i cant cwit rical al ov the words now but the song waz abowt an ecwinox selibrashun. il se if i can atend after i fed mi chikins and water mi plants and hopfule sel som things in town.

.o0O0o.o0O0o.o0O0o.

Changeling

Journal Entry #3

The topic of this entry shall pertain to the common methodologies of training changelings to increase their effectiveness towards all necessary measures. To preserve the security of the changeling Hive(s), which has a greater priority than the thoroughness of a casual documentation of the changeling species, vital details are to be omitted or summarized. This security measure may reoccur in later entries.
There exist several different tiers of changeling training. For the sake of simplicity, these levels of intensity will be referred to by number, starting with “Tier 1” for the lowest level of tuition and increasing by whole-number increments. Changelings who receive only Tier 1 have been expected to be restricted to in-Hive work, and therefore such training consists only of simple vocabulary, basic Hivemind communication, flight for means of transportation, and rudimentary magic. The magic education at such a level is comprised of a simple Destructive Bolt and close-range telekinesis. After Tier 1, the levels split into a covert-ops branch and a military branch. Past experience yields naught but basic information concerning the military branch; the extent of the researcher's knowledge is to know that, by Tier 4, military changelings are capable of basic teleportation, intricate and coordinated flight maneuvers, several intensities of Destructive Bolt, proficiency in both telekinetically-held and mounted weaponry, basic “mirroring” transformation, and they can use their green transformation-fire as a weapon.

For the covert-ops branch, Tiers 2 through 5 can and will be described. In the second Tier of this branch, changelings are taught how to “mirror” a pony, id est, how to match the image and voice of a pony that they have a visual and audio of. For practice, higher-level changelings transform into ponies to provide a model for those practicing the technique. At this level of education, changelings are falsely “taught” that there is a maximum of one hour for a transformation, and after that, the disguise drops and the changeling falls unconscious. For Tier 3 of covert-ops tuition, changelings are to perfect their “mirroring” tactic, including replication of mannerisms. Changelings who pick up on this quickly are usually given actual magically-recorded footage of Equestrian ponies to copy, whereas the lower approximately ninety-percent of Tier 3 changelings use Tier 4 and 5 changelings to copy. In addition, those in the third Tier are also told that, due to having more magical power, their maximum “Changed” time is two hours. Tier 4 is where many of the long-term changelings are ranked, as it is finally revealed to these changelings that there is technically no upper limitation on transformation duration; however, there is a limit as to how long one can return to a changeling form by removing a disguise. A survey of nearly two hundred Tier 4 and 5 covert-ops changelings indicates that it is necessary to put on a “changeling” disguise rather than removing a “pony” one after approximately four and one half hours. Alongside to a “removal” of this time-based limitation, Tier 4 changelings are instructed how to create a disguise without a pony model, how to create a basic personality for a disguise, and how to use common unicorn magic, such as telekinesis, Destructive Bolt, magic shield, summoning small items. These changelings are usually sent to pony civilization for one to three months to report on major current events. In Tier 5, reserved mostly for those who excelled at many or all aspects of Tier 4, obtain practice for constructing a detailed backstory for a long-term pony persona. In addition, they are taught more complicated unicorn spells, such as low-level enchantments, weak emotion-altering magic (used almost entirely to dissuade Royal Guards from pursuing their anti-changeling investigations), summoning important items, and two kinds of teleportation: line-of-sight and set-point.

For those readers who are not unicorns, line-of-sight teleportation allows the user to teleport themselves and, for more powerful magic-users, a few others to a point which they can see from their current location. The energy expended increases proportionally with distance traveled, so there is a maximum distance for which it may be cast, as further frequently results in the user releasing excessive energy, after which they often slip into a coma or die. Set-point teleportation requires a more abundant pool of energy from which to draw than a majority of line-of-sight teleportation; however, its mana requirement is a constant. It operates by way of a magic-user “setting a point” in space, to which they may afterwards, through the expenditure of the required magical power, return nigh-instantaneously. The other main utility spell taught to Tier 5 changelings is a set-summon, which has similarities to set-point teleportation in that its functionality is limited to a static reference. The main difference between the two is that the teleportation spell transports the user to the point, whereas the summoning spell transports the object to the user.

Returning to the original topic, changelings in Tier 5 often live out several lives as “ponies,” owing to the imbalance by a few hundred years in life expectancies, during which time official reports back to the Hive are infrequent, but unofficial, informal notes and thoughts are transmitted frequently. Most pony Converts are given Tier 2 military training, instructed to disguise and remain as their previous selves, and return back to their settlement with an alibi, usually given by a Tier 4 covert-ops changeling as practice, to live out the rest of their lives. After they would ordinarily have passed on as a pony, one of two things happens: one, they are given a reason for why their life persists, such as eating one of Celestia's golden apples, or two, they return to the Hive to study as a military changeling. For the next topic for this documentation, it is undetermined at the time of this writing.

It appears that the town is finally getting around to setting up for the Spring Equinox Celebration. How, you may ask, can I tell with such assurance? They sang a song about it. I'll get to that eventually, but first the rest of my day, since proper chronological ordering is important for the proper sequencing of thoughts. This morning, I woke up, removed the foam ball from my horn, and checked the mirror to see a pair of yellow eyes staring back at me. The foam ball might seem slightly odd to those of you who aren't changelings, but our horns are exceptionally sharp, and there's nothing worse than having to buy a new pillow because you slept on it. Anyway, I carried out my usual routine of having some water while checking both pony and changeling news. In the paper, I saw a “Missing Foal” ad, and decided that I would volunteer to help, should the news reach the mercenary agency. From the Hivemind, nothing was excessively extraordinary, save for one changeling near Ponyville caught with his disguise down. Fortunately for him, he was able to diffuse an otherwise tense situation with a pink-maned pegasus by assuming the form of her friends, plural because the pegasus requested that he change multiple times, and simply letting the yellow pony practice conversations. Most of the replies to that information resembled “you could've been killed” and warnings to stay on the safe side if in Ponyville. I then disguised myself, walked over to the agency, and chatted about the weather with some coworkers, before the aforementioned “Missing Foal” ad finally showed up. Due to my disguise being a unicorn, I had the perfect reason for using a basic search-and-identify spell to locate the filly trapped in a tree. Upon my arrival, I discovered that she had managed to hogtie herself, and attach her hooves and head to different branches, all with the same kitestring, with the kite still attached. I cut her down by pretending to cast a cutting spell on my horn; in reality I altered my disguise to not include the tip of my horn, then used its sharp point to cut the filly down. She waited at the bottom of the tree until I descended, as though afraid the tree would choose me as a snack in replacement for her, and from my viewpoint above her, I noticed something unique: while most ponies' coats are comprised of one color, this foal's coat was yellow, but had a brown stripe resembling a sinusoid down her back. When I returned to the base of the trunk, she, unexpectedly, decided to show her gratitude by tackle-hugging me. I may have mentioned earlier that I don't steal unoffered energy, allowing myself only that which is freely given; that rule changes for children, as I also return some of their happiness and well-meaning, so as not to have them fall emotionally ill. Since they have not yet learned the societal restrictions on emotions, they may offer me more energy than is safe or healthy for them to do, so I err on the side of caution. After reuniting with her mother, the filly ran off towards the hoofball field, where a few of who I assume to be her friends were waiting. The workload at the workplace slowed after that, so I spent much of my pre-lunch time trading stories with my peers of the most daring deeds we'd accomplished. Come lunchtime, and I was sitting outside, munching on a nice dandelion-clover sandwich, when I heard a tune coming down the street. Since ponies seem to be urged to join in on such foolishness, I quickly paid my bill, took my sandwich, and retreated to a location where I could assume my psuedo-invisible disguise, more commonly known as looking like a rock near a group of rocks, and listened in. I made a topic-thread in the Hivemind for potential discussion and correction of the lyrics heard, but eventually, it came out that the ponies were singing this:
Equal time for the sun and the moon,
A far cry from December and from June,
We welcome a new season of growth, green, and food.
An Equinox celebration should lighten every-po-ny's mooood...
We say goodbye to cold, and with it, slip'ry ice.
We welcome back the animals, from the bears to the mice.
Celestia's and Luna's equal time means one thing:
A new season is upon us; we welcome in the Spring!
Colts and fillies get excited, 'cause school's nearing a break,
And their parents are beside them, and all leave joy in their wake.
Robins, with feathers of red, return to the north,
And hibernating creatures once again venture forth.
The grass is green, the sky is blue, the sun turns bright, and still
So many magical things happen to shake off Winter's chill!
We say goodbye to cold, and with it, slip'ry ice.
We welcome back the animals, from the bears to the mice.
Celestia's and Luna's equal time means one thing:
A new season is upon us; we welcome in the Spring!
Well, that was one verse. Those second and last sets of four lines were the refrain, and I could probably transcribe the remainder of the song if not for how much space it consumes in this journal, and how much I wish I could dislodge its tune from my head. So, once the ponies had finished singing and dancing, I returned to work, only to learn that, because of such heightened spirits, the pony in charge of most of the agency had given everyone who clocked in a day and a half's wage, and that any overtime wished to be completed would be unpaid, sans the rewards offered by townsponies. As per usual, many ponies remained working, likely out of the goodness of their hearts, but I decided to return home and seek the company of fellow changelings, at least in mind if not body. A quick lie about a new book I wanted to read, and I had created a decent excuse to trot happily home, where I caught up with some fellow Tier 5'ers I knew from a few years back. As it turns out, one of them had found work in Canterlot as a reporter, so he was able to keep up-to-date on the recent events around the ponies' princesses; another one had found herself a coltfriend in Baltimare, where it's not uncommon for changelings to be seen in public, and there are even some laws prohibiting excessive measures both by changelings and against changelings there (perhaps that could be tomorrow's entry). After a while, I left the conversation and went to thinking about what to write in here. Perhaps I'll visit Baltimare some day and finally let ponies see what I look like. After all, I am absolutely stunning with yellow eyes. Compared to there, this town seems downright discriminatory, and I've even heard of pegasi being turned down from jobs usually filled by Earth ponies. Then again, that's all hearsay, and mostly by some pretty jerky pegasi.

.o0O0o.o0O0o.o0O0o.

Griffon

All right. I am so Celestia-damned angry right now. So it turns out that the “pony” that Cirrus was with when the dragon ate him was a changeling. How do I know, diary? Well, I managed to overhear the dragon thinking aloud when he mentioned a pegasus and a changeling visiting a few days ago. Oh yeah, that reminds me: the dragon agreed to teach me to hunt. Strangest thing though, he didn't ask for anything except for me to “stop assuming so many things about those I haven't met.” I guess I know why he said that. I sort of freaked out when he mentioned that chicken used to be his favorite food, and I thought that meant that it was now griffon. So yeah, there's that. Anyway, the first lesson was how to move quietly. Something funny happened about then, because I was complaining that it was silly for an enormous dragon to teach anything how to be quiet, and he managed to sneak up behind me without me noticing. It's okay though. It only took him like five minutes to get me to come down off of a ceiling-stone-spike-thingy once I realized where he was. He showed me general form for sneaking around, and some tips when I managed to lose my balance a few dozen times, so I practiced trying to sneak up on things in the conveniently-nearby forest. As it turns out, there's more to hunting than being quiet, and I'm not really good at that either, because approximately everything ran before I was even three meters away. Well, I guess I can't expect to be an awesome hunter in one day.
Oh man, looking back at the first couple of sentences, apparently I did an epic mood swing. However, that does remind me: as soon as I finish writing this, I'm going to turn in that changeling for mind-controlling my friend to his death. “Just flew right in” to the dragon's mouth my tail, I suspect foul play. You know, I wonder if a pony would be angrier about the changeling killing Cirrus Strider or about the changeling impersonating a pony. Probably the second one, if my ex-boss is anything to go by.

.o0O0o.o0O0o.o0O0o.

Dragon

Today, a griffon managed to impress me. Whether it was through bravery or stupidity, I have yet to determine, however, his courage to approach a dragon several times his size and ask for hunting help is, in my experienced, nearly unparalleled. I guess I found his proposition amusing enough; I accepted his offer of keeping me informed of Equestrian societal events, and in return, I gave him a starting lesson. I decided that we would start from the beginning and go from there, and it turned out that he needed it. I am unsure of how he did so, but the griffon managed to fail to catch a tortoise. Now, for clarity, I do not simply mean he was unable to kill it, as that would likely require a strong stone and good aim for something of his size versus a turtle, I mean that he unsuccessfully attempted to sneak up on it, and the reptile (or are they amphibious? No, I think that’s turtles) was able to escape. So, I tried to teach him how to move quietly. I have quite a bit of experience with this, despite my size, so I was able to entertain myself by sneaking behind him several times. His physical fitness seems to be much better than it looks; I don’t think he even flapped his wings to jump onto a stalactite. He’s still without the ability to hunt and kill something by himself, but according to him, he still has a couple of days until it becomes necessary. Well, if he ever decides that he can’t hunt at all, which he probably won’t considering how he’s acted so far, I’m sure I could suggest a few things to make his pain cease. ~~Wonder if they taste like two animals in one...~~ I’ll do my best to avoid such thoughts, as he is my student now.
I also unfortunately revealed the identity of the nice changeling who came by yesterday. Also, the delicious pegasus from the same day was apparently the griffon’s friend, and so the griffon doesn’t seem to be rational when I tell him that I am entirely certain that the changeling did not force the pegasus kill himself.
Now that I think about it, I hope that my student’s brash nature doesn’t land the changeling in trouble. It/She doesn’t deserve that.

Author's Note

Dun dun DUN!!
Alt titles for this chapter: The One With the Song, There Is Now a Tier Zero, Impending Equinox and Impending Doom. I don't really have a tune in mind for the Spring Equinox Celebration song, so feel free to sing along however.
It's also worth mentioning that the changeling portion of this fic is usually written after 10 PM (2200 military time), because I use longer words when I'm tired.