"Do I get a say in this?" Thorax flatly asked. Shay slowly dragged his hand back towards the bronze watch resting on the table. "FINE! Fine, I'll play along with your game of cops and robbers! Expect severely reduced pay in the new year, Shay." Cian snatched the souvenir with a distinctly insectoid-sounding hiss before his secretary could steal it again.
"Thank you for not firing me, sir." Shay chewed on his lower lip contemplatively.
"It's only out of acknowledgement that you are a pitiful lost soul about to throw his life away for some old man that I keep you on my staff." Cian tucked his property in his left coat pocket, turned away from the table, and began walking to The Dappled Deer's door. "You keep my identity a secret, and I will keep your 'Hy-Brasil' a secret. Have a Happy Hearth's Warming."
"Christmas." Conor corrected the Changeling.
"WHATEVER." Cian stormed out the pub's door, wincing as he banged his head on the lintel, and hurried through the chilly air through the empty streets of Gob an Choire. Seven years as Cian Twohig - and for what? What was the point of forging a new name for himself in another dimension, making friends, improving people's lives, and trying to forget Thorax...if it was all going to end like this? He had no illusions that a band of wannabe rebels would succeed with their plan; if they did, they were all bound for prison anyway. Then they would name names, and Cian Twohig will be revealed for the imposter he was, and -
Cian's thoughts were interrupted by a car, the only car on the road, pulling up beside him as he walked back to the bridge. He knew whose car it was but still panicked and briefly thought it was a government agent who had been eavesdropping on their conversation in The Dappled Deer and was here to stuff a bag over his head and stuff him in the trunk. These fears were dashed and replaced with new ones as the mayor of Gob an Choire stood up and closed his car's door, rounding it to confront Cian on the sidewalk. The human and the Changeling disguised as a human were quiet as the air got colder. The latter wanted to be anywhere but where he was now, and the former wanted answers.
"Tell me how we met, Cian." Oisín Ó Daire managed to choke out; his voice was raw and strained, his eyes red, trying to stop the emotions from bubbling forth from the abyss of his id.
"...It was the first day of August; the country was going through a heat wave, and Keel Beach was flooded with tourists looking to capitalize on the good weather. I was in front of you in the queue for the crêpe truck, and I shared a joke about how asinine it was for them to advertise that their coffee was gluten-free. Then the line stopped moving, thanks to the cook and the woman in front of me hitting it off, so we looked for another truck to get our sweets from." There was no emotion in Thorax's voice as he recounted the tale, even though, on the inside, he was crying. This was supposed to be a happy memory; now, the first friend he had made in the strange world was staring him down, knowing who he was for the first time. "We went our separate ways at first, but by chance, there was only one open bench left, and we found ourselves eating together. We shot the shit about golf and...books and food and..." Thorax trailed off, bringing his bandaged hand concealed in glamor magic to his face.
"And we were on. I mean, we were just...on. We talked about nothing and everything; none was superficial or shallow. You never toned yourself down or were fake with me, and I wanted so badly to be honest with you in return, but..." Thorax brought his uninjured hand to rest next to his bandaged one, stifling a quiet sob as the water began to discharge from his eyes. "We had fun, but then I...I-I...you said you were having trouble coming up with a speech f-for your inauguration as mayor. So I gave… a few words to push you along. And then you asked me - "
"Do you live around here?" Oisín interrupted, his tone flat and sour to Thorax's ears - a far cry from the delighted, curious amiability found in his voice seven years ago on the first day of August. "And you said that you had just moved from Limerick to Poll Raithní. I asked if you were interested in a career in politics after you spouted off that gold from thin air; the rest was history. I helped you with your campaign for mayor, and you helped me with my re-elections—two friends in powerful positions in this small, rural part of Mayo." A sharp gust of wind blew through the streets into the sound, whipping the duo and stinging Oisín's eyes as, like Thorax, his emotions slowly began to trickle out.
"It was never my intention to hurt you." Thorax apologized in between shaky breaths as it was getting harder to control his facade of neutral calm, which had begun breaking down as soon as he covered his eyes with his hands. "I had to keep my secret, but I'm sorry that - "
"How much?" The mayor of Gob an Choire interrupted again, his voice rising in pitch as he grabbed Thorax's hands clamped over his skull and pulled them away so that friend would face friend. "How much of it was a lie? Who ARE you, if not Cian? You owe me that knowledge." Oisín pretended not to be shocked by Thorax's eyes shining vivid opal once more, as bright as searchlights in the night and devoid of any human features. Despite being so alien to the human, they were nevertheless the window to the Changeling's soul, communicating pure grief, and salty discharge stained the skin underneath them.
"B-black." Thorax smiled weakly, not bothering to change his eyes to how they had been for the last seven years. A coarse laugh tumbled past his lips and teeth and rotted in the winter air. "I...lied when I said my favorite color was green. It's black. There, that's one part of who I am. Can we t-talk about the other stuff later?" The tears traveled quickly down the sides of his weakly grinning cheeks, and in response to this, a pregnant silence followed by an equally weak chuckle from Oisín. Then another laugh, stronger, more genuine, followed by another, a series of giggles erupting from the human as his eyes mirrored Thorax's discharge of tears. The Changeling followed along, laughing and crying, holding each other's hands, until Oisín bowed his head into Throax's chest, laughter fading and the sobbing coming into focus.
"Oh, Cian...Cian, you broke my heart." The human dug his fingers close into the Changeling's fake flesh. "You broke this man's heart."
A rumble of thunder could be heard off in the distance; the clear nighttime weather was coming to an end. A storm was on the horizon, and in this part of the world, at this time of year, it's liable to bring rain that won't end until Spring. "I never meant to hurt you." Thorax slowly but firmly put his hands on the back of his first friend in this strange land. "But I know that doesn't mean anything now. This is a day I always feared would come and hoped never to see; I always hated looking in the mirror and seeing a face that was...not even stolen, just fake. No matter how often I tried to think that the mask was real, I was always putting on an act."
"That's politics, Cian." The mayor of Gob an Choire weakly chuckled, though it came off as more as a heavy sigh that rolled out in stutters. "It's no wonder you took to your job so well."
"No...no more lies. Call me Thorax; it's...who I'll always be." The Changeling caught his reflection in a storefront window to the side of where the duo stood. The gaunt face that looked back at him so desperately wished to be seen as someone with substance, but even without the glowing blue eyes, Thorax could tell there was nothing behind Cian's skin; it was all a fabrication, a farce. "What a joke this all was, to think I could make a clean break from my past. The closing scene of a seven-year-long play."
"Enough with the dramatics, Cia-...Thorax." Oisín lifted his head from the Changeling's chest but made no effort to escape from the hold Thorax had on his back, resulting in the human being particularly close to Poll Raithní's mayor's fake face. "You...you betrayed me, but I know why you did. I won't do to you the same."
"I want to believe that, I do, but even if I could, can you speak for...?" Thorax waved vaguely in the direction of the public house they had just left. The human averted his eyes from the Changeling's gaze, which non-verbally translated to 'no, I can't. Thorax exhaled through his nose, accepting the answer before speaking again. "Can we...talk? Not here; it's too cold, and I'm going to pass out for ten hours to take in everything that happened tonight. But next Sunday -"
"No, no...Thorax, I don't feel like going over to your house so you can lay your soul bare for me. I learn about you...naturally, organically, when the time comes." Oisín shifted from Throax's grasp, finding the strength to look the Changeling in the eyes again. "We start from the beginning...but there is one thing I want to know."
"What is it? Whatever it is, I'll tell you." Thorax stepped closer to the human, and he could see in Oisín's fidgeting that he wanted to step back but ultimately decided against it.
"...I want to know...why the Hell do you ponies and Changelings like fat so much?" Thorax fluttered his eyes rapidly at the blunt query for information Oisín posed. His heart skipped a beat from the shock of the question hanging in the air. "Well?"
Choice 1: "Well." Thorax echoed, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Well, well. Well, I, uh, well...see you later," He bolts.
Choice 2: Thorax tells his human friend how he met Queen Chrysalis...
Choice 3: Thorax gives a very detailed, thorough explanation that's possibly too much.
Choice 4: Before Thorax can answer (or not), he spies someone's shadow in a nearby alley. Has...someone been watching them?
"Thank you for not firing me, sir." Shay chewed on his lower lip contemplatively.
"It's only out of acknowledgement that you are a pitiful lost soul about to throw his life away for some old man that I keep you on my staff." Cian tucked his property in his left coat pocket, turned away from the table, and began walking to The Dappled Deer's door. "You keep my identity a secret, and I will keep your 'Hy-Brasil' a secret. Have a Happy Hearth's Warming."
"Christmas." Conor corrected the Changeling.
"WHATEVER." Cian stormed out the pub's door, wincing as he banged his head on the lintel, and hurried through the chilly air through the empty streets of Gob an Choire. Seven years as Cian Twohig - and for what? What was the point of forging a new name for himself in another dimension, making friends, improving people's lives, and trying to forget Thorax...if it was all going to end like this? He had no illusions that a band of wannabe rebels would succeed with their plan; if they did, they were all bound for prison anyway. Then they would name names, and Cian Twohig will be revealed for the imposter he was, and -
Cian's thoughts were interrupted by a car, the only car on the road, pulling up beside him as he walked back to the bridge. He knew whose car it was but still panicked and briefly thought it was a government agent who had been eavesdropping on their conversation in The Dappled Deer and was here to stuff a bag over his head and stuff him in the trunk. These fears were dashed and replaced with new ones as the mayor of Gob an Choire stood up and closed his car's door, rounding it to confront Cian on the sidewalk. The human and the Changeling disguised as a human were quiet as the air got colder. The latter wanted to be anywhere but where he was now, and the former wanted answers.
"Tell me how we met, Cian." Oisín Ó Daire managed to choke out; his voice was raw and strained, his eyes red, trying to stop the emotions from bubbling forth from the abyss of his id.
"...It was the first day of August; the country was going through a heat wave, and Keel Beach was flooded with tourists looking to capitalize on the good weather. I was in front of you in the queue for the crêpe truck, and I shared a joke about how asinine it was for them to advertise that their coffee was gluten-free. Then the line stopped moving, thanks to the cook and the woman in front of me hitting it off, so we looked for another truck to get our sweets from." There was no emotion in Thorax's voice as he recounted the tale, even though, on the inside, he was crying. This was supposed to be a happy memory; now, the first friend he had made in the strange world was staring him down, knowing who he was for the first time. "We went our separate ways at first, but by chance, there was only one open bench left, and we found ourselves eating together. We shot the shit about golf and...books and food and..." Thorax trailed off, bringing his bandaged hand concealed in glamor magic to his face.
"And we were on. I mean, we were just...on. We talked about nothing and everything; none was superficial or shallow. You never toned yourself down or were fake with me, and I wanted so badly to be honest with you in return, but..." Thorax brought his uninjured hand to rest next to his bandaged one, stifling a quiet sob as the water began to discharge from his eyes. "We had fun, but then I...I-I...you said you were having trouble coming up with a speech f-for your inauguration as mayor. So I gave… a few words to push you along. And then you asked me - "
"Do you live around here?" Oisín interrupted, his tone flat and sour to Thorax's ears - a far cry from the delighted, curious amiability found in his voice seven years ago on the first day of August. "And you said that you had just moved from Limerick to Poll Raithní. I asked if you were interested in a career in politics after you spouted off that gold from thin air; the rest was history. I helped you with your campaign for mayor, and you helped me with my re-elections—two friends in powerful positions in this small, rural part of Mayo." A sharp gust of wind blew through the streets into the sound, whipping the duo and stinging Oisín's eyes as, like Thorax, his emotions slowly began to trickle out.
"It was never my intention to hurt you." Thorax apologized in between shaky breaths as it was getting harder to control his facade of neutral calm, which had begun breaking down as soon as he covered his eyes with his hands. "I had to keep my secret, but I'm sorry that - "
"How much?" The mayor of Gob an Choire interrupted again, his voice rising in pitch as he grabbed Thorax's hands clamped over his skull and pulled them away so that friend would face friend. "How much of it was a lie? Who ARE you, if not Cian? You owe me that knowledge." Oisín pretended not to be shocked by Thorax's eyes shining vivid opal once more, as bright as searchlights in the night and devoid of any human features. Despite being so alien to the human, they were nevertheless the window to the Changeling's soul, communicating pure grief, and salty discharge stained the skin underneath them.
"B-black." Thorax smiled weakly, not bothering to change his eyes to how they had been for the last seven years. A coarse laugh tumbled past his lips and teeth and rotted in the winter air. "I...lied when I said my favorite color was green. It's black. There, that's one part of who I am. Can we t-talk about the other stuff later?" The tears traveled quickly down the sides of his weakly grinning cheeks, and in response to this, a pregnant silence followed by an equally weak chuckle from Oisín. Then another laugh, stronger, more genuine, followed by another, a series of giggles erupting from the human as his eyes mirrored Thorax's discharge of tears. The Changeling followed along, laughing and crying, holding each other's hands, until Oisín bowed his head into Throax's chest, laughter fading and the sobbing coming into focus.
"Oh, Cian...Cian, you broke my heart." The human dug his fingers close into the Changeling's fake flesh. "You broke this man's heart."
A rumble of thunder could be heard off in the distance; the clear nighttime weather was coming to an end. A storm was on the horizon, and in this part of the world, at this time of year, it's liable to bring rain that won't end until Spring. "I never meant to hurt you." Thorax slowly but firmly put his hands on the back of his first friend in this strange land. "But I know that doesn't mean anything now. This is a day I always feared would come and hoped never to see; I always hated looking in the mirror and seeing a face that was...not even stolen, just fake. No matter how often I tried to think that the mask was real, I was always putting on an act."
"That's politics, Cian." The mayor of Gob an Choire weakly chuckled, though it came off as more as a heavy sigh that rolled out in stutters. "It's no wonder you took to your job so well."
"No...no more lies. Call me Thorax; it's...who I'll always be." The Changeling caught his reflection in a storefront window to the side of where the duo stood. The gaunt face that looked back at him so desperately wished to be seen as someone with substance, but even without the glowing blue eyes, Thorax could tell there was nothing behind Cian's skin; it was all a fabrication, a farce. "What a joke this all was, to think I could make a clean break from my past. The closing scene of a seven-year-long play."
"Enough with the dramatics, Cia-...Thorax." Oisín lifted his head from the Changeling's chest but made no effort to escape from the hold Thorax had on his back, resulting in the human being particularly close to Poll Raithní's mayor's fake face. "You...you betrayed me, but I know why you did. I won't do to you the same."
"I want to believe that, I do, but even if I could, can you speak for...?" Thorax waved vaguely in the direction of the public house they had just left. The human averted his eyes from the Changeling's gaze, which non-verbally translated to 'no, I can't. Thorax exhaled through his nose, accepting the answer before speaking again. "Can we...talk? Not here; it's too cold, and I'm going to pass out for ten hours to take in everything that happened tonight. But next Sunday -"
"No, no...Thorax, I don't feel like going over to your house so you can lay your soul bare for me. I learn about you...naturally, organically, when the time comes." Oisín shifted from Throax's grasp, finding the strength to look the Changeling in the eyes again. "We start from the beginning...but there is one thing I want to know."
"What is it? Whatever it is, I'll tell you." Thorax stepped closer to the human, and he could see in Oisín's fidgeting that he wanted to step back but ultimately decided against it.
"...I want to know...why the Hell do you ponies and Changelings like fat so much?" Thorax fluttered his eyes rapidly at the blunt query for information Oisín posed. His heart skipped a beat from the shock of the question hanging in the air. "Well?"
Choice 1: "Well." Thorax echoed, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Well, well. Well, I, uh, well...see you later," He bolts.
Choice 2: Thorax tells his human friend how he met Queen Chrysalis...
Choice 3: Thorax gives a very detailed, thorough explanation that's possibly too much.
Choice 4: Before Thorax can answer (or not), he spies someone's shadow in a nearby alley. Has...someone been watching them?
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April 19
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