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Description
ARTIST NOTE:
An old pic I made during my month-long hiatus back in July which I never uploaded because… I really don’t know why, actually. Assumedly because I’m a tremendously lazy bastard. And hey, since good changelings are canon now, well, why the hell not?
There’s hardly a creature on this earth that likes storm, and even less who like to be in them. That mutual fear is what brought two mortal enemies to the same cave. The drone and the zebra hadn’t known the other was in the shelter until the filly’s crystal shone on the drone.
It was impossible to say who jumped more.
For the next hour, they had been warily eyeing each other from opposite ends of the small opening. Zebras were well aware of the dangers the world held, especially in the forests. This filly was no exception, and the changeling knew it. For all their mystique, a lone changeling was little threat if you knew they were there. They relied on cunning and numbers, and right now, this drone had either. Their magic was weak and they had little physical strength to speak of, and shapeahifting was only a valid option if you were well fed… And your target didn’t know what you really were.
The filly’s staff would be enough of a deterrent, should it come to it. She was no warrior, but she could fend off any beast that got too curious, and that included changelings. With this match of strength there was an uneasy truce between them.
As the storm worsened, however, their enmity softened. Slowly, Zecora inched closer to the insect, hesitantly, but surely. A bolt of lightning struck outside the cave, and the blast of thunder shook the stone walls. With a yelp, she leapt forward and into the changeling, wrapping g her arms around its chest.
It felt like hours before either realized what they were doing. Zecora reacted first, looking up at the bug. Even on its alien features it was clear what it was thinking. Despite the situation, she still held on. She feared the storm much more than her unorthodox companion. He changeling was neither warm, nor soft, but its carapace made a far better perch than the damp, mossy stone.
The filly’s eyes closed, her chest rising and falling gently. At that moment, the changeling found itself unsure what to do for the first time in its life. Things were so simple, usually. The swarm would act as one, every member knowing exactly what to do. Even in a small group the unconscious hivemind still drove them.
But now? Alone?
The drone felt - knew - it should take the child without hesitation. They were, to borrow a phrase from its prey, “worth their weight in gold”. A single child could easily feed the hive for months, especially one as young as this. They were easy to control, easy to brainwash, and gave their love freely once shown even the most basic care. And of course, like any treasure, they were nearly impossible to carry off their tribes jealously guarding them. This was a chance that might come only once a lifetime. It would be suicide not to take it.
And yet… And yet something held it back. It simply couldn’t do it. Something it couldn’t account for held it back. The drone could not understand.
It would wait until the storm was over before dwelling on this mystery again. Perhaps things would be clearer then. For now, it was content to wait. To wait with the filly.
An old pic I made during my month-long hiatus back in July which I never uploaded because… I really don’t know why, actually. Assumedly because I’m a tremendously lazy bastard. And hey, since good changelings are canon now, well, why the hell not?
There’s hardly a creature on this earth that likes storm, and even less who like to be in them. That mutual fear is what brought two mortal enemies to the same cave. The drone and the zebra hadn’t known the other was in the shelter until the filly’s crystal shone on the drone.
It was impossible to say who jumped more.
For the next hour, they had been warily eyeing each other from opposite ends of the small opening. Zebras were well aware of the dangers the world held, especially in the forests. This filly was no exception, and the changeling knew it. For all their mystique, a lone changeling was little threat if you knew they were there. They relied on cunning and numbers, and right now, this drone had either. Their magic was weak and they had little physical strength to speak of, and shapeahifting was only a valid option if you were well fed… And your target didn’t know what you really were.
The filly’s staff would be enough of a deterrent, should it come to it. She was no warrior, but she could fend off any beast that got too curious, and that included changelings. With this match of strength there was an uneasy truce between them.
As the storm worsened, however, their enmity softened. Slowly, Zecora inched closer to the insect, hesitantly, but surely. A bolt of lightning struck outside the cave, and the blast of thunder shook the stone walls. With a yelp, she leapt forward and into the changeling, wrapping g her arms around its chest.
It felt like hours before either realized what they were doing. Zecora reacted first, looking up at the bug. Even on its alien features it was clear what it was thinking. Despite the situation, she still held on. She feared the storm much more than her unorthodox companion. He changeling was neither warm, nor soft, but its carapace made a far better perch than the damp, mossy stone.
The filly’s eyes closed, her chest rising and falling gently. At that moment, the changeling found itself unsure what to do for the first time in its life. Things were so simple, usually. The swarm would act as one, every member knowing exactly what to do. Even in a small group the unconscious hivemind still drove them.
But now? Alone?
The drone felt - knew - it should take the child without hesitation. They were, to borrow a phrase from its prey, “worth their weight in gold”. A single child could easily feed the hive for months, especially one as young as this. They were easy to control, easy to brainwash, and gave their love freely once shown even the most basic care. And of course, like any treasure, they were nearly impossible to carry off their tribes jealously guarding them. This was a chance that might come only once a lifetime. It would be suicide not to take it.
And yet… And yet something held it back. It simply couldn’t do it. Something it couldn’t account for held it back. The drone could not understand.
It would wait until the storm was over before dwelling on this mystery again. Perhaps things would be clearer then. For now, it was content to wait. To wait with the filly.
Nothin but an exoskeleton. And… Other bug parts. Biology was not my strong suite.