The morning was busier than yesterday, and it was mostly because of Index. Shaun’s agent spent the better part of the morning bringing in promotional banners and posters, all advertising R. S. Bradley’s new novel, Allure.

Speaking of the author, I wasn’t able to talk to Shaun because we both became very busy, very quickly. Index dragged him away after we re-introduced ourselves to each other, probably to finalize the arrangement they had with Book, while it fell to me to manage the floor associates on how to put up the posters and banners she had provided. Not that it was a hard job; all I did was tell them to arrange it like the Purple Quill ads we had painstakingly planned weeks before. The unicorns did the rest.

The harder part came later, when the customers came in droves to inquire about the new book and about the human author, asking for the date of his appearance and reading. The advertisement did its job. While the blend of warm colors such as yellow and orange garnered attention without being eyesores, I was willing to bet it was the embedded quotes in the posters that sold Bradley. Most came from well-known reviewers and some Equestrian authors, with inviting words such as witty, sexy, and even delicious.

Speaking of Bradley, it was during my lunch break when I finally saw him again. With Index nowhere in sight, it really surprised me that he was still here. But then again, most authors I knew didn’t hang out in the bookstore for too long, being required to be somewhere else. I guess that was the advantage of being relatively new and unknown.

Ordering a cup of hot chocolate, I stole a glance at him as he just sat in his place, looking absolutely normal. Well, normal for a human in Equestria, I supposed. There was a steaming cup—coffee, I wagered—right beside a small stack of books, along with what looked like some glazed bun. Concentrating on the book he held, he honestly didn’t look like a famous author, but just another customer enjoying the ambiance.

“Well, Mister Bradley,” I announced, only softly enough to get his attention, when I came by his table.

He smiled at me, closing the book with both hands, covering the front. He placed it down the table, putting the plate of glazed bun on top of it. “Hey, Lumi.”

“Ah, so we’re friendly again?” I teased, easily settling down opposite of him. “No more cool formalities?”

“No one can stay cool with you around,” he replied, smile getting wider. Once more, the coffee-like taste of his emotion blended well with the steaming mug he had. Delicious. “Sorry if I pretended that I didn’t know you.”

“It’s fine,” I said, taking a sip from my cup. “I’d like to think that when you saw me, you were caught completely off guard.”

“Flabbergasted, actually,” he corrected, which had me rolling my eyes.

“Writers,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Always looking for the sexier synonym.”

“Oh, if you think that is sexy,” he said, smiling, “prepare to be amazed by my astonishing vocabulary. A list of words, spoken with such exuberant verbosity, so stunning that it will leave you shocked and absolutely staggered.”

“Show-off,” I replied, prodding him with my hoof. That earned a laugh from him. “Well, can’t blame you, with all the praises you’re receiving.”

Shaun’s ears reddened and a bit of embarrassment emanated from him. “Yes, well, I owe Index a lot,” Shaun said. “She called in a lot of favors in such short notice.”

“Now, now, playing the modest card?” I asked, smirking. “Unless you are accusing of Index in paying off the reviewers and authors.”

“No, not at all!” Shaun exclaimed, earning a smirk from me. He shook his head, chuckling. “I’d like to think I’m good enough that Index doesn’t need to do something so drastic. However, I’m still not completely sold on the quotes made by the other writers.”

“Why?”

“Well, we’re notoriously busy,” Shaun explained. “Most of the time, the writers would probably just praise it without completely finishing the book, if they actually read it at all.”

I poked him again. “You did that once, didn’t you?”

He grinned, embarrassed. “Yeah, not my proudest moment. However, to my credit, I did sit down and read it once I got free time. You can imagine my relief when it was actually good.”

“Don’t want to be called on your mistake?” I asked, smiling.

“No one does,” Shaun replied. “That’s why I’m a writer. Any mistake you see, you can blame it on my editors.”

I giggled. Pointing towards the books, the cup, and the pastry on the side plate and said, “You seem to be making yourself comfortable, considering how notoriously busy writers are supposed to be.”

“Okay, yeah, normally, I would be busy,” he conceded. “However, having just submitted the draft of my second book to the editor and publisher, I have some time to relax”—he winked—“and enjoy the view.”

I raised my eyebrow at that, which got him to smile. A few seconds later, I broke into one too, and both of us started chuckling. He lifted his mug again, and said, “Cheers.” My own cup clinked with his, and we both enjoyed our own little pleasures.

“So, what are you reading?” I asked as I put my hot chocolate down. Shaun lifted up the books in the pile, and at a glance, I realized they were English versions of Equestrian books. “The Knight and Stallion series,” I began, recognizing the titles of the third and fourth novels covers. “Classic romance.” When I saw the next two books, I looked at him. “The Mare Pack series, really?”

“Not a fan?” Shaun asked with an amused expression.

“Not a fan of the fans,” I clarified. “The books themselves… well, there’s a certain appeal to them. You?”

“I find it fascinating because both series actually encompass the contrasting differences of human and Equestrian culture,” Shaun said, tapping the Knight and Stallion series. “Classic novels, set before the period of cultural change of gender equality. Strong mare lead with a supporting stallion. You can find a lot of classical stories back on Earth similar to this.” He then pointed towards the other series. “And there’s Mare Pack, using a strong-willed stallion whilst still keeping the gender roles as not to jar the readers. I can give you a few examples of modern Earth novels that follow the same principles, but with the genders reversed.”

I nodded, understanding. “So, you’re reading them to take cues on how to write your stories?”

“A little bit,” Shaun admitted. “Mostly, I read the series because they are interesting to me. I try not to let anyone else influence how I write, because being human, or more specifically, my take on stories, will stand out among the Equestrian’s. At the same time, I’d rather not stand out too strongly that no one—I mean, nopony, will be interested in it.”

“Well, I can safely say, ponies are interested,” I assured him, and he gave me a small knowing smile.

“I’m glad they are,” Shaun replied. “It makes the trip here worth it.”

I gave him a smokey look that got a little spice of lust rolling around him. He replied by wiggling his eyebrows, and that got me to snort in laughter. He grinned before his mouth opened suddenly, as if he realized something.

“Are you hungry?” Shaun asked.

I could be. “Why?”

He motioned towards the bun. “The serving is a tad larger than I’m used to,” he said before taking a butter knife and a fork, moving the plate in front of him, then cutting it into neat pieces. “And leaving it unfinished seemed wasteful.”

I nodded. “Sure.” Then, remembering his thinness, I added, “Though in all honesty, you could use some more food in you.” Shaun hummed as a reply, smiling, his eyes and concentration on slowly slicing the bun. I gave him a bit of space, my eyes straying towards the newly uncovered book, and upon reading the title, I frowned. “Please tell me you aren’t reading that.”

Shaun looked at where I was motioning, then asked, “What, this?” When I nodded, he made a show of lifting it from its place, turning it around as if to study it completely. “Well, I was. Not a fan of this work?”

“Nope,” I said bluntly.

“Ah,” Shaun nodded, looking at the book. “I was hoping it was the type of book that would get better the deeper I read into it.”

“You know, I can convince Book to give you a refund.”

Shaun blinked. “That bad, huh?”

I looked around for a moment, making sure no one was listening in, I leaned forward conspiratorially, motioning Shaun to do the same. I then said softly, “That book is something you’d normally find in the nonfiction section in other bookstores. Book read it, and found it so bad that he felt that putting it in the fiction section made more sense.”

Shaun’s eyes widened a bit, then looked towards the book. “Well… that explains the rather odd narrative. Well, too bad. The title was a bit catchy, being the one thing that got my attention. Proselytization Directive. I thought it was some sort of thriller novel, but still… the idea of transforming to another species is a bit intriguing.”

“That in itself is a good reason to put it in the fiction section,” I said.

“How so?”

“Well, it’s impossible to transform to another species,” I replied.

“Considering that you guys have magic,” Shaun countered, “I’d like to think impossible isn’t really a term that should be used casually.”

“Magic isn’t a fix-all,” I said. “It’s not an all-powerful thing, that you can just think of something and it will happen. If that was the case, we wouldn’t have so many problems.”

He gave me a small grin. “Well, then explain this.” His arm moved towards the empty chair beside him, and I heard the rustle of paper. He lifted a newspaper and unfolded it in front of me, displaying the front cover news: Changeling Death at Dodge.

I inwardly frowned, not knowing how to respond. He was a little giddy, revealing the news to me. That could mean two things. Was he happy because of the changeling death, or was he happy because he was one-upping me? I hoped it was the latter. I mean, he doesn’t represent his whole race, but I was viewing him as a gauge on how the humans would react to the news.

Still, playing my part as Illuminating Starburst, I asked, neutrally, “Explain… what, exactly?”

“Changelings,” Shaun replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They transform to ponies, right?”

Before I could stop myself, I said, “It doesn’t work that way.”

Shaun blinked. His hand moved towards his chin. “What do you mean?”

I mentally berated myself and began to think of a good excuse to downplay my apparent knowledge of changelings, knowledge not really common to anypony else. “What I mean is, I don’t think they actually transform. I think it’s really more on mimicking the other species.”

Shaun popped a piece of the glazed bun in his mouth, then offered me another piece to partake. I gave him a small smile, magically lifting a slice to my mouth. We both stayed silent for a moment, chewing thoughtfully, him most likely thinking of questions to expand on the subject, while I just tried to make sure I wouldn’t slip again.

Once Shaun swallowed, he continued. “You sound so sure that it’s mimicry.” He gave me a small smile. “It makes me wonder.”

I gave him the best innocent face I could muster. “Wonder what?”

“On why you sound so sure.”

“Between the two of us, who’s the unicorn?” I asked, smirking. He chuckled.

“You,” he replied. “But, what I mean is that I’ve done some research. I know transforming ponies to something else, like say, a potted plant, has been documented. There’s also transforming fruits, like apples to oranges. Those alone makes me open to the possibility for ponies to transform other species to theirs.”

“Okay, Mr. Bradley, time for some lessons in Basic Magic,” I began.

Shaun winked. “Oh, yes, Miss Starburst,” he said. “Educate me, please.” The way he spoke, the teasing tone with his intriguing accent, almost made me want to take him somewhere private.

Almost.

“Okay, first, it has to do with energy,” I replied. “Transformation magic takes a lot of energy, and even then, it’s impossible to permanently maintain the form. The more complex the subject, the more energy it needs to keep the effects. And there’s nothing more complex than a sapient being.”

Shaun’s demeanor changed. “I wish I had my bloody notebook,” he muttered, his lust muting slightly as he looked at me with a bit more academic interest. “Okay, but what if they did find a way to make things more permanent? Is it possible then?”

I motioned to the book. “There’s actually a small chapter in regards to the viability of permanent transformation. Starswirl the Bearded had created a spell that allowed mares to transform to stallions. It took a lot of magical energy, but was able to keep the effects permanent because it wasn’t as complex as changing to another species. All they needed to do was drink a potion that kept the effects up.”

“Huh, cool.”

“Except that book doesn’t tell you that the reason why the spell isn’t widely used,” I continued. “As you can see, we don’t have the same gender ratio as the griffins or humans.”

Shaun nodded. “So, what, it didn’t work?”

“Well, depends on what you mean by work,” I replied. “The transformation was actually successful. Mare volunteers were able to maintain their stallion forms with the potion supplements. However, they were sterile, which Starswirl was working on when he discovered a more pertinent problem as the spell lasted longer.”

“Like?”

“Well, loss of identity, change in personality, confusion of memories,” I began, “which then slowly transformed to aggressiveness and… well, madness.”

“Ouch,” Shaun said, wincing, taking another piece of his bun. He offered me another piece once more, which I took.

“They tried transforming them back,” I continued after swallowing. “Some returned back to their normal selves.” I then added, “Well, relatively normal. Most, though, didn’t recover.”

Shaun frowned, taking another piece of his bun. “That was very educational,” he said. I nodded, raising my cup of hot chocolate to drink. I felt a bit trickle down from my lips, which Shaun noticed as I placed down the mug. “Hey, you got cocoa on your chin.” His finger came forward, flicking it gently upwards. It must have been some sort of automatic response, a human thing, because all he did was spread the chocolate on my coat. When he realized his mistake, he said, “Oh, damn it. Sorry about that, Lumi. Let me just get—”

Before he could remove his hand to grab the tissue dispenser, I licked his finger. A jolt of eroticsm flowed through me as that one contact had me tasting his emotions fully. There was salty sweetness, heat, and a slight bitterness. When I licked again, creaminess burst all around me, not completely taking out the bitterness, but mellowing it enough to enhance the depth of the flavor.

I felt my hunger and desire raging forward, asking—no, demanding I feed from him. A bit of that seemed to transfer to Shaun because he sat absolutely still, his hands unmoved as I licked for the third time. His lips thinned, eyes getting that hungry gleam as more and more of his emotions began to spiral around us. I was sorely tempted to nibble on his finger, but I held back.

Make them come to you.

I gave him my best smile. “Thanks,” I said. “Waste not, right? Though…” I pointed towards my chin. “I got chocolate everywhere, don’t I?”

“It’s not bad,” Shaun replied, not even looking at my chin. He swallowed, then his lips formed a slightly strained smile, quivering. Part of me felt a little bad when I sensed him trying to tie down his emotions, the hotness of his lust trying to settle down. Another part of me wanted him to go with it. After what seemed to be a torturous minute, he seemed to finally recover. His smile turned a bit more natural as he offered the tissue dispenser in the table. “You got just a little on you.”

Magically taking the soft paper out of the dispenser, I wiped my chin gently, then continued to a safer conversation. “So, yeah, you can see why I think changelings don’t really transform to ponies, but disguise themselves. If a simple gender change can irrevocably damage the pony in question, what more if you convert them to another species? Then there’s a question on why try and convert species.”

Shaun nodded. “Well, it’s not uncommon to have people believing, even strongly, that converting to another species is some sort of transcendence, or an evolution. You know, to be a better species.”

That statement struck me as odd. While I could understand the idea of being better, with some days wishing changelings could get by on organic sustenance, the idea of wanting to convert to another species gave an odd message of self-hate.

Or maybe I was thinking about it too deeply.

Well, it wasn’t really important. Shaking my head, I realized how far off course we went with our conversation. Talking to Shaun was… well, an interesting experience. Looking at the wall clock, I couldn’t believe we spent a good ten minutes going over basic magic with discussions of species transformation. Still, with where we left off, I felt this was a good time to gather some useful information.

“So,” I began, motioning towards the newspaper, “you’re interested in changelings?”

Shaun looked towards the newspaper before nodding, facing me. “Fascinated, actually.”

“There you go again,” I said, “using more attractive synonyms.” He chuckled for a moment, which for some reason, had me smiling. I also felt a bit relieved, which had me reminding myself that he was just one human, not a representative of the whole. However, his answer? I liked it so far. “What’s so fascinating about them?”

Shaun shifted slightly, leaning forward. “The mystery of it all,” he replied. “Changelings are the only race that no one really knows about. I mean, other than they tried to take over Canterlot, maybe Equestria.”

“Well,” I said, acting on my Equestrian character, “Some say that’s enough.”

“Maybe to act cautiously around, yeah,” Shaun admitted. “But come on. No one knows about their race or society, or has even captured one to talk to. The species itself is so unknown that even Canterlot is basically just scrambling to learn more about them from a corpse. Ignorance on that kind of scale is bad.”

“How so?” I asked, curious.

“Okay, take for example, this changeling they found dead in Dodge,” Shaun began. “The article says that Canterlot is trying to learn anything new. However, they also added a fear of a changeling attack. I mean, there’s some sort of weird jump of logic for me. A changeling is dead. No one knows what happened. And the first thing that is speculated is that there’s an attack incoming instead of actually investigating why he or she is dead.”

“Well, not to be obvious, but they did attack before,” I countered.

“Okay, granted, but circumstances now are very different,” Shaun said. “What was the story then? Why did they attack last time?”

Greed, but I wasn’t going to say that. Quickly deciding to keep Illuminating Starburst’s knowledge of changelings only as far as most Equestrians know, I replied, “Well, apparently, it had to do with Love. They feed on it, presumably.”

Shaun nodded. “That in itself is an interesting notion, but let’s say that’s true. If they do feed on love, then the attack could only mean three things: one, they were starving; two, they were greedy; and three, the whole ‘love’ thing was nothing but something to throw Equestrians off.”

I raised an eyebrow. Those were pretty good speculations.

“And what happened afterwards?” Shaun continued. “Changelings disappear, poof, gone, for what, ten years or so?”

I nodded, leaning a little closer. Technically, it was less than ten years, but I wondered where he was going with this.

“Ten years of silence,” Shaun continued. “No movement, no attacks, and no suspicious activities. Then when they reappear again, instead of asking why the changeling died, you guys are, in my humble opinion at least, prematurely thinking this is a declaration of war.”

I stared at him for a moment, a little awed at his view. Maybe it was because I grew up in the time when we had to fear the Equestrians discovering us, or witnessing Canterlot warning their allies about us. I could still remember Gryphon soldiers assisting Royal Guards as they scoured around city after city to hunt us. I couldn’t believe I was hearing someone from a race that was becoming another of Equestrian’s allies talking about us neutrally.

Shaun must have misunderstood my expression because he raised his hands in a calming motion. “Look, I’m not trying to belittle what happened to you guys. I just want to point out the problem I’m seeing in the response. I don’t believe it’s anyone’s fault. You guys never got closure. You didn’t hear their side and you could only speculate why they attacked. Without any real basis of motive, it’s like being blind.”

I paused for a moment, before muttering, “That’s… refreshing.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes,” I nodded. “You think we’d respond better if we knew more about changelings?”

“Of course,” Shaun replied immediately. “Information is one of the best weapons anyone can use. With it, your options of response are more flexible.”

I chuckled, shaking my head with wonderment. What he said sounded very familiar. “Well, well, Mr. Bradley,” I began, smile on my face, “is that the spy I hear in you?”

Shaun snorted before laughing, shaking his head. “Oh, no, no. Not a spy. And the correct term, by the way, is intelligence asset.”

“Right,” I said, drawing out the ‘Is’. “Fooling a poor unicorn into believing you were just an agent, being so secretive you wouldn’t even admit to being the author?”

“Hey, now,” Shaun replied, smiling a bit, “I never said I was an agent. You came up with that conclusion on your own.”

“Such duplicity,” I teased. “And you say you aren’t a spy? Oh, sorry. Intelligence asset. Hmmm, fool me once, Mr. Bradley.”

Shaun’s smile never left his face. “I don’t really have what it takes to live the life,” he said, before he looked upwards, tapping his chin. “Though, I got to say, that could be a good story. UK government, realizing the Yanks are doing everything they can to establish trade and relations, send a spy.”

Yanks? I thought.

“His cover identity?” Shaun continued. “A writer. He is sent to infiltrate Equestria, learn more about their people, and see if they can establish something more concrete as far as diplomatic relations go.”

I raised an eyebrow. “By sending him to Fillydelphia?” I questioned, flatly.

“Ouch, Lumi,” Shaun said, chuckling, “way to be supportive of your home city. And besides, wasn’t this your idea?”

I laughed softly. “One, I didn’t grow up here. And two, I’m just acting as a potential reader of yours would. Fillydelphia isn’t exactly a place of intrigue. It’s too far from Canterlot, too far from the portal to Earth, and too far from the Badlands. Other than the cheapest fare to Dolphin Islands and a nice stretch of beaches, I doubt a government would find this city a place worth sending a spy.”

“Ah, but see, that’s why this is the perfect place to have intrigue,” Shaun insisted.

“Uh-huh,” I said, taking another a drink from my cup. “How so?”

Shaun raised one of his fingers, pointing upwards, his mouth open for a few seconds before he closed it. His hand went down as well. “Still working on that,” he admitted, which got me smiling. “Give me time, though. I’ll be able to create a nice setting for our writer spy, complete with femme fatales, hidden underground society, and all the good stuff.”

I blinked, now wondering if he did know anything more than he was letting on. However, watching him talk animatedly about adding hidden treasures and a conspiracy of taking down the Equestrian government, I realized he just had good imagination. A little too much, though, as he added world-threatening magical weapons along with conspiracy to create war and conflict between races. Still, I didn’t dissuade him. It was enjoyable, watching him talk and expand on the basic idea of the Writer Spy in Fillydelphia with such an animated way.

“Also, um, are you busy tonight?” Shaun suddenly asked.

I blinked, surprised. The question came in suddenly, with him still going on about the underground secret society of Fillydelphia developing some sort of super-potion that made them stronger that it took me a moment to register the question. I slowly smiled. I was about to say “No…” when I noticed Silverfly arriving on top of the stairs. And like yesterday, when she saw me, she called.

Shaun turned around to see the approaching Silverfly. “Huh. Isn’t that your friend from yesterday?”

And like yesterday, this was delaying my grooming of Shaun. Trying to keep my voice even, I replied, “Yes.”

“Déjà vu,” he muttered.

Before I could wonder what he meant by that, my eyes widened when I saw another pony joining Silverfly. It was an earth pony with a light-blue coat and sea-green hair. The Cutie Mark, to an untrained eye, looked like a white butterfly with grey stripes. It wasn’t. It was a very artistic rendition of a gypsy fly.

“Lumi,” the disguised Gypsy began, eyes moist. “Oh, Lumi, thank Celestia we found you!”

I stood up. If Gypsy was here, then something serious was going on. Shaun looked at me, confused, but said nothing as I passed by him. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s your mother,” Gypsy replied, crying.

Oh yeah. Delay was definitely inevitable.

Author's Notes:

Chapter 8 is up, and my usual thanks to coandco, shira, Permanent Temporary, Ponyboy245, TownCrier, Jack-Pony, Denim_Blue, and WolfeTrax.

While I think I'm rusty (I haven't gotten any complaints so far from my pre-readers, so I may just be overacting), not writing for a while is really not doing my any good. However, I'm slowly getting back to the saddle as we speak. Unfortunately, I'm also looking for a job to maintain my expensive lifestyle of food, internet, and games.

I'm working on a few ideas, maybe a new one-shot story, but these are all just plans. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter though. Later.