Cagey

They walked as far as they could before reaching the far wall. It seemed like everything was entirely enclosed. Frostbite squinted at the wall of roots; he couldn't see or hear anything beyond from the rest of the ponies who had been at the gathering. If force wasn't going to work, and general magic had no noticeable effect, there had to be some other way out. Being confined made him restless, and all he wanted to do was fight the changeling queen who'd put him here. She'd said something earlier -- right before siccing her followers on them. He couldn't remember. It'd had something to do with the ponies arguing. He figured it didn't matter, instead prodding the ground. Digging their way out probably wouldn't work, and even if it would, he wasn't about to do something so degrading. Maybe there was a specific spell that could work?

"Magical Mystery Cure" for me. Not a problem with Twilight's ascension, but the pacing, lack of explanation, and sheer density of musical numbers did it.

He noticed her duck her head, but he didn't know what to make of it. A crack in her armor, perhaps. That relieved him, but he didn't want to contend with whatever emotions she was experiencing, especially when there was still bile in his throat. He'd grant her the dignity of sorting it out on her own. He moved past her, walking forward on the path. It felt like a tiny, uncomfortable victory in whatever game he'd been playing throughout his life.

Frostbite lifted his head, swishing his tail back and forth. He wasn't sure how to interpret the look on her face. "You can look at them all you want. I don't need them."

@Props ValRoa Frostbite paused, then collected the gems, only touching them through levitation. He made no move to rejoin the other ponies.

Frostbite stared down at the changeling under him. His axe was buried in its stomach -- it was still breathing, but it might not be soon. He continued to glare unblinkingly at the changeling, shaking with rage or adrenaline or something else -- he couldn't tell; he only knew he hated it. The feeling, and the changeling. Changelings didn't bleed red, he'd found out. Part of him wanted to bring a hoof down, delivering the final blow. Instead, he spat on the ground, leaving the axe in. Back away. He had to back away. Breathe. I hate changelings. He moved slowly, hoping to avoid throwing up. He wasn't weak, he told himself.

Frostbite yelled something and swung the axe, leaping clear over Magloria's head and slamming into the second changeling, axe embedding straight into its torso. It let out a wail, but he was already turning away, back toward the changeling that Magloria had blasted, disregarding the fact that she'd already taken care of it. He didn't care. He wanted blood.

Everything was a blur of color, ponies and changelings and magic and weapons clashing, leaving Frostbite stuck amidst the chaos. He heaved for breath -- how did that changeling know? -- unable to push away scenes as they wormed their way back into his mind, of failure, of jealousy, of rage -- No time. A unicorn (changeling?) leapt out of the scuffle, straight for Magloria, shouting something, and -- there was a spell -- Frostbite jolted to action, but he was too late. Magloria took the hit, falling back with a flash of light, dropping her sword. Frostbite couldn't think. All he knew was that he had an axe. So, with a sudden, wild look in his eyes, he tumbled forward, tackling the unicorn-changeling, and brought the axe down hard.

Frostbite's legs lock up. "How the HAY did you --" His mouth works, but words fail, and he barely manages to dodge, backing into somepony else -- or another changeling, he can't be sure -- yet the changeling advances, leaving no time for him to get his bearings. It looks so much like that pony, and he can remember -- A chain wraps around the creature, pulling it back. Frostbite gasps for breath. The changeling screams something and flies up. Frostbite needs to breathe, but there's no time.

"Get back here, changeling!" Frostbite leaps into the fray, axe drawn, but Chrysalis is gone; he swings hard at the closest changeling about to pounce on @Stone Cold Steve Jobs, but more quickly take its place.

Frostbite narrows his eyes, then snorts. "I don't have to listen to the likes of you, when I could kick your flank into next week." He soundly ignores @Sophie H.. Before @Sycofear13 can finish saying "Nothing" -- Frostbite whirls to the door, bratty child forgotten.

From where he was inspecting the furniture, Frostbite looked down his nose at the foal @Sycofear13, taking stock of her messy mane and coat. "Their house?" he repeated derisively, eyes flicking over to the pale-furred pony @Sophie H. who'd spoken. "As if. That's a foal. There's no way it owns this house, let alone this candy." He stomped closer to the foal. "Hey, you. Candy rots your brain, you know."

Not bothering to consult Magloria @Props ValRoa or the other ponies, Frostbite did exactly this. He bared his teeth in a fierce smile. "They had their chance," he said, and reared up on his hind legs, bringing his forelegs down against the door and breaking it cleanly open.

Frostbite followed, reluctant to be led anywhere but intent on getting out of the maze. Upon hearing the scuffling and squeaking behind the door, he slammed a hoof against it. "HEY. Open the door; we know you're in there."

Frostbite, meanwhile, attempted to kick and bite at the roots, heedless of the thorns and seemingly forgetting about the axe strapped to his saddlebags. The roots glowed darkly as he failed to sink his fangs into them -- they were protected by magic. He kicked them again out of frustration.

"WHAT-?!" Frostbite stumbled as the wall forcefully shoved the gathering apart, shaking the ground, alarming the brightly-colored ponies standing closer to it. He leaped forward, past Magloria @Props ValRoa, but the changeling queen was already gone, leaving a dense wall of vines in her place, reaching high above them. "HEY!"

I wouldn't have had a flash-forward episode at all, but I think the above designs are both preferable. In general, I was never much in favor of the anthropomorphic designs of dragons in the show, though.

So by replying just like this, I signed up—is that right?

Frostbite considered the announcement, assessing the princess and any possible benefits. In the end, it wasn't a difficult choice. "I'm not interested in 'music journeys'," he muttered, half to Magloria, half to himself.

Your daughter?! The surprise didn't show on his face, carefully concealed, but Frostbite could see @Princess Silky flitting about merrily in the corner of his eye, and it was hard to believe the statement. Maybe she'd meant the other pink pegasus, or maybe not -- either way, it didn't matter. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted. He nodded stiffly. "I don't concern myself with them."

Frostbite's eyes narrowed. "You don't know how you got here? Sure. Go bother that pink pegasus about it. She's the one running this poor excuse for a function." He looked Magloria over critically. "Didn't you get one of those eye-searing invitations?"

Frostbite stared after the cloaked pony. On the one hoof, he refused to listen to some random pony's orders. On the other hoof, he wasn't sure of the nature of the threat. At that moment, he felt a presence -- somepony was watching him, scrutinizing him like fish at a market, hunting for blight. A feeling he knew well. There, among the crowd, he made eye contact with her: an icy blue-gray pony with an equally icy stare. He knew immediately, This is the threat. This is a pony who thinks she can stand with alicorns. He had to be stronger than her. He was a threat, not her. He had to fight against anything she threw at him.

Frostbite looked at the dessert as though it had personally offended him, and when the parasprite got too close, he growled at it. "I don't eat... cake," he said, snout scrunching up. "And do I look like I'm waiting for somepony? Because I'm not. I don't care." His restlessly flicking ears and swishing tail told a different story. He would never call himself nervous, but his brain was running a mile a minute, trying to size up everypony and determine their strengths and weaknesses. I hate ponies, he told himself, not for the first time; they were annoying, smiling, happy creatures, and they were getting along with each other when he couldn't, and he hated when others could do things he couldn't. It twisted his insides in a way he was sure was anger. He took the cake anyway.

At the outskirts of the gathering, half-hidden by the table, Frostbite stewed by himself, ears flat against his mane and tail curled around his hooves. He hadn't wanted to be here, but his associates had insisted. In his eyes, they had practically begged. He didn't look at his invitation, instead choosing to glare at anypony who came near, imagining it had a great effect -- that they were cowed by his magnificence. In actuality, most ponies didn't notice his expression. They chattered and laughed, introducing each other without a care in the world. It bothered Frostbite in ways he didn't know how to explain, so he just glared harder. If one could win a social event, he would; he was sure of it.