They're... ON HOLIDAY?

Day 7 - Drones? What drones?: 6/7

"This might be a challenge," a bulky griffon masseur examines 387 lying on his belly on a massage table, "Can you even feel anything through that armor?"

"Oh right, one second," mutters 387, and a green shimmer passes through his carapace, "I should be soft now. Other than the carapace and wings, our physiology is pretty much the same."

Experimentally, the masseur presses down on his hind calf and, despite the strange feeling akin to smooth leather under his talons, finds himself in a much more familiar territory.

"Good to know," he says, raises 387's hind hoof, and begins massaging its underside.

Holes... when we get home I'm sending a drone to pony land to learn this. I bet this is one thing Chrysalis will back me on without objections.

A brief knock on the door is followed by a female griffon peeking inside, and whispering:

"Psst! Hey! Got a minute?"

387 immediately tenses up, paranoia returning with a vengeance. She was the one who took 65536 next door a short while ago.

"Did anything happen?" he turns around and sits up.

"Oh, umm, no- well- maybe," the griffoness scratches her head, "The little changeling fell asleep before I realized you guys are... uhh, tough on the outside."

"65536, wake up!"

"Whozzahwoh?! Imawake! Didn'tfallasleeponthejob! Owmyleggos..."

"65536, you need to make your carapace soft so that the massage can happen."

"Ohhhh, okay!" one brief pause later, "All soft and bendy now."

"Fixed," says 387 out loud, earning two confused looks, "We can communicate through magic and I told 65536 to make its carapace soft like I did."

"Uhh, thank you?" she says.

"No problem," 387 lies down again, the two griffons exchange glances, the masseuse leaves, and the masseur returns to doing his job.

***

Not feeling any desire to be around other creatures, Blueblood took a random nature route leading away from the center of the resort after splitting from 387 and 65536. Unfortunately, at least from his point of view, there's still one creature left in the vicinity that's refusing to leave.

"That doesn't look like a zebra," he comments on Smiley trotting a bit ahead, turning around, stopping, and pointing at its face, "That looks like one of those day of the dead celebration masks."

The black changeling with somewhat random white smudges and lines covering its face tilts its head. Blueblood sighs, looks around, and spots a square, marble basin coupled with a drinking fountain standing by a bench nearby.

"Let's sit down over there and I'll fix it. Not sure why you'd want to be a zebra anyway-"

*Quick scribble!*

[jam]

"Ooof course," he points on the bench, saying, "Sit."

Without any complaints, Smiley hops on and sits down, eagerly awaiting further development. Blueblood fills the basin, wets his forelegs and wipes Smiley's face clean.

"Now you're clean," he points at the water. Smiley looks at its reflection, then at Blueblood, and finally raises its leg with a chalk goop stick stuck in a hole, "No, give me that," Blueblood pulls the stick out, "Good. Much less disgusting than I expected. Now face me and sit still," he sits on the bench next to Smiley, and starts drawing on its face.