The Gemstone Quartetby LunafillyChaptersAll Her FaultAt the GalaThe Founding of the QuartetI'm So PerfectHang-upsConcert NightWe Meet AgainAll Her FaultLyrica sighed and considered hanging up. It wasn’t as though she was making genuine headway as it was. “I’m sorry that we canceled your performance, Miss Lilac, but you have to understand that when we receive a superior offer… well, the Grand Galloping Gala is a high-profile event,” said Lyra. “I am aware of that, Mrs. Heartstrings. But I was booked, I was told that I was to play, I was counting on this to pay my rent! I could lose my apartment,” Lyrica replied. Lyra was not moved by Lyrica's bid for sympathy, and Lyrica had been lying as it was. “Miss Lilac, I know what it was like. We even have the same cutie mark, for Celestia’s sake! I know what it was like to be a struggling musician, but I can’t help you. Octavia Melody is getting known, she’s becoming a household name. This is the kind of thing we need to update our image,” said Lyra. Lyrica was about to protest further, but she heard a click. All her fault. “Ponyfeathers. She hung up,” Lyrica said, whinnying and hanging her head. She walked into her bedroom, and stared at a yellowing photo tacked to a wall. It was an old snapshot of Lyrica and Vinyl Scratch, back before the latter had cut her hair and begun calling herself DJ PON-3. “Before she left me for her…” Lyrica muttered. She had promised herself not to think about her old marefriend too much, but ever since Vinyl had risen to fame as a popular musician, she had broken her own pact increasingly often. Vinyl had left her without warning; Lyrica had come back from the grocery store one afternoon to find her gone. Some time later, Vinyl Scratch had come back for her remaining belongings, and officially told Lyrica that it was over. Lyrica had become quite worried, and was even considering calling the Guard, until she realized that Vinyl had simply walked out on her. She had been mopping the floor and grinding her teeth, still preoccupied by her marefriend's disappearance, until Vinyl had strolled in casually, opened the door with her key and then threw it to Lyrica. "Listen, this isn't working out, and I want to see other ponies," Vinyl remarked, as if she had only went to the corner store and back. She lugged away her things, and Lyrica had only seen her once since, at a public event in Canterlot. Lyrica had known that Vinyl Scratch was attending, and was hoping to win her back. Instead, of course, I found her with Miss Melody. She excused her new marefriend, and then she yelled at me. Long and hard. Telling me that she had never loved me, to buck off, to get out of her life. Lies, I hope. But not with my luck. Trying to put Vinyl out of her mind, she noted that she still had her Gala tickets. They shone in her hand, another reminder that Lyrica had lost and Octavia had won. After Vinyl was done breaking her heart, Octavia had come and broken her left hoof. "Stay away from my marefriend," she said, "and never come back!" Octavia was strong in a way Lyrica had never been, she was resilient, intelligent, and deadly. Well, at least Heartstrings didn’t revoke the tickets. She probably pities me. Lyrica had even received a second ticket, for a guest. She had already invited her sister, and as such couldn’t simply sell her ticket. Knowing that Royal would expect her to be playing, she decided to call her sibling and inform her otherwise. After she dialed, the phone rang for a while, until Lyrica was finally greeted by an answering machine. “Hello, you’ve reached Royal Ribbon! I’m afraid I can’t take your call at the moment, but please call back and do leave a message after the beep,” it said in Royal’s recorded voice. “Hello, Royal," said Lyrica, "I’m just calling to tell you that I will not be playing at the Grand Galloping Gala, since they gave my job to somepony else. I will still be attending though, so I expect to see you there!” Lyrica made a valiant attempt to mask her attitude and end her message on a positive note, but her mood was still obvious, even over the phone. “I will go to the Grand Galloping Gala, if only to see the competition,” said Lyrica. She sat down on her couch, and picked up a novel, trying to lose herself in fiction. Maybe soon my reality will improve. It was not to be. Lyrica ordered a pizza for dinner and burst into tears at her first bite. After that, she laid her face on the table and got a splinter in her cheek from the rough wood. She tried reading her book again, but could not immerse herself in the lighthearted romance. When Lyrica had put away the novel, she got up and ran around her armchair until she felt dizzy, then paced around her room breathing heavily. Lyrica had left her bed unmade that morning, and proceeded to make it before getting into it. This exercise in futility comforted her, but she could not relax being certain that she had been upstaged by Octavia Melody. She had known it for a year and a half—since Vinyl left her. But no entirely conclusive proof was obvious before (or at least Lyrica thought so) Lyra had essentially told Lyrica that Octavia was the superior musician. Why else would she drop me and hire her as soon as she offered? Lyrica smashed her pillow against her bedstead brutally, both completing the making of her bed and pretending that said pillow was her rival’s face. “Take that, Octavia! You are an absolute disgrace. You unintelligent, sniping pig! Stealing away my career, and my mare friend!" she shouted, before hastily coming to the realization that somepony might have heard her. She walked into her bathroom, and slammed the the door shut with a kick. Lyrica brushed her mane carefully, before pinning it up into her usual beehive and manespraying it liberally. She wrapped it in a towel, and then laid down in her bed. At least I'll look all right. She dreamed of angry cellos attacking her, each hit removing a limb. By the time the dream ended, she was only a torso and head, slowly fading into a gray haze. The next morning, she awoke to find herself exceptionally hungry. She walked into her kitchen and was intending to make a dandelion salad when the phone began ringing. Lyrica picked up, and was pleased to hear the voice of her younger sister. “Hi, Lyrica; it’s me, Royal. I’m just answering your message. It really is too horrid about your performance. Who could be replacing you?” said Royal. “Octavia Melody,” muttered Lyrica. “Come again?” Royal said, finding her sister nearly inaudible. “OCTAVIA MELODY!” shouted Lyrica. “Goodness, Lyrica, don’t yell like that. Anyhow, I was going to ask you if you’d like to go dress shopping for the Gala with me today. I could take the train down to Ponyville to see you. I hear there’s a lovely little boutique down there,” said Royal. Lyrica smiled. At least I’ll have something to take my mind off this mess. “Royal, dear, I am a small-time musician. I can’t afford an entire dress. But I’d love to go shopping for jewelry and the like, certainly,” she said. “Then it’s settled,” said Royal, “how does five o’ clock sound?” Lyrica nodded, before remembering that her sibling couldn’t see her. “Oh, yes, that sounds good,” she answered, walking over to the phone set. “See you then!” Royal said, before hanging up with another click. Lyrica put her phone down and sighed. The mere sound of being hung up on reminded her that she had lost her big break, or what could have been one. What could have been. My entire life is one enormous “what could have been”. I might be a young mare, but that doesn’t stop me from being a has-been. A has-been that could have been. Lyrica flopped onto her bed, being careful not to muss her manestyle. She didn’t feel like having a dandelion salad any longer. Lyrica yawned, thinking that though she had only just awoken, a nap was beginning to sound quite tempting. She closed the curtains, crawled under the covers and fell asleep. Author's Note Just to make all you new readers aware of this, I am continuously editing these chapters, trying to make them more emotionally driven and up to par for submission to Equestria Daily. Chapters may change slightly, and word count may move up or down accordingly. At the GalaLyrica checked her watch, which read four forty-five, plenty of time to meet her sister at the train station. She opened her door and trotted down the hall of her apartment building. I've always disliked that train. A pink eyesore, if you ask me. Still, one can't be taking taxis everywhere. Lyrica stood on the sidewalk and fixed her hair for the fifteenth time. Not only did she dislike the train, she also disliked waiting for it, the feeling of being beholden to some visitor from some other city. just before a black and gold pegasus smashed directly into her at high speed. The pony wore goggles and the uniform of a Wonderbolt, and her mane and tail were disheveled. "Whoops! Hey, I'm Midnight Strike, and I'm looking for work! You know about a job I could maybe get?" said the pegasus, who was apparently named Midnight Strike. "You lout! Out of my way!" Lyrica yelled, storming through the hall. It disgusts me when I come across mares like that, who simply don't know how to behave. Ugh! If she were raised in a barn, she'd have better manners! Lyrica continued towards her destination, breaking into a run when she neared the station. She arrived momentarily, winded and panting heavily. She waited around for a moment, pacing back and forth. After a few tedious minutes, she spotted her sister getting off the train. "Oh, Royal! Right on time, as always!" Lyrica said, galloping up to Royal Ribbon. Royal responded with equal verve. "Sister, dear! It's lovely to see you. Would you like to get dinner first, or go pick out our Gala wear?" she said, smiling ingratiatingly. "Let's cut to the chase and go shopping first," Lyrica answered. Royal was quick on the uptake, and introduced some further plans of her own. "If we have a late dinner, there's a fashion show we can attend after that!" said Royal, clearly up for whatever Lyrica decided. Lyrica nodded in turn, and Royal gestured in the general direction of the boutique she wished to patronize, while pulling a map out of her saddlebags. "The Carousel Boutique is over that way, so let's get going!" said Royal. The two mares bustled over to the Carousel Boutique, reaching their destination quickly and without incident. They were greeted at the door by Rarity, who seemed extremely pleased to have customers. "Oh, hello there, darlings! I have several excellent pieces for sale that I think will suit you very well!" said Rarity, leading the sisters inside. She showed them over to the clothing racks, pulling out a ruffled saddle, choker and bow set that had a color scheme perfectly matching Royal's blue eyes (as well as complementing her pink coat and blue mane). Royal nodded approvingly. "Well, this just looks gorgeous!" she said, pulling a small sack of bits from her saddlebag. Lyrica cringed at the amount of money the ensemble cost. "On a budget, dear?" Rarity said, giving Lyrica a sympathetic look. Lyrica nodded grudgingly, and Rarity led her over to a shelf of accessories hidden behind a velvet curtain. Lyrica perused it for a moment, before deciding on her selections: a costume pearl necklace, a sash with a rose on it, and a small feather hat that happened to match her earrings precisely. Rarity smiled approvingly. "Why, you look downright glamorous!" she said. Lyrica made her purchase, and walked out of the store with Royal, waving politely to the proprietor on her way through the threshold. The newly outfitted siblings went on to the fashion show, which they pretended to enjoy for the benefit of Rarity, who sat nearby them and seemed to like the model quite a lot, though she acted in a manner that could be considered crude and unattractive. The mare had on a lovely dress and her hair was done up beautifully, but her routine consisted of doing bizarre things such as scratching herself and floating upside down across the stage. At dinner, Lyrica and Royal laughed and were glad to have something to talk about, even if it was only a small town fashion show. After the two mares had eaten their fill, Royal headed home, and so did Lyrica, though her travel time was briefer. Lyrica turned off the lights and slipped into bed, satisfied with her day. A week later, Lyrica was freshly washed, primped, and prepared for what she was certain would be an extremely unpleasant day at the Gala. I have to go watch Octavia play her stolen show... but I told Royal I would go. Why did I say that? "I spent all that money on the accessories too," she worried aloud. On her trip to Canterlot, she could not shake her mood. Lyrica snapped at everypony who happened to come near, and she yelled at a blue stallion who had the misfortune to step on her hoof. Lyrica tapped out a beat on the floor of the train, the song she had been planning to play on her lyre at the Grand Galloping Gala. For hours, she had practiced, hoping that her appearance would be acclaimed by an attending reporter, Marey Fetlock (who Lyrica had always had a crush on). Lyrica replayed her fantasies in her head, scoffing at her recent hopes. "As if anything would have come of it," she said, snorting. Despite her self-scorning, her mockery felt hollow. She turned deeper and deeper in her own mind, exploring every outdated reverie present in her head, regretting the moment when she finally had to return to reality. When she did, her mouth tasted sour and her eyes stung. She arrived at the Gala in a terrible mood, and this was worsened by her sister's evident cheer. "Hello, Lyrica!" said Royal. Lyrica managed a smile. "Hello, Royal. Lovely to see you," she said, making a last-ditch to appear happy and sane. The two walked in together, and they drifted around the party while chattering idly for a few minutes. After an affected conversation with some Wonderbolt or other, Royal eventually left to chat up a brown stallion who was standing over by the snack table, leaving Lyrica on her own. Lyrica winced as Octavia came onstage with her fellow musicians, and counted to ten repeatedly to stop herself from screaming. She bounced from hoof to hoof, breathing loudly and swallowing large quantities of fruit punch. She was about ready to cry when a pink pony with a puffy mane and tailored dress bounced onto the stage, after which the band reluctantly played the pony pokey. Unable to conceal her pent-up rage, Lyrica exploded at the pink mare. "Young lady, this is not that kind of party!" she said, channeling her suddenly-misdirected aggression. The pink pony looked on the verge of tears, and Lyrica was just beginning to apologize when she was approached by Marey Fetlock. Marey's perfect blonde ringlets bounced, and her violet eyes glimmered. She wore a purple ruffled dress that looked beautiful and expensive. Lyrica was bowled over by the reporter's looks, but she almost spit out her punch when she heard the question that the attractive journalist asked her. "So, how do you feel about the sudden loss of your last shot at fame, Ms. Lilac?" said Marey. Lyrica's face turned red, and she gulped down the remainder of her drink. "How did you know that I was going to play here?" she said. Marey grinned in a sickening manner, her sneer accompanied by her sparkling white teeth and derisive laugh. "Oh, no pony is impervious to a few bits, least of all Lyra Heartstrings," she said. "Why are you interviewing me in the first place?" said Lyrica. She was sweating, shaking, and trying in vain to steady herself. It's like trying not to drown in a tidal wave. Also, the tidal wave is made of piranhas. Marey snickered. "I needed filler. Anyway, how do you feel about Octavia Melody?" she said. If Lyrica had been trying not to drown, her attempts were made futile by this last bit of flesh pulled from her bones. "I WILL DESTROY HER!" she shrieked, noticing that her anguish had gained an audience. I don't care. Celestia damn them all, may they burn in Tartarus for the rest of their days. I can't believe I thought that evil reporter was attractive! Lyrica ran from the Gala, and never looked back, taking a near-empty train from Canterlot. She tapped her hoof on the train floor, no longer to any beat. She muttered to herself over and over again, the same word. "Why, why, why, why," she said. It wasn't a question, and it eventually ceased to be a word. It just became a chant, a sound, an expression. It lost any meaning it might have had, an inquiry posed to nopony, repeated endlessly into the night. The Founding of the QuartetLyrica arrived at back at her home feeling slightly hazy, but she had a clear objective in mind: to reinvent herself. The Gala had been her low, and she needed to create for herself a new high. She was convinced that she was every bit the musical equal of anypony currently popular, and she decided then and there to prove it. I don't want to be a fluff piece, a has-been, or a second fiddle (or lyre, or cello)! But I'm not good enough on my own, I'm no big name. Octavia Melody had all those other musicians up there... a band! I could never carry a show by myself, but together with others... Lyrica preferred to perform alone, but she felt that this was necessary to her success. She had always been unable to take on other bands on her own, being weak as musicians went. Lyra said she wanted a new image—something new—something modern! But classic, and elegant. Tasteful, so to speak. She started scribbling on a piece of paper, writing down her ideas. "Lyre, violin, piano," she said to herself. She sketched some concert outfits, but she wasn't quite satisfied with them. Perhaps I could go to that Rarity mare, and ask for a little help. Now, I need a name... four ponies. A quartet. The Lyrica Quartet? No, too self-centered. The Musical Quartet? Too obvious. Lyrica tried to think of a pretty word. Flowers? Dresses? Gems? The Gemstone Quartet? I like it. Classic, and elegant. If a little too cute. Though Lyrica wasn't much of an artist, she drew up a simple flyer, colored it, and then traced ten more of them, repeating the process. Her eyes stung and her teeth were slightly sore from holding the pencil. Hence, she soon went to bed, slept dreamlessly, and got up bright and early the next morning to make more flyers. After Lyrica felt she had enough of them, she put them up around Ponyville. When she had finished, she took a coffee to go and went back to her house to wait for applicants. She eventually got a knock at the door, and four ponies walked into her apartment. One was blue with a spiky mane, and this was the pony who had tread on her hoof at the train station. The other was the Wonderbolt cadet who had collided with her the week before. The third was a yellow mare with a blue mane and a cowboy hat, who looked remarkably like Octavia Melody. The remaining pony was none other than Derpy Hooves, pushing a piano through the door. "Excuse me?" Lyrica said, "I asked for a band. I got the stallion who stepped on my hoof at the train, the moronic pegasus who crashed into me, and a mare who looks the twin of my worst enemy! Oh, and you, Derpy Hooves. Hello." Derpy was obviously confused. "A band? Sorry, I have to go deliver this piano. I must have the wrong address!" she said, lugging her piano out the door and flying off. After that, the Octavia-looking pony addressed Lyrica, speaking with a slight southern twang. "Well, looks like we're all you've got. Are you in, or are you out?" she said, taking off her hat and wiping her brow. "Well, I'm in!" said Midnight Strike. The blue stallion nodded. "If you're not interested, we can have our band without you. Also, did I step on your hoof? I'm actually sorry about that," he said. Lyrica sighed. "Fine. Let's do introductions, then. I'm Lyrica Lilac, and I know you're Midnight Strike," she said, pointing to Midnight, "but who are the rest of you?" The stallion stepped forward, dragging a corded microphone behind him. "I'm Noteworthy," he said. The yellow and blue Octavia tipped her hat. "Fiddlesticks Melody, at your service. Oh, and if your worst enemy is Octavia, I'm her older sister," she said. Lyrica frowned. "I can't have any sisterly love, now, all right? Just repress that while you're around me," she said. Fiddlesticks snorted. "Yeah, that won't be happening. I hate her guts," she said. "Really?" Lyrica said, "That's fantastic!" Fiddlesticks grinned. "You might be rude, blunt, and judgmental, but I think I'll like you better than I expected," she said. "Sorry to break up your hater party, but when are we going to practice? I brought my instrument, so we could start, if the almighty Miss Lilac decrees it," said Noteworthy. Lyrica scowled. "Yes, why don't we start right now. That would be just lovely," she said, trying to strain all hints of sarcasm from her voice. "Cool! I play the drums, what does everypony else play?" said Midnight. Lyrica winced. "DRUMS? Er, I mean... I was looking more for piano, or suchlike," she said. Midnight Strike's grin faded, and she stepped closer to Lyrica, breathing in her face. "I'm gonna be in this band, and no stupid snooty music pony is gonna stop me," she said. Lyrica made a small choking noise, and nodded her approval. After that, Midnight's smile slid back onto her face, and she carried on setting up her instruments. "I was planning on doing voice," said Noteworthy. "I'm a fiddler, mostly," Fiddlesticks said. Lyrica shrugged. "I do play the lyre," she said. Noteworthy snickered. "Well, they don't exactly call you Guitarica Lilac, do they?" he said, intending a harmless (if weak) joke. "Well, I don't know why they call you Noteworthy, because you certainly aren't! And if all you're going to do is insult me, then you can scoot your flank right out of my home!" shouted Lyrica. "Geez, somepony's got anger issues," whispered Midnight Strike, a little too loudly. "I DO NOT HAVE ANGER ISSUES!" Lyrica yelled. After that, though, everypony settled down and got to work, and the rehearsal went as well as it could have. Despite this, in Midnight Strike's words: "Wow, we kinda suck." Before they all went home, they swore to practice three times a week, and they made good on this promise. The next day and the day after that, they met to rehearse once more. Though the band's instruments didn't fit very well into Lyrica's apartment, they were able to practice (despite the steady stream of complaints from her landlord). They gradually improved, and Lyrica actually managed to fit the drums into the group, prompting this reaction from Midnight Strike: "Wow, we totally suck less!" After this was said, Lyrica pulled a jug of sparkling cider out of her fridge. "From the Apple family farm! May I propose a toast?" she said. Everypony nodded, and some maretini glasses were found in the cabinet. "A toast to sucking less!" yelled Noteworthy, and everypony else chanted it after him, clinking their glasses. "A TOAST TO SUCKING LESS!" they said, saying it over and over again, a refrain to some ridiculous song, the motto of their founding. I'm So PerfectLyrica ran into her kitchen, where the Quartet was having lunch (during a break in rehearsal). She was grinning so widely it looked as though her face might rip in two. She wasn't much of a smiler, but she felt that this was an occasion for joy. "We have a gig, everypony! Isn't it wonderful? We're going to play a show!" she said. Midnight Strike hoofbumped her. "All right, Lyrie!" she said, grinning. Noteworthy smiled grudgingly. "I have to admit I'm impressed," he said. But Fiddlesticks appeared worried. "Are we ready for a show? We need clothing, a band logo perhaps..." she said, trailing off into her own thoughts. Lyrica nodded. "I know a pony for the job, if she'll agree to it," she said. Fiddlesticks frowned. "That's a big 'if'," she said. "Yeah, and who is this mysterious mare? Should we entrust our band design to her?" said Noteworthy, with an ill-disguised laugh. "It's Rarity, of the Carousel Boutique," huffed Lyrica, expecting dissent. To her surprise, Fiddlesticks nodded, clearly approving. "I know the mare. She's a friend of my friend, Applejack. She's generous, decent, hardworking. She'll get it done," she said. Well, that's sorted out. We'll look fabulous at the show, I'm sure. But will I be able to afford these designs? Everypony will just have to pitch in. It seemed that they were all in agreement, and so the band set off to Rarity's shop, where they were warmly welcomed. "Oh, I'd be glad to help, for a fair price, anyhow. So, the four outfits and then the design," said Rarity. Lyrica looked at the bill. Well, it'll cost me, but at least the price actually is fair. After everypony split the bill, the group walked out of the boutique, and then separated, off to their homes. Lyrica relaxed in an armchair and read her new favorite novel to the finish. She found her eyes wandering to the image on her wall of Vinyl Scratch and herself, but she promptly got up and tore it down, before crumpling it and throwing it away unceremoniously. I am OVER her. When I make Octavia Melody look a fool, none of it will matter. She put a coat on, and was walking out the door to go for a newly liberated stroll, when her phone rang. Lyrica picked up. "Hello, Lyrica," said Lyra's voice. "Oh, hello Mrs. Heartstrings! You're the organizer for the event that booked my band, aren't you?" said Lyrica ingratiatingly. "Yes," said Lyra, "that's why I called. Your performance has been canceled. I'm very sorry and all of that, but I don't have time to argue, because Bon Bon—I mean Sweetie Drops, Bon Bon is my nickname for her—is setting the table for dinner. Goodbye, Lyrica Lilac." And then Lyrica heard the click. The detestable click. The click that meant an incoming tidal wave of piranhas. "CELESTIA DAMN IT! HOW COULD SHE DO THIS WHEN I'M SO PERFECT?" Lyrica screamed. She heard a knocking on her roof, and her neighbor telling her to quiet down, and she composed herself. No more of the flesh of my sanity shall be eaten by those tidal piranhas! That sounds really strange. She picked up the phone, and called each member of her band, with this message: "Emergency band meeting at my house!" About an hour later, they all arrived. "So, what's the deal?" asked Fiddlesticks, raising an eyebrow. "THEY GAVE OUR GIG TO ANOTHER BAND, THAT'S THE DEAL!" said Lyrica. She snorted heavily, sweeping her tail from side to side and pounding the ground with her hooves. Midnight Strike gasped. "What are we gonna do?" she said. Lyrica narrowed her eyes. "Know thy enemy," she said. She brought everypony into her living room, and inserted a concert tape into her VHS. "I did some digging, and I found this tape of the band that stole our show." She switched on the tape, and everyone watched the band performing. "This is LolliPOP!" one of the singers yelled. "Are you, ever gonna love me like you shou-ould, yeah! I'm not, even really sayin' that it would be good, yeah! I'm too young for young love anyway, you're keepin' me up at night and it's not okay!" Lyrica switched off the VHS player. Noteworthy nodded slowly. "Okay, so they're actually really good. What do we do now?" he said. Lyrica seemed confused. "Obviously, we beat them up so they can't play the show," she said. Fiddlesticks frowned. "Is that ethical? Attacking ponies for profit?" she said. Lyrica shook her head vigorously. "Not for profit, for fame!" she said. After that, everypony nodded. "Oh," said Fiddlesticks, "that's all right then." The next day, they picked up their costumes from Rarity, and searched out the location of LolliPOP's next show, which was the Ponybeat Bar. After watching the concert and throwing things at the singer Twinkleshine, the Gemstone Quartet proceeded backstage. "Are you sure about this? It just seems wrong," said Midnight Strike. Lyrica snorted. "It is not wrong, because they stole our show! It's not an attack, it is simply revenge," she said, looking confident. They were stopped by a bodyguard at the back room door. "Reason for entry, miss?" he said, addressing Midnight Strike. Midnight narrowed her eyes. "We're here to kick some flank," she said. He gave her a name tag, which read: Guest(s): Midnight Strike and associates. Reason for entry: Flank kicking. And so, they entered, with surprisingly little resistance. It seemed the guard was used to planned assault. Lyrica burst through the door dramatically, and yelled out instructions to her band. "Fiddlesticks and I will take Twinkleshine! Midnight, Sea Swirl is yours! Noteworthy, get their keyboard player, Lemon Hearts!" The result of this, of course, was that each member of LolliPOP rushed at their assigned attackers. Despite being quite familiar with the task of attack, they were an ultra-feminine filly band not much concerned with fighting. Consequently, LolliPOP eventually lost to The Gemstone Quartet. Lyrica Lilac grinned another face-splitting grin and laughed maniacally. She had worked hard ever since she was a filly, trying to be the best, as she knew she deserved.. She had been urged on by her parents, and she had spent all her free time practicing. When she got her cutie mark, she had launched her career. It had been at a low, but this was her payoff, finally. "That gig is ours," she said. Hang-upsAs Lyrica took a taxi back to her apartment, she wondered why the others had only been momentarily confused by her suggestion of attack. I suppose they've been playing music for longer than I thought. It is a shame though... She started singing to herself. "It's such a shame, it's such a shame, how we beat ponies for their fame. And is it fair, no it's not fair, but darling, I have ceased to care..." She continued this song all through her ride home, sometimes starting over or veering off, never being quite finished. When Lyrica was dropped off at her home, she sat down on her couch and practiced her guitar, then she got up and made a cup of tea. She finished the novel she had started, and put another VHS in her TV. She had bought all the most popular band tapes at a discount video store. "Raven and the Songbirds, another premier band of Ponyville," she muttered, "and I suppose I'll have to fight them next." She put a pot of boiling water on for spaghetti, and pulled some garlic bread out of her freezer and placed it in the oven. Her phone rang, and she picked up. "Hello, this is Lyra Heartstrings. As you might have surmised, your performance was cancelled because we found another band, which took your place. That band has been... incapacitated, so you will still be playing the show this weekend," said Lyra. Lyrica smiled, tucking a strand of hair away from her face. "Oh, that's excellent, Mrs. Heartstrings. But I do hope the other band recovers soon," she said. And then it was her turn to hang up on Lyra. She slammed the phone down, attempting to make the most audible click possible. Click, click, click, CLICK! HA! Lyrica grinned triumphantly, and a sudden burst of inspiration came to her. "When I call, you don't always pick up the phone, or a short conversation, but after that I'm on my own. I know you have a job to do, but I just want to work with you. How should I know what makes you tick? You're boring me, you make me sick! I wait for you, you don't wait for me, I tire of all of this ennui. Hang up, hang up, hang up. All I hear is your answering machine. Hang up, hang up, hang up. You say, can't you leave me in peace? I just want to be serene. But I just want to talk, or else I'm going to scream..." She decided she would tell the band about her new song at their next practice, being certain that it would be well received. She practiced her guitar, trying to put a tune to her new song, and then glanced up at a tack hole on her wall where Vinyl's photo had hung. She realized it was only one in a sea of holes in her wall, all formerly photos of friends. Only a weathered family picture remained. Well, you can't make friends in this business. Ponies do what they do to get ahead, and then you hate them for it. All the same, I am a bit lonely, I ought to go out and meet some ponies. Social opportunities are scarce in Ponyville, but I'm sure I can find something. She set her dinner on the table, put on a scarf, and set out to try to meet a friend. After some discreet asking around, Lyrica found that a party would be happening that weekend, for the birthday of somepony named Berry Punch. Though Lyrica had never met Berry Punch, it was an open party, hosted by some Pinkie Pie in a meadow bordering the Everfree Forest. This she learned through badgering a slightly intoxicated mare named Bottlecap about social opportunities in the area. Lyrica had finished this by ducking her head and running away, yelling that nopony was to know of their interaction. She came home to find that her food was cold, and she put it in the oven. She made her bed, stomped several ants, and then idled around the house. Unfortunately, when she came back to her meal, she found that it was slightly burned. "Curses. Well, tomato sauce fixes everything," she said. True to her word, she poured copious amounts of jarred tomato sauce (which she had not bothered to heat up) all over her spaghetti. Thinking on the matter of tomato sauce further, she decided to smear her garlic bread in it, in lieu of butter. She took a bite of the bread. It crunched. "Delicious," said Lyrica. When she had finished her dinner, she did the dishes, picked up around her apartment, and placed a mousetrap in front of a new hole in her wall. She reread her favorite parts in the novel she had just finished, and then she went to bed early, giggling in her sleep. The next day, band practice had been planned and everypony piled into Lyrica's home that afternoon. They were in a pile specifically because Midnight Strike had knocked them all over. "Strike, are you honestly a klutz, or are you trying to clobber everypony?" said Noteworthy, extricating himself from the stack of ponies. Midnight Strike did not answer, as she was still assembling her drums, but Fiddlesticks spoke for her. "I think she's just naturally a mare of destruction, a pony wrecking ball, so to speak," she said, laughing. Midnight turned around. "Yeah, hilarious or whatever. I'm done setting up my stuff, are you guys ready to go?" she said. After a moment of scrambling to finish assembly, everypony nodded assent. Then Lyrica remembered her song, and raised a hoof. "Oh, could you all wait just a moment? I wrote this song, and I'd like to show it to you all," she said. Don't Hang Up On Me When I call, you don't always pick up the phone, or a short conversation, but after that I'm on my own. I know you have a job, but I just want to work with you. How should I know what makes you tick? You're boring me, you make me sick! I wait for you, you don't wait for me, I tire of all of this ennui. (Chorus: Hang up, hang up, hang up. All I hear is your answering machine. Hang up, hang up, hang up. You say, can't you leave me in peace? I just want to be serene. But I just want to talk, or else I'm going to scream.) When I telephone you, you let the phone ring, if you're answering at all. But I've got no choice, you know I'm in your thrall. Would it kill you to pick up some of those times I call? Mare, you know, you're gonna have to be the death of me! You have to figure out this isn't how it has to be, I tire that we're not getting through, I decree! Chorus. You have me, where you want me, I'm waiting, I'm holding the phone. Can't you do something for me? 'Cause all I hear is dial tone! Chorus (slower reprise). So don't hang up! Fiddlesticks looked at Lyrica closely, as if she was attempting to scrutinize her personality. "That was actually very good, but it didn't sound a thing like you," she said. "Are you saying there's something wrong with that?" Lyrica huffed. Fiddlesticks shook her head. "No, I liked it. It was just... it was just different. We are more of a classical band though, so we likely won't be playing this," she said. Lyrica nodded, with just a sliver of disappointment, like a splinter stuck in her hoof. Concert NightAfter band practice, Lyrica sat around. She squirmed. She tried not to look at the tack holes on her wall. She was pleased with the band's performance of that day, and felt that they were doing well, but she was less than pleased with her social life. I need a life outside this band. I will simply have to work very hard to meet somepony at Berry Punch's party this weekend. That party was her last hope for social interaction, and she was certain that she couldn't let the opportunity escape her. She fixed her mane. She fixed it again. She put makeup on, and then she washed it off. She wanted to bang her head against the wall, and stare at the tack holes, stare at the trash can, pull out Vinyl's photo and call her up... No. Banging my head against the wall would ruin my manestyle. Lyrica only sat in her armchair and did nothing. She twitched a few times. She rubbed her eyes. She considered retiling her bathroom, then gave up the idea. Then she broke. Then she pulled the photo out of the trash, picked up the phone, and dialed Vinyl Scratch's number (sans head banging). "Hello, is Vinyl Scratch here?" said Lyrica. Her forehooves were shaking, and she was pushing her ottoman back and forth with her hind legs. "You've reached the secretary of DJ-PON-3, you must have the wrong number," said the secretary. Lyrica gritted her teeth, and spoke again. "I haven't got the wrong number," she said, slumping into her chair. This was more difficult than she had expected. "Well, you should leave a message, and Ms. PON-3 will hear it if she likes," the secretary said. Lyrica sighed. "All right, start recording," she said, "Vinyl, this is Lyrica Lilac. I wanted to talk, it's been a long time. I still think about you." There was a muffled beep. "I recorded your message, although I still don't know who Vinyl Scratch is and how you hope to contact her. Goodb—," the secretary said, the abrupt end of the call cutting off her farewell. Lyrica sighed again. "That was absolutely pointless," she said. She looked at the clock on her wall, trying to pass the time until the show they were playing. "The one we took from LolliPOP—no, we didn't take a thing. Earned it fair and square instead," she said to herself. She slipped into her costume, a long white dress with purple and yellow trim. She added the accessories that she had purchased for the Gala, now given new life. Lyrica put her hoof to her chest, inhaling and exhaling. I will not ever lose again. Nopony shall ever beat me again. I may suffer setbacks, but with the outcome all the same. I shall never lose again. She grabbed the Vinyl Scratch photo off her counter, and got a black marker. Over the pretty mare's face, lined by crumpling, she wrote her mantra. Lyrica laughed, a long, raucous laugh of the type that scared passerby. "NEVER AGAIN! I AM THE GREATEST!" she yelled. She ran into her living room and sunk onto her couch, exhilarated and giggling like a schoolfilly. Lyrica smiled, and began making herself a luncheon of noodles with butter. She threw in some shriveled looking mushrooms, and then tried to balance them out with some fresh green broccoli. Once it was finished, she poured the whole mess through a strainer, and dumped the pasta into a bowl. Lyrica was well-pleased with the results, although the mushrooms tasted like bad breath. She ended up picking most of them out. She went into her bathroom afterwards and brushed her teeth to get the smell out. She picked up a brush and fixed her mane again, styling it into her usual beehive and spritzing it occasionally with dry shampoo. Then Lyrica sat back on her couch, her worries momentarily stymied. She was perfectly prepared and ready to leave when Fiddlesticks came and knocked at her door. "Time to go," she said, and led Lyrica outside. Lyrica was taken aback by what she saw, namely a carriage parked on the edge of her sidewalk. It was freshly painted, and it had the logo of their band stenciled on the front. "Where in Equestria did this come from?" said Lyrica. Midnight Strike pointed a hoof at herself. "I, uh... bought it. It's an old taxi. Noteworthy repainted it," she said. She fluttered into the traces, preparing to pull the group to their show. "Are you sure you want to pull it?" said Lyrica, "You wouldn't want to ruin your dress." Midnight tossed her head. "You wanna pull it?" she said. Lyrica didn't respond, deciding that getting into the carriage would be answer enough. Midnight Strike whinnied, jerked forward, and they were off. They arrived at the show to little fanfare, and the audience only responded politely to their musical stylings. Each member was doing their level best, but the audience was simply bored by their song. Backstage, the group reconvened, and Noteworthy went straight to the point. "Honestly, I don't think they liked it," he said. Everypony gave a murmur of assent, save for Lyrica, who spoke her own piece instead. "It's obvious what must be done," she said. Midnight Strike cocked her head. "Update our music and move to a more popular genre, or..." she said. Lyrica continued Midnight's broken sentence. "Eliminate the competition," she said. Fiddlesticks beamed, but Midnight looked a bit awkward. "I was gonna say the other thing," she said. Noteworthy snickered. "Well, I for one approve our move from talent to violence," he said. Lyrica restrained herself, and let him off with a hard look. They filed back into the carriage, and opened discussion on where they would strike next. We Meet AgainThe day of the party, Lyrica was fussing with her appearance, particularly her hair. This may be the last chance I'll have to meet new ponies. I absolutely cannot squander it. She decided to go with her classic updo, her Gala accessories, and her concert dress. Despite the quick choice in what she was to wear, everywhere she looked she saw a stray thread or a loose strand of hair. Finally, after much agonizing, she left the bathroom with an accepting "good enough". At this point, her mane was plastered with enough sprays and creams to glaze a box of donuts, and her clothing had been ironed so many times it was on the verge of burning her with its heat. Not wanting to go out bare hoofed, Lyrica found a pair of shiny black shoes in her closet, and blew the dust off them. They don't quite match, but it'll have to do. Not knowing where the band's carriage was (and having nopony to pull it besides herself), Lyrica decided to walk to the party rather than calling a taxi. It was a garden party anyway, a public soiree in the Ponyville park. When she arrived, her shoes were a bit dustier than she would have liked, but the train of her dress lacked hoofprints, and her mane remained statuesque. "All right, Lyrica, you can do this..." she said. Then she stepped up to the garden party, and she felt an odd sensation, similar to that of her heart dropping into her stomach. Piranhas. My heart is in my stomach and my stomach is full of piranhas. I'M BEING EATEN AWAY FROM THE INSIDE! There were far, far more ponies than she had expected. There was drinking and shouting and dancing, and the refreshments were chips, dip, suspicious punch and hard apple cider. And worst of all, she recognized a familiar face. Two familiar faces. DJ PON-3 was visiting her hometown, and she had brought her marefriend with her. As Lyrica walked towards the stage, a half-drunk mare sauntered up to Lyrica, and was staring at her like she had just seen Nightmare Moon. Her mussed purple hair was hanging in her face, and she wore a crooked grin. "Hiya. I'm the host here, and I gotta say: What's a mare like you doing at a party like this?" said Berry Punch, the party's host. "Well, I was hoping for a little bit of... fun, I suppose," said Lyrica. Berry laughed. "Hon, this ain't that kind of party," she said. Lyrica backed away, attempting to bury herself in the crowd. The music was booming in her ears, and it made her feel sick to think of who was providing it. She no longer had a desire for a social life. She had a desire to go home. She was making for an exit when the music stopped suddenly, in the middle of a song. Vinyl Scratch stepped down from the stage, and a band began setting up. Berry Punch apparently had a music group of her own, comprised of herself, Bottlecap, and Blossomforth. They were all wearing ridiculous costumes and bright makeup, and not one among them looked fully sober. Berry Punch leaned into her mike, and said with a heady shriek: "THIS IS PSYCHADELIC PONY!" Blossomforth counted in the beat, and the first song of the set began. Lyrica didn't want to watch. She wanted to go home. She headed for the exit, and was stopped in her tracks by none other than Vinyl Scratch. "Wow, seeing you here, huh. I got your message. On my phone," she said. Lyrica ground her teeth. "Oh, did you really?" she said, scraping her hoof along the ground. "Yeah. Honestly, it's no hard feelings or whatever. It's been a while, and maybe we can talk to each other again," said Vinyl. Lyrica smiled. "Yes, I would like that very much," she said. Vinyl smiled back. "So what're you doing these days?" she said. Lyrica shrugged. "I have a band. We took down LolliPOP a couple of days ago," she said. Vinyl's face clouded up, and she shook her head, letting her shoulders slump. "You know, you should be better than that," she said. Lyrica scowled, and pawed the ground again. "Well, I'm not," she said. Then she trotted off in the other direction, a piece of gelled hair flopping from her manedo. What does she know about honor? I'll show her. There is something that must be done. Get rid of the competition. Then, Lyrica made a decision, what would prove to be a poor one. It depends on the point of view. The decision was as follows: Lyrica Lilac charged the stage, and attacked the band. She hit Berry Punch first, knocking the microphone away from her mouth. She held the microphone stand between her hooves, brandishing it like a javelin. She let it fly, smacking Bottlecap square in the face. Then she kicked in Blossomforth's drums, shoving her behind her drum kit. The members of the band probably could have beat Lyrica in another situation, but they were all intoxicated, in addition to being surprised by her attack. But Lyrica knew when not to push her luck, and so she left the stage, to the boos and jeers of the crowd. She was accosted immediately by Vinyl Scratch, who grabbed her by her hooves and slapped her, so hard it made a cracking sound. "What in Celestia was that? You call me telling me you love me, you act all friendly, then you beat up a band onstage, and... why? What is going on?" said Vinyl. Lyrica sighed. "I didn't say... I didn't say I loved you! This is your fault! No, it's—it's Octavia's fault! It's all her fault!" she said. Octavia came up to her marefriend and put a hoof around her, giving Lyrica a sour look. "PON-3, what are you doing? This is Lyrica Lilac, isn't it? Your ex? She's obviously unhinged... let's go," she said. Vinyl Scratch shook her head, and made a low snorting noise. "No. I need to talk to her," she said. Lyrica leaned in, breathing in her face. "Octavia stole you. She stole my show. She ruined my life. She broke my hoof!" she said. Octavia put a hoof between them. "What are you talking about? What show?" she said. "THE ONE YOU STOLE FROM ME! THE GALA! Lyra said I was hired, I was counting on it, then I was replaced!" shouted Lyrica. "I didn't know that! Nopony told me that you had a canceled performance. Lyrica, I was offered a job and I took it. DJ PON-3 loves me, and now we're together. I broke your hoof two years ago, and I'm sorry. I paid your medical bill because I felt bad! I didn't steal anything. I haven't ruined anything," said Octavia. Her eyes began to fill with tears, and DJ-PON-3 led her away. That can't be right. No. It's her fault. "You can deal with your competition," said DJ-PON-3, turning her head,"and I'm not begrudging you that, even if you shouldn't have done it onstage. But I don't want you to talk to my marefriend like that! She's not the bad guy, Lyrica, you are! Get your priorities straight and get a life!" Lyrica slunk away, going back to her apartment, crying quietly. I will not ever lose again. Nopony shall ever beat me again. I may suffer setbacks, but with the outcome all the same. I shall never lose again.
All Her FaultLyrica sighed and considered hanging up. It wasn’t as though she was making genuine headway as it was. “I’m sorry that we canceled your performance, Miss Lilac, but you have to understand that when we receive a superior offer… well, the Grand Galloping Gala is a high-profile event,” said Lyra. “I am aware of that, Mrs. Heartstrings. But I was booked, I was told that I was to play, I was counting on this to pay my rent! I could lose my apartment,” Lyrica replied. Lyra was not moved by Lyrica's bid for sympathy, and Lyrica had been lying as it was. “Miss Lilac, I know what it was like. We even have the same cutie mark, for Celestia’s sake! I know what it was like to be a struggling musician, but I can’t help you. Octavia Melody is getting known, she’s becoming a household name. This is the kind of thing we need to update our image,” said Lyra. Lyrica was about to protest further, but she heard a click. All her fault. “Ponyfeathers. She hung up,” Lyrica said, whinnying and hanging her head. She walked into her bedroom, and stared at a yellowing photo tacked to a wall. It was an old snapshot of Lyrica and Vinyl Scratch, back before the latter had cut her hair and begun calling herself DJ PON-3. “Before she left me for her…” Lyrica muttered. She had promised herself not to think about her old marefriend too much, but ever since Vinyl had risen to fame as a popular musician, she had broken her own pact increasingly often. Vinyl had left her without warning; Lyrica had come back from the grocery store one afternoon to find her gone. Some time later, Vinyl Scratch had come back for her remaining belongings, and officially told Lyrica that it was over. Lyrica had become quite worried, and was even considering calling the Guard, until she realized that Vinyl had simply walked out on her. She had been mopping the floor and grinding her teeth, still preoccupied by her marefriend's disappearance, until Vinyl had strolled in casually, opened the door with her key and then threw it to Lyrica. "Listen, this isn't working out, and I want to see other ponies," Vinyl remarked, as if she had only went to the corner store and back. She lugged away her things, and Lyrica had only seen her once since, at a public event in Canterlot. Lyrica had known that Vinyl Scratch was attending, and was hoping to win her back. Instead, of course, I found her with Miss Melody. She excused her new marefriend, and then she yelled at me. Long and hard. Telling me that she had never loved me, to buck off, to get out of her life. Lies, I hope. But not with my luck. Trying to put Vinyl out of her mind, she noted that she still had her Gala tickets. They shone in her hand, another reminder that Lyrica had lost and Octavia had won. After Vinyl was done breaking her heart, Octavia had come and broken her left hoof. "Stay away from my marefriend," she said, "and never come back!" Octavia was strong in a way Lyrica had never been, she was resilient, intelligent, and deadly. Well, at least Heartstrings didn’t revoke the tickets. She probably pities me. Lyrica had even received a second ticket, for a guest. She had already invited her sister, and as such couldn’t simply sell her ticket. Knowing that Royal would expect her to be playing, she decided to call her sibling and inform her otherwise. After she dialed, the phone rang for a while, until Lyrica was finally greeted by an answering machine. “Hello, you’ve reached Royal Ribbon! I’m afraid I can’t take your call at the moment, but please call back and do leave a message after the beep,” it said in Royal’s recorded voice. “Hello, Royal," said Lyrica, "I’m just calling to tell you that I will not be playing at the Grand Galloping Gala, since they gave my job to somepony else. I will still be attending though, so I expect to see you there!” Lyrica made a valiant attempt to mask her attitude and end her message on a positive note, but her mood was still obvious, even over the phone. “I will go to the Grand Galloping Gala, if only to see the competition,” said Lyrica. She sat down on her couch, and picked up a novel, trying to lose herself in fiction. Maybe soon my reality will improve. It was not to be. Lyrica ordered a pizza for dinner and burst into tears at her first bite. After that, she laid her face on the table and got a splinter in her cheek from the rough wood. She tried reading her book again, but could not immerse herself in the lighthearted romance. When Lyrica had put away the novel, she got up and ran around her armchair until she felt dizzy, then paced around her room breathing heavily. Lyrica had left her bed unmade that morning, and proceeded to make it before getting into it. This exercise in futility comforted her, but she could not relax being certain that she had been upstaged by Octavia Melody. She had known it for a year and a half—since Vinyl left her. But no entirely conclusive proof was obvious before (or at least Lyrica thought so) Lyra had essentially told Lyrica that Octavia was the superior musician. Why else would she drop me and hire her as soon as she offered? Lyrica smashed her pillow against her bedstead brutally, both completing the making of her bed and pretending that said pillow was her rival’s face. “Take that, Octavia! You are an absolute disgrace. You unintelligent, sniping pig! Stealing away my career, and my mare friend!" she shouted, before hastily coming to the realization that somepony might have heard her. She walked into her bathroom, and slammed the the door shut with a kick. Lyrica brushed her mane carefully, before pinning it up into her usual beehive and manespraying it liberally. She wrapped it in a towel, and then laid down in her bed. At least I'll look all right. She dreamed of angry cellos attacking her, each hit removing a limb. By the time the dream ended, she was only a torso and head, slowly fading into a gray haze. The next morning, she awoke to find herself exceptionally hungry. She walked into her kitchen and was intending to make a dandelion salad when the phone began ringing. Lyrica picked up, and was pleased to hear the voice of her younger sister. “Hi, Lyrica; it’s me, Royal. I’m just answering your message. It really is too horrid about your performance. Who could be replacing you?” said Royal. “Octavia Melody,” muttered Lyrica. “Come again?” Royal said, finding her sister nearly inaudible. “OCTAVIA MELODY!” shouted Lyrica. “Goodness, Lyrica, don’t yell like that. Anyhow, I was going to ask you if you’d like to go dress shopping for the Gala with me today. I could take the train down to Ponyville to see you. I hear there’s a lovely little boutique down there,” said Royal. Lyrica smiled. At least I’ll have something to take my mind off this mess. “Royal, dear, I am a small-time musician. I can’t afford an entire dress. But I’d love to go shopping for jewelry and the like, certainly,” she said. “Then it’s settled,” said Royal, “how does five o’ clock sound?” Lyrica nodded, before remembering that her sibling couldn’t see her. “Oh, yes, that sounds good,” she answered, walking over to the phone set. “See you then!” Royal said, before hanging up with another click. Lyrica put her phone down and sighed. The mere sound of being hung up on reminded her that she had lost her big break, or what could have been one. What could have been. My entire life is one enormous “what could have been”. I might be a young mare, but that doesn’t stop me from being a has-been. A has-been that could have been. Lyrica flopped onto her bed, being careful not to muss her manestyle. She didn’t feel like having a dandelion salad any longer. Lyrica yawned, thinking that though she had only just awoken, a nap was beginning to sound quite tempting. She closed the curtains, crawled under the covers and fell asleep. Author's Note Just to make all you new readers aware of this, I am continuously editing these chapters, trying to make them more emotionally driven and up to par for submission to Equestria Daily. Chapters may change slightly, and word count may move up or down accordingly.
At the GalaLyrica checked her watch, which read four forty-five, plenty of time to meet her sister at the train station. She opened her door and trotted down the hall of her apartment building. I've always disliked that train. A pink eyesore, if you ask me. Still, one can't be taking taxis everywhere. Lyrica stood on the sidewalk and fixed her hair for the fifteenth time. Not only did she dislike the train, she also disliked waiting for it, the feeling of being beholden to some visitor from some other city. just before a black and gold pegasus smashed directly into her at high speed. The pony wore goggles and the uniform of a Wonderbolt, and her mane and tail were disheveled. "Whoops! Hey, I'm Midnight Strike, and I'm looking for work! You know about a job I could maybe get?" said the pegasus, who was apparently named Midnight Strike. "You lout! Out of my way!" Lyrica yelled, storming through the hall. It disgusts me when I come across mares like that, who simply don't know how to behave. Ugh! If she were raised in a barn, she'd have better manners! Lyrica continued towards her destination, breaking into a run when she neared the station. She arrived momentarily, winded and panting heavily. She waited around for a moment, pacing back and forth. After a few tedious minutes, she spotted her sister getting off the train. "Oh, Royal! Right on time, as always!" Lyrica said, galloping up to Royal Ribbon. Royal responded with equal verve. "Sister, dear! It's lovely to see you. Would you like to get dinner first, or go pick out our Gala wear?" she said, smiling ingratiatingly. "Let's cut to the chase and go shopping first," Lyrica answered. Royal was quick on the uptake, and introduced some further plans of her own. "If we have a late dinner, there's a fashion show we can attend after that!" said Royal, clearly up for whatever Lyrica decided. Lyrica nodded in turn, and Royal gestured in the general direction of the boutique she wished to patronize, while pulling a map out of her saddlebags. "The Carousel Boutique is over that way, so let's get going!" said Royal. The two mares bustled over to the Carousel Boutique, reaching their destination quickly and without incident. They were greeted at the door by Rarity, who seemed extremely pleased to have customers. "Oh, hello there, darlings! I have several excellent pieces for sale that I think will suit you very well!" said Rarity, leading the sisters inside. She showed them over to the clothing racks, pulling out a ruffled saddle, choker and bow set that had a color scheme perfectly matching Royal's blue eyes (as well as complementing her pink coat and blue mane). Royal nodded approvingly. "Well, this just looks gorgeous!" she said, pulling a small sack of bits from her saddlebag. Lyrica cringed at the amount of money the ensemble cost. "On a budget, dear?" Rarity said, giving Lyrica a sympathetic look. Lyrica nodded grudgingly, and Rarity led her over to a shelf of accessories hidden behind a velvet curtain. Lyrica perused it for a moment, before deciding on her selections: a costume pearl necklace, a sash with a rose on it, and a small feather hat that happened to match her earrings precisely. Rarity smiled approvingly. "Why, you look downright glamorous!" she said. Lyrica made her purchase, and walked out of the store with Royal, waving politely to the proprietor on her way through the threshold. The newly outfitted siblings went on to the fashion show, which they pretended to enjoy for the benefit of Rarity, who sat nearby them and seemed to like the model quite a lot, though she acted in a manner that could be considered crude and unattractive. The mare had on a lovely dress and her hair was done up beautifully, but her routine consisted of doing bizarre things such as scratching herself and floating upside down across the stage. At dinner, Lyrica and Royal laughed and were glad to have something to talk about, even if it was only a small town fashion show. After the two mares had eaten their fill, Royal headed home, and so did Lyrica, though her travel time was briefer. Lyrica turned off the lights and slipped into bed, satisfied with her day. A week later, Lyrica was freshly washed, primped, and prepared for what she was certain would be an extremely unpleasant day at the Gala. I have to go watch Octavia play her stolen show... but I told Royal I would go. Why did I say that? "I spent all that money on the accessories too," she worried aloud. On her trip to Canterlot, she could not shake her mood. Lyrica snapped at everypony who happened to come near, and she yelled at a blue stallion who had the misfortune to step on her hoof. Lyrica tapped out a beat on the floor of the train, the song she had been planning to play on her lyre at the Grand Galloping Gala. For hours, she had practiced, hoping that her appearance would be acclaimed by an attending reporter, Marey Fetlock (who Lyrica had always had a crush on). Lyrica replayed her fantasies in her head, scoffing at her recent hopes. "As if anything would have come of it," she said, snorting. Despite her self-scorning, her mockery felt hollow. She turned deeper and deeper in her own mind, exploring every outdated reverie present in her head, regretting the moment when she finally had to return to reality. When she did, her mouth tasted sour and her eyes stung. She arrived at the Gala in a terrible mood, and this was worsened by her sister's evident cheer. "Hello, Lyrica!" said Royal. Lyrica managed a smile. "Hello, Royal. Lovely to see you," she said, making a last-ditch to appear happy and sane. The two walked in together, and they drifted around the party while chattering idly for a few minutes. After an affected conversation with some Wonderbolt or other, Royal eventually left to chat up a brown stallion who was standing over by the snack table, leaving Lyrica on her own. Lyrica winced as Octavia came onstage with her fellow musicians, and counted to ten repeatedly to stop herself from screaming. She bounced from hoof to hoof, breathing loudly and swallowing large quantities of fruit punch. She was about ready to cry when a pink pony with a puffy mane and tailored dress bounced onto the stage, after which the band reluctantly played the pony pokey. Unable to conceal her pent-up rage, Lyrica exploded at the pink mare. "Young lady, this is not that kind of party!" she said, channeling her suddenly-misdirected aggression. The pink pony looked on the verge of tears, and Lyrica was just beginning to apologize when she was approached by Marey Fetlock. Marey's perfect blonde ringlets bounced, and her violet eyes glimmered. She wore a purple ruffled dress that looked beautiful and expensive. Lyrica was bowled over by the reporter's looks, but she almost spit out her punch when she heard the question that the attractive journalist asked her. "So, how do you feel about the sudden loss of your last shot at fame, Ms. Lilac?" said Marey. Lyrica's face turned red, and she gulped down the remainder of her drink. "How did you know that I was going to play here?" she said. Marey grinned in a sickening manner, her sneer accompanied by her sparkling white teeth and derisive laugh. "Oh, no pony is impervious to a few bits, least of all Lyra Heartstrings," she said. "Why are you interviewing me in the first place?" said Lyrica. She was sweating, shaking, and trying in vain to steady herself. It's like trying not to drown in a tidal wave. Also, the tidal wave is made of piranhas. Marey snickered. "I needed filler. Anyway, how do you feel about Octavia Melody?" she said. If Lyrica had been trying not to drown, her attempts were made futile by this last bit of flesh pulled from her bones. "I WILL DESTROY HER!" she shrieked, noticing that her anguish had gained an audience. I don't care. Celestia damn them all, may they burn in Tartarus for the rest of their days. I can't believe I thought that evil reporter was attractive! Lyrica ran from the Gala, and never looked back, taking a near-empty train from Canterlot. She tapped her hoof on the train floor, no longer to any beat. She muttered to herself over and over again, the same word. "Why, why, why, why," she said. It wasn't a question, and it eventually ceased to be a word. It just became a chant, a sound, an expression. It lost any meaning it might have had, an inquiry posed to nopony, repeated endlessly into the night.
The Founding of the QuartetLyrica arrived at back at her home feeling slightly hazy, but she had a clear objective in mind: to reinvent herself. The Gala had been her low, and she needed to create for herself a new high. She was convinced that she was every bit the musical equal of anypony currently popular, and she decided then and there to prove it. I don't want to be a fluff piece, a has-been, or a second fiddle (or lyre, or cello)! But I'm not good enough on my own, I'm no big name. Octavia Melody had all those other musicians up there... a band! I could never carry a show by myself, but together with others... Lyrica preferred to perform alone, but she felt that this was necessary to her success. She had always been unable to take on other bands on her own, being weak as musicians went. Lyra said she wanted a new image—something new—something modern! But classic, and elegant. Tasteful, so to speak. She started scribbling on a piece of paper, writing down her ideas. "Lyre, violin, piano," she said to herself. She sketched some concert outfits, but she wasn't quite satisfied with them. Perhaps I could go to that Rarity mare, and ask for a little help. Now, I need a name... four ponies. A quartet. The Lyrica Quartet? No, too self-centered. The Musical Quartet? Too obvious. Lyrica tried to think of a pretty word. Flowers? Dresses? Gems? The Gemstone Quartet? I like it. Classic, and elegant. If a little too cute. Though Lyrica wasn't much of an artist, she drew up a simple flyer, colored it, and then traced ten more of them, repeating the process. Her eyes stung and her teeth were slightly sore from holding the pencil. Hence, she soon went to bed, slept dreamlessly, and got up bright and early the next morning to make more flyers. After Lyrica felt she had enough of them, she put them up around Ponyville. When she had finished, she took a coffee to go and went back to her house to wait for applicants. She eventually got a knock at the door, and four ponies walked into her apartment. One was blue with a spiky mane, and this was the pony who had tread on her hoof at the train station. The other was the Wonderbolt cadet who had collided with her the week before. The third was a yellow mare with a blue mane and a cowboy hat, who looked remarkably like Octavia Melody. The remaining pony was none other than Derpy Hooves, pushing a piano through the door. "Excuse me?" Lyrica said, "I asked for a band. I got the stallion who stepped on my hoof at the train, the moronic pegasus who crashed into me, and a mare who looks the twin of my worst enemy! Oh, and you, Derpy Hooves. Hello." Derpy was obviously confused. "A band? Sorry, I have to go deliver this piano. I must have the wrong address!" she said, lugging her piano out the door and flying off. After that, the Octavia-looking pony addressed Lyrica, speaking with a slight southern twang. "Well, looks like we're all you've got. Are you in, or are you out?" she said, taking off her hat and wiping her brow. "Well, I'm in!" said Midnight Strike. The blue stallion nodded. "If you're not interested, we can have our band without you. Also, did I step on your hoof? I'm actually sorry about that," he said. Lyrica sighed. "Fine. Let's do introductions, then. I'm Lyrica Lilac, and I know you're Midnight Strike," she said, pointing to Midnight, "but who are the rest of you?" The stallion stepped forward, dragging a corded microphone behind him. "I'm Noteworthy," he said. The yellow and blue Octavia tipped her hat. "Fiddlesticks Melody, at your service. Oh, and if your worst enemy is Octavia, I'm her older sister," she said. Lyrica frowned. "I can't have any sisterly love, now, all right? Just repress that while you're around me," she said. Fiddlesticks snorted. "Yeah, that won't be happening. I hate her guts," she said. "Really?" Lyrica said, "That's fantastic!" Fiddlesticks grinned. "You might be rude, blunt, and judgmental, but I think I'll like you better than I expected," she said. "Sorry to break up your hater party, but when are we going to practice? I brought my instrument, so we could start, if the almighty Miss Lilac decrees it," said Noteworthy. Lyrica scowled. "Yes, why don't we start right now. That would be just lovely," she said, trying to strain all hints of sarcasm from her voice. "Cool! I play the drums, what does everypony else play?" said Midnight. Lyrica winced. "DRUMS? Er, I mean... I was looking more for piano, or suchlike," she said. Midnight Strike's grin faded, and she stepped closer to Lyrica, breathing in her face. "I'm gonna be in this band, and no stupid snooty music pony is gonna stop me," she said. Lyrica made a small choking noise, and nodded her approval. After that, Midnight's smile slid back onto her face, and she carried on setting up her instruments. "I was planning on doing voice," said Noteworthy. "I'm a fiddler, mostly," Fiddlesticks said. Lyrica shrugged. "I do play the lyre," she said. Noteworthy snickered. "Well, they don't exactly call you Guitarica Lilac, do they?" he said, intending a harmless (if weak) joke. "Well, I don't know why they call you Noteworthy, because you certainly aren't! And if all you're going to do is insult me, then you can scoot your flank right out of my home!" shouted Lyrica. "Geez, somepony's got anger issues," whispered Midnight Strike, a little too loudly. "I DO NOT HAVE ANGER ISSUES!" Lyrica yelled. After that, though, everypony settled down and got to work, and the rehearsal went as well as it could have. Despite this, in Midnight Strike's words: "Wow, we kinda suck." Before they all went home, they swore to practice three times a week, and they made good on this promise. The next day and the day after that, they met to rehearse once more. Though the band's instruments didn't fit very well into Lyrica's apartment, they were able to practice (despite the steady stream of complaints from her landlord). They gradually improved, and Lyrica actually managed to fit the drums into the group, prompting this reaction from Midnight Strike: "Wow, we totally suck less!" After this was said, Lyrica pulled a jug of sparkling cider out of her fridge. "From the Apple family farm! May I propose a toast?" she said. Everypony nodded, and some maretini glasses were found in the cabinet. "A toast to sucking less!" yelled Noteworthy, and everypony else chanted it after him, clinking their glasses. "A TOAST TO SUCKING LESS!" they said, saying it over and over again, a refrain to some ridiculous song, the motto of their founding.
I'm So PerfectLyrica ran into her kitchen, where the Quartet was having lunch (during a break in rehearsal). She was grinning so widely it looked as though her face might rip in two. She wasn't much of a smiler, but she felt that this was an occasion for joy. "We have a gig, everypony! Isn't it wonderful? We're going to play a show!" she said. Midnight Strike hoofbumped her. "All right, Lyrie!" she said, grinning. Noteworthy smiled grudgingly. "I have to admit I'm impressed," he said. But Fiddlesticks appeared worried. "Are we ready for a show? We need clothing, a band logo perhaps..." she said, trailing off into her own thoughts. Lyrica nodded. "I know a pony for the job, if she'll agree to it," she said. Fiddlesticks frowned. "That's a big 'if'," she said. "Yeah, and who is this mysterious mare? Should we entrust our band design to her?" said Noteworthy, with an ill-disguised laugh. "It's Rarity, of the Carousel Boutique," huffed Lyrica, expecting dissent. To her surprise, Fiddlesticks nodded, clearly approving. "I know the mare. She's a friend of my friend, Applejack. She's generous, decent, hardworking. She'll get it done," she said. Well, that's sorted out. We'll look fabulous at the show, I'm sure. But will I be able to afford these designs? Everypony will just have to pitch in. It seemed that they were all in agreement, and so the band set off to Rarity's shop, where they were warmly welcomed. "Oh, I'd be glad to help, for a fair price, anyhow. So, the four outfits and then the design," said Rarity. Lyrica looked at the bill. Well, it'll cost me, but at least the price actually is fair. After everypony split the bill, the group walked out of the boutique, and then separated, off to their homes. Lyrica relaxed in an armchair and read her new favorite novel to the finish. She found her eyes wandering to the image on her wall of Vinyl Scratch and herself, but she promptly got up and tore it down, before crumpling it and throwing it away unceremoniously. I am OVER her. When I make Octavia Melody look a fool, none of it will matter. She put a coat on, and was walking out the door to go for a newly liberated stroll, when her phone rang. Lyrica picked up. "Hello, Lyrica," said Lyra's voice. "Oh, hello Mrs. Heartstrings! You're the organizer for the event that booked my band, aren't you?" said Lyrica ingratiatingly. "Yes," said Lyra, "that's why I called. Your performance has been canceled. I'm very sorry and all of that, but I don't have time to argue, because Bon Bon—I mean Sweetie Drops, Bon Bon is my nickname for her—is setting the table for dinner. Goodbye, Lyrica Lilac." And then Lyrica heard the click. The detestable click. The click that meant an incoming tidal wave of piranhas. "CELESTIA DAMN IT! HOW COULD SHE DO THIS WHEN I'M SO PERFECT?" Lyrica screamed. She heard a knocking on her roof, and her neighbor telling her to quiet down, and she composed herself. No more of the flesh of my sanity shall be eaten by those tidal piranhas! That sounds really strange. She picked up the phone, and called each member of her band, with this message: "Emergency band meeting at my house!" About an hour later, they all arrived. "So, what's the deal?" asked Fiddlesticks, raising an eyebrow. "THEY GAVE OUR GIG TO ANOTHER BAND, THAT'S THE DEAL!" said Lyrica. She snorted heavily, sweeping her tail from side to side and pounding the ground with her hooves. Midnight Strike gasped. "What are we gonna do?" she said. Lyrica narrowed her eyes. "Know thy enemy," she said. She brought everypony into her living room, and inserted a concert tape into her VHS. "I did some digging, and I found this tape of the band that stole our show." She switched on the tape, and everyone watched the band performing. "This is LolliPOP!" one of the singers yelled. "Are you, ever gonna love me like you shou-ould, yeah! I'm not, even really sayin' that it would be good, yeah! I'm too young for young love anyway, you're keepin' me up at night and it's not okay!" Lyrica switched off the VHS player. Noteworthy nodded slowly. "Okay, so they're actually really good. What do we do now?" he said. Lyrica seemed confused. "Obviously, we beat them up so they can't play the show," she said. Fiddlesticks frowned. "Is that ethical? Attacking ponies for profit?" she said. Lyrica shook her head vigorously. "Not for profit, for fame!" she said. After that, everypony nodded. "Oh," said Fiddlesticks, "that's all right then." The next day, they picked up their costumes from Rarity, and searched out the location of LolliPOP's next show, which was the Ponybeat Bar. After watching the concert and throwing things at the singer Twinkleshine, the Gemstone Quartet proceeded backstage. "Are you sure about this? It just seems wrong," said Midnight Strike. Lyrica snorted. "It is not wrong, because they stole our show! It's not an attack, it is simply revenge," she said, looking confident. They were stopped by a bodyguard at the back room door. "Reason for entry, miss?" he said, addressing Midnight Strike. Midnight narrowed her eyes. "We're here to kick some flank," she said. He gave her a name tag, which read: Guest(s): Midnight Strike and associates. Reason for entry: Flank kicking. And so, they entered, with surprisingly little resistance. It seemed the guard was used to planned assault. Lyrica burst through the door dramatically, and yelled out instructions to her band. "Fiddlesticks and I will take Twinkleshine! Midnight, Sea Swirl is yours! Noteworthy, get their keyboard player, Lemon Hearts!" The result of this, of course, was that each member of LolliPOP rushed at their assigned attackers. Despite being quite familiar with the task of attack, they were an ultra-feminine filly band not much concerned with fighting. Consequently, LolliPOP eventually lost to The Gemstone Quartet. Lyrica Lilac grinned another face-splitting grin and laughed maniacally. She had worked hard ever since she was a filly, trying to be the best, as she knew she deserved.. She had been urged on by her parents, and she had spent all her free time practicing. When she got her cutie mark, she had launched her career. It had been at a low, but this was her payoff, finally. "That gig is ours," she said.
Hang-upsAs Lyrica took a taxi back to her apartment, she wondered why the others had only been momentarily confused by her suggestion of attack. I suppose they've been playing music for longer than I thought. It is a shame though... She started singing to herself. "It's such a shame, it's such a shame, how we beat ponies for their fame. And is it fair, no it's not fair, but darling, I have ceased to care..." She continued this song all through her ride home, sometimes starting over or veering off, never being quite finished. When Lyrica was dropped off at her home, she sat down on her couch and practiced her guitar, then she got up and made a cup of tea. She finished the novel she had started, and put another VHS in her TV. She had bought all the most popular band tapes at a discount video store. "Raven and the Songbirds, another premier band of Ponyville," she muttered, "and I suppose I'll have to fight them next." She put a pot of boiling water on for spaghetti, and pulled some garlic bread out of her freezer and placed it in the oven. Her phone rang, and she picked up. "Hello, this is Lyra Heartstrings. As you might have surmised, your performance was cancelled because we found another band, which took your place. That band has been... incapacitated, so you will still be playing the show this weekend," said Lyra. Lyrica smiled, tucking a strand of hair away from her face. "Oh, that's excellent, Mrs. Heartstrings. But I do hope the other band recovers soon," she said. And then it was her turn to hang up on Lyra. She slammed the phone down, attempting to make the most audible click possible. Click, click, click, CLICK! HA! Lyrica grinned triumphantly, and a sudden burst of inspiration came to her. "When I call, you don't always pick up the phone, or a short conversation, but after that I'm on my own. I know you have a job to do, but I just want to work with you. How should I know what makes you tick? You're boring me, you make me sick! I wait for you, you don't wait for me, I tire of all of this ennui. Hang up, hang up, hang up. All I hear is your answering machine. Hang up, hang up, hang up. You say, can't you leave me in peace? I just want to be serene. But I just want to talk, or else I'm going to scream..." She decided she would tell the band about her new song at their next practice, being certain that it would be well received. She practiced her guitar, trying to put a tune to her new song, and then glanced up at a tack hole on her wall where Vinyl's photo had hung. She realized it was only one in a sea of holes in her wall, all formerly photos of friends. Only a weathered family picture remained. Well, you can't make friends in this business. Ponies do what they do to get ahead, and then you hate them for it. All the same, I am a bit lonely, I ought to go out and meet some ponies. Social opportunities are scarce in Ponyville, but I'm sure I can find something. She set her dinner on the table, put on a scarf, and set out to try to meet a friend. After some discreet asking around, Lyrica found that a party would be happening that weekend, for the birthday of somepony named Berry Punch. Though Lyrica had never met Berry Punch, it was an open party, hosted by some Pinkie Pie in a meadow bordering the Everfree Forest. This she learned through badgering a slightly intoxicated mare named Bottlecap about social opportunities in the area. Lyrica had finished this by ducking her head and running away, yelling that nopony was to know of their interaction. She came home to find that her food was cold, and she put it in the oven. She made her bed, stomped several ants, and then idled around the house. Unfortunately, when she came back to her meal, she found that it was slightly burned. "Curses. Well, tomato sauce fixes everything," she said. True to her word, she poured copious amounts of jarred tomato sauce (which she had not bothered to heat up) all over her spaghetti. Thinking on the matter of tomato sauce further, she decided to smear her garlic bread in it, in lieu of butter. She took a bite of the bread. It crunched. "Delicious," said Lyrica. When she had finished her dinner, she did the dishes, picked up around her apartment, and placed a mousetrap in front of a new hole in her wall. She reread her favorite parts in the novel she had just finished, and then she went to bed early, giggling in her sleep. The next day, band practice had been planned and everypony piled into Lyrica's home that afternoon. They were in a pile specifically because Midnight Strike had knocked them all over. "Strike, are you honestly a klutz, or are you trying to clobber everypony?" said Noteworthy, extricating himself from the stack of ponies. Midnight Strike did not answer, as she was still assembling her drums, but Fiddlesticks spoke for her. "I think she's just naturally a mare of destruction, a pony wrecking ball, so to speak," she said, laughing. Midnight turned around. "Yeah, hilarious or whatever. I'm done setting up my stuff, are you guys ready to go?" she said. After a moment of scrambling to finish assembly, everypony nodded assent. Then Lyrica remembered her song, and raised a hoof. "Oh, could you all wait just a moment? I wrote this song, and I'd like to show it to you all," she said. Don't Hang Up On Me When I call, you don't always pick up the phone, or a short conversation, but after that I'm on my own. I know you have a job, but I just want to work with you. How should I know what makes you tick? You're boring me, you make me sick! I wait for you, you don't wait for me, I tire of all of this ennui. (Chorus: Hang up, hang up, hang up. All I hear is your answering machine. Hang up, hang up, hang up. You say, can't you leave me in peace? I just want to be serene. But I just want to talk, or else I'm going to scream.) When I telephone you, you let the phone ring, if you're answering at all. But I've got no choice, you know I'm in your thrall. Would it kill you to pick up some of those times I call? Mare, you know, you're gonna have to be the death of me! You have to figure out this isn't how it has to be, I tire that we're not getting through, I decree! Chorus. You have me, where you want me, I'm waiting, I'm holding the phone. Can't you do something for me? 'Cause all I hear is dial tone! Chorus (slower reprise). So don't hang up! Fiddlesticks looked at Lyrica closely, as if she was attempting to scrutinize her personality. "That was actually very good, but it didn't sound a thing like you," she said. "Are you saying there's something wrong with that?" Lyrica huffed. Fiddlesticks shook her head. "No, I liked it. It was just... it was just different. We are more of a classical band though, so we likely won't be playing this," she said. Lyrica nodded, with just a sliver of disappointment, like a splinter stuck in her hoof.
Concert NightAfter band practice, Lyrica sat around. She squirmed. She tried not to look at the tack holes on her wall. She was pleased with the band's performance of that day, and felt that they were doing well, but she was less than pleased with her social life. I need a life outside this band. I will simply have to work very hard to meet somepony at Berry Punch's party this weekend. That party was her last hope for social interaction, and she was certain that she couldn't let the opportunity escape her. She fixed her mane. She fixed it again. She put makeup on, and then she washed it off. She wanted to bang her head against the wall, and stare at the tack holes, stare at the trash can, pull out Vinyl's photo and call her up... No. Banging my head against the wall would ruin my manestyle. Lyrica only sat in her armchair and did nothing. She twitched a few times. She rubbed her eyes. She considered retiling her bathroom, then gave up the idea. Then she broke. Then she pulled the photo out of the trash, picked up the phone, and dialed Vinyl Scratch's number (sans head banging). "Hello, is Vinyl Scratch here?" said Lyrica. Her forehooves were shaking, and she was pushing her ottoman back and forth with her hind legs. "You've reached the secretary of DJ-PON-3, you must have the wrong number," said the secretary. Lyrica gritted her teeth, and spoke again. "I haven't got the wrong number," she said, slumping into her chair. This was more difficult than she had expected. "Well, you should leave a message, and Ms. PON-3 will hear it if she likes," the secretary said. Lyrica sighed. "All right, start recording," she said, "Vinyl, this is Lyrica Lilac. I wanted to talk, it's been a long time. I still think about you." There was a muffled beep. "I recorded your message, although I still don't know who Vinyl Scratch is and how you hope to contact her. Goodb—," the secretary said, the abrupt end of the call cutting off her farewell. Lyrica sighed again. "That was absolutely pointless," she said. She looked at the clock on her wall, trying to pass the time until the show they were playing. "The one we took from LolliPOP—no, we didn't take a thing. Earned it fair and square instead," she said to herself. She slipped into her costume, a long white dress with purple and yellow trim. She added the accessories that she had purchased for the Gala, now given new life. Lyrica put her hoof to her chest, inhaling and exhaling. I will not ever lose again. Nopony shall ever beat me again. I may suffer setbacks, but with the outcome all the same. I shall never lose again. She grabbed the Vinyl Scratch photo off her counter, and got a black marker. Over the pretty mare's face, lined by crumpling, she wrote her mantra. Lyrica laughed, a long, raucous laugh of the type that scared passerby. "NEVER AGAIN! I AM THE GREATEST!" she yelled. She ran into her living room and sunk onto her couch, exhilarated and giggling like a schoolfilly. Lyrica smiled, and began making herself a luncheon of noodles with butter. She threw in some shriveled looking mushrooms, and then tried to balance them out with some fresh green broccoli. Once it was finished, she poured the whole mess through a strainer, and dumped the pasta into a bowl. Lyrica was well-pleased with the results, although the mushrooms tasted like bad breath. She ended up picking most of them out. She went into her bathroom afterwards and brushed her teeth to get the smell out. She picked up a brush and fixed her mane again, styling it into her usual beehive and spritzing it occasionally with dry shampoo. Then Lyrica sat back on her couch, her worries momentarily stymied. She was perfectly prepared and ready to leave when Fiddlesticks came and knocked at her door. "Time to go," she said, and led Lyrica outside. Lyrica was taken aback by what she saw, namely a carriage parked on the edge of her sidewalk. It was freshly painted, and it had the logo of their band stenciled on the front. "Where in Equestria did this come from?" said Lyrica. Midnight Strike pointed a hoof at herself. "I, uh... bought it. It's an old taxi. Noteworthy repainted it," she said. She fluttered into the traces, preparing to pull the group to their show. "Are you sure you want to pull it?" said Lyrica, "You wouldn't want to ruin your dress." Midnight tossed her head. "You wanna pull it?" she said. Lyrica didn't respond, deciding that getting into the carriage would be answer enough. Midnight Strike whinnied, jerked forward, and they were off. They arrived at the show to little fanfare, and the audience only responded politely to their musical stylings. Each member was doing their level best, but the audience was simply bored by their song. Backstage, the group reconvened, and Noteworthy went straight to the point. "Honestly, I don't think they liked it," he said. Everypony gave a murmur of assent, save for Lyrica, who spoke her own piece instead. "It's obvious what must be done," she said. Midnight Strike cocked her head. "Update our music and move to a more popular genre, or..." she said. Lyrica continued Midnight's broken sentence. "Eliminate the competition," she said. Fiddlesticks beamed, but Midnight looked a bit awkward. "I was gonna say the other thing," she said. Noteworthy snickered. "Well, I for one approve our move from talent to violence," he said. Lyrica restrained herself, and let him off with a hard look. They filed back into the carriage, and opened discussion on where they would strike next.
We Meet AgainThe day of the party, Lyrica was fussing with her appearance, particularly her hair. This may be the last chance I'll have to meet new ponies. I absolutely cannot squander it. She decided to go with her classic updo, her Gala accessories, and her concert dress. Despite the quick choice in what she was to wear, everywhere she looked she saw a stray thread or a loose strand of hair. Finally, after much agonizing, she left the bathroom with an accepting "good enough". At this point, her mane was plastered with enough sprays and creams to glaze a box of donuts, and her clothing had been ironed so many times it was on the verge of burning her with its heat. Not wanting to go out bare hoofed, Lyrica found a pair of shiny black shoes in her closet, and blew the dust off them. They don't quite match, but it'll have to do. Not knowing where the band's carriage was (and having nopony to pull it besides herself), Lyrica decided to walk to the party rather than calling a taxi. It was a garden party anyway, a public soiree in the Ponyville park. When she arrived, her shoes were a bit dustier than she would have liked, but the train of her dress lacked hoofprints, and her mane remained statuesque. "All right, Lyrica, you can do this..." she said. Then she stepped up to the garden party, and she felt an odd sensation, similar to that of her heart dropping into her stomach. Piranhas. My heart is in my stomach and my stomach is full of piranhas. I'M BEING EATEN AWAY FROM THE INSIDE! There were far, far more ponies than she had expected. There was drinking and shouting and dancing, and the refreshments were chips, dip, suspicious punch and hard apple cider. And worst of all, she recognized a familiar face. Two familiar faces. DJ PON-3 was visiting her hometown, and she had brought her marefriend with her. As Lyrica walked towards the stage, a half-drunk mare sauntered up to Lyrica, and was staring at her like she had just seen Nightmare Moon. Her mussed purple hair was hanging in her face, and she wore a crooked grin. "Hiya. I'm the host here, and I gotta say: What's a mare like you doing at a party like this?" said Berry Punch, the party's host. "Well, I was hoping for a little bit of... fun, I suppose," said Lyrica. Berry laughed. "Hon, this ain't that kind of party," she said. Lyrica backed away, attempting to bury herself in the crowd. The music was booming in her ears, and it made her feel sick to think of who was providing it. She no longer had a desire for a social life. She had a desire to go home. She was making for an exit when the music stopped suddenly, in the middle of a song. Vinyl Scratch stepped down from the stage, and a band began setting up. Berry Punch apparently had a music group of her own, comprised of herself, Bottlecap, and Blossomforth. They were all wearing ridiculous costumes and bright makeup, and not one among them looked fully sober. Berry Punch leaned into her mike, and said with a heady shriek: "THIS IS PSYCHADELIC PONY!" Blossomforth counted in the beat, and the first song of the set began. Lyrica didn't want to watch. She wanted to go home. She headed for the exit, and was stopped in her tracks by none other than Vinyl Scratch. "Wow, seeing you here, huh. I got your message. On my phone," she said. Lyrica ground her teeth. "Oh, did you really?" she said, scraping her hoof along the ground. "Yeah. Honestly, it's no hard feelings or whatever. It's been a while, and maybe we can talk to each other again," said Vinyl. Lyrica smiled. "Yes, I would like that very much," she said. Vinyl smiled back. "So what're you doing these days?" she said. Lyrica shrugged. "I have a band. We took down LolliPOP a couple of days ago," she said. Vinyl's face clouded up, and she shook her head, letting her shoulders slump. "You know, you should be better than that," she said. Lyrica scowled, and pawed the ground again. "Well, I'm not," she said. Then she trotted off in the other direction, a piece of gelled hair flopping from her manedo. What does she know about honor? I'll show her. There is something that must be done. Get rid of the competition. Then, Lyrica made a decision, what would prove to be a poor one. It depends on the point of view. The decision was as follows: Lyrica Lilac charged the stage, and attacked the band. She hit Berry Punch first, knocking the microphone away from her mouth. She held the microphone stand between her hooves, brandishing it like a javelin. She let it fly, smacking Bottlecap square in the face. Then she kicked in Blossomforth's drums, shoving her behind her drum kit. The members of the band probably could have beat Lyrica in another situation, but they were all intoxicated, in addition to being surprised by her attack. But Lyrica knew when not to push her luck, and so she left the stage, to the boos and jeers of the crowd. She was accosted immediately by Vinyl Scratch, who grabbed her by her hooves and slapped her, so hard it made a cracking sound. "What in Celestia was that? You call me telling me you love me, you act all friendly, then you beat up a band onstage, and... why? What is going on?" said Vinyl. Lyrica sighed. "I didn't say... I didn't say I loved you! This is your fault! No, it's—it's Octavia's fault! It's all her fault!" she said. Octavia came up to her marefriend and put a hoof around her, giving Lyrica a sour look. "PON-3, what are you doing? This is Lyrica Lilac, isn't it? Your ex? She's obviously unhinged... let's go," she said. Vinyl Scratch shook her head, and made a low snorting noise. "No. I need to talk to her," she said. Lyrica leaned in, breathing in her face. "Octavia stole you. She stole my show. She ruined my life. She broke my hoof!" she said. Octavia put a hoof between them. "What are you talking about? What show?" she said. "THE ONE YOU STOLE FROM ME! THE GALA! Lyra said I was hired, I was counting on it, then I was replaced!" shouted Lyrica. "I didn't know that! Nopony told me that you had a canceled performance. Lyrica, I was offered a job and I took it. DJ PON-3 loves me, and now we're together. I broke your hoof two years ago, and I'm sorry. I paid your medical bill because I felt bad! I didn't steal anything. I haven't ruined anything," said Octavia. Her eyes began to fill with tears, and DJ-PON-3 led her away. That can't be right. No. It's her fault. "You can deal with your competition," said DJ-PON-3, turning her head,"and I'm not begrudging you that, even if you shouldn't have done it onstage. But I don't want you to talk to my marefriend like that! She's not the bad guy, Lyrica, you are! Get your priorities straight and get a life!" Lyrica slunk away, going back to her apartment, crying quietly. I will not ever lose again. Nopony shall ever beat me again. I may suffer setbacks, but with the outcome all the same. I shall never lose again.
