Inside Lyra Heartstringsby Teal WormholeChaptersHang Me, Oh Hang MeFare Thee WellThe Last Thing on My MindHang Me, Oh Hang MeShe strums her last chord and there’s a shuffle of clapping among the café. The pony leans towards the microphone to speak. “You may have heard that one before. Never gets old and it never gets new. It’s a folk song.” A few ponies in the café laugh to appreciate her joke. The turquoise unicorn on the small stage wipes her lush cyan mane out her eyes and straps a lyre to her back. She steps off the stage. The pony rambled over to a table. An older pony with a moustache is sitting there. He smiles smugly and greets her as she sits down. “You were a real mess last night," laughed the pony at the table. "Yeah, sorry about that. Got a little carried," she replied "A little? Heh, well anyway nice job up there on stage. Reading your song on paper I thought it sounded like a pile of garbage, but after actually hearing you sing it, it sounded pretty damn fine. Your usual smooth tinge of folk." “Since when do you know anything about music Pappi?” “I gotta I know plenty about music Lyra, I run the damn joint! I gotta pick fresh talent to play during lunch hour. I can’t just go hiring any loon with an instrument like you, speaking of which here’s your bits for playing tonight,” Pappi hands Lyra a small bag of bits. “Thanks. As long as you don’t try singing again Pappi I'm pretty sure the café will be pretty happy.” “Hey! I was drunk that night, cut me some slack.” “Some pony threw their glass of cider at you,” chuckled Lyra. “Dumb broad, she missed and hit the bucking speaker. I swear if I see her in here again she’s gonna get what’s coming to her, great and powerful my ass,” exclaimed Pappi. Four ponies wearing turquoise sweaters step up on stage and greets the café. “Ah the Ponytones, these guys were dirt cheap to hire. Might be because their lead singer died in a farming accident a while ago out west. The yellow one got pretty upset when their manager brought it up,” said Pappi as he sipped a glass of cider. Lyra focuses on the group on stage. “I think I recognize a few of them.” “Speaking of someone you should recognize, there’s some pony outside in a suit, says he’s a friend.” Lyra glanced at Pappi. She gets up and walks to the door while listening to the melodic tune emanating from the Ponytones and stepped out out into the alleyway. It was the middle of the night and what was freezing. Snow laced the sides of the walls. Lyra spotted a shadowy pony waiting for her on the other side of the dark alleyway. “Hey. You wanted to see me?” shouted Lyra The menacing pony starts walking towards her. “You think you’re funny kid?” spoke the pony in a gruff, raspy voice. “What?” Lyra replies in confusion. “What you do?” “What?” Lyra replies once more. The pony headbutts Lyra in the face. “Oh buck..” Lyra stutters as she falls back. “Think you’re real funny shouting shit at ponies who do the same thing you do?” said the pony as he pushes Lyra to the ground and kicked her. Lyra struggles to speak as she shuffles about on the ground in pain. “It’s not an opera jackass it’s a bucking café..” she mumbled as she’s kicked in the gut again. The suited pony starts walking away in an aggressive stance while remarking back to Lyra. “Think you can just insult my wife while she’s on stage? Dumb kid. We’re out of this cesspool you can keep it,” says the mysterious pony as he signals a taxi and heads off down the street. Lyra gets to her hooves and leans against a wall struggling to catch her breath. She checks her lyre to see if it was damaged. She sighs with relief and stumbles out of the alleyway and down the street. Holding her bleeding nose, Lyra steps into an apartment block where she clambers up the old staircase. She fumbles through the door with the surname ‘Gorfun’ written on it and walks in. Hobbling through the exquisitely furnished apartment, she stumbles into the guest room tossing her lyre aside then falling onto a creaky old bed. Yawning, Lyra shuts her eyes while wiping the last of the blood off her nose and slips into a deep slumber. Lyra felt a gentle weight moving around on top of her. She frustratingly rubs her eyes to see a marmalade cat walking all over her. The cat starts innocently licking her face. Lyra acknowledges the cat and pushes him off the bed. She slowly gets to her hooves. Lyra pokes her head out of the guest room door. “Hello?” said Lyra loudly. Noticing that the Gorfuns left for work and the apartment is empty, she trots to the kitchen followed by the cat. She cracks some eggs over a frying pan and scrambles them while the cat sits eagerly expecting food. Lyra ignores him and begins eating her scrambled eggs while wandering about the apartment. She tosses the plate aside and looks through the apartment for a record to play. Flicking through a number of vinyl’s she encounters one that makes her hesitantly pause. She wipes the dust off the front to see a picture of herself and another pony on the front. Written on it is ‘If I Had Wings, sung by Bonbon Timlin and Lyra Davis’. Her eyes are fixed on the other pony on the cover. She sheds a small tear while placing it in the record player. A song echoes through the apartment. She hears her own voice alongside another voice. The song is left playing as she gathers her belongings from the guest room. Before she leaves, Lyra scribbles some words onto a piece of paper using her magic. “Thanks for letting me crash here Mr and Mrs Gorfun. Sorry about the mess last night. Lyra” Leaving it on the counter, Lyra trots out the front door with Lyre in hand, not noticing the cat who is dodging in between her hooves and speeding out the door. “No no no no no!” shouts Lyra as she tries to stop him, but he was far quicker than her. Lyra glances at the cat and then back at the door which has shut before her. She struggles to open it, but it has locked her out. Looking back at the cat to see him moping about near the stairs, Lyra runs over and picks up the cat and puts him on her back. She angrily paces to the elevator where an old pony who works the elevator is standing inside. “Ground floor please,” says Lyra to the old pony. “Certainly,” he replies giving a strange look towards Lyra and the cat. They both wait patiently inside the elevator as it descends. The silence between the two ponies is broken though when Lyra asks the old pony for a favour. “Hey, do mind taking care of this cat until the Gorfuns get back? “Excuse me?” he replies with a tiresome voice. “The cat? Can I keep him here with you until the Gorfuns get back? I locked myself out of their apartment, the cat is stuck with me.” “Then you mind that furball, I gotta mind the elevator.” The elevator door opens and Lyra steps out as the the old pony bids farewell. She fails to acknowledge him and leaves the apartment. Stepping out onto the street, she is greeted by a thick layer of snow and an unforgiving temperature. She carries on down the dull street filled with busy ponies going to their destinations and carriages travelling along the roads. She received constant stares from ongoing ponies as she carried the cat atop her back. Lyra passes no heed to this unwanted attention and continued to the subway. Keeping the cat balanced was no easy task, the creature seemed petrified of his surroundings. Lyra wasn't. The subway was filled with a near infinite slew of ponies every day, but she had grown used to the hustle and bustle of this underground world of transportation. The cat however was not so lucky. As soon as Lyra sat down on the train the cat darted down the car leaving Lyra with no choice but to chase after it. She cared no expense to those around her as she ran through the crowded train to catch that damn cat. Knocking over some ponies coffee was the least of her concern. She grabbed the cat with her hooves and held him close as she walked back to her seat, receiving icy stares from the other ponies in the trains. They were all dressed for work in suits and fine hats. Lyra, unlike the others was not going to work, but instead she was interested in seeing an old friend, so dressing formally held no importance to her. Fare Thee WellEyes still remained fixed on Lyra and the feline even when leaving the subway. Lyra felt no peer pressure, no embarrassment. She felt what she wanted to feel, that everypony around her were fools who could be staring at things a lot more interesting than a cat and a pony. Her mind was filled with these and many more thoughts that would boggle the mind of anypony, but she was not anypony, she was Lyra. She stood outside of a rundown apartment with the cat on her back, taking in a moment for thought. Lyra peeked through the bleak glass on the front door of the old building. The door on the other side was locked, nothing between them, but a few buttons and a speaker on a the wall to talk with ponies in the apartment rooms. She stepped in and silently spoke through the speaker. “Jeannie, Jimmy, you there?” she said inquisitively. There was no answer. Lyra looked frustrated, Lyra pressed another below the name Donny and spoke into the speaker. “Hey Donny?” After a few moments a voice answered. “Yeah, who is it?” said a deep voice, sounded like his mouth was full of food. “Hey big guy, it’s Lyra. Can I use your fire escape?” “I’m not even gonna ask why, sure kid come on in,” Donny responded in a cheerful manner. A shoddy, old door opened to an overweight pony wearing a grey vest. He was chewing on a slice of mouldy pizza. He waved Lyra in. She nodded and smiled. The cat looked up at Donny with fear, like he was a towering giant devouring his prey. Donny looked back at the cat with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Lyra hopped through the window and steadily hurried up the ladder with the cat held in her hoof. Slipping a few times on the frosty steps, Lyra made it to the window of an apartment. She opened it and immediately tossed the cat into the kitchen inside. “Don’t go anywhere you dumb furball, I’ll be back in a while,” said Lyra to the little creature as it observed its new surroundings. She quickly shut the frosty windows and hurried back down the steps of the rusty fire escape and on jumps onto the alleyway below. Checking if her Lyre is tied to her back firmly, she trots down the alleyway and back into the busy streets. After spending ten minutes trekking from street to street, corner to corner, Lyra calls into a small office at the end of a street. There’s an open door at the end of the hall with an old pony sitting inside. Lyra walks in tapping the door with hoof. “How we doin’?” Lyra says in a positive tone. “We’re doin’ great,” the pony replies with an elderly voice. Lyra sits down opposite the old pony. “How ‘bout the record, is it doing well?” The pony pauses for a moment. “Ugh, not so hot I gotta be honest with ya pal,” he responds hesitantly. The old pony then shouts to his secretary in the other room and they argue for a few moments. Lyra sits slumped in the chair looking uncomfortable. “Don’t you owe me something? You have to owe me something, my records gotta have sold once,” Lyra asks in a stronger tone. “I wish,” the old pony says sarcastically as his secretary hands him a document. “Ponies need to to buy the whole folk thing first. To get to know you as a solo act since Bon Bons gone,” the old pony continues to say. “Nopony ever knew us even when we were a duo. It’s not like me and Bon Bon were ever a big act. We don’t really have to re-educate people about this crap.” The old pony ignores Lyra while staring at a document. “Melvyn?” Lyra speaks his name to get his attention. “Mel!” Lyra shouts angrily. Melvyn looks up to Lyra with a distraught expression. He crosses his hooves. “You know, how you doing kid?” Lyra breathes out with disbelief and responds. “So you’re saying nopony has bought my record? C’mon man, you’re Jewish, you know about getting cash. You gotta have got me something?” “Sorry kid, I got nothin’. No one really gets folk at the moment. It’s too old-fashioned for the kids and too new for the old geezers,” Mel says tossing his documents aside. He then notices Lyra without a jacket. “Wait, you don’t have a jacket? It’s freezin’ out there!” “If you were able to piece things together you old shit you’d realise that I have no cash to buy a jacket,” Lyra responds in a disgruntled manner. Melvyn steps out of the chair and steps over to Lyra where he puts a coat on her shoulders. “No, I don’t need your coat Mel. I need money,” says Lyra as she shrugs off the coat. “C’mon you stupid filly, you’ll die out there!” says Melvyn as he struggles to put the jacket back on Lyra. “I said no! Just buck off Mel! Sweet Celestia, you just don’t get it,” Lyra responds aggressively as she pushes Melvyn back. Mel pauses and glances back at Lyra. “Here, have 50 bits kid.” Melvyn hands Lyra a small bag of cash. She nods and grabs it. “Thanks Mel,” she says. Mel nods. Lyra slowly gets out of the dusty old chair and walks out of the building. She looks somewhat satisfied after coaxing some cash out of an old pony. Lyra steps back out on the street, though always feeling mocked by the greater success of those around her. She trots back to the apartment where she left the cat. She speaks into the microphone once again. “Jeannie?” “What?” a shrill, yet young voice responds. “Can I come up? There’s a long pause. “Okay” the voice responds. Lyra hurries up the stairs. She steps towards the door, but it opens before she can lay here hoof on the handle. It opens to a mare about the same age about the same age as Lyra. “Explain the cat,” she demands to know as she walks back into the apartment. “Oh sorry, it’s the Gorfuns cat. I crashed there last night,” she responds while closing the door after her. There’s a stallion dressed in Royal Guard fatigues sitting on a chair stroking the cat. “What’s its name?” he says in a friendly well-mannered tone. “Ugh, I don’t know. He snuck out the door..” Lyra attempts to speak but is talked over by the pony who opened the door. “Do you think you’re staying here tonight?” Lyra pauses and looks around. “I was hoping to,” Lyra responds. She points to the Royal Guard relaxing on a chair with the cat. “Well we told Trail over there he could crash here tonight.” The stallion looks up at Lyra. “Trail Nelson, how are you?” he greets Lyra warmly. “How ya doin’, Lyra Davis,” Lyra answers. Trail looks surprised. “Oh, hello. I’ve heard your music. I’ve heard many nice things about you from Jimmy and Jeannie,” says Trail with a constant smile. “Oh ho ho, you have not heard a single nice thing about me from Jean,” says Lyra chuckling to herself. She gains a serious face. “Ever.” Jeannie glances at Lyra with disheartened glare. “Yeah well if you’re gonna stay here tonight you’re gonna have to sleep on the floor.” Trail interrupts the conversation. “You can sleep on the couch if you want Lyra? I’m on leave, I can just hitch a ride back to my post in Canterlot,” Trail says helpfully. “No no, you asked first Trail. This sad sack can just sleep on the floor,” says Jeannie in response to Trails proposition. Lyra nods. “Ugh yeah, I guess I’ll just sleep on the floor then,” Lyra responds dropping her Lyre on a table. “Also Lyra, we’re all going down to the Grasslight later to see Trail play. You coming?” Jeannie asks as she turns on a kettle. “Yeah sure” Lyra responds while tuning her Lyre. The cat remained sitting on Trails lap the entire time without a care in the world. The Last Thing on My MindWith that damn cat locked in the apartment, the three virtuoso ponies set off down the stairs and out of the shoddy old block that Jeannie called home. Each pony carrying the instrument that they made their living with. Trail, carrying a polished acoustic guitar slung around his body. It was covered in banners with names of all the cities and towns he’s been to in his lifetime. Jeannie, with a small, grey satchel strapped to her side. The satchel housed a small wooden flute, a flute she has played from when she was just a filly. It wasn't easy for to learn however. No magic made playing it with her stubby hooves rather difficult, but she overcame the challenge. Finally, Lyra was still carrying her lyre. Its shiny, metallic coat gleamed in the sun. Strapped to her side, she used her magic to strum it here and there while they walked down the street. Little did they talk. Lyra’s depressing demeanor encouraged them not to speak. Jeannie was aware of the pain she had gone through years ago, so she withheld conversing. Trail tried to seem happy around what he thought were his new friends, but he felt too uncomfortable to speak around Lyra and her lost soul. Nothing worth talking about was happening around them. Just the same old dull street Lyra had walked up and down many times before. A carriage passed now and again, but they kept their attention focused on the where they were going. They stopped outside a rather glum looking café. The inside wasn't any brighter either. “This is the place, what do you think Trail?” said Jeannie with some sense of optimism. Lyra interrupted Trail before he could speak. “Yeah, it’s real shithole alright. Don’t get comfortable with the owner here, he’d sell his own mother for a dime.” Jeannie placed her hoof on her face in disbelief. She was actually shocked that she hadn’t gotten used to Lyra’s cynicism by now. “I think it looks rather nice. I like the name.” said Trail, looking up to banner above with the title “Grasslight Café” written on in bold letters. Lyra waltzed towards the door with the others murmuring behind her. “Well? You coming?” she said smugly. The ponies strolled into the café. It was dark, filled with smoke from the young cultured ponies who sat inside smoking. Ashtrays filled the tables and even a little bar with a rather dire-looking donkey behind the counter. Trail and Jeannie disappeared into a backroom, preparing to fill the café with music momentarily. Lyra lazily slumped into the chair she had sat in the night before. She had a nice view of the stage and there was a quaint little table on which she placed her lyre. She didn't notice the stallion sitting right next to her. This stallion looked over Lyra with a friendly glance. His face held a well-groomed beard and his mane was trimmed. This was someone Lyra knew well. “Lyra! Great to see you came here to watch us play,” he said gleefully to a less than gleeful Lyra. “Actually, I just came here to watch Trail play. He’s a good kid. Are you and Jeannie gonna be playing here too?” she answered. “Oh yes! Me, Trail and Jeannie will be playing our favorite song. Jeannie has a voice like honey for it,” he said with an excited attitude. “Yeah, you’re a lucky guy to have got hooked up with her. You and her go together like pork and beans or some crap like that,” she said, staring blankly at the stage. “Um.. yeah! She’s just a dream isn't she?” “More like a nightmare,” mumbled Lyra. “Come again?” “Me? I didn’t say nothing,” she replied, still focused on the empty stage. They both looked up to the stage. It was lit up brightly, but there was nobody playing. Lyra nudged the stallions shoulder. “Hey Jimmy, do you think I could borrow some money? Business hasn't been running very smoothly lately,” she said, she seemed as desperate as always. “Not again. Well, you've caught me at a bad time, Lyra. I've got no cash on me right now,” he said with empathy. He reached into his pockets to pull out nothing. “Alright, no worries man, I’ll get by,” she replied disappointingly. “Actually Lyra, I do have an opportunity for that you could take up with me and my friend Alfred.” Lyra looks back at Jimmy and raised one of her lush eyebrows. “What kind of opportunity are we talking here?” "Me and Alfred formed a group recently, the American Cosmonauts. We sing mostly novelty songs, but we’re in the pipeline of making a new song,” he said optimistically." “Novelty? I don’t know man, I don’t really dig that sort of thing,” said Lyra with doubt in her voice. “Hear me out alright. It’s called Please Ms. Celestia and you’ll bust a gut just by reading it. Alfred wrote it, the guys a card!” “Is this like space stuff? I've heard lots about it on the radio,” she said inquisitively. “Yeah! It’s about an astronaut who sure as hell doesn't want to fly up into orbit. We need an extra voice and player, preferably someone with such a fine lyre like yours.” “What kind of compensation are we talking here?” “Two hundred bits, if you want to go without royalties that is, but I’d wouldn't do..” Lyra interrupts him abruptly. “Great! Cash is cash and I need to get my hands on some now!” she exclaims with delight. “You sure you want to bypass royalties? You’ll make more bits in the long run,” a distraught Jimmy responds. “Yeah yeah, I just want to get it now while the getting is good. Sooner than later would be good.” “We can go now if you’re up to it Lyra?” Lyra hops out of her chair. “Like I said, sooner or later man. It’s at Kelly’s recording studio right?” “Yeah, I’ll call Alfred and we’ll meet you down there in a few hours alright?” says Jimmy with conflicted excitement. Lyra’s already dashing to out of the café, ponies looking at her in confusion. “Don’t wait up!” she shouts back Jimmy, barely keeping hold of her lyre as she bolted out the door, onto the sidewalk and down the street. Trail is already on stage with his guitar. He watches Lyra speed out of the building. Disappointment fills his mind. He likes a friend in the audience, but no friend of his would abandon him at the first money-making scheme they can find. Jimmy is still leaning back on his chair is looking at the door where Lyra ran out. He silently murmurs to himself. “Heh, she’s gonna make a fine sell-out someday.”
Hang Me, Oh Hang MeShe strums her last chord and there’s a shuffle of clapping among the café. The pony leans towards the microphone to speak. “You may have heard that one before. Never gets old and it never gets new. It’s a folk song.” A few ponies in the café laugh to appreciate her joke. The turquoise unicorn on the small stage wipes her lush cyan mane out her eyes and straps a lyre to her back. She steps off the stage. The pony rambled over to a table. An older pony with a moustache is sitting there. He smiles smugly and greets her as she sits down. “You were a real mess last night," laughed the pony at the table. "Yeah, sorry about that. Got a little carried," she replied "A little? Heh, well anyway nice job up there on stage. Reading your song on paper I thought it sounded like a pile of garbage, but after actually hearing you sing it, it sounded pretty damn fine. Your usual smooth tinge of folk." “Since when do you know anything about music Pappi?” “I gotta I know plenty about music Lyra, I run the damn joint! I gotta pick fresh talent to play during lunch hour. I can’t just go hiring any loon with an instrument like you, speaking of which here’s your bits for playing tonight,” Pappi hands Lyra a small bag of bits. “Thanks. As long as you don’t try singing again Pappi I'm pretty sure the café will be pretty happy.” “Hey! I was drunk that night, cut me some slack.” “Some pony threw their glass of cider at you,” chuckled Lyra. “Dumb broad, she missed and hit the bucking speaker. I swear if I see her in here again she’s gonna get what’s coming to her, great and powerful my ass,” exclaimed Pappi. Four ponies wearing turquoise sweaters step up on stage and greets the café. “Ah the Ponytones, these guys were dirt cheap to hire. Might be because their lead singer died in a farming accident a while ago out west. The yellow one got pretty upset when their manager brought it up,” said Pappi as he sipped a glass of cider. Lyra focuses on the group on stage. “I think I recognize a few of them.” “Speaking of someone you should recognize, there’s some pony outside in a suit, says he’s a friend.” Lyra glanced at Pappi. She gets up and walks to the door while listening to the melodic tune emanating from the Ponytones and stepped out out into the alleyway. It was the middle of the night and what was freezing. Snow laced the sides of the walls. Lyra spotted a shadowy pony waiting for her on the other side of the dark alleyway. “Hey. You wanted to see me?” shouted Lyra The menacing pony starts walking towards her. “You think you’re funny kid?” spoke the pony in a gruff, raspy voice. “What?” Lyra replies in confusion. “What you do?” “What?” Lyra replies once more. The pony headbutts Lyra in the face. “Oh buck..” Lyra stutters as she falls back. “Think you’re real funny shouting shit at ponies who do the same thing you do?” said the pony as he pushes Lyra to the ground and kicked her. Lyra struggles to speak as she shuffles about on the ground in pain. “It’s not an opera jackass it’s a bucking café..” she mumbled as she’s kicked in the gut again. The suited pony starts walking away in an aggressive stance while remarking back to Lyra. “Think you can just insult my wife while she’s on stage? Dumb kid. We’re out of this cesspool you can keep it,” says the mysterious pony as he signals a taxi and heads off down the street. Lyra gets to her hooves and leans against a wall struggling to catch her breath. She checks her lyre to see if it was damaged. She sighs with relief and stumbles out of the alleyway and down the street. Holding her bleeding nose, Lyra steps into an apartment block where she clambers up the old staircase. She fumbles through the door with the surname ‘Gorfun’ written on it and walks in. Hobbling through the exquisitely furnished apartment, she stumbles into the guest room tossing her lyre aside then falling onto a creaky old bed. Yawning, Lyra shuts her eyes while wiping the last of the blood off her nose and slips into a deep slumber. Lyra felt a gentle weight moving around on top of her. She frustratingly rubs her eyes to see a marmalade cat walking all over her. The cat starts innocently licking her face. Lyra acknowledges the cat and pushes him off the bed. She slowly gets to her hooves. Lyra pokes her head out of the guest room door. “Hello?” said Lyra loudly. Noticing that the Gorfuns left for work and the apartment is empty, she trots to the kitchen followed by the cat. She cracks some eggs over a frying pan and scrambles them while the cat sits eagerly expecting food. Lyra ignores him and begins eating her scrambled eggs while wandering about the apartment. She tosses the plate aside and looks through the apartment for a record to play. Flicking through a number of vinyl’s she encounters one that makes her hesitantly pause. She wipes the dust off the front to see a picture of herself and another pony on the front. Written on it is ‘If I Had Wings, sung by Bonbon Timlin and Lyra Davis’. Her eyes are fixed on the other pony on the cover. She sheds a small tear while placing it in the record player. A song echoes through the apartment. She hears her own voice alongside another voice. The song is left playing as she gathers her belongings from the guest room. Before she leaves, Lyra scribbles some words onto a piece of paper using her magic. “Thanks for letting me crash here Mr and Mrs Gorfun. Sorry about the mess last night. Lyra” Leaving it on the counter, Lyra trots out the front door with Lyre in hand, not noticing the cat who is dodging in between her hooves and speeding out the door. “No no no no no!” shouts Lyra as she tries to stop him, but he was far quicker than her. Lyra glances at the cat and then back at the door which has shut before her. She struggles to open it, but it has locked her out. Looking back at the cat to see him moping about near the stairs, Lyra runs over and picks up the cat and puts him on her back. She angrily paces to the elevator where an old pony who works the elevator is standing inside. “Ground floor please,” says Lyra to the old pony. “Certainly,” he replies giving a strange look towards Lyra and the cat. They both wait patiently inside the elevator as it descends. The silence between the two ponies is broken though when Lyra asks the old pony for a favour. “Hey, do mind taking care of this cat until the Gorfuns get back? “Excuse me?” he replies with a tiresome voice. “The cat? Can I keep him here with you until the Gorfuns get back? I locked myself out of their apartment, the cat is stuck with me.” “Then you mind that furball, I gotta mind the elevator.” The elevator door opens and Lyra steps out as the the old pony bids farewell. She fails to acknowledge him and leaves the apartment. Stepping out onto the street, she is greeted by a thick layer of snow and an unforgiving temperature. She carries on down the dull street filled with busy ponies going to their destinations and carriages travelling along the roads. She received constant stares from ongoing ponies as she carried the cat atop her back. Lyra passes no heed to this unwanted attention and continued to the subway. Keeping the cat balanced was no easy task, the creature seemed petrified of his surroundings. Lyra wasn't. The subway was filled with a near infinite slew of ponies every day, but she had grown used to the hustle and bustle of this underground world of transportation. The cat however was not so lucky. As soon as Lyra sat down on the train the cat darted down the car leaving Lyra with no choice but to chase after it. She cared no expense to those around her as she ran through the crowded train to catch that damn cat. Knocking over some ponies coffee was the least of her concern. She grabbed the cat with her hooves and held him close as she walked back to her seat, receiving icy stares from the other ponies in the trains. They were all dressed for work in suits and fine hats. Lyra, unlike the others was not going to work, but instead she was interested in seeing an old friend, so dressing formally held no importance to her.
Fare Thee WellEyes still remained fixed on Lyra and the feline even when leaving the subway. Lyra felt no peer pressure, no embarrassment. She felt what she wanted to feel, that everypony around her were fools who could be staring at things a lot more interesting than a cat and a pony. Her mind was filled with these and many more thoughts that would boggle the mind of anypony, but she was not anypony, she was Lyra. She stood outside of a rundown apartment with the cat on her back, taking in a moment for thought. Lyra peeked through the bleak glass on the front door of the old building. The door on the other side was locked, nothing between them, but a few buttons and a speaker on a the wall to talk with ponies in the apartment rooms. She stepped in and silently spoke through the speaker. “Jeannie, Jimmy, you there?” she said inquisitively. There was no answer. Lyra looked frustrated, Lyra pressed another below the name Donny and spoke into the speaker. “Hey Donny?” After a few moments a voice answered. “Yeah, who is it?” said a deep voice, sounded like his mouth was full of food. “Hey big guy, it’s Lyra. Can I use your fire escape?” “I’m not even gonna ask why, sure kid come on in,” Donny responded in a cheerful manner. A shoddy, old door opened to an overweight pony wearing a grey vest. He was chewing on a slice of mouldy pizza. He waved Lyra in. She nodded and smiled. The cat looked up at Donny with fear, like he was a towering giant devouring his prey. Donny looked back at the cat with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Lyra hopped through the window and steadily hurried up the ladder with the cat held in her hoof. Slipping a few times on the frosty steps, Lyra made it to the window of an apartment. She opened it and immediately tossed the cat into the kitchen inside. “Don’t go anywhere you dumb furball, I’ll be back in a while,” said Lyra to the little creature as it observed its new surroundings. She quickly shut the frosty windows and hurried back down the steps of the rusty fire escape and on jumps onto the alleyway below. Checking if her Lyre is tied to her back firmly, she trots down the alleyway and back into the busy streets. After spending ten minutes trekking from street to street, corner to corner, Lyra calls into a small office at the end of a street. There’s an open door at the end of the hall with an old pony sitting inside. Lyra walks in tapping the door with hoof. “How we doin’?” Lyra says in a positive tone. “We’re doin’ great,” the pony replies with an elderly voice. Lyra sits down opposite the old pony. “How ‘bout the record, is it doing well?” The pony pauses for a moment. “Ugh, not so hot I gotta be honest with ya pal,” he responds hesitantly. The old pony then shouts to his secretary in the other room and they argue for a few moments. Lyra sits slumped in the chair looking uncomfortable. “Don’t you owe me something? You have to owe me something, my records gotta have sold once,” Lyra asks in a stronger tone. “I wish,” the old pony says sarcastically as his secretary hands him a document. “Ponies need to to buy the whole folk thing first. To get to know you as a solo act since Bon Bons gone,” the old pony continues to say. “Nopony ever knew us even when we were a duo. It’s not like me and Bon Bon were ever a big act. We don’t really have to re-educate people about this crap.” The old pony ignores Lyra while staring at a document. “Melvyn?” Lyra speaks his name to get his attention. “Mel!” Lyra shouts angrily. Melvyn looks up to Lyra with a distraught expression. He crosses his hooves. “You know, how you doing kid?” Lyra breathes out with disbelief and responds. “So you’re saying nopony has bought my record? C’mon man, you’re Jewish, you know about getting cash. You gotta have got me something?” “Sorry kid, I got nothin’. No one really gets folk at the moment. It’s too old-fashioned for the kids and too new for the old geezers,” Mel says tossing his documents aside. He then notices Lyra without a jacket. “Wait, you don’t have a jacket? It’s freezin’ out there!” “If you were able to piece things together you old shit you’d realise that I have no cash to buy a jacket,” Lyra responds in a disgruntled manner. Melvyn steps out of the chair and steps over to Lyra where he puts a coat on her shoulders. “No, I don’t need your coat Mel. I need money,” says Lyra as she shrugs off the coat. “C’mon you stupid filly, you’ll die out there!” says Melvyn as he struggles to put the jacket back on Lyra. “I said no! Just buck off Mel! Sweet Celestia, you just don’t get it,” Lyra responds aggressively as she pushes Melvyn back. Mel pauses and glances back at Lyra. “Here, have 50 bits kid.” Melvyn hands Lyra a small bag of cash. She nods and grabs it. “Thanks Mel,” she says. Mel nods. Lyra slowly gets out of the dusty old chair and walks out of the building. She looks somewhat satisfied after coaxing some cash out of an old pony. Lyra steps back out on the street, though always feeling mocked by the greater success of those around her. She trots back to the apartment where she left the cat. She speaks into the microphone once again. “Jeannie?” “What?” a shrill, yet young voice responds. “Can I come up? There’s a long pause. “Okay” the voice responds. Lyra hurries up the stairs. She steps towards the door, but it opens before she can lay here hoof on the handle. It opens to a mare about the same age about the same age as Lyra. “Explain the cat,” she demands to know as she walks back into the apartment. “Oh sorry, it’s the Gorfuns cat. I crashed there last night,” she responds while closing the door after her. There’s a stallion dressed in Royal Guard fatigues sitting on a chair stroking the cat. “What’s its name?” he says in a friendly well-mannered tone. “Ugh, I don’t know. He snuck out the door..” Lyra attempts to speak but is talked over by the pony who opened the door. “Do you think you’re staying here tonight?” Lyra pauses and looks around. “I was hoping to,” Lyra responds. She points to the Royal Guard relaxing on a chair with the cat. “Well we told Trail over there he could crash here tonight.” The stallion looks up at Lyra. “Trail Nelson, how are you?” he greets Lyra warmly. “How ya doin’, Lyra Davis,” Lyra answers. Trail looks surprised. “Oh, hello. I’ve heard your music. I’ve heard many nice things about you from Jimmy and Jeannie,” says Trail with a constant smile. “Oh ho ho, you have not heard a single nice thing about me from Jean,” says Lyra chuckling to herself. She gains a serious face. “Ever.” Jeannie glances at Lyra with disheartened glare. “Yeah well if you’re gonna stay here tonight you’re gonna have to sleep on the floor.” Trail interrupts the conversation. “You can sleep on the couch if you want Lyra? I’m on leave, I can just hitch a ride back to my post in Canterlot,” Trail says helpfully. “No no, you asked first Trail. This sad sack can just sleep on the floor,” says Jeannie in response to Trails proposition. Lyra nods. “Ugh yeah, I guess I’ll just sleep on the floor then,” Lyra responds dropping her Lyre on a table. “Also Lyra, we’re all going down to the Grasslight later to see Trail play. You coming?” Jeannie asks as she turns on a kettle. “Yeah sure” Lyra responds while tuning her Lyre. The cat remained sitting on Trails lap the entire time without a care in the world.
The Last Thing on My MindWith that damn cat locked in the apartment, the three virtuoso ponies set off down the stairs and out of the shoddy old block that Jeannie called home. Each pony carrying the instrument that they made their living with. Trail, carrying a polished acoustic guitar slung around his body. It was covered in banners with names of all the cities and towns he’s been to in his lifetime. Jeannie, with a small, grey satchel strapped to her side. The satchel housed a small wooden flute, a flute she has played from when she was just a filly. It wasn't easy for to learn however. No magic made playing it with her stubby hooves rather difficult, but she overcame the challenge. Finally, Lyra was still carrying her lyre. Its shiny, metallic coat gleamed in the sun. Strapped to her side, she used her magic to strum it here and there while they walked down the street. Little did they talk. Lyra’s depressing demeanor encouraged them not to speak. Jeannie was aware of the pain she had gone through years ago, so she withheld conversing. Trail tried to seem happy around what he thought were his new friends, but he felt too uncomfortable to speak around Lyra and her lost soul. Nothing worth talking about was happening around them. Just the same old dull street Lyra had walked up and down many times before. A carriage passed now and again, but they kept their attention focused on the where they were going. They stopped outside a rather glum looking café. The inside wasn't any brighter either. “This is the place, what do you think Trail?” said Jeannie with some sense of optimism. Lyra interrupted Trail before he could speak. “Yeah, it’s real shithole alright. Don’t get comfortable with the owner here, he’d sell his own mother for a dime.” Jeannie placed her hoof on her face in disbelief. She was actually shocked that she hadn’t gotten used to Lyra’s cynicism by now. “I think it looks rather nice. I like the name.” said Trail, looking up to banner above with the title “Grasslight Café” written on in bold letters. Lyra waltzed towards the door with the others murmuring behind her. “Well? You coming?” she said smugly. The ponies strolled into the café. It was dark, filled with smoke from the young cultured ponies who sat inside smoking. Ashtrays filled the tables and even a little bar with a rather dire-looking donkey behind the counter. Trail and Jeannie disappeared into a backroom, preparing to fill the café with music momentarily. Lyra lazily slumped into the chair she had sat in the night before. She had a nice view of the stage and there was a quaint little table on which she placed her lyre. She didn't notice the stallion sitting right next to her. This stallion looked over Lyra with a friendly glance. His face held a well-groomed beard and his mane was trimmed. This was someone Lyra knew well. “Lyra! Great to see you came here to watch us play,” he said gleefully to a less than gleeful Lyra. “Actually, I just came here to watch Trail play. He’s a good kid. Are you and Jeannie gonna be playing here too?” she answered. “Oh yes! Me, Trail and Jeannie will be playing our favorite song. Jeannie has a voice like honey for it,” he said with an excited attitude. “Yeah, you’re a lucky guy to have got hooked up with her. You and her go together like pork and beans or some crap like that,” she said, staring blankly at the stage. “Um.. yeah! She’s just a dream isn't she?” “More like a nightmare,” mumbled Lyra. “Come again?” “Me? I didn’t say nothing,” she replied, still focused on the empty stage. They both looked up to the stage. It was lit up brightly, but there was nobody playing. Lyra nudged the stallions shoulder. “Hey Jimmy, do you think I could borrow some money? Business hasn't been running very smoothly lately,” she said, she seemed as desperate as always. “Not again. Well, you've caught me at a bad time, Lyra. I've got no cash on me right now,” he said with empathy. He reached into his pockets to pull out nothing. “Alright, no worries man, I’ll get by,” she replied disappointingly. “Actually Lyra, I do have an opportunity for that you could take up with me and my friend Alfred.” Lyra looks back at Jimmy and raised one of her lush eyebrows. “What kind of opportunity are we talking here?” "Me and Alfred formed a group recently, the American Cosmonauts. We sing mostly novelty songs, but we’re in the pipeline of making a new song,” he said optimistically." “Novelty? I don’t know man, I don’t really dig that sort of thing,” said Lyra with doubt in her voice. “Hear me out alright. It’s called Please Ms. Celestia and you’ll bust a gut just by reading it. Alfred wrote it, the guys a card!” “Is this like space stuff? I've heard lots about it on the radio,” she said inquisitively. “Yeah! It’s about an astronaut who sure as hell doesn't want to fly up into orbit. We need an extra voice and player, preferably someone with such a fine lyre like yours.” “What kind of compensation are we talking here?” “Two hundred bits, if you want to go without royalties that is, but I’d wouldn't do..” Lyra interrupts him abruptly. “Great! Cash is cash and I need to get my hands on some now!” she exclaims with delight. “You sure you want to bypass royalties? You’ll make more bits in the long run,” a distraught Jimmy responds. “Yeah yeah, I just want to get it now while the getting is good. Sooner than later would be good.” “We can go now if you’re up to it Lyra?” Lyra hops out of her chair. “Like I said, sooner or later man. It’s at Kelly’s recording studio right?” “Yeah, I’ll call Alfred and we’ll meet you down there in a few hours alright?” says Jimmy with conflicted excitement. Lyra’s already dashing to out of the café, ponies looking at her in confusion. “Don’t wait up!” she shouts back Jimmy, barely keeping hold of her lyre as she bolted out the door, onto the sidewalk and down the street. Trail is already on stage with his guitar. He watches Lyra speed out of the building. Disappointment fills his mind. He likes a friend in the audience, but no friend of his would abandon him at the first money-making scheme they can find. Jimmy is still leaning back on his chair is looking at the door where Lyra ran out. He silently murmurs to himself. “Heh, she’s gonna make a fine sell-out someday.”
