Lyra Heartstrings Sits on a Park Bench and Little of Consequence Transpires
It was a lovely day in Ponyville, and the clocktower was striking twelve. Two hours until noon.
Lyra rose from her seating mat with a grunt, lipping the small harp she'd been playing on and dropping it on the low table. Music practice could wait. She needed to sit down and take a load off, just like this time every day.
She walked slowly and with a measured gait to the window. The pegasi had done their usual sterling job, and it would be an insult to stay inside. A small, slightly strained smile crossed her face. Why not take her hour's rest in the park today?
After going back inside and turning her seating mat back to being side-on with the table like they usually were, she re-emerged with a small neck-bag, and after closing the door on the little cottage she shared with Bon-Bon, she started off for Ponyville Park.
Her pace was steady, not quite slow, and she took in the sights as she... ambled, is probably the right word. A trot wouldn't have been bearable, and she was moving at a slower pace than a walk, picking her steps with care.
The market stalls were busy, and she altered course to avoid them; being barged into was not what she needed right now. The smile remained strained as she navigated the uneven cobbles of the road. Occasionally there was a wince at some particularly irregular piece.
Reaching Ponyville Park was a relief. Gravel crunched underhoof, then lawn, as she walked in an increasingly stately fashion towards one of the benches. Unlike most Equestrian furniture, the design of the park bench would have been instantly familiar to any human visitor, except perhaps for the shortened legs, measured for the comfort of small quadrupeds rather than tall bipeds.
Equestrian, generally, preferred to rest on their bellies, and propped up against a convenient support. The bench provided that. So did the low divans and chais-lounges the small ponies referred to as seating. Most of the time they would recline side-on, rather in the manner of Roman nobles at a feast. And, for most ponies, that wasn't a problem.
Lyra wished quite often that she was most ponies.
She turned to face away from the bench, nearly stumbling at one point and hissing in pain. Once her tail was aimed at the seat, she backed up until it pressed against her hind legs, then reared, gasping involuntarily. She'd really been sitting too long. She also allowed herself to tip off-balance, forehooves flailing for balance, falling backwards into the backrest's embrace. With a puff of relief, Lyra sank onto her plot, absently fishing her tail out from under with one hoof and draping it over one leg. She knew from experience that her tail did not respond well to being sat on - and the less she had to bend around to brush it, the better.
The pain in her back began to drop from 'hot bread knives' to 'dull throbbing soreness'.
From her neck-bag she extracted a carton of juice. With an experienced motion, she prised up one of the corners, then bit it off, before pulling the attached straw away from its glue and inserting it into the hole. Absently holding the drink in both forehooves, she let her gaze and attention wander.
Other ponies were enjoying the park and the fine day, although Lyra's peculiar sitting position still netted her some odd looks. A mare and foal wandered past, the child's stare fixing on Lyra in that disconcerting fashion that makes you wonder if the kid's actually seeing you or just latching onto your person-shape. Lyra ignored it, concentrating instead on the flavour of her pineapple juice.
She had to admit, pineapple was a nice change from apple juice or day cider.
"Oh there you are!" Lyra looked up. Bon-bon grinned, before stepping up onto the bench next to Lyra and sitting on her belly, leaning against the bench's back in typical Equestrian fashion. She extracted a small box of her namesakes from the neckbag she toted. "Want one?"
Lyra did. Despite its name, Sugarcube Corner dealt solely in baked goods, and confectionery had to be imported. Reflecting on that, Lyra chuckled, juggling the lolly with her tongue.
"What's so funny?" Bon-Bon asked.
"Oh, just thinking that at least they don't do lollies at Sugarcube Corner," Lyra explained, "Can you imagine what Pinkie Pie would be like if they did?"
Bon-Bon just blinked at her, then eyes widened and she dissolved into giggles. "Oh sweet princesses! That'd be... be... worse than Discord or something!"
Lyra stared back. "Oh Celestia... she might explode or something!"
The resultant laughter almost caused the two of them to choke on their bon-bons.
"Anyway," Bon-Bon finally managed to ask, "How's the back?"
Lyra squirmed experimentally. "Ow! Uh... I think I was sitting too long this morning."
"Not side on I hope? I remember what the doctor said our last visit."
"No!" Lyra protested, "Front on, like he said... actually..." she trailed off. "I might have been a bit..."
"Holding your lyre off to the side a bit? Bad habits Lyra. You're just gonna have to break them some time."
Lyra tried to think of a retort, but was distracted by the sound of newsprint. "Ponyville News? It's Wednesday already?"
"Yeah." Bon-Bon replied absently, unfolding the paper and propping it against the end rail, or what would have been an arm-rest for a human.
"Anything interesting?"
"Hmm? Sorry, I skipped to the crossword... Wow. There's a biggie here. Five, four, two... Any idea about 'Hens dial zero at empty tomb'?"
Lyra frowned up at the sky, absently sucking on her juice, bad back forgotten.
Author's Note
Yes, this was inspired by the banner from http://devinian.deviantart.com/art/Story-of-the-bench-373750983, I realise now. The end is thanks to some early Grant Buist from 1994 - namely, the start of S.O.B. as published in Salient, the student newspaper of Victoria University of Wellington. (You might know his work from Jitterati
Oh no
I just had a terrible thought
Angel and Fitz Bunny
OH SHIIIII