Rename this codswallop later
A fragmented mirror was useless. Shards of its former shell, what good did it do broken? Now it was rubbish, trash to be thrown and disposed of without skipping a moment’s notice. Would it be forgotten? No, it was now nothing, tossed like a bad lunch and erased from memory.
As it stood, Noteworthy’s mirror wasn’t broken. In fact, rather the opposite – clean, complete, caricatured. It hung delicately on his bathroom wall, befitting for its purpose.
Purpose was a funny word, Noteworthy found. As he gazed into his own reflection, he wondered just what he was doing. Looking down at the running faucet, the answer seemed obvious.
He was attending a party, only held by the most important pony in Canterlot. Sure, he could turn it down, sit down, listen to or create some music, have a drink, and embrace what he had. Or, he could turn up, talk to other guests, discuss the latest trend of opera going around Canterlot, have a drink, and embrace what he had.
Either answer seemed like the right one.
Noteworthy lowered his head and splashed water over his face, scrubbing it all over. He turned the tap off, and stared back at his other self through the mirror, the droplets dripping down his face. “Thank you for inviting me,” he said to the screen. A smile edged its way on his lips. “It’s a pleasure to be here.” He pondered, mumbling to himself. “Hmm, would that work? It’s a pleasure? What about honour? No... that doesn’t fit. Delighted? Yes, that might do it. Okay...”
“It’s great to be here. Great works too. Delighted might come off as too fancy. Do they want fancy? Do they want me... or me? The musician or the stallion?” He sighed, and shut his eyes. All of a sudden, the right answer felt like the second choice.
Noteworthy grabbed the nearby towel, and dried himself of anything aqueous. “Perhaps it’d be best to wing it,” he mused. He started to work on combing his mane as he continued. “Just be yourself: That’s what everyone else says. It’s not like I don’t do that.” Content with his delicate hooves, he smiled into the mirror.
“Oh, no, I never let my personal affairs affect my work,” he said. “My music is a part of me as I am a part of me. It is my soul, and my muse. My personal life has no effect on it.” He stared for a few seconds, silent, then snorted. “Wow, now that’s corny!”
“But it’s what some like to hear, apparently,” he said, applying a deodorant. “They don’t want the truth – they want the mind.” He sighed. “If that’s what I’ll have to put up with, then I guess I could do that.”
* * *
“Noteworthy! Good to see you!” Fancy Pants said, offering his hoof out.
“Thank you, Fancy Pants,” Noteworthy said, taking the friendly gesture. They shook hooves. “I thank you sincerely for the invitation.”
“But of course,” the stallion of class said after retracting his hoof. “How could I not invite Canterlot’s finest and most upcoming musician of late?”
“Oh, please,” Noteworthy said, cringing slightly. “I decided to make music, that’s it. Whether others listen to it is up to them. I do what I enjoy, and that makes me happy.”
“Hmm, an interesting viewpoint. A stallion that uses his creative flare for pleasure than business. I like that,” Fancy said, smiling. “I think you’ll fit in perfectly with everypony else here. But I have to warn you,” he said, lowering his voice and moving closer to Noteworthy, “That not everyone here will share that same insight. Between you and me, there are a few characters here who see wealth as business and a luxury.”
“That doesn’t worry me,” Noteworthy said. “Like I said, I’m just here to relax and enjoy myself. Though I do appreciate the warning, if we’d call it that.”
“But of course,” Fancy said, take a step back. “And I do hope you enjoy yourself. A lot of ponies you don’t see everyday are here. I’m sure they’ll take to you very quickly.”
Noteworthy nodded and headed into the party. It was a giant room, ceiling far held above the head, with paintings and other ornaments decorating the walls. The floor was made of something pristine – marble, if Noteworthy had to guess – which countless numbers of ponies stood and mingled on. The crowd was huge, unfathomable. Nobody he recognised, nor had any indication about. He felt like a ghost that was unwelcome.
Noteworthy made his way through the wealthy crowd towards the bar that was set up to the side. He might have started somewhere, he reckoned. He took a seat and took a moment to breathe, laying a hoof on the counter whilst he ogled the strangers. He shook his head and sighed.
“Why’d I come here if I don’t know anybody?”
There was a wave of silence, until a voice spoke, “Perhaps you are here for another reason, sir?”
Noteworthy turned his body around and faced the bartender that had replied. He was a grey stallion, not too old if Noteworthy had to guess, with a fine-trimmed mane. He wore a suit and bowtie. Behind him, Noteworthy took note of the shelves of various liquors available. Though he didn’t know what they were by eye, he imagined they were all expensive to the average pony.
“What would that be?” he said. “I don’t know anyone. I don’t do anything. Why am I here?”
The bartender shrugged. “If you really ask yourself that, then would you like the answer?”
“Hmm,” Noteworthy mused. “Well, while I’m here, how about pouring me some gin?”
“Certainly,” the bartender said.
As the bartender left briefly, Noteworthy pondered. What was he to do now? Sit and hope?
