Fallen Apples and Broken Chords

The mid-day sun beat down on Applejack’s flanks, helping chase away the chill that lingered in the shadows beneath her beloved apple trees. It was late-autumn, and they were finishing the last of their harvest. These times of the year were always a sober affair; watching the leaves turn brown, storing away the last of their apples, and settling in for the long winter filled with nothing but mild housekeeping tasks and long, chilly nights in front of the fire with a hard glass of cider.

That, and the times she might spend with her friends, but those seemed to fall by the wayside more often than not as of late. This time of year, with the running of the leaves around the corner and winter on its heels, was a somber time for the Apple family. Their livelihood, not to mention their schedules, revolved solely around the trees Applejack now walked beneath. It paid their way with food and amenities, helped with Granny Smith’s medical costs, and kept them safe and warm. Seeing those trees shed their leaves in preparation for winter struck a chord in Applejack, rending the normally-exuberant young farmpony morose and quiet.

“AJ.” The deep voice drew her out of her reverie with a slight start. Applejack hadn’t even realized Big Macintosh between the trees, and had almost passed him on her solemn walk. She shook her head and offered the red pony a brave smile.

“Heya Big Mac. What’s up?”

“That’s mah question.” Macintosh rumbled, stepping forward with a serious look on his face. Normally, he kept a stoic expression. She’d seen him lose that expression only a hooffull of times in her entire life, so seeing the serious frown on his lips now was worrying.

“Whaddya mean? Ah’m fine.” Applejack waved him off with a soft chuckle, but the frown persisted. “Alright, ya caught me.” She flagged. ’Something about Honesty…’ “Ah’m just sad that we’re done fer the season is all.”

“Mmhmm.” Big Macintosh hummed, betraying a bit of snark she hadn’t come to expect from him. She grimaced at her bigger brother, plopping onto her haunches to look at him more seriously.

“What? That’s the truth of it. Ain’t nothin’ more to it.”

“You sure about that?” He lofted a brow at her, making Applejack’s grimace turn sour. “Yer thinkin’ about tonight.”

Those words cut straight to the heart of the matter. Granted, Applejack was still worried about the harvest being done, and what she was going to do with all the free time that winter seemed to dump onto her. Applejack took a deep breath before hanging her head.

“Damnit, Big Macintosh, y’all got a way o’ gettin’ straight to it, don’t you?”

“Ah ain’t got time to worry ‘bout whatever lies y’all have made. Yer mah sister, AJ, and I care for ya, jes’ like Applebloom, jes like Granny.Tell me what’s got yer tail in a twist, an’ maybe ah cin help.”

Applejack thought on his words for a while, mulling over the true matter on their hooves; about the doubt that had crept into her heart the last time she’d gone and done what she was planning on doing that very night, about her friends, about her family and the farm, and indeed her very own cutie mark.

About her soul.

“Ah’m beginnin’ to think that ah like singin’ jes as much as ah like the farm.”

Her admonition birthed a pregnant pause between the two of them, Applejack fighting tears, Big Macintosh just standing there stoically. A cold breeze blew through the brittle branches of the trees above their heads, shuffling a few dead leaves around their hooves. Applejack sniffled, her vision steadily turning more and more blurry. As the first tear leaked out and her wavering defenses began to give in, Big Macintosh stepped up to her.

“Yer a fool, Applejack.” He gave a soft chuckle, the contradicting statement and mannerism shaking her to the core. Just as she looked up, he wrapped his forelegs around her, drawing the quivering orange farmpony into a hearty embrace. “Yer a damn fool, you silly, silly pony.” He repeated, stroking one hoof through her mane.

“Wh-whaddya mean? How? What?” Confusion took place of somber sadness as Macintosh continued holding her close, lending her what warmth the sun wouldn’t.

“You already answered yer own question, AJ. Tell me again why yer sad. The first reason you gave.”

“Th… That winter’s got me down? The end of the harvest?”

“Exactly.” Macintosh pulled away, smiling at her warmly. “Y’all are worried so much ‘bout these apples and trees thet you hardly saw me when y’all were walkin’ by. Ah’m tellin you, AJ. It ain’t that yer questionin’ whichever y’all like best, be it this or the singin’… Else you wouldn’t be sad ‘bout no apples.”

The truth of his words cut into Applejack, shredding the pathetic defenses she had and speaking to her heart of hearts. Two more tears slid out of her eyes as she threw herself into another hug.

“Damn you and yer way with words.”

“Ah gotta talk t’ somepony.” Big Macintosh chuckled once more, stroking her mane again. “Ah’d go insane keepin’ quiet all the time. Now come on. Y’all got a show tonight.”

They turned in tandem back towards the farmhouse, falling into a silence, but only for a few moments. As they rounded the first stand of trees onto the well-worn path separating orchards, Big Macintosh spoke again.

“Somethin’s been botherin’ you, though. That much is clear.”

“Well, ah’d think so. You know me, Big Mac… Ah hardly ever cry.”

“Well, ah’ve been thinkin’…” He scuffed a hoof as they walked. “What, uuh… What do y’all think about takin’ a… a vacation, of sorts.”

“Vacation?” Now it was Applejack’s turn to arch an eyebrow at her brother. “Whaddya mean?”

“Ah mean,” Big Macintosh huffed. “Take a week or two ta… well… live yer other life. Stay in town with Rarity or somepony. Don’t take off the disguise. See how yer other side lives, an’ take a break from…” He waved a hoof around at the barren trees, the last of their fruit having been bucked off and stored for the season. “From all this nothin’ that goes on durin’ the winter.”

“But… what about the last market?”

“Well, ah’ll need yer help with that one, sure. But the week after that, how’s that work?” Big Mac shrugged indifferently. “Ain’t gonna help nopony havin’ you mope ‘round the house, anyways. Iffen y’all like it, you can do it again later on this winter. So, go to yer show tonight, help with market tomorrow, unwind fer a week or so, then stay in town for the next one. The Hay Bale’ll like it iffen y’all perform the whole weekend, and we could shore use the bits.” He nodded back the way they had come, back towards Ponyville. “Talk it over with yer friends, and think it through. It’s jes’ an idea.”

“Okay…” Applejack mused, lowering her gaze to the path beneath her hooves.

’A whole week, maybe even two, as HER? Can I even do that?’

Doubt and excitement waged a war inside of her, with neither side taking any major gains. As they approached the farmhouse, Applejack found herself torn. Whichever side won, it was bound to be a long night. Indeed, a long winter.

“Heya Applejack!” Sweetie Belle’s innocent voice turned her away from the vanity, a smile on her lips at the young filly standing in the door.

“Heya Sweetie Belle. Thanks fer comin’ again, it means a lot to have somepony to help with exercises.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. Honestly, I was shocked when Rarity told me about it… I’m really glad you decided to let us help, though.” Her eyes danced with a sort of mischievous glee that Applejack wasn’t sure she wanted to see in a filly who had only had her cutie mark for three months. “Wouldn’t do to let everypony in town know your secret, would it, ‘Honeysuckle?’”

Her stage name sent a shiver down Applejack’s spine. The war between doubt and excitement still raged on inside her mind, but Sweetie Belle’s appearance, and the impending vocal exercise, was swinging the odds in favor of the latter. A knot of excitement grew in her chest, tightening her throat, and making her quiver slightly.

“Shall we get started?” Sweetie Belle’s tail flicked to the side, and a grin spread across her lips.

“Let’s.”

“Repeat after me, then. Ahem.” Sweetie Belle cleared her throat and sat down, closing her eyes. Sweet honey poured out of her mouth, the melodious scale reaching out to grip Applejack’s throat. “Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do.”

“Do, Rey-“

“Aah,” Sweetie Belle cut her off. “Lose the twang.”

“Right. Do, Re…”

They settled into the exercise with a sort of practiced ease that the two had become comfortable with the past six months. Applejack procedurally began to lose her country accent, the lazy drawl leaving her words to be replaced with a low, smooth alto. Sweetie Belle coached her through the transition, pointing out differences and helping shift her pitch and tone until her voice had been transformed completely. Gone was the country farmpony, replaced instead with the sultry voice of a smooth, melodious lounge songstress.

Applejack had discovered long ago her penchant for the particular genre of music that populated smoky gin joints in Manehattan and Neigh Orleans long ago. It was during her exodus from the farm in a desperate attempt to find her cutie mark that she found herself in Manehattan, staying with her aunt and uncle. The whole ordeal had been rather eye-opening for Applejack. Halfway because she realized she could never fit in with all the pomp and posturing, but also because she discovered something she’d never have imagined.

One night, she had been ushered along with her aunt and uncle to an uptown bar. It was such a change of pace from their typical dinner affair with all the fancy clothes and meager portions that Applejack had been thankful just for the change of scenery. She had soon found herself seated in a corner booth, far in the corner away from a low-lit stage boasting a microphone. The only reason she was even allowed in was with a promise that she would be quiet, and not make a racket as other fillies her age were wont to do. Being a responsible young pony, Applejack swore up and down she would sit quietly and not talk too loudly. She wouldn’t complain, she wouldn’t fret, and she wouldn’t even talk unless spoken to.

Not that she could have if she wanted to. They hadn’t even gotten their drinks from the waitress before a singer mounted that stage, and changed Applejack’s life forever. Were it not for her aunt and uncle on either side of her, reminding Applejack that she would never fit into such a high-class society, that she was just a humble farmpony trying her hardest to play at being mature, she might just have received her cutie mark then and there.

Sweet honey poured into her ears, turning the smoky atmosphere into a haven of swing music and sultry lyrics. Applejack was smitten, and her aunt took notice. After the show, she had confronted the young filly.

“Did you like listening to the singer, Applejack?”

“I did,” the shy young filly admitted. “She was a really good singer.”

“Well, I might not look it, but your auntie used to be a lounge singer herself.”

“Really?” Applejack’s wide eyes turned up at her aunt, the mare that previously, Applejack had thought to be too stuck-up to even consider singing about stallions and alcohol.

“Well, how do you think I met your uncle, hmm? Poor farmpony from Dodge Junction meets sultry lounge singer, and the rest is history.” She winked at her uncle, and Applejack found a new respect for the aloof mare her aunt had been up until that moment. “I can tell, Applejack,” her aunt continued. “Your voice is young, but with time and training, you might just be able to croon with the best of us. What do you say, love?” Aunt Orange stopped short, smiling down at the young, impressionable filly that Applejack had once been.

“How’d you like to grow up to be a lounge singer?”

That was almost twelve years ago. Now, Applejack was a grown mare, and her place was on her farm with her family. But still, that night lived on in her mind, making Applejack question her decision. It never took more than a glance at her flank, or at most a reprimand from her brother or her grandmother, before she realized that her destiny was in the earth and soil. But the sultry tunes of the lounge singers still hung on to her withers, following Applejack through her growing years.

It had nearly bankrupted them several times, but Granny Smith and Aunt Orange were adamant; they never let a summer go by without sending Appleack to Manehattan for a month. That whole month, Applejack gave up her country accent, and spoke with the smooth alto that came with years of training. Her aunt sent her to some of the best voice instructors, and many times mentored the young filly herself. Eleven months of every year, Applejack was a farmer, and she loved it. But once every summer, for one whole month, she got to live her secret dream.

She got to sing.

“She sells sea shells by the sea shore.”

“She sells sea shells by the sea shore.” Applejack mirrored Sweetie Belle perfectly, smiling as her vocal cords settled into their ‘singer’ mentality, and all trace of her twangy country drawl left her voice.

“Alright, that should do it.” Sweetie Belle smiled at her. “You’re getting better at that, every week.”

“Thank you, Sweetie Belle.” Applejack smiled back, wrapping the younger mare in a warm hug. “I owe you a lot. Promise me you’ll come this time?”

“I’ll do what I can, but you know Flair won’t let me inside just yet. Honestly,” Sweetie scoffed. “I’ve got my cutie mark now. No reason she shouldn’t let me at least sit in one of the booths.”

“Well maybe if you bought a drink now and then, she’d let you.”

“Blegh. Alcohol.” The young mare blanched, shaking her head fervently. “Makes my head all fuzzy.”

“Oh darling,” Rarity’s sweet voice preceeded the alabaster mare, her low hooffalls muffled and demure as she strode into the room. “That’s the best part. Alcohol blurs everything else, and leaves only the important parts sober.”

“And what parts are those?” Sweetie Belle jousted playfully.

“Why, the parts dear ‘Honeysuckle’ here speaks to when she sings.” Rarity purred, sliding up to the two ponies with a sway in her hips and half-lidded eyes. “The parts that make a mare a mare, and a stallion a stallion.”

“Yeah, you would know those parts.” Sweetie Belle groaned, rolling her eyes as she stood. “I’ll see if I can’t get in tonight, Applejack. No promises.”

“Thanks again, Sweetie Belle.” Applejack waved the young mare goodbye as Rarity took her place. “Rarity, good to see you again.”

“One week too long, my dear.” The alabaster unicorn rolled her hoof before draping it around Applejack’s neck. “You ought to consider taking a whole weekend one of these days… Flair would certainly love it, and you’d make a decent spot of money to boot.”

“Well, that’s the thing…” Applejack sighed. “Big Macintosh told me he might not mind it if I… took a week or two to stay Honeysuckle.”

“You don’t say!” Rarity beamed, her eyes dancing gleefully. “Why, Applejack, what a fortuitous happenstance! You see,” She leaned closer, mumbling into Applejack’s ear with a cautious glance towards the door that Sweetie Belle had left through. “I’ve been meaning to take Sweetie Belle to Canterlot to speak with Princess Celestia. I think, now that she has her cutie mark, she might have a place at the same school Twilight attended.”

“You think so?” Applejack blinked. “I knew her talent was magic and singing, but do you think she has a place in the school for gifted unicorns?”

“I think she might.” Rarity nodded sagely. “And far be it from me to deny any young filly their chance to succeed. So, as it stands, I might just need somepony to… house-sit.”

The pieces of the puzzle came together, and realization dawned on Applejack like a ton of bricks dawns on a pony ten stories below a broken rope.

“Oh Rarity, if you could make that happen, I-“

“Consider it done, darling.” Rarity cut her off with a grin. “You can stay in my home for as long as you need. If you need more time after we’re done in Canterlot, we can always go visit our parents in Manehattan. That way, you’ll have the makeup and dye on-hoof, and we can work the convenient angle of you being a friend from out-of-town.”

“I… I don’t know what to say, Rarity! It sounds almost too good to be true. I- I’m not even sure if I want to take that long, though.”

“Ah. There is that.” Rarity deadpanned, turning away from Applejack to face the vanity nearby. “I personally think it’s a foregone conclusion. But you take as long as you need to think about it. The offer stands, and if you feel like taking a week or however long to stay Honeysuckle, my house is yours.”

“Thank you, Rarity. That means the world to me.” Applejack followed her friend to the vanity, that familiar excitement in her chest having loosed its grip on her throat, but it remained, burning away inside her. It warmed her so thoroughly, so wonderfully, that she never wanted to let it go. Rarity began bustling through the myriad of bottles and brushes and containers that mystified Applejack still. They had been doing this, dressing her up as Honeysuckle for six months now. She was still as confused by all the makeup that she had been the first time, but Rarity cleared her throat and brandished a small, circular disk at her.

“This is blush. Pretty self-explanatory, but it helps color your cheeks. Just a light brush, nothing too much. It washes out in the shower, so you don’t need remover.”

“Eer…” Applejack arched her eyebrow. “I thought you were just going to… you know, do it? Like you always do?”

“Aah, but if you’re going to be on your own for a whole week, you’re going to need to touch yourself up.” Rarity quipped, popping open the disk to reveal a small mirror and a tiny tray of off-red looking clay. Her magic gripped the miniscule brush and dabbed it into the tray before brushing it across Applejack’s cheeks. In the vanity’s mirror, Applejack saw a blush darken her cheeks. “See? Just a gentle touch. Now-“

She moved through the rest of the products one at a time, pausing to explain what each one did and how to put it on. She even let Applejack apply her own eyeliner and mascara, getting used to doing it with her own hooves. Being an Earth Pony came with a few handicaps to off-set the muscles and hardiness, so there were a few applications that Applejack struggled with. But she had arrived at Rarity's home early that day anyways, since they had finished their work earlier on in the day. After a quick shower to clean up, she had met Sweetie Belle in Rarity's makeup room.

It took them maybe three times as long to finish applying the myriad of products, and Applejack would still need a fair bit of help with the dye, but she began feeling more and more confident about taking an entire week to stay as her counterpart. Product by product, inch by inch, 'Applejack' began to disappear, replaced with Honeysuckle. The only thing that remained was the mane dye, and that would take a skilled unicorn to apply.

"If you could get me word as soon as possible, I can send a letter out to Trottingham for a bottle of their heavy-duty dye," Rarity pulled a pair of polyester socks onto her hooves, to protect her own alabaster coat from the magical fluid. "This one fades out of your hair in twenty-four hours, but if you give me enough warning, I can get you one that will stay active for an entire week."

"That'd be lovely, Rarity." Applejack reclined in a special chair Rarity had re-appropriated from one of her older chaise lounges, letting her mane drape over the arm that had been covered in a protective plastic sheet.

"Alright. Brace for it."

"Do it." Applejack grit her teeth, preparing for the familiar sting of the spell working its magic. Rarity upended the bottle over her scalp, dripping a thick globule of magical liquid onto her mane. Immediately, the magic began to take effect, turning her sun-kissed blonde mane into a deep, raven black. The pinprick sensation of magic working on her follicles rushed into her scalp, stinging in a way that assured her the magic was working, even if that assurance came with a sore jaw.

Rarity worked at massaging the liquid into her mane thoroughly while the spell did the rest, sinking into her follicles and sheathing her mane in its darker-than-night spell. "Done," Rarity peeled her socks off and rolled up the plastic sheet while Applejack sat up to look in the mirror.

She was a different mare. Her burnt-orange coat stayed the same, but there were plenty of ponies in Equestria who shared that particular pigment with her. Where the biggest difference separated her from her former self was in her raven mane, and the way it hung straight and neat over half of her neck. She boasted a healthy curtain bang to hide behind, concealing half of her face, while the rest of her hair hung straight to its ends.

"Now for the tricky one." Rarity grimaced. Applejack shared the look with her before repositioning so that her tail hung over the arm of the modified chaise lounge.

"Just do it." Applejack whimpered, though she didn't deny the helpful offer from Rarity in the form of a tightly-knotted bit of fabric. She chomped down on it as hard as she could, clenching her eyes shut and preparing for the worst. Rarity upended the bottle of dye, and blistering pain erupted into Applejack's hindquarters.

She screamed into the knot.

"Honeysuckle! You made it! And gosh, you're early!" Flair, the bartender and owner of The Hay Bale, greeted her at the backstage entrance. Applejack smiled warmly at the comely mare, her hips swaying as she slunk inside of the warm bar.

"My train came in a little early. We made good time crossing the Trottingham pass."

"I should imagine! I wasn't expecting you for almost another hour. No matter! Come, come, make yourself at home. I have your room ready for you."

"Thank you, Flair." Applejack nuzzled the bartender lovingly, sharing a devious smile with her before shedding her heavy black coat. Beneath, she sported a revealing black cocktail dress, much more scandalous than her usual attire. She had been known to wear a myriad of dresses to these shows, thanks entirely to Rarity's ever-growing arsenal of fabric. She had worn sequins, blouses, full dresses, and even a Gala gown that had been modified from Rarity's own personal design. But this dress was something of a departure from the ordinary. It clung to her flanks like a desperate lover, slid over her neck in a thin line as delicate as a necklace, and fell to mid-thigh with a fair gap between her knees and her tail.

Any lucky pony might just get a glance at her nethers, should she have half a mind to lift her tail even a mild amount.

The revealing dress and excitement at the prospect of spending an entire week as Honeysuckle had Applejack feeling more excited than she had felt in a long while. Still, in the back of her mind, Applejack felt the doubt and trepidation from conflicting cutie marks and hobbies waging war.

"Shall I get you your usual?" Flair distracted Applejack's thoughts, bringing her back to reality with an arched eyebrow and that devious, charming smile she had perfected.

"Make it a full bottle tonight. I'm here early, and it's been a long week." Applejack returned, nodding towards the backstage door leading into the star's room. "You know where to find me."

"I'll bring it around. On the house, per usual."

"Thank you, Flair." Applejack gave the mare a teasing wink as she slipped into the star's room, closing the door behind her with a faint sigh. She flicked the light on, a naked bulb that sat above the room's vanity, and looked at herself in the mirror. Honeysuckle wore the dress like she was born for it, and the swell of her flanks managed to arouse even Applejack, even though she was staring at herself.

She took a few minutes to truly admire herself in the mirror, inspecting her mane and makeup, the swell of her hips, the hang of her tail... Her crimson lips betrayed a hint of lust and temptation with each demure smile, and her emerald eyes gleamed with arousal and hunger. She was horny. Playing somepony else was still as exciting and new to her as a foal's first tenuous steps. But six months into this game, Applejack knew good and well what her new appearance would do in the form of catcalls, remarks, and propositions.

Maybe she would find a handsome stallion to take her to his home tonight? Maybe it'd be a ravishing mare this time around? Or, maybe, just maybe, she'd catch the fancy of one of the many couples in town that had slightly more... open morals than the rest. She'd been privy to all three opportunities before, and the latter still remained at the fore of her memory. That night with Mr. and Mrs. Cake had been one of the best.

'Come on, Applejack... You ought not be thinkin' about that right before a show.'

'Oh, but where's the fun in letting that fantasy die?'

There they were again. Applejack looked in the mirror, and saw two reflections looking back at her. One, Honeysuckle, wore a devious smile and that same crimson lipstick that made Applejack jealous of the very mare she was. The other, just over her right shoulder, was herself, stetson and frayed blonde mane and all. That mare wore the disapproving scowl that Applejack had come to hate... If any mare could truly come to hate any part of herself.

'Yer an honest, kind pony, Applejack. Don't you think lyin' t' the whole town, singin' like you do, is bad enough?'

'Oh come on, now... What fun is honesty if a mare can't live her dream now and again?'

'It's a lie. An' it's dishonest. It goes against everythin' you know yerself to be, AJ. How do you think Mr. and Mrs. Cake would feel if they found out that mare they slept with was you? How would that make them feel? How would that make PINKIE feel?'

'Oh let it go, you old fuddy-duddy.' Honeysuckle waved a hoof, even if all four of Applejack's stayed planted on the hardwood floor. 'They'd probably be happy. They might even invite you over for another night or two...'

Applejack scowled in the mirror.

'Ah know how much these nights mean to you. To me. But jes' keep that in mind, alright? And fer land's sake, don't drink too much.'

Applejack turned away and walked through the door. The sliver of light from the hallway chased her away, and invited another mare.

"Honey? I brought your bottle. The jazz troupe is finishing up their set, and you're on in thirty."

"Thank you, Flair." Applejack wiped the introspective scowl from her lips with a sort of practiced ease that honestly frightened her, but she accepted the bottle of cider nevertheless. "How's the crowd looking out there?"

"Should be a full house tonight. Plenty of ponies in attendance." Flair straightened up and laid a hoof on the doorknob. "I'll be sure any of them come through security before they get backstage. Only with your permission."

"Thanks again, Flair." Applejack tipped the bottle of cider into a glass full of ice. She watched as the amber liquid poured itself over those white-wreathed rocks, filling up to the rim with the swishing, gargling sound that signaled refreshment and numbness awaited her.

'No, not numbness... A dulling, just like Rarity said. It makes everything else fuzzy, everything that doesn't matter.'

As the door shut, Applejack took the first drink of the night. The first of many.

The quartet preceded her down the hall, all five ponies silent save for the quiet shuffle of their hooves. Applejack had polished the entire bottle of cider before leaving her room, and that comfortable fuzziness had already descended over her senses. The lipstick-stained glass now held nothing but the melted orbs of ice that had once been cubes three times their size. The chill condensation from both the bottle and her glass was still on her hooves, making her feel wet.

A different sort of wetness, but nevertheless. Her crimson lips were pressed tight, trying to fight the mounting arousal that floated across her mind like wayward tendrils of oil in a warm bath. The dress hugged her flanks so snugly that she couldn't help but sway them side-to-side as she walked. Her tail swished back-and-forth, its weight sending even more tantalizing touches of pleasure shuddering through her torso.

"What'll we open with?" One of the twins spoke quietly, looking to Applejack expectantly. That had been the question Applejack was dreading the entire evening. In her entire repertoire of songs, there were only a few she wanted to sing right then. Songs about sex and temptation, seduction and alcohol and sweat and secret lovers that would almost guarantee some dashing stallion come fawning to her door, begging for one night with the sultry Honeysuckle.

A flash of Applejack, her unpainted lips turned down in a frown, flashed across her mind. And just like that, the fire in her core was quenched. She heaved a sigh, closing her eyes thoughtfully.

"We'll open with 'You Don't Love Me.'"

There was a pause as the accompaniment all came to a stop before her, looking back at Applejack with shocked expressions.

"Y-you're sure? Honey, is there something wrong? Somepony out there you've got your eyes on?" The pianist, a unicorn mare by the name of Ivory, lofted a brow at her. "You usually only sing that song last... On a slow night."

"Just open with it, okay?" Applejack wasn't in the mood to argue. She huffed at the mare, her eyes flashing. "You let me worry about anypony I might or might not have my eyes on."

"A-alright, okay!" Ivory yielded, her mouth twisted into a frown. "Have it your way. Sheesh."

The four of them took the stage, and Applejack watched them walk to the far end before closing her eyes.

'Take it easy, girl... It's just another show. You've sung dozens of times over the past six months. Hundreds of songs. A hoof-full of lovers, and more alcohol than you know what to do with... There's nothing different about tonight. It's just another show, another night singing...

'Another pony to share your bed in the morning?'

"Maybe." Applejack opened her eyes and set them on the microphone stand. "Maybe not."

She took the stage, basking in the warmth of the lights. Immediately, she could feel the eyes of everypony in the bar on her. The acrid scent of pipe smoke washed over her, flavored with good beer and better food. That was the smell of her beloved scene. It smelled as welcoming to her as the breeze rustling through apple leaves, as freshly-pressed applesauce...

It smelled like the promise of sex and booze.

'It smells like I'm Home.'