Coloratura raised her mug for the fifth time that afternoon. It rose almost to her mouth just like every other time, the warmth of the hot cocoa reaching out and brushing softly against her lips. Alas, just like each time before, she still didn't feel like taking a sip, and so she placed it back on the coffee table. She shifted on the lavish sofa, eyes turning toward the nearby radio on the floor. Despite the two mares occupying the hotel room, the radio was the only one doing any talking.
"Alienated?" asked one of the voices coming through the speakers.
"Absolutely," replied a second. "That filly 'Rara' suckered us all in with this fantastic, brilliantly edgy new style, and then at the height of her popularity, she does a complete one-eighty and ditches everything that made her unique."
"Didn't you say—two years ago, I think—that Countess Coloratura was a walking gimmick?"
"I said she was a walking collection of gimmicks, yes. And she was, but she was a collection of gimmicks that worked."
"Well, undeniably, yes."
"And now she's just throwing it all away for the most generic performances imaginable. The lights, the fog, the flames, the dancers, the edge, the spectacle—all gone in favor of one mare sitting at a piano and crooning about her feelings. She led us on with these amazing displays and then abandons it once she's made enough money. She tricked us."
"I see."
"And she's the most clueless conmare I've ever seen. She was one of the top performers in Equestria, and it was all thanks to what she brought to the music scene. Dumping Svengallop was the worst decision she could have ever made. She won't last another year, you can bet on it. She fooled me, she fooled Equestria, but worst of all, she fooled her fans."
A short moment of silence fell, and Coloratura reached over toward the radio. The first voice began to speak again, saying. "Trend, did it ever occur to you—"
She switched the radio off with a click, and her forehooves came back to rest against the couch cushion. Her eyes remained fixed on her hot chocolate as the last few wisps of white wafted off its surface, the steam dissipating into thin air.
"Count?"
The voice so much clearer than those from the radio made Coloratura's ears perk up, and she turned her gaze to Vinyl Scratch, the only other pony in the room. Vinyl was watching her, eyes devoid of her signature sunglasses. Coloratura responded, "Hmm?"
"You okay over there?" Vinyl asked.
Coloratura put on a thin smile and nodded toward her friend. "Yeah, it's nothing. And you can just call me 'Rara' now, you know."
"Right. Old habit. But don't give me that, babe." Vinyl pointed a hoof at Rara. "I know that look. I see it on Tavi's face after every other performance, right before she starts moping about her career being a dead end." She dropped her hoof and leaned forward in her chair, moving her face closer to Rara's. "You're just thinking about what that hipster doofus on the radio just said, aren't ya?"
Rara noded again. "Him and other ponies in the industry."
"Industry," Vinyl repeated. "I could've sworn music used to be an art." She shook her head, tossing her limp mane about. "Well, so what?"
"So what? Vinyl, you heard them." One of Rara's forehooves directed itself at the radio as she furrowed her brow. "They're all saying I just shot myself in the hoof and that I won't last another year out there."
Vinyl just waved a dismissive hoof as Rara dropped hers. "Bah," said Vinyl, lounging sideways in her chair, "they're the same ponies who said I'd never get anywhere, way back in the day. Just ignore 'em and do what you do."
"But..." Rara's eyes turned back to her cooling cocoa again. "Aren't they right? Everypony who came to my concerts and bought my albums and lined up to get hoofsies... all of that was Svengallop's work. He made it all up for me. Now that he's gone, they're not going to get any of that anymore."
Vinyl's shoulders gave a little shrug and her tail twitched once. "So you'll get new fans who like your new stuff."
"But what about all my old fans? I love my fans. I don't want to abandon them. Without my fa—"
"Without your fans, you'd be nothing," Vinyl finished for her. "Without Svengallop, you'd be nothing." She sat up a little, looking over at Rara. "Heard it before, babe. Know what? It's garbage."
"No, it's not." Rara's forehooves slid upward, each coming to rest against the opposite shoulder. "Svengallop invented the Countess, and my fans—"
Vinyl twisted around, moving into a proper sitting position and holding up one hoof. "Okay, one: chill. Two: don't measure yourself by your popularity. That's a really, really bad idea, okay?" Her raised hoof gestured this way and that as she continued, "Svengashole made your image, your fans made you popular, but none of them made you you, get it? You're not your reputation or your success." Vinyl went back to lounging, draping herself sideways over the chair. "C'mon, babe, it's been five years; I know you know better than that."
"I... I guess so." Rara's unfocused gaze ran over the coffee table, wandering over the mix of magazines strewn all over it. Each one bore her face, but her eyes stopped on a particular issue that bore another face as well. Applejack smiled up at her from the cover, and Rara found her own mouth twisting to match the grin. "Yeah, I know," she finally said. "I guess I just forget, sometimes. For a long time, actually."
The corners of Rara's mouth twitched downward after a second, and she looked back at Vinyl. "But I still don't want my fans to feel, well, alienated. And what if they're really right? I've spent years being Countess Coloratura, and now I really am just ditching everything I had before. Ponies came for her, but now she's gone."
Vinyl closed her eyes, her forehooves sliding in under her head. "Do you like yourself?"
Rara blinked a few times and tilted her head to one side. "Yes?"
"Do you like your new music?"
"Of course. It's what I grew up singing."
"Then other ponies will, too. Don't worry about it. You're an artist, not a marketing department. Just be yourself, do what you love, and the audience that digs it will find you. Heck, you've already got a head start on reaching 'em, too. Huge fanbase that'll see the new you, not to mention all the media coverage."
"It's not really the new me. But still, what about all my old fans? The ones that don't like my new music? I'm really making a big change."
Vinyl's left forehoof scratched her at her nose for a few seconds. "Yeah, okay, they're kinda outta luck. Can't do much about that. Could make a public apology, I guess. But hey, you can't please everyone all the time, right? And I'm sure a lot of them will stick around just for you because you're still awesome. Point is: don't sweat it. Not everypony is blasting you about this stuff, just the loudest ones who haven't given the new you a chance. There is such a thing as 'destructive criticism', you know." One of her hind hooves crossed over the other, bouncing to a tune nopony else could hear. "Like, what's the core of this whole new direction of yours? What's the message, the idea?"
"Well," Rara began, but trailed off. She glanced at the coffee table again, but soon she looked toward the window. The sprawling city of Manehattan stood just outside, its streets darkened by the overcast sky that seemed so common in the tail-end days of Autumn. She watched the ponies going by on the street and in the sky, only a few seconds passing before she continued, "Just being me. I wanted to call this new album "Rediscovery", because it's about finding myself again after feeling lost for so long. It's about being true and honest with myself and the world. Really opening up and showing everypony who I really am, even if I forgot for a while."
A wide smile spread across Vinyl's pale lips, her teeth just barely showing before she opened her mouth to say, "That's super sappy, Rara. I think they'll love it." She rolled over a little ways, turning her own bare eyes to Rara. "I dunno if you noticed, but a lot of ponies have been calling you a phony for a while."
"They weren't wrong."
"But now, with you casting off the veil and showing the world the real you and how freaking gorgeous she is?" Vinyl laughed just a bit. "Babe, they're gonna eat it up. A face-turn like this, going from a diva to a sweetheart... Svengallop couldn't have come up with a better way to win the world's hearts if he'd spent twenty years meditating on a mountain top." Her hooves waved again as she added, "I know it's not a trick or anything, but for real. And with him publicly bashing you for abandoning the shallow persona he contrived? Oh ho, babe, you're gonna be huge. They're gonna love ya."
Rara found a smile of her own taking hold. "You really think so?"
"Duh. I said it, didn't I? And maybe I'm just crazy, and you shouldn't listen to me at all, but I ain't worried." Vinyl stretched her hooves and back, a symphony of cracks and pops accompanying her movements. Then she swung her hind legs up, bucked them backward, and slid tail-first off her seat. She landed on three hooves, the fourth already reaching for the hotel room's phone. "But enough of all that crap. You know what I do when I can't stop thinking about stuff like this? Room service." Her outstretched hoof plucked up the receiver. "Let's call up a cartload of dessert platters and binge like a stood-up mare on her wedding night. I can invite Tavi, too; she's in town with me, and she said she likes hanging out with you."
A pleasant sigh escaped Rara's lips, and she nodded slowly. "That sounds like a great idea." She gave the radio only the briefest of glances before leaning down and unplugging it with her teeth. Her hooves picked up her mug for the sixth time that afternoon, and she finally took the first drink of her cocoa. It fell from her lips quickly, however, as she found it had gone cold. With a smirk, she hopped up and trotted toward the hotel room's little kitchen. It was time for a new cup, perhaps with some cinnamon, this time around.
