The Show Must Go Onby libertydudeChaptersMusic and MagicThe Start of a Beautiful FriendshipSorry Isn't EnoughWhat's Old is NewMusic and MagicOctavia took a deep, nervous breath when she stared up at the mahogany doors. The Town Hall of Hilltop was before her, not so much standing as squatting between the local post office and a confectionary shop with candy cane stickers slapped onto the windows. The shortness of the buildings had undoubtedly been for the winter months, as the buildings were already quite burdened under the recent snow upon their roofs. All of the buildings were close to the edge of the hill the city square sat on, a plethora of stilts holding up what parts of them tipped over the sides. This visual reminder of the town’s precarious position upon a large mesa prodded Octavia’s deeper mind, though she thought more of her tardiness to the mayor’s request than the risk of a long fall down snow-covered slopes. I shouldn’t be here, Octavia thought, a forlorn expression on her face. Not on Hearth’s Warming Eve. I should be back in Ponyville with Vinyl. The cold wind that had been hounding the town all morning picked up again, and Octavia shivered. She could remember the winter storm that had diverted her zeppelin from Ponyville to Hilltop, only to seemingly follow her all the way here. For three days, she’d waited for the wind to die and the snow to stop falling. She’d even gone to the town post office to ask for an emergency Weather Patrol who could break up the clouds. The wrinkled old mare behind the desk gave her a look that bordered somewhere between contempt and amusement. “I had you figured for a Canterlot pony,” she said with a slight drawl. “Only they would think winter starts and stops whenever you want.” She then explained, with a little more condescension than Octavia appreciated, that Hilltop was an Earth Pony town. The only Pegasi or Unicorns they saw came through on ships like Octavia’s, and there weren’t enough of them to break up the clouds. The best she could do was put in a request to the mayor for an emergency dog sled ride back down to the base of the mountain, but that was a slim chance if any. Nopony had seen the sledder, a stallion named Slush Puppy, in town for almost two weeks. So Octavia filed the evacuation request, then sat in her motel room for three straight days. The monotony broke only when she adjusted the strings on her cello and tried to string together a tune into a discernible piece. She’d just gotten towards the sixteenth measure when the knock on her door rang out and the mayor’s summons were handed to her. The romantic in her prayed this was a sign of her salvation, where some surprise gaggle of cute winter dogs would eagerly stare up at her and whisk her down the mountain. The whole walk to the mayor’s office perpetuated this small glimmer of hope, though the lack of movement within the town added quiet whispers of uncertainty to Octavia’s already uneasy mind. Octavia pushed the doors and stepped inside. She realized the Town Hall was only one room, with a small, empty secretarial desk in the front and the mayor’s desk in the back. The latter appeared to be an oaken desk, with there being just enough room for a large leatherback chair to sit behind it. Two chairs sat in front of the desk, one of them occupied by a light blue mare with silver hair. She looked back at Octavia with a small smirk, her purple hat and cloak rustling with her every movement. She looks familiar, Octavia thought. Had she been to Canterlot? Yet it was the plump stallion in thick overalls sitting behind the desk that caught Octavia’s attention the most. He sat deep in his thick leather chair, staring out at her with gleaming eyes. “Come on in, Miss Octavia,” he said. “Trixie and I have been waiting for you.” Octavia gave a quick nod and made her way over to the chair. “Thank you so much for contacting me, Mr. Mayor. I was worried I’d never get home.” “Oh, the both of you will,” the mayor said smiling. “Just not tonight.” “What?” Octavia said. “Then why did you call me over?” “That’s just what I was telling Miss Trixie here about.” He leaned forward. “She put in the same request you did, only with a whole cart instead of just a cello. Fact of the matter is, nopony’s getting out of here any earlier than a week. No Pegasi were on the airships coming in, nor any Unicorns sufficiently proficient in magic.” “I beg your pardon!” Trixie said. “Weather magic, Miss Trixie. Any who, fact is you’re both stuck here, and I wanted your help to make this whole mess a little more hospitable.” “Hospitality is Trixie’s middle name!” Modesty certainly isn’t, Octavia thought. Her mind dictated a thousand things wrong with the pony sitting beside her, all of them pointing to the fact she was a rambunctious and off-putting showboat. “I’m glad you say so,” the mayor said. “Because I tell you this weather’s as hard on us as it is on you folk. We don’t mind a nice bit of snow, but this storm’s got a mean streak a mile wide. Blizzards all day and subzero temperatures all night. Folks are too nervous to even go to the general store. I had to dodge three falling icicles just to get to the office.” He shook his head. “Worst winter I’ve ever seen in these parts.” He leaned back in his chair, his stomach jiggling in time with his body. “That’s why I need your help. Word is around here that you’re both showponies. Musical and magical fortes. Gals who know how to catch a crowd’s attention and keep it.” “Well,” Trixie said, a faux blush coming across her face. “I have been known to attract the odd crowd or two.” Octavia did her best not to gag at the display, before adding: “I’ve done more than a few concerts, Mayor.” “Great!” he said. “Then you two could put on a show tonight. A Hearth’s Warming Eve Spectacular!” “What?” Octavia said. “A show, here?” “Of course! We got a dance hall on the other side of town where we have parties. You gals could just take up space there and fill ‘er up with Hearth’s Warming cheer.” “Wait!” Octavia’s front hooves waved around her head like she didn’t know how they worked. “This…This is all rather sudden.” “Life is rather sudden, my dear Octavia,” Trixie said with a large smile. “The best we can do is try to keep up.” “Right you are!” the mayor said. “And you two aren’t doing anything except waiting for a dog sled, so why not put your talents to good use?” Octavia paused in thought. He has a point. I've not been making much progress on the piece, and boring myself to death won't get me out of here any faster. She glanced sideways at the grinning mare beside her, hat still wiggling with each turn of the head. She’s going to be a problem, though. But I’ve dealt with plenty of prima donnas in the orchestra. I’m sure I can deal with one in the magician’s trade. Octavia stood up tall. “Alright, Mayor. I accept your invitation.” “I accept it even harder!” Trixie said, her cloak billowing when she stood up. “Excellent!” the mayor said. “I’ll see you two tonight. Feel free to use the dance hall for practice. Nopony’s dancing around here as long as there’s lotsa sleet and no music.” Octavia turned and started towards the door. She felt her progress impeded by a blue aura surrounding her and pulling her back. She landed in an iron grip provided by Trixie’s forehooves. “Have no fear, Octavia!” Trixie proclaimed. “I will-I mean, we will put on the best Hearth’s Warming Eve Spectacular Hilltop will ever see!” I am immediately regretting this, Octavia thought. The Start of a Beautiful FriendshipThe dance hall appeared like many backwater dance halls across Equestria did. A majority of the space consisted of a wide wooden floor that squeaked with every step made. Countless scuffs and scrapes etched themselves into the wood from a hundred past dances, to the point the wood’s original color barely remained. At the far end stood the stage, three feet off the ground and steps on two sides. A banjo sat in the center of the stage like somepony was planning on coming back for it. Dark purple curtains lined both sides, thick dust still caked upon them. Towards the left side of the room sat a long bar with bottles of varying colors propped upon shelves, each reflected in the long mirror stretching from each end of the bar. Also reflected were the two mares standing in the doorway, both examining the scene with drastically different expressions. “Well, it’s not Carneighgy Hall,” Octavia half-sighed. “But we’ll be able to make do.” “Voodoo, that is,” Trixie said, rubbing her hooves together in anticipation. “I’ve got so many tricks up my sleeve that these Hilltopians will think I’m the next Hoofdini.” Hopefully complete with the punch in the stomach, Octavia thought. She walked towards the stage, her cello case strapped to her back. Trixie followed and tossed silver glitter over the floor all the way to the stage. Vague words Octavia didn’t bother to listen to echoed from the magician’s mouth. “Alright,” Octavia said, climbing the stage and placing her cello case down. “So how are we going to do this?” “We’re going to do it like it’s our only shot!” Trixie proclaimed. “Like we’ll be run out of town on a rail if we mess anything up! Like Luna would turn into Nightmare Moon again if we got even one iota of this show wrong!” “Yes, yes,” Octavia groaned. “I’ve heard the pep talks in drama class too. Now how about we talk about the order we’re going to go in.” “Well, they say save the best for last, so I think you should go first.” “Hey!” Octavia’s eyes burned with the heat of a thousand suns. Trixie gave a sheepish grin. “You’re right. Cellos tend to make ponies very sleepy. My act will jazz them up, then your act will calm them down so they can sleep well.” “Now hold on just a minute!” Octavia said. “We agreed to organize this thing together. This is meant to be a collaborative effort, not a solo act.” “It is!” Trixie said gleefully. “We’re just collaborating on how to make my show look even better.” “Our show.” “That’s what I said. Sodium chloride!” “What?” “Salt, my quaint cellist.” She reached into her cloak and brought out a hooful of white powder. The crystals gleamed in the sunlight leaking through the window. Trixie brought the salt to her mouth, licked it, and smacked her lips together. “Tasty and magical at the same time. Especially when you mix it with super-heated water.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “What a great magician you are, telling everypony how a trick works. Hoofdini would be so proud.” Trixie’s eyes bugged. “What did you say?!” “I said, maybe we should try to combine our acts. We obviously aren’t going to agree on who goes first, so maybe we should just cut the head off that snake and work together on one act.” Trixie stared at Octavia in equal parts confusion and amusement. “The Great and Powerful Trixie sharing the stage? Hah! Why not buy a sea lion and complete the low-rent circus you’re trying to create?” Octavia put a hoof to her head and closed her eyes. “Look, I don’t know how else we’re going to fix this problem. Either we’re going to have to work together or just keep fighting over who goes first.” Trixie tapped her chin for a moment, then shrugged. “Very well. Trixie will humor you and let you play your music in the background of the act.” Octavia rolled her eyes. Sweet Celestia, she really is a magician. Would rather cut off her own legs than give somepony else a little stage time. Regardless, Octavia stepped away from center stage while Trixie unloaded her various magical artifacts. A series of ropes were soon laid upon the ground, along with a small wicker basket and a bouquet of flowers. Trixie worked with feverish devotion on the objects, shifting each one ever so slightly. Eventually she paused and turned to Octavia. “Alright, I’m going to do my warm-up act,” Trixie said. “A simple enough trick. But I do need you to move a little more to the side.” Octavia looked around her, a confused expression on her face. She was already far from the center of the stage. However, their previous argument had exhausted Octavia from any further obstruction, so she moved to the side ever so slightly. “A little bit more,” Trixie said. Octavia once again complied, scooting aside even farther. “Just a teensy bit more,” Trixie said through an artificial smile. A small grunt came from Octavia as she moved once again. How much farther will she-? Thunk! Octavia looked up to see a large wall beside her. The scroll atop her cello pushed against the wood comprising most of the dance hall. The curtain on the side of the stage prevented her from seeing two-thirds of the auditorium in front of her. Had there been an audience, they wouldn’t have been able to see her at all. “Perfect!” Trixie said. “Stay right there!” The bow nearly snapped in Octavia’s hoof. That charlatan’s bumping me out! If Trixie could see her partner’s rage, she showed no sign of it. She merely walked off the stage, then immediately walked back on. She threw a half-dozen kisses out to an imaginary crowd and bowed as far as she could without tasting the ground. “Thank you all for coming!” Trixie proclaimed. “Thank you for your applause! Thank you, thank you!” Her face then grew somewhat annoyed, her hooves coaxing the non-audience down. “Okay, that’s enough. The Great and Powerful Trixie likes applause, but she doesn’t like it that much.” “Au contraire,” Octavia hollered from her spot. Trixie shot her a dirty look, then resumed her focus on the imaginary crowd. “I want to thank you all for coming to the very first Hilltop Hearth’s Warming Eve Spectacular. I would say you had nothing better to do, but… wait, you really don’t have anything better to do!” She held her hooves out for imaginary laughter. Octavia held hers out toward the windows, begging Celestia for relief. “Anyways, as the greatest magician this side of Equestria, I wanted to give you ponies a show on this most dreary of Hearth’s Warming Eves. I will be aided my musical assistant, Octavia. You can’t see her, but she’s there.” Her face grew serious. “Don’t ask why. That’s part of the magic.” She then motioned toward Octavia, a gesture known universally amongst performers for “Do something and do it now”. Octavia readied her bow and gave a quick tremble on the strings. The noise was somber and cold, the emotions Octavia had been trying to give auditory form in her three-day sabbatical in the motel room. “No!” Trixie hissed. “Something adventurous and mysterious at the same time! Mys-venturous, as they say.” Shaking her head, Octavia started a new barrage of notes. The major chord she chose hit the adventurous notes Trixie demanded, and the few flat notes she threw in gave the notes an occasional playfulness that implied the musician was toying with the listener. This appeared to satisfy Trixie, for she began motioning towards the ropes in front of her. The strings began to move slowly, vibrating first before standing straight up like they were pulled taught on one end. Each one then began to move from side to side as they stared back at Trixie. Her wild gesticulations with her hooves seemed to hold them in a trance, the ends of the ropes weaving back and forward while the rest of the rope stayed in place. “Now,” Trixie said in a low voice. “Hit them with an exciting tune!” Octavia complied, hitting a dominant chord with more than a few sharps. All of a sudden, the rope heads twisted toward Octavia. The move surprised her, but she maintained her rhythm. Probably just a part of the act, she reassured herself. Then, in a move faster than Octavia could react, all the ropes began snaking their way toward her. The twine material created terrible new scrapes along the stage’s surface. Octavia didn’t even have time to holler before the ropes started to wind around all her legs. “Stop playing!” Trixie cried out. “The ropes hate the music!” Octavia dropped her bow, less from Trixie’s suggestion and more from the fact the ropes were starting to squeeze the feeling out of her legs. The cello fell to the ground and made a loud bwang that echoed throughout the hall. For a few moments, neither mare could do anything but make hushed breaths. Yet moment by moment, the ropes loosened their hold on Octavia. Blood began to circulate in her legs once again. The numbness died away and the ropes slithered back towards their mistress. Had she been paying attention, Octavia might’ve taken their reticent crawls for ones of shame. Instead, all of her attention was on Trixie. “What in Tartarus’s name happened?!” Octavia cried out. Trixie, for the first time since Octavia had met her, turned bashful. “The notes,” she said in a whisper. “They were the wrong ones.” “What do you mean ‘the wrong ones’?!” “They must have been sharp notes. Rope snakes don’t like sharp notes.” “Well, a little heads up beforehoof would’ve been nice!” “I’m…I’m sorry.” Trixie’s head turned away from Octavia’s. Unadulterated shame covered her face. The moment of weakness bought Octavia’s compassion for only a moment. “Sorry isn’t enough!” she hollered. The bottles on the bar shelves shook from the scream. “You’re supposed to be an expert magician, and you let that slide by you?” “I said I’m sorry!” Trixie’s voice now had a slight tremble to it. “You don’t have to yell.” “Yes, I do! You overtake the show, shove me into the corner rather than share the spotlight, then do a magic trick that gets somepony hurt! I think yelling is the only way anything’s going to get through your egotist mind.” The pain in Trixie’s eyes increased. “You’re just hysterical. You don’t mean that.” “I mean every syllable of it, you showboat!” Her face filled with an unrepentant sneer. “If you’re such a good magician, why don’t you make yourself disappear?” Though she couldn’t see it, Octavia knew right then that Trixie’s face fell. “I…” A quick sniffle filled the room. “I guess you won’t…won’t be wanting to work together anymore.” “That’s the first thing you’ve been right about,” Octavia growled. “Alright.” Without another word, Trixie walked down the stage and towards the front doors. For a few moments, her hoof steps echoed across the floor, then she disappeared into the snow-filled street. It seemed like an hour until Octavia realized she was alone. She looked down at the ropes, all flaccid except for one. The lone rope looked up at her before drooping its head. “Yeah,” Octavia said, repeating the gesture back to the rope. “I’m sorry too.” Sorry Isn't EnoughOctavia didn’t waste too much energy trying to find Trixie. She knew there were only three places she could be: the motel, her cart down at the zeppelin station, and the dance hall itself. The rest of the town was too gaudy, too oppressive in its over-engineered extravagance. Every single building leaned two-thirds over the edge of the mesa. Outsiders like them were bound to feel ready to fall off any moment. The motel room took little time to rule out. Not only had the receptionist not seen Trixie pass by, but Octavia knew the rooms’ perpetual gloominess would’ve seemed too oppressive for even Trixie. Octavia’s dash to the zeppelin station and the adjoining storage shed likewise proved fruitless. The cold seeped into Trixie’s cart more than the motel, with most of the items within either covered in frost or soggy from the brief bursts of sunlight that managed to break through the clouds. As strange as it seemed, Octavia knew Trixie wanted to be comfortable in her misery. So Octavia returned to the dance hall. The doors echoed once again across the empty space, though there seemed to a certain melancholy to the ways the hinges squeaked. Said sadness was reflected clearly in the bar’s mirror, where a sullen unicorn stirred a drink absentmindedly. Octavia walked forward, steps echoing across the floor once again. She stopped when she reached the stool adjacent to the one Trixie occupied. Neither said a word for a few moments. Only the high-pitched wind whirling outside gave any indication the world would move without their voices. “I tried to find a place to sulk in,” Trixie finally said. “But everywhere else was too depressing or too cheerful to be in. You need to be miserable in a place both cozy and cold. Only place I could think of was back here.” She took a swig of her drink, a dark ale still bubbling from the tap. “Trixie…” Octavia began. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” Trixie took another drink. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve known better than to try that trick.” “It’s not your fault. I overreacted.” “Maybe. But I still should’ve warned you.” Octavia hopped onto the stool and leaned onto the bar. She looked at Trixie in the mirror. Trixie just kept staring at the drink. “I have a friend,” Trixie said. “Starlight, back in Ponyville.” “Really?” Octavia said. “I’ve seen her around every now and then.” Trixie nodded. “If she were here, she would’ve set me straight. Told me all the things a good friend is supposed to do. Wouldn’t have complained about just being my assistant.” She paused like she expected Octavia to laugh, but continued when the silence remained. “She was like me once. Maybe she still is. I don’t know.” “I have a friend in Ponyville too,” Octavia said. “Live with her even. We’re not the same, though. She likes the loud electronic music, I love the soft orchestral melodies.” She stared down at the scratches in the bar’s well-worn oak. “She would have told me to relax, to not let things get to where they were between us. To sit back and wait for something fun to happen, or to just go and make some fun myself.” She brought her hooves to her face. “I wanted so badly to spend Hearth’s Warming with her. Now I’m stuck up here, making you and me and probably everypony else miserable instead of doing something productive.” Trixie looked up into the mirror. Her eyes no longer showed the half-drunk glaze Octavia expected. “What were you doing? Before you came here, I mean.” “I was down in Neighami for a show.” Octavia laughed. “Only I would rush back up to snowy Ponyville instead of having a tropical winter. That’s friendship, I guess. Makes you do funny things.” The silence filled the room once again, before Trixie said: “I was going on an Apology tour.” “A what?” “An apology tour. You know, for everything I did.” “What, did you saw a pony in half for real?” Trixie stared at her. “You really don’t know?” Octavia shrugged. “I really don’t.” “You mean…you don’t hate me for what I’ve done?” “Of course not. I hated you because you were an obnoxious twit.” Octavia cringed when she saw Trixie shrink back into her cloak. “B-But I was wrong about that! You were just… passionate, shall we say.” Trixie chuckled. “It’s been a long time since somepony from Ponyville didn’t give me the stink eye. Even after I did the show there with Starlight and the manticore, I get looks. Like they didn’t know Twilight forgave me and I hated everything I did to them with the Amulet.” “Amulet? Wait. Now I remember. Vinyl said somepony came around with an amulet one time and enslaved the town. That was you?” “Yep.” “I mean, we might’ve gotten off on the wrong hoof, but I didn’t really think you’d do that.” A mirthless chuckle escaped Trixie’s lips. “Nopony ever thinks they can really do what they do with that thing on. But it happens all the same.” Octavia shuffled in her seat. “Look, Trixie, whatever you did in your past, just realize that… that you’re not a monster.” Octavia stared into the mirror, deep into her own eyes. “I was. I only wanted to escape this town, to go back home to my friend and spend the holiday making myself happy. Even now, when I had an opportunity to make the ponies of Hilltop a little bit happier, I threw it away for a little bit of attention.” Octavia cast her head downward to the bar. Her reflection wavered both from the varnish and her own growing tears. “We were both selfish,” Octavia sputtered. “I just hid it a little better.” A hoof slid over to Octavia’s and pressed down. Octavia grasped the hoof and massaged it with a circular motion. The wind continued making itself known while quiet tears shed on both sides. “Trixie, this is a tough time for me too. I’m stuck in a town I didn’t want to be in, separated from my best friend, all during a holiday I love. This year, Hearth’s Warming is just… I don’t know. Just plain terrible. But that doesn’t mean I need to be.” “Or we need to be,” Trixie said. “Right. Right.” Octavia gazed directly up into Trixie’s eyes. “Can we try again? With the Spectacular?” Trixie gave a ghost of a smile. “Trix- I mean, I would like that.” She glanced up at the clock sitting just over the bar and her face fell. “But we only have two hours! How could we possibly cobble together an act like that?” A sly grin crossed Octavia’s face. “Well, let’s just say improvisation plus inspiration are a musician’s best friends. Are they a magician’s?” Trixie paused, then smiled back. “They most certainly are.” What's Old is NewThe crowd gathered in the dance hall like they’d never seen one before. Ponies shuffled around in awkward semicircles, while the young children ran about through the gaps the adults provided. Low murmuring voices of unimportant small talk combined into a dull cacophony nopony paid any attention. The only pony moving with any sense of purpose was the stallion behind the bar, his hooves flashing fast with various cocktails. His clients showed their appreciation through quick gulps and even quicker demands for another. Yet the townsfolk showed no misapprehension or impatience with the environment. The past days of the storm had taken a toll on them, and their desire for any kind of amusement overwhelmed any sense of entitlement. The fast approach of the even colder night likewise hastened their desire to stay inside. Some of the more indelicate members even proclaimed they’d stick around as long as there were drinks. The mayor stood at attention towards the back of the dance hall. His eyes shifted to the clock above the bar every few seconds, his mind wandering to possible causes for the delays. Even he knew that boredom would only keep the ponies here for so long, and if there was one thing he knew stained a politician’s standing, it was not living up to one’s promises. Even if said promise dealt with a mere holiday show. “Fillies and gentlecolts!” a feminine voice boomed. The room snapped to attention, every head turning to the still-empty stage. “Welcome to the first ever Hearth’s Warming Eve Spectacular in Hilltop!” The voice seemed to come from everywhere in the room, as if the same speaker stood in multiple spots. The mayor’s face filled with confusion. We don’t have a microphone, he thought. How the hay are they pulling that off? “Without further ado,” the voice continued, “please welcome your tour guides of talent!” A large puff of smoke filled the stage. Where once nothing had stood now showed two mares. One stood tall, a cello pressed against her body and a bow in her hoof. The other stared down at the ground whispering unintelligible words. Her wizard cloak waved from invisible winds coursing along the stage floor. “Behold,” the cloaked one whispered. “The first Hearth’s Warming Eve!” Another flash filled the stage. Some ponies glanced away in the bright light, while others stared, transfixed. Now amongst the two mares on-stage were a collection of ropes lying flat on the stage. Octavia drew her bow across the cello, and the ropes began to form into the shapes of ponies. A different ethereal glow filled each rope’s outline. Small dots formed along the section most would identify as a pony’s head, combining until vague faces could be made out. Hushed whispers went out amongst the crowd. Recognizance of the cloaked visage of Clover the Clever and the helmeted Commander Hurricane filled the auditorium. The rest of the ropes likewise bore striking resemblances to the other material characters of the Hearth’s Warming legend. Octavia held on a long note, giving the audience time to soak in these new developments. Then, faster than the townsfolk could gasp, she struck a hard sharp note. The ropes all shot toward her, their pony shapes remaining intact. Children in the audience screamed when the ropes’ expressions, otherwise taciturn, twisted into unmistakable rage. Even their forehooves reached out for Octavia’s throat like a real pony filled with murderous intentions would. At the last possible moment, Octavia’s whole body shifted to the right. No muscle in her whole body twitched to force her away from the onslaught. Her entire movement seemed quite weightless. The ropes collided into a mess and mashed against each other. Their pony forms seemed to be thrashing and kicking one another like any pony in the old times would. The mayor gave a small smile. A rolling platform, he thought. Not even an inch high and with wheels. Lets the gals look like they’re moving without moving. Least I can figure that one out. Octavia’s bow pushed harder against the strings, a dark tone filling the room. A sharp whistle went over the crowd before a white form appeared near the bar. The figure appeared to be that of a pony, only emaciated and glowing with hot energy. A deep snort and cry came out from its lips while it dashed over the gawking ponies’ heads. Several more whistles filled the hall, and more of the thin horses started galloping in a circle above the townsponies’ heads. The crowd shrunk back. They knew Windigos when they saw them. Trixie, who stood nearly invisible against the back wall of the stage, released a quick burst of magic. The Windigos faded from view with each second. This was Octavia’s cue for the next movement, and she released a new major chord. The ropes tore themselves away from one another and started walking around the stage on their artificial hooves. The way they moved made them seem both weightless and heavy, their legs hovering just above the ground and compressing like they’d touched anyway. Every so often, their limbs shot up to their eyes, scanning some distant horizon as their historical bases had. Per the legend, the land of Equestria was soon found. Octavia released another quick burst of sharp notes from her cello. As before, the ropes lunged toward her, but the magical aura Trixie cast upon the rolling platform tugged Octavia away just in time. Again the appropriate historical ponies fought amongst each other, while others stood off and shook their heads at the unrefined scene. Another burst of whistles filled the room, and the Windigos returned. Their frenzied gallop around the crowd correlated with the fighting ropes’ ever-growing sluggishness. Their thrashes against one another became slower, and their lining color began to change to a solid blue. Eventually they stopped moving altogether. Octavia stopped her music. Trixie stood back against the wall, cracking her hooves. The crowd stood silent. Fillies and colts held their breath. Even the mayor gripped the wall in quiet anticipation. Suddenly, a burst of pink filled the room. The ropes dispersed with their equestrian forms and coalesced into a singular heart shape. Pink fire seemed to envelop the outline to where many were sure the roof would soon be alight. The Windigos once dominating the room began to squeal and dissipate the stronger the heart burned. In just a few seconds, they were all gone. The heart stood triumphant against the roof, shining down on the Hilltopians like Celestia’s very Sun. Octavia and Trixie shot each other a quiet smirk. Trixie nodded her head. Octavia gave one last trill, then hit the practiced high note. The heart burst into a thousand pieces. Each piece of rope tore itself apart and let the fire usurp their mass. Little bits of hemp dissipated before they even got a foot above the ponies’ heads. For a moment, all was quiet. Then a voice said: “That is the story of Hearth’s Warming Eve.” The applause had been deafening. Ponies kept cheering for a solid ten minutes after the show, along with the occasional encore demands being thrown out. The little fillies and colts jumped up and down with giggling ecstasy. The entire town, for the first time since Octavia could see, was animated with holiday cheer. Yet neither she nor Trixie made any move to attempt a solo act. Not only was the audience too enthralled in praising the last performance, but any further attempt would’ve been fruitless. Nothing would top the magic-symphonic rendition of Hearth’s Warming Eve they had performed, both in the townsfolks’ eyes and their own. The requisite post-performance theatrics continued as they normally did. Firm hoofshakes congratulating the mares on a fantastic show. Polite, if somewhat overeager offers to buy them drinks from both artistic appreciators and tipsy would-be suitors. Little fillies running around them singing, “Again, again!” until they became too tired to cheer and needed to be courted back home for bedtime. All of this passed by in a blur for Octavia. It was only near the end of the theatrics, when all but the most inebriated ponies had gone homeward, that she snapped out of her post-performance haze. She smiled when the portly stallion who made this all possible drew nearer and gave an appreciative nod. “Well done,” the mayor said. “Never seen a better show here in all my life.” “Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” Octavia said. “I’ve never performed in a better town.” “Flattery’s my job, Miss Octavia. But thank you nevertheless.” He stared down at his hooves, kicking at a discarded napkin on the floor. “What’s the matter, Mayor?” Octavia said. The mayor sighed. “Well, I just got word ten minutes ago that Slush Puppy’s just gotten back from down the mountain. Says he’ll be ready to take you whenever you’re ready.” He kicked at the napkin again. “Just hate to see you go. You brought a nice bit of fun to this place.” Octavia gave a confident smirk. “Who said the fun had to end here?” The mayor gave her a surprised glance. “But you were fixing on getting back home! For Celestia’s sake, don’t stay here on account of an old geezer’s yapping.” “But tomorrow’s Hearth’s Warming,” Octavia said. “Who wants to spend that going down a cold mountain?” The mayor chuckled. “I can see where you’re coming from. Oh well. Slush Puppy will like a day of rest.” “Days,” Trixie’s voice called out from behind them. “Octavia and I figured we’d stay until we experienced all of Hilltop.” The mayor’s jaw dropped. “You mean…you’re going to stay for a while?” “Sure!” Trixie said. “Besides, dogs can’t carry my cart all the way down. Not comfortably, anyway.” “Hah!” The mayor shook his head. “You keep stalling around here, you might get to liking it.” With that, he tipped an invisible hat and wandered out the doors into the blizzard starting to pick up. “He’s right,” Octavia said. “I actually am starting to like it here.” Trixie laughed. “Just remember Ponyville summers. You’ll want out of here in a heartbeat.” “I don’t have the travel itch like you, Trixie. I could play in one town my whole life. As long as my friends were there, of course.” “Well, Ponyville will have that for sure.” She began to blush when Octavia gave her a knowing look. “I’m talking about Vinyl, of course.” “Of course. Though they’ll always be an open dinner table at my home for a certain great and powerful magician.” Trixie gave a smile, too wavering in the lips to be anything but genuine. “I would be honored.” Her face fell back into its default haughtiness. “Providing, of course, the spot is marked as belonging to ‘The Great and Powerful Trixie’. Otherwise the entire dinner is off.” Octavia looked down at the floor and sighed. “Well, I don’t know about you, but the cold has started to irritate my hooves. I was wondering if you would join me for hot chocolate? As a fellow colleague in showmareship, of course.” Trixie smiled. “I would love nothing more.” The magician offered a hoof, and Octavia grasped it with a firm hoof of her own. Their hooves moved to their partner’s shoulders and they began walking out into the freezing night. “Of course, we’re getting peppermint-tinted cocoa,” Octavia said. “Otherwise, you’re just eating melted chocolate.” Trixie scoffed. “Only a plebian would focus on peppermint. The Great and Powerful Trixie takes only hot chocolate laced with the fluffiest of marshmallows!” Octavia gave an exaggerated gag. “Marshmallows? Are you having hot chocolate or a soggy S’more?” “Do not befoul marshmallows in the Great and Powerful Trixie’s presence! Not even a Super Duper Apology Tour would absolve you from such blasphemy!” But Octavia could see the miniscule smile building under Trixie’s hat. A smile that would build and build until not even the greatest showmare in the world could hide the friendship it represented.
Music and MagicOctavia took a deep, nervous breath when she stared up at the mahogany doors. The Town Hall of Hilltop was before her, not so much standing as squatting between the local post office and a confectionary shop with candy cane stickers slapped onto the windows. The shortness of the buildings had undoubtedly been for the winter months, as the buildings were already quite burdened under the recent snow upon their roofs. All of the buildings were close to the edge of the hill the city square sat on, a plethora of stilts holding up what parts of them tipped over the sides. This visual reminder of the town’s precarious position upon a large mesa prodded Octavia’s deeper mind, though she thought more of her tardiness to the mayor’s request than the risk of a long fall down snow-covered slopes. I shouldn’t be here, Octavia thought, a forlorn expression on her face. Not on Hearth’s Warming Eve. I should be back in Ponyville with Vinyl. The cold wind that had been hounding the town all morning picked up again, and Octavia shivered. She could remember the winter storm that had diverted her zeppelin from Ponyville to Hilltop, only to seemingly follow her all the way here. For three days, she’d waited for the wind to die and the snow to stop falling. She’d even gone to the town post office to ask for an emergency Weather Patrol who could break up the clouds. The wrinkled old mare behind the desk gave her a look that bordered somewhere between contempt and amusement. “I had you figured for a Canterlot pony,” she said with a slight drawl. “Only they would think winter starts and stops whenever you want.” She then explained, with a little more condescension than Octavia appreciated, that Hilltop was an Earth Pony town. The only Pegasi or Unicorns they saw came through on ships like Octavia’s, and there weren’t enough of them to break up the clouds. The best she could do was put in a request to the mayor for an emergency dog sled ride back down to the base of the mountain, but that was a slim chance if any. Nopony had seen the sledder, a stallion named Slush Puppy, in town for almost two weeks. So Octavia filed the evacuation request, then sat in her motel room for three straight days. The monotony broke only when she adjusted the strings on her cello and tried to string together a tune into a discernible piece. She’d just gotten towards the sixteenth measure when the knock on her door rang out and the mayor’s summons were handed to her. The romantic in her prayed this was a sign of her salvation, where some surprise gaggle of cute winter dogs would eagerly stare up at her and whisk her down the mountain. The whole walk to the mayor’s office perpetuated this small glimmer of hope, though the lack of movement within the town added quiet whispers of uncertainty to Octavia’s already uneasy mind. Octavia pushed the doors and stepped inside. She realized the Town Hall was only one room, with a small, empty secretarial desk in the front and the mayor’s desk in the back. The latter appeared to be an oaken desk, with there being just enough room for a large leatherback chair to sit behind it. Two chairs sat in front of the desk, one of them occupied by a light blue mare with silver hair. She looked back at Octavia with a small smirk, her purple hat and cloak rustling with her every movement. She looks familiar, Octavia thought. Had she been to Canterlot? Yet it was the plump stallion in thick overalls sitting behind the desk that caught Octavia’s attention the most. He sat deep in his thick leather chair, staring out at her with gleaming eyes. “Come on in, Miss Octavia,” he said. “Trixie and I have been waiting for you.” Octavia gave a quick nod and made her way over to the chair. “Thank you so much for contacting me, Mr. Mayor. I was worried I’d never get home.” “Oh, the both of you will,” the mayor said smiling. “Just not tonight.” “What?” Octavia said. “Then why did you call me over?” “That’s just what I was telling Miss Trixie here about.” He leaned forward. “She put in the same request you did, only with a whole cart instead of just a cello. Fact of the matter is, nopony’s getting out of here any earlier than a week. No Pegasi were on the airships coming in, nor any Unicorns sufficiently proficient in magic.” “I beg your pardon!” Trixie said. “Weather magic, Miss Trixie. Any who, fact is you’re both stuck here, and I wanted your help to make this whole mess a little more hospitable.” “Hospitality is Trixie’s middle name!” Modesty certainly isn’t, Octavia thought. Her mind dictated a thousand things wrong with the pony sitting beside her, all of them pointing to the fact she was a rambunctious and off-putting showboat. “I’m glad you say so,” the mayor said. “Because I tell you this weather’s as hard on us as it is on you folk. We don’t mind a nice bit of snow, but this storm’s got a mean streak a mile wide. Blizzards all day and subzero temperatures all night. Folks are too nervous to even go to the general store. I had to dodge three falling icicles just to get to the office.” He shook his head. “Worst winter I’ve ever seen in these parts.” He leaned back in his chair, his stomach jiggling in time with his body. “That’s why I need your help. Word is around here that you’re both showponies. Musical and magical fortes. Gals who know how to catch a crowd’s attention and keep it.” “Well,” Trixie said, a faux blush coming across her face. “I have been known to attract the odd crowd or two.” Octavia did her best not to gag at the display, before adding: “I’ve done more than a few concerts, Mayor.” “Great!” he said. “Then you two could put on a show tonight. A Hearth’s Warming Eve Spectacular!” “What?” Octavia said. “A show, here?” “Of course! We got a dance hall on the other side of town where we have parties. You gals could just take up space there and fill ‘er up with Hearth’s Warming cheer.” “Wait!” Octavia’s front hooves waved around her head like she didn’t know how they worked. “This…This is all rather sudden.” “Life is rather sudden, my dear Octavia,” Trixie said with a large smile. “The best we can do is try to keep up.” “Right you are!” the mayor said. “And you two aren’t doing anything except waiting for a dog sled, so why not put your talents to good use?” Octavia paused in thought. He has a point. I've not been making much progress on the piece, and boring myself to death won't get me out of here any faster. She glanced sideways at the grinning mare beside her, hat still wiggling with each turn of the head. She’s going to be a problem, though. But I’ve dealt with plenty of prima donnas in the orchestra. I’m sure I can deal with one in the magician’s trade. Octavia stood up tall. “Alright, Mayor. I accept your invitation.” “I accept it even harder!” Trixie said, her cloak billowing when she stood up. “Excellent!” the mayor said. “I’ll see you two tonight. Feel free to use the dance hall for practice. Nopony’s dancing around here as long as there’s lotsa sleet and no music.” Octavia turned and started towards the door. She felt her progress impeded by a blue aura surrounding her and pulling her back. She landed in an iron grip provided by Trixie’s forehooves. “Have no fear, Octavia!” Trixie proclaimed. “I will-I mean, we will put on the best Hearth’s Warming Eve Spectacular Hilltop will ever see!” I am immediately regretting this, Octavia thought.
The Start of a Beautiful FriendshipThe dance hall appeared like many backwater dance halls across Equestria did. A majority of the space consisted of a wide wooden floor that squeaked with every step made. Countless scuffs and scrapes etched themselves into the wood from a hundred past dances, to the point the wood’s original color barely remained. At the far end stood the stage, three feet off the ground and steps on two sides. A banjo sat in the center of the stage like somepony was planning on coming back for it. Dark purple curtains lined both sides, thick dust still caked upon them. Towards the left side of the room sat a long bar with bottles of varying colors propped upon shelves, each reflected in the long mirror stretching from each end of the bar. Also reflected were the two mares standing in the doorway, both examining the scene with drastically different expressions. “Well, it’s not Carneighgy Hall,” Octavia half-sighed. “But we’ll be able to make do.” “Voodoo, that is,” Trixie said, rubbing her hooves together in anticipation. “I’ve got so many tricks up my sleeve that these Hilltopians will think I’m the next Hoofdini.” Hopefully complete with the punch in the stomach, Octavia thought. She walked towards the stage, her cello case strapped to her back. Trixie followed and tossed silver glitter over the floor all the way to the stage. Vague words Octavia didn’t bother to listen to echoed from the magician’s mouth. “Alright,” Octavia said, climbing the stage and placing her cello case down. “So how are we going to do this?” “We’re going to do it like it’s our only shot!” Trixie proclaimed. “Like we’ll be run out of town on a rail if we mess anything up! Like Luna would turn into Nightmare Moon again if we got even one iota of this show wrong!” “Yes, yes,” Octavia groaned. “I’ve heard the pep talks in drama class too. Now how about we talk about the order we’re going to go in.” “Well, they say save the best for last, so I think you should go first.” “Hey!” Octavia’s eyes burned with the heat of a thousand suns. Trixie gave a sheepish grin. “You’re right. Cellos tend to make ponies very sleepy. My act will jazz them up, then your act will calm them down so they can sleep well.” “Now hold on just a minute!” Octavia said. “We agreed to organize this thing together. This is meant to be a collaborative effort, not a solo act.” “It is!” Trixie said gleefully. “We’re just collaborating on how to make my show look even better.” “Our show.” “That’s what I said. Sodium chloride!” “What?” “Salt, my quaint cellist.” She reached into her cloak and brought out a hooful of white powder. The crystals gleamed in the sunlight leaking through the window. Trixie brought the salt to her mouth, licked it, and smacked her lips together. “Tasty and magical at the same time. Especially when you mix it with super-heated water.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “What a great magician you are, telling everypony how a trick works. Hoofdini would be so proud.” Trixie’s eyes bugged. “What did you say?!” “I said, maybe we should try to combine our acts. We obviously aren’t going to agree on who goes first, so maybe we should just cut the head off that snake and work together on one act.” Trixie stared at Octavia in equal parts confusion and amusement. “The Great and Powerful Trixie sharing the stage? Hah! Why not buy a sea lion and complete the low-rent circus you’re trying to create?” Octavia put a hoof to her head and closed her eyes. “Look, I don’t know how else we’re going to fix this problem. Either we’re going to have to work together or just keep fighting over who goes first.” Trixie tapped her chin for a moment, then shrugged. “Very well. Trixie will humor you and let you play your music in the background of the act.” Octavia rolled her eyes. Sweet Celestia, she really is a magician. Would rather cut off her own legs than give somepony else a little stage time. Regardless, Octavia stepped away from center stage while Trixie unloaded her various magical artifacts. A series of ropes were soon laid upon the ground, along with a small wicker basket and a bouquet of flowers. Trixie worked with feverish devotion on the objects, shifting each one ever so slightly. Eventually she paused and turned to Octavia. “Alright, I’m going to do my warm-up act,” Trixie said. “A simple enough trick. But I do need you to move a little more to the side.” Octavia looked around her, a confused expression on her face. She was already far from the center of the stage. However, their previous argument had exhausted Octavia from any further obstruction, so she moved to the side ever so slightly. “A little bit more,” Trixie said. Octavia once again complied, scooting aside even farther. “Just a teensy bit more,” Trixie said through an artificial smile. A small grunt came from Octavia as she moved once again. How much farther will she-? Thunk! Octavia looked up to see a large wall beside her. The scroll atop her cello pushed against the wood comprising most of the dance hall. The curtain on the side of the stage prevented her from seeing two-thirds of the auditorium in front of her. Had there been an audience, they wouldn’t have been able to see her at all. “Perfect!” Trixie said. “Stay right there!” The bow nearly snapped in Octavia’s hoof. That charlatan’s bumping me out! If Trixie could see her partner’s rage, she showed no sign of it. She merely walked off the stage, then immediately walked back on. She threw a half-dozen kisses out to an imaginary crowd and bowed as far as she could without tasting the ground. “Thank you all for coming!” Trixie proclaimed. “Thank you for your applause! Thank you, thank you!” Her face then grew somewhat annoyed, her hooves coaxing the non-audience down. “Okay, that’s enough. The Great and Powerful Trixie likes applause, but she doesn’t like it that much.” “Au contraire,” Octavia hollered from her spot. Trixie shot her a dirty look, then resumed her focus on the imaginary crowd. “I want to thank you all for coming to the very first Hilltop Hearth’s Warming Eve Spectacular. I would say you had nothing better to do, but… wait, you really don’t have anything better to do!” She held her hooves out for imaginary laughter. Octavia held hers out toward the windows, begging Celestia for relief. “Anyways, as the greatest magician this side of Equestria, I wanted to give you ponies a show on this most dreary of Hearth’s Warming Eves. I will be aided my musical assistant, Octavia. You can’t see her, but she’s there.” Her face grew serious. “Don’t ask why. That’s part of the magic.” She then motioned toward Octavia, a gesture known universally amongst performers for “Do something and do it now”. Octavia readied her bow and gave a quick tremble on the strings. The noise was somber and cold, the emotions Octavia had been trying to give auditory form in her three-day sabbatical in the motel room. “No!” Trixie hissed. “Something adventurous and mysterious at the same time! Mys-venturous, as they say.” Shaking her head, Octavia started a new barrage of notes. The major chord she chose hit the adventurous notes Trixie demanded, and the few flat notes she threw in gave the notes an occasional playfulness that implied the musician was toying with the listener. This appeared to satisfy Trixie, for she began motioning towards the ropes in front of her. The strings began to move slowly, vibrating first before standing straight up like they were pulled taught on one end. Each one then began to move from side to side as they stared back at Trixie. Her wild gesticulations with her hooves seemed to hold them in a trance, the ends of the ropes weaving back and forward while the rest of the rope stayed in place. “Now,” Trixie said in a low voice. “Hit them with an exciting tune!” Octavia complied, hitting a dominant chord with more than a few sharps. All of a sudden, the rope heads twisted toward Octavia. The move surprised her, but she maintained her rhythm. Probably just a part of the act, she reassured herself. Then, in a move faster than Octavia could react, all the ropes began snaking their way toward her. The twine material created terrible new scrapes along the stage’s surface. Octavia didn’t even have time to holler before the ropes started to wind around all her legs. “Stop playing!” Trixie cried out. “The ropes hate the music!” Octavia dropped her bow, less from Trixie’s suggestion and more from the fact the ropes were starting to squeeze the feeling out of her legs. The cello fell to the ground and made a loud bwang that echoed throughout the hall. For a few moments, neither mare could do anything but make hushed breaths. Yet moment by moment, the ropes loosened their hold on Octavia. Blood began to circulate in her legs once again. The numbness died away and the ropes slithered back towards their mistress. Had she been paying attention, Octavia might’ve taken their reticent crawls for ones of shame. Instead, all of her attention was on Trixie. “What in Tartarus’s name happened?!” Octavia cried out. Trixie, for the first time since Octavia had met her, turned bashful. “The notes,” she said in a whisper. “They were the wrong ones.” “What do you mean ‘the wrong ones’?!” “They must have been sharp notes. Rope snakes don’t like sharp notes.” “Well, a little heads up beforehoof would’ve been nice!” “I’m…I’m sorry.” Trixie’s head turned away from Octavia’s. Unadulterated shame covered her face. The moment of weakness bought Octavia’s compassion for only a moment. “Sorry isn’t enough!” she hollered. The bottles on the bar shelves shook from the scream. “You’re supposed to be an expert magician, and you let that slide by you?” “I said I’m sorry!” Trixie’s voice now had a slight tremble to it. “You don’t have to yell.” “Yes, I do! You overtake the show, shove me into the corner rather than share the spotlight, then do a magic trick that gets somepony hurt! I think yelling is the only way anything’s going to get through your egotist mind.” The pain in Trixie’s eyes increased. “You’re just hysterical. You don’t mean that.” “I mean every syllable of it, you showboat!” Her face filled with an unrepentant sneer. “If you’re such a good magician, why don’t you make yourself disappear?” Though she couldn’t see it, Octavia knew right then that Trixie’s face fell. “I…” A quick sniffle filled the room. “I guess you won’t…won’t be wanting to work together anymore.” “That’s the first thing you’ve been right about,” Octavia growled. “Alright.” Without another word, Trixie walked down the stage and towards the front doors. For a few moments, her hoof steps echoed across the floor, then she disappeared into the snow-filled street. It seemed like an hour until Octavia realized she was alone. She looked down at the ropes, all flaccid except for one. The lone rope looked up at her before drooping its head. “Yeah,” Octavia said, repeating the gesture back to the rope. “I’m sorry too.”
Sorry Isn't EnoughOctavia didn’t waste too much energy trying to find Trixie. She knew there were only three places she could be: the motel, her cart down at the zeppelin station, and the dance hall itself. The rest of the town was too gaudy, too oppressive in its over-engineered extravagance. Every single building leaned two-thirds over the edge of the mesa. Outsiders like them were bound to feel ready to fall off any moment. The motel room took little time to rule out. Not only had the receptionist not seen Trixie pass by, but Octavia knew the rooms’ perpetual gloominess would’ve seemed too oppressive for even Trixie. Octavia’s dash to the zeppelin station and the adjoining storage shed likewise proved fruitless. The cold seeped into Trixie’s cart more than the motel, with most of the items within either covered in frost or soggy from the brief bursts of sunlight that managed to break through the clouds. As strange as it seemed, Octavia knew Trixie wanted to be comfortable in her misery. So Octavia returned to the dance hall. The doors echoed once again across the empty space, though there seemed to a certain melancholy to the ways the hinges squeaked. Said sadness was reflected clearly in the bar’s mirror, where a sullen unicorn stirred a drink absentmindedly. Octavia walked forward, steps echoing across the floor once again. She stopped when she reached the stool adjacent to the one Trixie occupied. Neither said a word for a few moments. Only the high-pitched wind whirling outside gave any indication the world would move without their voices. “I tried to find a place to sulk in,” Trixie finally said. “But everywhere else was too depressing or too cheerful to be in. You need to be miserable in a place both cozy and cold. Only place I could think of was back here.” She took a swig of her drink, a dark ale still bubbling from the tap. “Trixie…” Octavia began. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” Trixie took another drink. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve known better than to try that trick.” “It’s not your fault. I overreacted.” “Maybe. But I still should’ve warned you.” Octavia hopped onto the stool and leaned onto the bar. She looked at Trixie in the mirror. Trixie just kept staring at the drink. “I have a friend,” Trixie said. “Starlight, back in Ponyville.” “Really?” Octavia said. “I’ve seen her around every now and then.” Trixie nodded. “If she were here, she would’ve set me straight. Told me all the things a good friend is supposed to do. Wouldn’t have complained about just being my assistant.” She paused like she expected Octavia to laugh, but continued when the silence remained. “She was like me once. Maybe she still is. I don’t know.” “I have a friend in Ponyville too,” Octavia said. “Live with her even. We’re not the same, though. She likes the loud electronic music, I love the soft orchestral melodies.” She stared down at the scratches in the bar’s well-worn oak. “She would have told me to relax, to not let things get to where they were between us. To sit back and wait for something fun to happen, or to just go and make some fun myself.” She brought her hooves to her face. “I wanted so badly to spend Hearth’s Warming with her. Now I’m stuck up here, making you and me and probably everypony else miserable instead of doing something productive.” Trixie looked up into the mirror. Her eyes no longer showed the half-drunk glaze Octavia expected. “What were you doing? Before you came here, I mean.” “I was down in Neighami for a show.” Octavia laughed. “Only I would rush back up to snowy Ponyville instead of having a tropical winter. That’s friendship, I guess. Makes you do funny things.” The silence filled the room once again, before Trixie said: “I was going on an Apology tour.” “A what?” “An apology tour. You know, for everything I did.” “What, did you saw a pony in half for real?” Trixie stared at her. “You really don’t know?” Octavia shrugged. “I really don’t.” “You mean…you don’t hate me for what I’ve done?” “Of course not. I hated you because you were an obnoxious twit.” Octavia cringed when she saw Trixie shrink back into her cloak. “B-But I was wrong about that! You were just… passionate, shall we say.” Trixie chuckled. “It’s been a long time since somepony from Ponyville didn’t give me the stink eye. Even after I did the show there with Starlight and the manticore, I get looks. Like they didn’t know Twilight forgave me and I hated everything I did to them with the Amulet.” “Amulet? Wait. Now I remember. Vinyl said somepony came around with an amulet one time and enslaved the town. That was you?” “Yep.” “I mean, we might’ve gotten off on the wrong hoof, but I didn’t really think you’d do that.” A mirthless chuckle escaped Trixie’s lips. “Nopony ever thinks they can really do what they do with that thing on. But it happens all the same.” Octavia shuffled in her seat. “Look, Trixie, whatever you did in your past, just realize that… that you’re not a monster.” Octavia stared into the mirror, deep into her own eyes. “I was. I only wanted to escape this town, to go back home to my friend and spend the holiday making myself happy. Even now, when I had an opportunity to make the ponies of Hilltop a little bit happier, I threw it away for a little bit of attention.” Octavia cast her head downward to the bar. Her reflection wavered both from the varnish and her own growing tears. “We were both selfish,” Octavia sputtered. “I just hid it a little better.” A hoof slid over to Octavia’s and pressed down. Octavia grasped the hoof and massaged it with a circular motion. The wind continued making itself known while quiet tears shed on both sides. “Trixie, this is a tough time for me too. I’m stuck in a town I didn’t want to be in, separated from my best friend, all during a holiday I love. This year, Hearth’s Warming is just… I don’t know. Just plain terrible. But that doesn’t mean I need to be.” “Or we need to be,” Trixie said. “Right. Right.” Octavia gazed directly up into Trixie’s eyes. “Can we try again? With the Spectacular?” Trixie gave a ghost of a smile. “Trix- I mean, I would like that.” She glanced up at the clock sitting just over the bar and her face fell. “But we only have two hours! How could we possibly cobble together an act like that?” A sly grin crossed Octavia’s face. “Well, let’s just say improvisation plus inspiration are a musician’s best friends. Are they a magician’s?” Trixie paused, then smiled back. “They most certainly are.”
What's Old is NewThe crowd gathered in the dance hall like they’d never seen one before. Ponies shuffled around in awkward semicircles, while the young children ran about through the gaps the adults provided. Low murmuring voices of unimportant small talk combined into a dull cacophony nopony paid any attention. The only pony moving with any sense of purpose was the stallion behind the bar, his hooves flashing fast with various cocktails. His clients showed their appreciation through quick gulps and even quicker demands for another. Yet the townsfolk showed no misapprehension or impatience with the environment. The past days of the storm had taken a toll on them, and their desire for any kind of amusement overwhelmed any sense of entitlement. The fast approach of the even colder night likewise hastened their desire to stay inside. Some of the more indelicate members even proclaimed they’d stick around as long as there were drinks. The mayor stood at attention towards the back of the dance hall. His eyes shifted to the clock above the bar every few seconds, his mind wandering to possible causes for the delays. Even he knew that boredom would only keep the ponies here for so long, and if there was one thing he knew stained a politician’s standing, it was not living up to one’s promises. Even if said promise dealt with a mere holiday show. “Fillies and gentlecolts!” a feminine voice boomed. The room snapped to attention, every head turning to the still-empty stage. “Welcome to the first ever Hearth’s Warming Eve Spectacular in Hilltop!” The voice seemed to come from everywhere in the room, as if the same speaker stood in multiple spots. The mayor’s face filled with confusion. We don’t have a microphone, he thought. How the hay are they pulling that off? “Without further ado,” the voice continued, “please welcome your tour guides of talent!” A large puff of smoke filled the stage. Where once nothing had stood now showed two mares. One stood tall, a cello pressed against her body and a bow in her hoof. The other stared down at the ground whispering unintelligible words. Her wizard cloak waved from invisible winds coursing along the stage floor. “Behold,” the cloaked one whispered. “The first Hearth’s Warming Eve!” Another flash filled the stage. Some ponies glanced away in the bright light, while others stared, transfixed. Now amongst the two mares on-stage were a collection of ropes lying flat on the stage. Octavia drew her bow across the cello, and the ropes began to form into the shapes of ponies. A different ethereal glow filled each rope’s outline. Small dots formed along the section most would identify as a pony’s head, combining until vague faces could be made out. Hushed whispers went out amongst the crowd. Recognizance of the cloaked visage of Clover the Clever and the helmeted Commander Hurricane filled the auditorium. The rest of the ropes likewise bore striking resemblances to the other material characters of the Hearth’s Warming legend. Octavia held on a long note, giving the audience time to soak in these new developments. Then, faster than the townsfolk could gasp, she struck a hard sharp note. The ropes all shot toward her, their pony shapes remaining intact. Children in the audience screamed when the ropes’ expressions, otherwise taciturn, twisted into unmistakable rage. Even their forehooves reached out for Octavia’s throat like a real pony filled with murderous intentions would. At the last possible moment, Octavia’s whole body shifted to the right. No muscle in her whole body twitched to force her away from the onslaught. Her entire movement seemed quite weightless. The ropes collided into a mess and mashed against each other. Their pony forms seemed to be thrashing and kicking one another like any pony in the old times would. The mayor gave a small smile. A rolling platform, he thought. Not even an inch high and with wheels. Lets the gals look like they’re moving without moving. Least I can figure that one out. Octavia’s bow pushed harder against the strings, a dark tone filling the room. A sharp whistle went over the crowd before a white form appeared near the bar. The figure appeared to be that of a pony, only emaciated and glowing with hot energy. A deep snort and cry came out from its lips while it dashed over the gawking ponies’ heads. Several more whistles filled the hall, and more of the thin horses started galloping in a circle above the townsponies’ heads. The crowd shrunk back. They knew Windigos when they saw them. Trixie, who stood nearly invisible against the back wall of the stage, released a quick burst of magic. The Windigos faded from view with each second. This was Octavia’s cue for the next movement, and she released a new major chord. The ropes tore themselves away from one another and started walking around the stage on their artificial hooves. The way they moved made them seem both weightless and heavy, their legs hovering just above the ground and compressing like they’d touched anyway. Every so often, their limbs shot up to their eyes, scanning some distant horizon as their historical bases had. Per the legend, the land of Equestria was soon found. Octavia released another quick burst of sharp notes from her cello. As before, the ropes lunged toward her, but the magical aura Trixie cast upon the rolling platform tugged Octavia away just in time. Again the appropriate historical ponies fought amongst each other, while others stood off and shook their heads at the unrefined scene. Another burst of whistles filled the room, and the Windigos returned. Their frenzied gallop around the crowd correlated with the fighting ropes’ ever-growing sluggishness. Their thrashes against one another became slower, and their lining color began to change to a solid blue. Eventually they stopped moving altogether. Octavia stopped her music. Trixie stood back against the wall, cracking her hooves. The crowd stood silent. Fillies and colts held their breath. Even the mayor gripped the wall in quiet anticipation. Suddenly, a burst of pink filled the room. The ropes dispersed with their equestrian forms and coalesced into a singular heart shape. Pink fire seemed to envelop the outline to where many were sure the roof would soon be alight. The Windigos once dominating the room began to squeal and dissipate the stronger the heart burned. In just a few seconds, they were all gone. The heart stood triumphant against the roof, shining down on the Hilltopians like Celestia’s very Sun. Octavia and Trixie shot each other a quiet smirk. Trixie nodded her head. Octavia gave one last trill, then hit the practiced high note. The heart burst into a thousand pieces. Each piece of rope tore itself apart and let the fire usurp their mass. Little bits of hemp dissipated before they even got a foot above the ponies’ heads. For a moment, all was quiet. Then a voice said: “That is the story of Hearth’s Warming Eve.” The applause had been deafening. Ponies kept cheering for a solid ten minutes after the show, along with the occasional encore demands being thrown out. The little fillies and colts jumped up and down with giggling ecstasy. The entire town, for the first time since Octavia could see, was animated with holiday cheer. Yet neither she nor Trixie made any move to attempt a solo act. Not only was the audience too enthralled in praising the last performance, but any further attempt would’ve been fruitless. Nothing would top the magic-symphonic rendition of Hearth’s Warming Eve they had performed, both in the townsfolks’ eyes and their own. The requisite post-performance theatrics continued as they normally did. Firm hoofshakes congratulating the mares on a fantastic show. Polite, if somewhat overeager offers to buy them drinks from both artistic appreciators and tipsy would-be suitors. Little fillies running around them singing, “Again, again!” until they became too tired to cheer and needed to be courted back home for bedtime. All of this passed by in a blur for Octavia. It was only near the end of the theatrics, when all but the most inebriated ponies had gone homeward, that she snapped out of her post-performance haze. She smiled when the portly stallion who made this all possible drew nearer and gave an appreciative nod. “Well done,” the mayor said. “Never seen a better show here in all my life.” “Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” Octavia said. “I’ve never performed in a better town.” “Flattery’s my job, Miss Octavia. But thank you nevertheless.” He stared down at his hooves, kicking at a discarded napkin on the floor. “What’s the matter, Mayor?” Octavia said. The mayor sighed. “Well, I just got word ten minutes ago that Slush Puppy’s just gotten back from down the mountain. Says he’ll be ready to take you whenever you’re ready.” He kicked at the napkin again. “Just hate to see you go. You brought a nice bit of fun to this place.” Octavia gave a confident smirk. “Who said the fun had to end here?” The mayor gave her a surprised glance. “But you were fixing on getting back home! For Celestia’s sake, don’t stay here on account of an old geezer’s yapping.” “But tomorrow’s Hearth’s Warming,” Octavia said. “Who wants to spend that going down a cold mountain?” The mayor chuckled. “I can see where you’re coming from. Oh well. Slush Puppy will like a day of rest.” “Days,” Trixie’s voice called out from behind them. “Octavia and I figured we’d stay until we experienced all of Hilltop.” The mayor’s jaw dropped. “You mean…you’re going to stay for a while?” “Sure!” Trixie said. “Besides, dogs can’t carry my cart all the way down. Not comfortably, anyway.” “Hah!” The mayor shook his head. “You keep stalling around here, you might get to liking it.” With that, he tipped an invisible hat and wandered out the doors into the blizzard starting to pick up. “He’s right,” Octavia said. “I actually am starting to like it here.” Trixie laughed. “Just remember Ponyville summers. You’ll want out of here in a heartbeat.” “I don’t have the travel itch like you, Trixie. I could play in one town my whole life. As long as my friends were there, of course.” “Well, Ponyville will have that for sure.” She began to blush when Octavia gave her a knowing look. “I’m talking about Vinyl, of course.” “Of course. Though they’ll always be an open dinner table at my home for a certain great and powerful magician.” Trixie gave a smile, too wavering in the lips to be anything but genuine. “I would be honored.” Her face fell back into its default haughtiness. “Providing, of course, the spot is marked as belonging to ‘The Great and Powerful Trixie’. Otherwise the entire dinner is off.” Octavia looked down at the floor and sighed. “Well, I don’t know about you, but the cold has started to irritate my hooves. I was wondering if you would join me for hot chocolate? As a fellow colleague in showmareship, of course.” Trixie smiled. “I would love nothing more.” The magician offered a hoof, and Octavia grasped it with a firm hoof of her own. Their hooves moved to their partner’s shoulders and they began walking out into the freezing night. “Of course, we’re getting peppermint-tinted cocoa,” Octavia said. “Otherwise, you’re just eating melted chocolate.” Trixie scoffed. “Only a plebian would focus on peppermint. The Great and Powerful Trixie takes only hot chocolate laced with the fluffiest of marshmallows!” Octavia gave an exaggerated gag. “Marshmallows? Are you having hot chocolate or a soggy S’more?” “Do not befoul marshmallows in the Great and Powerful Trixie’s presence! Not even a Super Duper Apology Tour would absolve you from such blasphemy!” But Octavia could see the miniscule smile building under Trixie’s hat. A smile that would build and build until not even the greatest showmare in the world could hide the friendship it represented.
