One: Take Five
The usually quiet Treebrary in the heart of Ponyville was currently turned upside-down by it's caretaker. Twilight ran to and fro, levitating what seemed like clouds of books and frantically placing them either in boxes or in the wooden shelves. Spike was in the middle of it all, struggling with boxes after boxes of trinkets. He wasn't the puny baby dragon he used to be: He had grown to be as tall as Twilight were she standing on her forelegs and able to retain his mind unlike the faster growth he had experienced many years ago during his short rampage through the town. More green scales covered his purple head, though he was able to comb them in a way he looked slick and tidy. His feet and hands were growing claws that needed constant filing, thanks to this he was just as dexterous as his surrogate mother when it came to handling things.
Spike wasn't all too happy about his situation, a constant frown framed his green eyes as he piled up the boxes in the Treebrary's entrance.
"Spike?" called Twilight. "You make sure you packed the fragile items in bubble foil?"
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes."
"With an extra coat of cloth?" Twilight questioned.
"Yes." He answered again in the same tone.
"And you wrapped every single bundle with tape?"
"I even put newspaper from the old Foal Free Press stash as an extra precaution." He said, putting an end to that line of conversation.
Twilight finished shuffling books in the air, placing them in a neatly thought order before turning towards her assistant. "Perfect! Just as I expected from my number-one assistant." She said in a sing-song voice. "Did you also write on the boxes' sides what's in them?"
Spike scratched his head, puzzled. "I... guess so?" He said with a nervous grin.
Twilight gave him a stern look as she walked past him, examining the box pile. "Augh! Spike! I thought I made myself clear! I want every single item listed in on the side! How am I ever supposed to know which box to open first when I don't know what's in them in the first place!"
Spike frowned, pointing towards one of the boxes. It read 'Magic Books A to E' on the side. "C'mon Twilight I can't possibly list every single item that goes in the box! I will not undo the work I've done just for that!" He stared at her life-long mentor for a few moments. He shot her an angry glare and she did the same. Spike then bellowed "Wait, do you actually expect me to do it?!".
Twilight looked up to him, with a mixture of anger and annoyance that somehow came with a cute face. "If you please!" She ordered.
Spike was having none of it.
He clenched his teeth and opened the door to the Treebary. Twilight opened her mouth to admonish him more, but Spike cut her off. "Nuh-uh, no way! I said I'd be able to help you until 5 o'clock. There's more wrapping than there is, you know, stuff in your boxes! Besides, I refuse to list 350 books on the side of a cardboard box. Get Candlelight to help you with that, Twi. He's the one putting up with you now."
Twilight couldn't believe her ears staring at Spike as he grabbed a small cloth pouch from the coat-hanger and made his way into town. His attitude didn't help in the slightest to ease the mood, however she felt this was something she brought upon herself and her partner for life. She closed the door softly and returned to the upper floor of the Treebrary, now barren of her possessions save the bed. She sat down and picked up a small basket from the floor, still containing a blanket and a pillow with a very distinct dent on it. The memento of a past growing more and more distant echoed very fond memories in her mind.
It seemed she had arrived to Ponyville only yesterday.
The incident with Nightmare Moon and Discord still fresh in her memory, as well as the other adventures she experienced alongside her friends whom had carved themselves in her heart as a surrogate family of sorts. Yet... a thought yanked her nerves from these supposedly blissful season. Something she had not seen coming.
"Twi, honey? I'm here!" a colt's voice came following the knocks.
Twilight put down the baby crib once again and rushed to the steps. "Coming, Candlelight!" she shouted.
Spike the Dragon trudged down Ponyville Mane Street, walking with his clenched fists and a menacing stare. He didn't feel like greeting the passer-bys, at that moment they felt like nuisances; like fleas playing in his hide. He stopped for a moment and sat down on a bench near Sugarcube Corner, a place where his patronage would always be welcome. He felt a bit of relief seeing it: Thanks to the diligent maintenance and watchful care of the Cakes, it looked as if it hadn't aged a single day. He grabbed his pouch, the distinct jingling of bits coming out of it.
"I wonder if Pinkie has that sapphire cupcake she promised last week..." He murmured.
"Oh Spike! I'm super duper happy you came here!" shouted the bubbly voice from across the street.
Spike stood up and crossed the street, grinning towards Pinkie who has hopping in the Corner's entrance. Ponykind and Equestria at large were very lucky Pinkie hadn't been born a unicorn, that's what Spike thought: As an earth pony she already had a power resembling telepathy.
Though the outside was frozen in time, inside was a very different story: The Cake's had to buy more machines and equipment to meet the needs of an increasing number of customers. Pinkie had to squeeze in between the huge pedal-powered flour mixer and a likewise big glass apparel containing many a delicacy just to get behind the counter. Spike felt uncomfortable, as if the shelves and metal machines would come crashing down on him with only a sneeze.
"Just wait a teeny-tiny minute, Spike! I'm sure I have your cupcake around... here..." Said the pink pony with a broad smile while she rummaged through the contents of a fridge below the counter.
Spike ran his index claw through the counter, confirming its spotless state. "Seems like you run a pretty tight ship around here, Pinkie!" He said, starting a conversation.
"It's extra-prickly sometimes, but it's loads of fun too!" She said happily. "And besides, it's not like I run the corner alone!"
Her words were like a cue for the door to burst open on the back-store. Startled, Spike peeked over the huge flour mixer to see a small colt and filly on the floor. They were having a blast, fighting each other out.
"Oh, dear." Pinkie said hurriedly as she trotted towards them. "Pound Cake, Pumpkin Cake!" She said in a commanding tone.
Both siblings stopped playing on the floor at once and stood upright in a matter of moments. "Is this the place and time to be playing on the shop's floor?" She asked with a frown.
In a high-pitched choir, both of them replied. "No, Pinkie!"
Pinkie softened her stern face and picked them up both from the ground in a big hug. "Awwww, I can't stay mad at you both for long!" The Cake Siblings laughed as Pinkie spinned in circles faster and faster with a filly on each hoof. They spun and they laughed, Spike simply watched the whole scene. When Pinkie set down both of them, they realised Spike's presence.
"Spike!" They shouted in unison as they ran towards him.
Pound flew like a dart over to his shoulders and instantly tried to pull him towards the floor. Pumpkin was much more affectionate, hugging his leg lovingly. Spike struggled to keep his balance, grunting and flailing his arms trying to grab Pound Cake and get him off his back. But to no avail. Soon, both fillies were to much for him and he landed on the store's floor with a soft thud.
"Ow! Jeez, when did you get so big?!" Spike haphazardly said, out of breath.
Pound Cake grinned. "Well, when did you get so old, Spike? You're supposed to be an almighty and powerful dragon! Who are you and what did you do to the real Spike? Huh? Huh?"
Spike brushed it off, chuckling. He couldn't help but ask himself the same thing.
"C'mon little fillies, Spike here just came for his cupcakes." Pinkie said in a loving tone. "Now what do you say if you help ol'Pinkie run the flour mixer and she'll treat you to a special surprise at the end of the day?"
Pumpkin Cake's eyes glistened with glee as she zipped towards the pedals and started pumping the machine as hard as she could.
"Another night at the movies, I'm on it!" Pound frowned as he got on the other seat of the tandem bicycle mounted in what appeared to be a giant hamster plaything. "Aw, no way! Me first!" he shouted.
Spike got up on his feet with a little help from Pinkie. "Boy they sure grow up fast... It seems I was watching them in the hospital's nursery only yesterday." He said sighing.
"You wouldn't believe what kind of messes I put of with them in their early days." Pinkie replied. She quickly handled him a paper bag containing his treat. "Here, have at your scrumptious cupcake time!" She said cheerfully.
"Thanks, Pinkie." Spike said. "I'll eat it when I finish my work at Rarity's."
Pinkie shook her head as she waved him goodbye from Sugarcube Corner's entrance. "Oh, he's still hopeless..." she groaned.
"Honey, we have talked about this so many times I just lost count." The periwinkle blue colt sighed.
"I have, and they've been exactly seventeen times not counting your constant pestering of Spike at the dinner table! I'm beginning to think we're getting a little bit closer to INSANE every time I even say a word about Spike!" she snapped.
Twilight was simply exhausted from the coming-and-going between her and her fiancé. She sat a top a pile of boxes she had painstakingly opened and emptied of its contents just to label each one on the sides. She looked in dismay towards the pile of neatly packed boxes Spike had taken care of earlier and another look towards her writing supplies. Three ink bottles were empty, the forth one was on its last droplets. She had refused to use pencil, fearing the writing would smudge off. Below her were a poultry seven boxes, all marked and accounted for the way she wanted. Massaging her eyebrows in an attempt to ease a mild headache, she groaned.
"Spike was right, this is way too much."
The colt named Candlelight paced back and forth in the Treebrary's foyer, ordering his thoughts before saying anything. He gritted his teeth, balanced between anger and frustration. "Love, we have been over this for weeks now. You brought it up two days later after I proposed! You just have to let the dragon go. He's bigger than he used to be and will continue to grow."
Twilight stammered through her words, confused. "B-B-But I n-n-n-n-need an ass-assistant! Ssss-pike's that! Precisely that!"
Candlelight trotted towards her and nuzzled her affectionately. "I know he's your assistant, but haven't I been doing a fantastic job at it? I mean, he's his own drake now. He can fare for himself now and so do we."
Twilight was reaching desperation. "B-But my mail to Princess Celestia gets through Spike! I need him to handle my personal mail with-"
The colt softly put his hoof on Twilight's mouth. "I am looking at the mare who invented the Emergency Delivery Spell for the Equestrian Post office. Surely she knows how to handle her mail on her own." Twilight rolled her eyes and cuddled with her special somepony, observing the magical walls that held her and her livelihood for many years.
"Sweetie, I..." she began to say.
"What is it, Honey?" he replied in a whisper.
"I've been with Spike for so many years. His entire life. I'm practically his mother, and this here is a mother abandoning her child. It just doesn't... feel right." Twilight looked towards the ground the whole time.
Candlelight thought of a comeback after a brief silence. "Well, is it a lot better for a mother to tout her child even when it clearly can fend of his own? Who are you going to be, Twilight? A responsible parent or an overly attached one?" Twilight opened her mouth, but not a single sound came out of it. Candlelight stood up and cantered towards the entrance. "Tell you what: I'll buy you a nice Daisy Sandwich and you'll get your mind off things."
Twilight smiled sheepishly and nodded. It was because of these little things she had come to adore him.
More than anypony else.
"Darling, we simply must get these ready for the photo session tomorrow evening. Time is money and I will not waste a single dime!" A haughty voice echoed through the workshop.
Spike simply nodded and refocused on the task at hand. He looked over a pair of magnifying glasses as he claw-stitched a piece of dashing purple cloth. "I'll be done with the rump section of the Mio Biosgno in about an hour, Rarity." That last word came along a bit lofty and hopeful.
In came the pearl-white fashion designer donning her red butterfly glasses. She was looking at the dragon with a very worried face. "Can we make it half an hour?" she asked.
Spike took a moment to answer. "I guess I can do it, if I do the backstitches on the machine."
Rarity got closer and gave him a peck in the cheek. "That's my Spikey-Wikey, dragon tailor extraordinare!"
The distinctive sound of bells ringing broke the moment, Rarity gracefully trotting towards the parlor. "Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every-" the tagline had been spoken so many times that Spike could complete that sentence even in his sleep. Back to the work at hand, he paced the needle back and forth with mastery. Spike grinned, remembering the one time he stitched faster than Rarity and her magic: Hooves were simply not the right tools for this kind of work.
In between the back and forth of the thread he stole small glint of the mare of his dreams walking to and from with the customers, flaunting her curled mane and enticing the customer into buying something a lot more expensive for what he came for. He pictured himself so many times surrounding her, a blushed face with narrow slits for eyes looking back at him, a musk perfume hanging over them like a scene ripped out of her kitsch romance novels. She read them with so much eagerness, and Spike always pictured them as the colt and mare in the front cover.
There she was, carefully placing her hooves into a model-like strut. There she was again, batting her eyelids as a sign of not understanding the customer. Again her, puckering her lips.
Spike would gladly pay to just watch.
Alas, the dream was not meant to last.
Just there and then did Spike's aloof thoughts came crashing down like a pegasus sleeping in mid-air. "Ah, darling! So glad you came home!" Rarity exclaimed with sincere glee.
In between the frilly curtains and baroque wallpaper, Spike could see Rarity doing a small and very subtle cabriolet at the sight of another white-coated unicorn with azure blue hair. "Well, Love... It has been a particularly quaint day in which Canterlot seems to have forgotten their sense of timing and punctuality. Need I a better excuse to come and see you?"
Rarity came closer and nuzzled Fancy Pants.
Spike wasn't enjoying it at all but couldn't help but stare. His claw had stopped sewing too. Unbeknownst to them, Spike could hear their whispering with his increasingly more acute hearing. Though he'd wish to stay out of the loop in that regard.
Fancy tossed around the curls in her mane, his eyes telling of his intentions. "Say, love... Why don't you and me go out somewhere? For the night? Sweetie Belle is a big girl, surely she can handle herself on her own?"
Rarity hummed, playing along. "I sure do believe she is. I'll just leave the store to Spike here and we can go to... The Chalet? Sounds good?"
Fancy picked her hoof of the ground and muttered in a low voice. "To me everything you say is nothing but music, dear." Rarity giggled like a schoolgirl hearing that. By accident, she leaned over the piano tucked to the store's floor for decoration purposes. The keys plucked a mismatched tune, making Rarity jump from the shock.
Fancy smiled.
Rarity giggled.
She trotted up the stairs and into the housing areas of the store. "Sweetie Belle! It's time for us to go your piano lessons! Sweetie Belle!" she called atop of her voice.
Spike's heart sank to the ground every time he saw Rarity and her... friend. The "H" word was too much for him. He went back to the work at hand, shutting the lid of Spike's Box of Emotions once again. The golden thread was running out of the spool spinning in his middle claw, so he stood up and got another one from the counter at the shop front.
Obviously, Fancy Pants noticed his presence.
"Ah, Spike! Now here's a good chap! How is business today?" He asked in a cheery voice.
Spike put on his poker face, answering in a likewise merry manner. "Just fine, Mr. Pants. I'm just looking for a new spool of thread! Boss demands the dress be done in half an hour!" He chuckled after that sentence, his smile causing pain in every muscle surrounding his face.
"Well Spike I have told you a thousand times, please call me Fancy! You're certainly not a stranger to this family or Rarity herself!"
Spike shook his head, beaming a big fake grin. "Gotcha, MISTER PANTS. Well, gotta go to the back. Time is money and the coffers are not bottomless!" he said with a specially poignant remark.
He waved only once and picked up the golden spool of thread. Steps of two sets of hooves resonated in the roof, muffled voices and screams seeping in through the woodwork. They shifted quickly towards the staircase, the screaming of Sweetie Belle finally taking shape.
"But Raaa-ri-tieeeee!! Professor Clavichord is so boooring!! I just want to sing! He's a snooze-fest and he's such an old colt!" Rarity was flustered by that particular remark.
"Well I dare say, Sweetie Belle! That is no way in which a lady like yourself talks! I'll have you practice extra time later this evening!"
Sweetie Belle stomped her hooves in frustration, glaring at Fancy Pants as she brushed past him. She noticed Spike working at the far side of the store, acknowledging his presence with a solitary "Hi, Spike." She stormed out of the store, Rarity following. She shot Fancy Pants a small wink, beckoning him to accompany them. Spike stared at his subject of affection swaying her plot left and back.
The bells rang one last time while the door closed.
Spike and her had already reached a wordless agreement on what should happen whenever this happened. Almost like a contraption concocted by the town's own inventor, Doctor Whooves, he stood up from his stool and walked to the entrance. He flipped the sign from "Open" to "Pre-orders Only", just to bury himself back again in his own thoughts.
"You know who you are, Spike?" His inner voiced called out to him from the silence.
"I know the answer, you're a nopony. You're a nodrake."
Spike shook his head violently, muting his conciousness.
"That's what you are, you're a nodrake." He bit his lip, hoping that with the pain would come his body's own painkillers.
"You're nothing to Twilight."
Giving into the temporal state of madness, he replied softly. "That's not true."
"You're nothing to Rarity."
"If you ran away, nopony would look for you. They just don't care about you. The dragon named Spike is nothing more than an afterthought. A footnote in the grand story of the Elements of Harmony."
He couldn't bear his emotions in flux no longer.
Thread by thread, Spike let go of his long-stored tears. They were not a fountain cry like Pinkie's, it was more of a soft trickle of clear liquid running down his face and chin. He sobbed silently, clenching his teeth to not let go of a roar or a moan that would express his continuous heartache. His mind materialized his pains in every thread he sowed in the purple gleaming dress.The threads were neatly arranged, the only thing Spike had to do was to put the backstitches in place and that would be the end of it. The dress he was working on was supposed to evoke the colours and sensations of a vineyard, yet it was woven with Spike's own sorrows.
Spike couldn't stand the look of it for another second, so he threw it over the sewing machine. He hoped the machine was enchanted and it'd take care of itself.
Spike walked towards the fitting room, finding the large mirrors that would bear Rarity's reflections a million times. An assortment of night gowns and runway pieces rested on a mobile coat hanger, some of them tailored entirely by him. His eyes rolled towards the red stretching couch Rarity used to lay down after a hard day's work and also to drape herself in her usual drama queen fashion. Spike sat on it and ran his claw over the soft fabric. Spike grabbed a pillow and hugged it, fabricating the illusion of a hug from the mare he cared the most. He smiled and laughed loudly to himself.
"Oh, Celestia. If you're watching me you're having a blast, aren't you?! Everypony gets to win at life but me!" He stood up and talked to the pillow in his delusion.
"Oh hey Rarity! It's me, the one dragon who has been head over hooves for you for the past years!"
He then feigned Rarity's dignified voice. "Oh you? What's your name? Spuck? Spack? I can't seem to recall."
"Oh hey Twilight! Remember me? I'm your assistant. You hatched me!"
He then feigned Twilight's sincere tone. "Oh that was you? I'm sorry, I thought I had a lizard tagging along for no reason!"
His legs lost their strength and failed to support him. Spike crashed into the sofa, looking towards the ground. The silence that had fell over the store let in the distant chirping of birds, to Spike they were sounding like a chorus of whistling taunts he'd hear at Ponyville Elementary. Spike relaxed his fists and looked up. The shining sun blanketed him in warmth through a skylight strategically placed to use the natural light to make the jewels in Rarity's design to shine and give out their full potential. Spike regained control of his emotions and spoke again in a calm, yet poignantly sad whisper.
"Celestia, if you have ever listened to me... Please, let this be that one time. Give me a sign, give me something to hold onto. If I stay in this store one more week I swear I'll go crazy." He clenched his chest. "I need guidance. Show me the way and I swear, I'll follow it."
The silence was cue for magic that was about to ensue.
It was not flashy, it did not come with a poof of smoke or a sudden epiphany. It was just a loud noise.
A deafening thud echoed through Carousel Boutique's walls. Followed by a loud clatter and a number of other things sprawling through the floor. Spike's first reaction was to climb the stairs, thinking the worst. Maybe somepony had crashed into the ceiling or maybe a tree branch had broken a window.
No such luck.
Spike barged into Sweetie Belle's room and saw a number of music books, a metronome and records lying the floor: Surely, she had stacked these things on top of one another. Given the open window, a gust of wind had pushed them, tumbling towards the ground. His deductive reasoning over, Spike shook his head in disapproval.
"When is this girl going to learn how to pick up after herself?" He muttered under his breath, picking up the music sheets and placing them in a neat pile over Sweetie's bed.
Suddenly, he stumbled over a familiar pattern on the pentagram. Spike looked at it intently, a strange feeling stirring up inside him. He knew this tune by heart. He bent up and picked up the white piece of paper and gave it a closer look. It was mark p for piano, a song that was meant to be soft but not too soft. Sitting on the puffed duvet, he started to hum the notes one by one.
Ta-Da-Da-Da-dum-dum-dum-dum-Ta-Da-Da-Da-dum-dum-dum-dum.
Spike's claws dug into the musical scripture, swirls of memories rushing through him like a river...
"Aw, come on Twilight! This is really annoying!!" The little dragon moaned to his caretaker. Twilight Sparkle put up the best stern face she could, like the foal upbringing book she had read suggested. "Now, Spike. You are very dexterous with those claws and you DID tell me being my assistant was really boring. So I set you up with this piano!" In front of them both was a rather tattered vertical piano from the Academy's storage.
Twilight looked at it in awe, small cracks and all. "I'm sure this piano is older than you or me, Spike. It looks it hasn't been used in ages."
"It should stay that way if you ask me." Spike snickered. Twilight simply pouted at that remark before propping up a music sheet. "Here, you'll start by playing this one. It should be easy enough."
Spike climbed on the stool and sat on it, not very pleased with the whole situation. Twilight closed in behind him and said "Now, you remember the scale, right?" Spike pointed at the lowest line in the pentagram. "Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Ti, Do" he said, increasing the pitch in his voice with every breath.
His teacher nodded.
"Good," She said. "now let me show you how where are the keys that go with these notes."
With her magic she pressed the keys in the piano one by one, pointing with a quill towards their written correspondent. Spike's attention was fixed on the sequence, as Twilight repeated the same steps one by one. Twilight smiled and stopped at the highest pitched note.
"Now Spike, these are just the basics. There are more kinds of notes, but I'll save those for later." Spike simply nodded, his silence a tacit understanding of genuine interest. Twilight tapped on the music sheet and said. "Now watch the quill as the notes appear and then look at the keys."
The pointy tip traced each note at the same time the hammers plucked each note inside the magical music machine. Spike's eyes darted between the sheet and the keys, trying to keep up. Twilight followed the notes slowly and repeated the same motion twice.
She stopped and asked the small dragon. "Do you wanna try?"
Spike smiled and followed Twilight the best he could. The first time, the melody came out disjointed as Spike sight darted between the keys and the sheet. By the third time, he got the first line of the music sheet perfectly. He even tried to play the music faster. With each play he mouthed the notes:
"Ta-Da-Da-Da-dum-dum-dum-dum-Ta-Da-Da-da-dum-dum-dum-dum."
Spike couldn't see it, but the purple unicorn wore a big smile from cheek to cheek.
Back in the Carousel Boutique, Spike adjusted the piano stool to an appropriate height so that his elbows were at a comfortable position to access all the keys. He was now on the ground floor, the decorative piano in front of him. The tattered music sheet was in his field of view. Through Spike's mind crossed the unfinished dress and Rarity's nagging about commitment and what not. He clenched his fist, determined to do what his instincts told him. "The stupid little dress can wait. Everypony can wait." he muttered. Spike outstretched his claws and tapped the keys slightly. Many a sigh ensued, he hadn't done this in a very long time. Not since the pie war in Appleloosa.
He tapped the center key, producing a familiar sound. Spike looked up towards the music sheet and started playing the notes. At first very slowly, lethargic even. As the notes increased in number and decreased in duration, Spike's claws danced across the keys with precision. Spike became entranced, embellished with the sound of the music he was making.
He opened his mouth and broke into song.
["Now when the sun... Comes marchin' in...
When the sun comes marchin' in...
Oh I just want to be... In that number ...
When the sun goes marchin' in..."](http://youtu.be/Legz2nbxpmc?t=41s)
Soon, the sheet's scripture was moot. Spike had broken into an improvisation, sprinkling his own arrangement while keeping true to the original melody. The piano even seemed to be merry with him, as if it was gl ad to do what it was meant to do.
For a moment Spike tried to imagine Rarity wearing one of her black evening gowns propped atop of the instrument, something out of a cabaret from the old days of Manehattan. Wearing a profoundly enticing stare, smiling at him like a being that encompassed the definition of 'grace'. Pretend Rarity stroked his chin delicately with one hoof, beckoning him to play more.
The delusion continued, as Spike worked the melody more and more into a rapturous dance number. He imagined a restaurant full of fine gentlecolts and mares, all enjoying what he played for them. They looked dressed for the ocassion, donning tophats, tuxedos and long, elegant dresses. The long stylish lamp was now a particularly tall grey barman who served drinks at a slow pace just to listen to the music. Carousel Boutique's windows stopped showing the bright light of day to let Moonlight seep through the skyline of a posh streets of some big city. The walls changed from their baroque intricate designs to more geometrial and sober patterns, adding a feeling of sofistication to the place.
Everypony stopped to hear him play his music.
Spike enjoyed every single second of his fantasy, his skill weaved a simple tune into a complex and beautiful melody. Spike finished his crescendo and promptly ended the song off with a playful couple of notes. In his delusion, the gentlecolts would stomp their hooves on the ground, acknowledgement of his performance. The mares would also break into a thunderous rapture, marvelling at the unlikely maestro and his present for the evening.
Spike closed his eyes, letting the echo of their applause to fade into the nothingness from where it came. Silence settled once more in the store. Back in the real world, the store was just as empty as in the beginning.
He still had to finish a dress that, in Spike's opinion, grossly misrepresented her designer's general body of work.
He was alone.
Or so Spike thought.
"Well I say young dragon, if you keep playing like that I'm sure the poor thing will break under your claws!" It was a haughty voice, cooled down and smooth like honey. Extremely feminine and it sent Spike chills down his spine.
He quickly turned around in fright, already making up excuses for whatever the client had to complain about. His claws were shaking, fearing the mare would complain to Rarity and he'd get axed on the spot.
The mare he saw standing on the store-front wore a very smug grin, accentuated by the single raised eyebrow. She had a neatly-kept grey coat and an equally slick black mane styled atop her head with a simple curl. She had big purple eyes framed with a discreet mascara. On her neck there was a small bow-tie tied around a white collar. She was tapping her hoof impatiently, surely in a state of annoyance.
"How long have you been there, madam?" Spike asked frightfully.
"Long enough to see you play a fast impro of When the Sun Comes Marching In, young dragon." She replied with a sigh.
Spike pleaded his legs to not fail him as he stood up and walked awkwardly towards the counter. "I am so sorry to keep you waiting, madam. So terribly sorry." He apologized hurriedly.
"No, no-"she began to say.
Spike interrupted her, bellowing his greeting as he did."W-Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every dress is unique, chic and magnifique!" He flourished a gesture with his arm, only to clumsily knock over a box of pincushions. Spike hurriedly picked it up as he tried his best business smile with the grey-coated customer.
The mare couldn't help herself.
"...pfftHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Spike blushed, deeply embarrassed by the whole situation. He scratched his head, unable to justify his actions any further. For the client it was so funny she even broke into small tears of joy. Even laughing, she didn't loose a single ounce of poise and elegance. Spike saw her cutie mark: A purple G-Clef.
Spike regained his composure and asked. "So, madam? What business brings you here today?"
The mare wiped her tears off her face and replied in between giggles. "I came here for a repair on my navy blue bow-tie, have you got it?"
Spike instantly remembered the fixture. "Oh yes! I was working on it myself just two days ago!" He said earnestly. Spike dived down under the counter where a concealed shelf of finished repair works laid down. The tag on the bowtie said the repair fee was 10 bits and the client's name as well.
"Miss... Octavia?" He asked.
"Yes, yes. That would be me." She answered quite proudly.
Spike handed the bow-tie to Octavia in a plastic bag. "Here it is, miss Octavia. I had to claw-stitch the back of the bow so it wouldn't loose its shape again. If you don't force it too much it should be just fine." He informed her.
"Quite alright." Octavia said, giving Spike the gold coins.
But instead of picking up the bag and leaving right away, she just stood there looking at Spike with an intense gaze. Her deep irises bore holes in the piece of wall behind Spike's head. He smiled nervously, preparing to plead the customer not to make a complaint. They were locked in this silent staring competition until she hummed with an inquisitive tone.
"Say, what is your name young one?" Octavia asked Spike.
"The name is Spike, madam."
"Well, Spike, you need not be so formal do you?"
"I must. You're a customer of Carousel Boutique."
"Rarity hires tailors sporadically. She surely didn't have the need to hire you for your musical skills did she?"
"I'm deeply sorry you had to see that and I'm sorry I wasted your time, miss."
"Again with the miss? By Jove, you're more uptight than a violin string! Calm down, Spike. Rest assured I'm not mad at all."
Spike didn't understand that last remark.
"Excuse me... Octavia?"
The mare named Octavia smiled at the sound of her name, raising an eyebrow at the same time. Spike adjusted his vest, venting out the sweat he felt coarsing through his body.
"That is much better. Now, do you happen to know of a little pub called 'The Rabstallion'?" She asked.
Spike pondered the question. The Rabstallion was as old as Ponyville itself. He had heard of its patrons, specially Pinkie Pie who was an undefeated champion by virtue of being the fastest drinker ever. Somehow that wasn't much of a surprise. He had never entered that place, Twilight would've never allowed it.
"Yes." He answered.
Octavia stood up over the counter, surprising Spike, and managed to at him straight into his eyes. "Say, would you consider making a display of your penchant for pianos at the pub? They keep hiring awful academy dropouts and quite frankly its unpleasant to be a subject of their shortcomings."
Spike propped his head to the side, not quite sure what to think of it.
"Come tonight, Spike. I'm friends with the barkeep and he'll let you play. I'd like to listen more to what you have in store." Those last words were curled in a rather demanding but charming tone. Not waiting for the dumbstruck dragon's response, she picked her bag and walked out of the store. "9'o clock! Be there, young dragon!" Octavia shouted from outside as the door closed.
After that Spike had no other impulse but to sit down on the little stool aside the cash register. His encounter with that mare Octavia had shocked him numb. She surely knew what she was talking about, her cutie mark was proof of it. Spike nodded his head, thinking about what would Twilight say if she knew he had gone to a bar. Or 'pub', as Octavia called it.
Then another though flashed in his mind: Twilight had no authority over him any more. She was kicking him out of the Treebrary, maybe a night without him was actually what she wanted. Spike still had a handful of bits sitting around his wallet, just enough for two jars of Sweet Apple Acres cider. Spike grabbed a small mirror from the unassorted pile of things behind the counter and looked at his own reflection: The dragon who returned the stare was jaded, sad and almost defeated.
Spike frowned. He didn't like the dragon in the reflection.
"If this goes on... It'll be the end of me." Spike muttered.
The voice inside of him spoke its mind again: "Maybe this time around you'll get to star and they'll get to watch from the sidelines." Spike embraced his sudden surge of jealousy. He looked to the ceiling where the sun should be, seeking an acknowledgement from the goddesses.
Suddenly, he remembered his previous task. "THE DRESS!" He shouted. Spike darted back towards the sewing machine, pumping it up and grabbing the flowing green fabric to stitch it into place.
Just outside Ponyville's edge and the beginning of the Everfree Forest, a wooden cottage stood up over a small hill.
Dawn was about to begin, signaling all the other ponies to wrap up their activities and call it a day well spent. Not for the kindest of all ponies though. For Fluttershy, the coming of dawn meant a lot of work had to be done. Inside the cottage, the evening calls and caws of the many birds under her care filled the air with noise.
The nocturnal animals, like rodents, bats and snakes; were about to start their day. Fluttershy rumaged through her medical supply boxes, looking desperately for something while mouthing "OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod-" frantically.
Her white bunny hopped to and fro, distributing small packets of food to each of the smallest animals in treatment or simply stopping by to grab a bite. While Fluttershy dove into the box, Angel Bunny administered a ration to particularly sly convalescent racoon. Cunning as he was, the moment the white furry friend turned his back was the time for a strike. From his miniature bed, the racoon tried to snatch away another ration from under Angel's back. Fully aware of his intentions, Angel jumped further than usual. Taken by surprise, Racoon was left with an outstreched paw and a complete inbalance between him and the bed.
Gravity did the rest of Angel's dirty job.
"Ah-ha!" Fluttershy shouted softly. "I knew I still had some leftover medicine from Philomena's yearly check!"
She held in her hooves a small bottle of per oral medicine containing a special concotion for flying animal's ailments. She then flew over to the backdoor of her cootage. On her huge garden there was a small system consisting of a liquid container and little valves shaped like many appetizing flowers. They even seemed real, given the fact that the yellow pegasus had spent hours painstakingly detailed each flower herself.
Once she unscrewed the top of the container she opened five capsules from her medicine and mixed it in together with the fresh sweet-tasting water. "Ok," she said to herself. "maybe this'll work. I sure hope the hummingbirds and the other birds like this..." She squeaked, a reflex of hers everytime she acknowledged something done right by her own hoof. She cantered towards a small wooden bench propped up against the cottage's wall and sat on it.
The gusts of wind that preceeded dawn danced and played with her flowing pink hair, kickin every single strand up. The last rays of light came to the party and danced amongst the pink and yellow hues covering Fluttershy's body and mane. This small moment was the small overture for a musical that happened every week at that place.
All she needed to do now was wait.
It wasn't for long, though.
From the Everfree forest came a chours of flapping wings and open beaks. Birds of all shapes and sizes erupted from the treetrops like a massive blob of life spreading towards the evening sky, free to roam the very space they shared with pegasi and other creatures. An explosion of increasingly darkened colours spread away, some of them diving towards Fluttershy's yard. They were all singing to their own tune. Whether they were mating calls or simple chanting, the birds sang their lungs out as they flew into the night.
Fluttershy, still nested in the comfort of her bench, opened her mouth and let out a single tune: A high pitched note, powerful enough to resonate in the forest's trees. Giving the usually quiet demeanour of her voice, the loud note produced from her throat was surprising to say the least. Fluttershy sustained the note without fail, waiting for its effects to change the behaviour of the birds right above her.
Within moments, the birds didn't fly in a scrambled groups. They started to line up in the sky and fly one after the other. Not to be surprised by this turn of events, Fluttershy paused and sang the same note. Just an octave higher. Should the music-savvy know what it sounded like, Fluttershy was emmiting the sound corresponding to a tuning fork.
A shorter moment later, the birds broke in melody to accompany their mistress.
Every single bird, no matter the size or colours, sang with Fluttershy. One by one, they reached Fluttershy's tune. The parrakeets, the bluebirds, the red robins, the cranes and all of the other birds. Even an eagle high up above all cawed in the same tune within a lower octave. Fluttershy had called upon an orchestra formed by nature herself.The spectacle lasted only the blink of an eye.
After that, the birds resumed their flying. Just a few perched atop of Fluttershy's bird feeder, recieving the selfless care of the meek and eerily beautiful mare. She got up and trotted back to her cottage, eyeing with glee one last time her winged darlings before returning to her other duties.
This spectacle, seen by nopony else, was not meant to be kept hidden. In time, Fluttershy's time in the sun would come forth.
Author's Note
EDIT: This year, the amazing artist who crafted the song Take Five has passed away. Dave Brubeck was a one-of-a-kind musician with talent to create pieces that have been reworked and revived over the years because of their enchanting everlasting power. I'm only but an admirer of his work and I'm glad to have heard him and other versions of him time and time again. RIP Dave Brubeck.
Two: The Song of a Long, Long Dream
Two: The Song of a Long, Long Dream
Night fell upon the citizens of Ponyville and the gentle glow of the Moon at its full bathed the town.
Spike hunched in his own vest, hoping that nopony would recognize him. In his left claw was a hoof-full of bits he expected to spend drinking cider. Through his mind raced a million and one thoughts, hesitating whether just greeting Octavia and quietly removing himself from the scene or going along with whatever The Rabstallion had in store for him.
Getting there, however, was a different story. Having a bookworm unicorn as a surrogate mother came with its drawbacks, one of them not being particularly street smart: Spike had meandered around Town Square and its vicinity since 7 pm, not having a single clue where the bar actually was. He had hoped to encounter a racket of ponies going on and finding such a thing would somehow lead him to the right direction.
All the while, a very different Ponyville revealed itself to the young dragon. The lights painted the buildings and houses in very different hues, creating shadows in places the sun didn't quite manage to reproduce. The bright colours were replaced by toned down blue, gray and brown tones. Candlesticks made flickering images come alive in a manner of form that Spike never appreciated fully. The ponies walking down the cobblestone streets casted large shadows as they came and went. Night was also the time for lovers, as couples of all colours and races would nuzzle or kiss each other. Spike saw a pair of teenaged ponies sharing a tender moment tucked away in an alley, another one openly showing their affection on a bridge connecting both sides of town separated by a stream. Spike simply passed by them, feeling a small bout of pain going up in his chest.
He had figured out Octavia to be a mare used to move in a very classy type of crowd: Uptown folk more suited in Canterlot or Manehatten than they did in a town like Ponyville. Spike pictured her like another kind of Rarity, just this time it was music rather than fashion what drove her daily life. Spike's imagination morphed the image of the slick-haired gray mare into the fab perm curls of... He quickly dismissed it, shaking his head back and forth. "It'll be a long night, for sure." He sighed. Broadback, the pony philosopher of yore, was having a laughing fit from beyond the grave.
Spike made his way into some kind of night district he'd never seen operational during the day: A collection of houses adapted and modified to accomodate just enough ponies to have a small crowd in them and a big one outside. They were all pushing each other to gain access to the small entrances.
In one of these establishments that looked like a lounge with a veranda, Spike spotted a stallion leaning on his porch and smoking the last strands of a cigarette just a few feet above him. He looked unoccupied enough so Spike looked up and shouted. "Excuse me! D'you know the way to the Rabstallion?!"
The stallion simply looked down and pointed his hoof lazily towards a left turn of the street, not uttering a single word.
"Thank you!" he shouted again.
Spike didn't see it, but the stallion rolled his eyes in irritation as he let go of one last puff of smoke.
Spike eventually made it in front of a large building that used to be a bank once. It had been closed and made into a restaurant, however he had never seen the lights below ground. Spike followed the crowd of ponies assembling outside towards one of its sides. Sure enough, there was a sign hammered on the wall lit by a streetlight: "The Rabstallion". It featured a cartoon pony passed out on the floor. Below the sign was a staircase going down, full of ponies cramming around the entrance. Spike could hear the bustling crowd, clanking of glasses and loud obnoxious shouting. Spike cringed, regretting he had come at all.
He turned around and started to make his way back to the Treebrary when a familiar voice called out to him. "Ah! There you are Spike! Glad you could make it!" she said cheerfully.
Spike looked and there she was: Sitting on the rail that separated the ground floor from the basement was the grey mare. She had her front hooves crossed, one of them barely touching the ground while the other dangled up and down. Spike simply stood there, his mouth locked in a stalemate in which the choices were shouting a goodbye or simply run over random syllables.
The mare stood up and cantered towards him. "Colour me surprised, I didn't think the small fry tailor from Carousel Boutique would come here." Spike snickered at that remark. "Neither did the small fry tailor." He muttered in a volume high enough for Octavia's ears only.
Her face changed quickly from a smirk to a sincere smile.
"Well then, suppose we better get in." He said, prepared to charge into the crowd outside the entrance.
Octavia nodded and laughed softly. "Oh, Spike. Remember, you're with me. Let me lead you into the real entrance of The Rabstallion."
Spike was expecting her to simply lead the way with a whisk of her tail or some other simple gesture. A tug to his vest was too much. She wasn't a unicorn so she couldn't possibly tug his clothes without touching him. Spike expected just a gesture from his unlikely company.
She, however, decided to surprise him.
The surprise came by doing something Spike was absolutely surprised about: She stood up on her hind legs. In the blink of an eye, Spike went from looking down on her to having her purple eyes meet his. She grabbed his claw with her hoof and pointed towards the back of the building "Come! You haven't got th'foggiest about this place! I'll be your charming tour guide for the night." A wink was just the icing on the metaphorical cake.
Spike was flabbergasted to say the least.
He even wondered if a reaction from his ample repertoire would fit in the situation. Yet, for the grey mare it came about so naturally it seemed as if everypony should be able to walk like her.
Not trot. Walk.
Spike couldn't help but smile to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yesterday, I slept at 10 pm trying to stifle Twi's and Candle's lover blabber under a pillow. Now I'm at a bar I've only heard of with a mare I just met." He muttered to himself. Surely, this was a twist for the ages.
"This is us, Spike."
"Huh, what?" He said very confused.
"I said, this is our entrance, you dolt!" She said, a tinge of exasperation strewn in her voice. Spike mouthed an apology that never came to as he entered the bar's back-door. Holding it open was a roughened stallion with receding mane and a beard that made him look like he had taken a noise dive into a dustbin. Octavia turned away from Spike to greet him.
"Still trying to loose some weight, eh Brick?"
The bouncer pony shrugged and smiled. "I'll start when the missus quits 'er peddling over daisies at the market!" He replied with a cheer.
"That mare could argue the three sides of a paper." Octavia whispered into Spike's ear as they walked down the narrow hallway. That got a nice chuckle out of the dragon.
From there they could see the bustling crowd inside The Rabstallion: Under the dim light, warm lights of the premises the colour on the ponies' coats looked dimmed. So did the ponies themselves. Some were laughing outrageously, some were clinking mugfulls of cider and beer. Others were bending over small tables or sitting on tall stools. The night had another flavour Spike was just getting to try. The Rabstallion wasn't exactly a large place, but it was big enough.
Spike immediately noticed a small triangular stage where a piano and a large double-bass propped just three hooves above floor level. It was a tattered, vertical piano; much like the one he played at Carousel Boutique that very day. Again, it was Octavia who jarred him out of his thoughts.
"Come'ere! I'll introduce you to the barkeep!" she said cheerfully.
Through a small entrance Spike had to bend his head to get through was the sacred realm of any bar: The bartender's counter and liquor cabinets. In there, an ocre-coated unicorn with graying hair and weary blue eyes was just about to finish a drink. Half empty bottles and dirty glasses zoomed past both Spike and Octavia as they either went into the sink or returned to old mahogany shelves. The grey mare waited patiently for the old stallion to finish serving the drink. After garnishing the high-ball with a lemon wedge, he dinged a bellhop bell in the counter and shouted with a raspy voice "RABSTALLION KNOCKOUT READY!".
A cue for Octavia to lunge out and hug the old pony. "Surprise, Maestro!" she said with glee.
He responded with a genuine laugh, as he hugged the gray mare like a long lost friend. "I started to think I wouldn't see you this evening!" The barkeep said as he corked a bottle and put it back in its place. Spike barely had the chance to read the red label: 'Griffon Kingdom Pastis Number 10'.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." She reassured. Turning to Spike, she extended her hoof and gently pulled Spike closer to the ageing bartender. "Maestro, meet Spike. A friend of mine who's up for replacing Clavichord's students if they're not available."
The dragon didn't know what she was talking about but went with the flow anyway. He offered his claw and Maestro shook it firmly. "Nice t'meetcha, kid. Name's Mixer Maestro. R'just Maestro. The Rabstallion is my pride and joy and you'll always be treated as a friend in this establishment. A friend of Octavia's a friend of mine." Said the ageing bartender in a stern, raspy voice.
Spike couldn't help but beam a wide smile. "Much appreciated, sir." He said confidently.
"'Ere kid," Mixer Maestro growled, handing him a dark bottle. "Have'ya ever tried the Special Moon Brew Beer?" Spike took it, feeling the icy cold of the glass. "No, sir. I believe I haven't."
Mixer shook his head in dismay. "Octi, honey... Y're like one of them merponies from folktales!" Mixer shouted in between hearty laughs.
Octavia snickered at that remark. "How so?" she said.
"'Cause you ain't doin' nuthin' but bringing me 'ere small lil' saplings and next thing you know they're passed out in mah storefront!" He said.
A brief moment of silence.
Then, rapturous laughs. Spike couldn't help himself but to shed some happy tears, picturing an image where his drunken behind was kicked out of the bar by the bouncer he met just moments ago. Octavia's laugh was dignified and pretty, yet every bit as loud as Mixer's grating-on-a-cheese-log laugh. The dragon couldn't remember the last time he had laughed that hard.
Wiping off his tears, Mixer pointed towards the narrow hallway.
"Octi, dear. Get'm a seat in the fancy cushion room so he can hear you both play." Octavia nodded and beckoned Spike to follow her. The dragon waved to the barkeep one more time, but the orders were piling up and the drink-making machine was once again full speed ahead.
"He's an old coot, but he's one of the most dependable ponies you'll ever get to know." Octavia informed Spike.
He simply smiled and brandished his beer bottle like a trophy. Beyond another door just a few steps away from the main premises was a small yet cozy room that had an open view of the whole bar. In there, a stallion and a mare lounged on paisley red cushions and a love seat circling a round black table. The same dim lighting just added to the laid-back, bohemian mood.
Octavia took her time to introduce the other ponies to Spike. "Hello, darlings! This is Spike, a friend of mine who will join us for the evening."
Small mumbles resembling 'Hello' came out of their muzzles.
"Spike, this is Calligraphy." She said, pointing towards a white unicorn with scrambled grey mane. He nodded and so did the dragon.
Then, Octavia sat beside a light-pink mare sporting heavy makeup and a yellow perm so curly and large it rivalled Pinkie Pie's mane. "...and this here is Cara Al'Dente." She raised a glass-full of what the dragon assumed was champaign or a light-coloured beer.
It took Spike a second to figure out how was he supposed to return the gesture and clinked his bottle with her glass. Cara Al'Dente immediately took a sip while Spike sat slowly on the couch at Octavia's side.
"So, Spike is it?" Cara asked.
Taken by suprise, Spike stammered through his response. "Y-ye-yes it is, ma'am."
"Don't be so formal, dear! After all, we are all in one of those special and delicious places where any and every formality just... vanishes." She chuckled with that last word. Spike nodded and brought the green bottle to his mouth, the bubbly goodness of the brew stroking his tongue.
After the sip, Spike shouted with glee. "PUHAAAA! This is good stuff!"
Octavia smiled. "Glad you liked it, small fry tailor from Carousel Boutique." Spike shot her a crude and sardonic smirk, she answered with a smile halfway between sincere and poker-faced.
"So that's what you do for a living?" Cara inquired.
"Yes it is," Spike answered, a bit ashamed. "I'm currently under Rarity as a tailor for her designer line of clothes."
Octavia pushed Spike even further. "So, I assume you must know a lot about fashion then?" She asked.
Spike smiled, not wanting to be suckered into a series of increasingly humiliating questions. "As a matter of fact, my dear Octavia, I do. I do know that last century that mane of yours became as fashionable as a bucket on your head." He said.
The grey mare leered at him, while Spike just waited for his words to sink in. Not a moment later the small group of ponies broke out in smug laughter, well aware of the game Octavia was playing.
"Touchè, but then again I'm not terribly interested in fashion. I'm a classic. Classics never out of touch." She said with an extra bout of confidence.
Spike sipped on his beer again and asked. "So, who is this... Clavichord I keep hearing about? He's the stallion who...?" Octavia rolled her eyes at the name's mention. Similar reactions were produced by the rest of the party.
The stallion named Calligraphy started to explain. "I'll try to put it in words you can understand. Clavichord's talent is to teach little fillies how to play the piano, ironically his special ability doesn't include... well... You'll see when he or his students get here."
Sighs of exasperation could be heard from everypony else.
Spike gulped down some saliva, venturing to ask further. "So... is he that bad of a player?"
Octavia sighed, depriving her words from the sophisticated twist they had. "He's not only a complete drab to listen, he's hard to play with too." She crossed her hooves in disgust.
Spike was taking all their comments in when he eyed the stage once more. There were two instruments: A piano and a double-bass. If he was meant to replace Clavichord, then it meant he played the piano. Which meant that - "Octavia, do you play bass?" Spike asked.
"Took you long enough to figure out." The gray mare answered with a bit of a chuckle.
Cara Al'Dente joined her too. "Oh dear, this dragon here is so sweet!" She said while placing her mane curls around her head. Spike looked towards the floor and sipped on his beer, chuckling as he did.
It was a different crowd for the young dragon. Ponies Twilight didn't know about. These two thoughts put together put a sheepish smile on his face.
The distinctive ding on Carousel Boutique's chimed to signal the entrance of visitors. Fire embers painted long and elastic shadows on the store's walls. Candlelight picked his fiancée's coat as she entered the large room, placing it on a hanger nearby. On it were three other pieces of clothing: A green sweater with a pale pink scarf, a faux-leather coat and a stetson hat. Candlelight hanged Twilight's dark cloak as she trotted towards the brightly lit room.
"Ah, Twilight! I am ever so glad you could come this evening!" said haughty fashionsta.
"Howdy, Twi. Better get munchin' on them apple pies. Granny Smith's recipe perfected!" The more humble farm pony said in a warm voice.
Inside, the small get-together was framed by tiny teacups covered with baroque designs and a huge teapot donning the same thing. Rarity was sitting on the opposite side of the table from Applejack, Fluttershy in between them sipping her tea quietly. She mouthed a "Hi" so low only her pet bunny could hear it. Alongside Rarity was Fancy Pants, solemnly waving his teaspoon in circles with magic. Twilight took her seat and so did Candlelight.
"Ah, I feel so lucky to have all of you here! If we had Rainbow and Pinkie then we'd make the whole gang!" Rarity blurted out, failing to restrain her excitement. Fancy Pants chuckled quietly, sipping his tea as he did.
"Say, Twi?" Asked Applejack. "What've you been up to these days? After that thing-a-magic you did for them folks at Canterlot Copypress?"
"Well..." Twilight began hesitantly. "Not much since then. The Automatic Letterhead Exchange Method still has a lot of wrinkles that need to be ironed out. Canterlot Press has been kind enough to sponsor my research but I think it'll be done with in three months. Besides," She began to say as she nuzzled up the periwinkle blue colt. "I'm more concerned with... personal matters as of now."
Those last words came out with a special kind of endearment. Rarity beamed, serving the couple a mix of jasmine and chamomile tea. "Who would've known our own little bookworm would get hitched?"
Twilight chuckled at that remark. "I prefer the term, mare in eternal pursuit of knowledge."
Applejack let go of a hearty laugh. "Sugarcube, a bookworm's a bookworm. No matter how y'spin it." That got out a few more laughs from the party, even from quiet Fluttershy.
Rarity sipped down a bit of her tea and asked "Say, Twilight dearest? When can we expect to hear some wedding bells, hm?"
A flurry of batting eyelids preceded a perplexed Twilight and Candlelight looking at each other in fright. She stammered through her response, deeply flushed. "Um... We-we-we haven't really talked about it." Rarity rolled her eyes letting out a sigh.
Fancy Pants patted her back "Now, now dearest. Don't be hasty. It's not like we've talked about it either."
A sudden silence fell upon the party, Rarity turned her head slowly towards the colt with a moustache and spoke in an icy-cold voice. "Tell me why we haven't done that, Fancy?" The colts in the room were sincerely frighentened, specially Fancy Pants.
His response though, was devoid of hesitation. "Darling, have you asked yourself when did you or that tailor of yours have had a moment's breath since the whole Carousel Hoofmades collection started?"
Rarity softened her expression and smile. "Yes. Yes, I guess you're right." A realisation starred across her mind, horrified. In one of her staple mood swings, Rarity clinged onto Fluttershy while on the verge of tears. "Darling! I didn't even have the courtesy of telling you I wouldn't go to our weekly spa session! How long has it been!?"
Her pink-maned friend closed her eyes and piped quietly. "4 weeks straight."
Rarity threw herself over the nearby red velvet cushion, bawling. "THIS IS THE WORST POSSIBLE THING! I AM THE WORST POSSIBLE FRIEND!!"
Silence, then laughter.
First was Applejack, who was trying very hard to contain her laughter, burst into tears. It was contagious, as Twilight and Fluttershy soon joined her. Their coltfriends joined them nervously, not sure how to react. Even Angel Bunny had stopped munching on his carrot to stare at the drama queen.
Scowling, Rarity retorted. "What in Celestia's name is so funny?"
Applejack hugged her belly, sprawling on the floor and dying of laughter. "I haven't heard you say that in a long, long time! Yer just gold, Rarity. Just gold... COMEDY GOLD!"
"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Twilight roared with laughter. Rarity picked herself off from the couch and puckered her lips, not at all content with her friends laughing at her.
A good solid minute passed by with everypony but the fashionista shedding tears. Once they all collected themselves, the tea party resumed. Of course, the occasional snickering by Applejack and derisive grins from Rarity were constant all throughout the evening.
"So, Rarity." Inquired periwinkle Candlelight. "When I can expect your designs to be on the cover of Equa?"
Rarity ruffled her mane, quite prideful of herself. "Well, Darling... They first have to go over them editors at the magazine. That's why I've been rushing some of the designs to have a first-looks photoshoot by tomorrow evening. If Spikey Wikey finished a little something called Mio Bisogno, I've only got one more dress to go!"
Twilight beamed. "Really? Has Spike been that helpful?"
Fancy Pants decided to answer that. "Well, considering that I could get her out of the Boutique today... I'd say that dragon has been more than helpful!"
Rarity came closer to the moustachioed colt and nuzzled up. "That is very true."
Fancy Pants zipped on his teacup a bit more, commenting further on the matter. "Though I have to add miss Twilight... He's rather cold and that sometimes can be misunderstood as rudeness."
Candlelight rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it."
Twilight shrugged it off. "Beh, he's just rebellious. That's all. He's changed a lot in the past few years, not just on the whole... height thing."
Applejack chuckled. "Well, Ah'reckon you fellas gonna be alright once y'all move out offa Treebrary. Going to Canterlot, I recall." Both Twilight and Candlelight nodded softly, smiling. "I'm guessing Spike'll have to quit Canterlot Boutique one's that done and away with." added the orange mare.
The expression on the purple mare's face changed in a matter of seconds to a quiet discontent. Candlelight noticed this immediately, embracing her tightly and hiding her face. Everypony in the table witnessed this and fell into a complete silence. Fluttershy started to shrink, attempting to make herself scarce. Applejack was genuinely bewildered by her reaction, her jaw open in mid-sentence. Both Rarity and her coltfriend had already mastered their poker-faces, shining them in full display. For a brief period of time there was an understanding amongst the guests in Carousel Boutique.
A simple, yet poignant understanding.
Being the Element of Honesty herself, Applejack broke the ice by asking Twilight in the most blunt tone she could muster. "Spike IS coming to live with you, Twi. Right?"
Twilight's mind came to a halt, a stalemate of sorts. She was confronted with the disembodied eyes of her friends. She felt assaulted by them. She felt defenceless against them. For a few moments, those eyes looked at her from the long end of a deep chasm. They demanded an answer. They demanded her response. Twilight closed her eyes shut, a voice in the back of her head screaming the hard cold truth: Twilight Sparkle was asking Spike to leave. Spike had no place in her life now. He was to be tossed aside. Inside her eyelids was the image of the dragon's stare boring holes in her skull. They also demanded the truth.
Then, Twilight did something that defied her very own mind.
"Yes, AJ. He's coming with us." She said in a hasty, matter-of-fact voice. Applejack smiled warmly in response. "Heh heh, well Rarity I'd suggest you better work him good 'cause he ain't going to be 'round no more!" She said. The party continued their conversation, steering it away to other topics. Twilight didn't listen. She was instead assaulted by a different kind of thought, one more direct and blunt. A judgement passed down by a perfect jury.
"Twilight Sparkle, you magnificent liar."
Spike was in quite a predicament. Not one he hadn't been in before, mind you. It felt very different to be squished between two mares he had just met today rather than in between Twilight's friends. The situation was not that different either.
"Say, dear Spike what's it like to be the underling of the one truly most fabulous of fashionistas in Ponyville?" Cara Al'Dente asked with a musky perfume strung in between her every word. "I bet under that heavy mascara and perfect mane she hides a couple of..." Cara giggled, pulling Spike towards her even harder. "Of what?" she asked with glee. Octavia paused for dramatic effect and shouted "BALD SPOTS!!"
The party roared, Spike couldn't help but let go of a few chuckles. Both mares stared down at him.
"What's it gonna be, dragon?" Cara crooned in a malicious tone.
"Have I got a delicious reward if you so choose to spill the beans on little Miss Perfect." Octavia fluttered her eyes in a deliberate attempt to sway Spike into submission. Her smile was difficult to resist, so was her mellow voice.
The stallion named Calligraphy was none the wiser, switching in and out of conciousness after his fourth pint. Spike smiled mischievously, knowing full well what the situation entailed.
"I did notice something very strange the other day at the Boutique last month." He began. Both Cara and Octavia looked at him very attentively.
"See, the back of the fitting room is a place where Rarity keeps her own private collection of clothes. Some of the things there have never been shown to the public and I doubt they ever will. I think in that room there are the very first clothes she did. But that is not what this story is about."
Octavia had to break her concentration just so her mug didn't slip off accidentally.
"No, I was just about to get her a pincushion as I walked in the fitting room. She just happened to leave the door to her secret chamber open. I had never seen that room before so I couldn't resist taking a peek."
Cara's hat fell off her head, but she didn't notice.
"I could only see Rarity's shadow on the wall, fidgeting around with her ears. That's when I saw it."
"SAW WHAT?!" The mares shouted in unison.
"I saw pulling her mane... CLEAN OFF!"
The horrified looks in both their faces was priceless: Mouths agape, expression locked in confusion and their eyes transfixed on the dragon.
"BWAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh, Celestia!! You girls ate it!! You girls ate it whole!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" Spike was laughing uncontrollably, gasping for air. Only then it dawned on them that the whole story was a huge lie. They had been played by the now roaring dragon between them.
Swiftly but surely, Octavia pinned down Spike on the couch with a sucker punch to the stomach. The dragon started coughing, the air blown out of him. Cara grabbed the Moon Blend Beer bottle from Spike's hand and lifted it over his head. "Ow! What gives!" He wheezed in between his coughs.
"Sweet revenge, dearie." Cooed the curly maned pink mare.
The bottle tilted and its contents spilled over the dragon's face. Unable to break free of Octavia's grasp without hurting her, the dragon simply gave up as the foaming remains of his beer poured down his face and stained his vest. Not all was lost, Cara poured it so that he could still drink the zesty drink.
A brief silence preluded a quiet laugh from all involved. Even Spike, feeling his clothes soggy and cleaning to his scales, joined in.
"Oh, gee... I guess I had it coming." He said merrily. The other mares simply nodded.
As with all the good things, that moment came to an abrupt end. "Oi, wotcher step!!" Shouted Brick the bouncer from the other side of the hall. Clunky footsteps resounded on the old floorboards. Octavia cringed, unable to hold back her disdain. Cara Al'Dente simply ruffled her mane and kept drinking from her glass. Spike had to look very hard in order to make out the discreet frown in her face. The shadow cast by the dim light on the entrance got shorter and shorter, then he heard a flailing voice. "Mneeeeh, I'm here 'Taviaaaa!!"
In the private room stumbled a frail unicorn with a pale brown coat. His tussled unkempt grey mane in an uneven pattern and from his weary eyes hung black, saggy bags. On his rump was a pentagram with a g-clef and some quarter notes. He didn't look fit to even trot in a straight line. Octavia rolled her eyes and called the old stallion's name. "Are you perhaps drunk, Clavichord?" she said.
"Pffffff, missy I'll-I'll have you know that ah-I myself... yes! I myself played for'er majesty Princess Celestia at 'eh privuht party! I'm very much capable of playin' wi'a bit o'buzz with the likes of you inna bar! Yes!" Clavichord didn't speak words, he stomped the ever-loving daylights out of them and then gargled the poor things out. Octavia snatched a clear bottle out of his magical levitation grasp and placed in on a table. "Domecq Aged Tequila?" He read aloud, bewildered.
"Mind reading some other time and give me a hoof? Well, claw?" Octavia called. She tried to carry Clavichord on her back, on the brink of passing out. Spike got up and strapped the old unicorn's other hoof on his back. Together, they dragged him through the bar floor as the ponies drank merrily. Mixer Maestro was keeping an eye on them, shaking his head disappointed. Along the way towards the piano and double-bass they got every kind of look there was: Amused, bewildered, freaked, indifferent and so on. Octavia was smirking all the way, hiding the embarrassment the suposed piano virtuoso was making her go through. Spike didn't care, it was just another turn in this the most bizarre of nights.
Spike propped Clavichord on the stool in the stage he would share with Octavia. He saw in his eyes that he was just not ready to play efficiently. "What should we do? He can't play like this!" he whispered to Octavia. She smirked somewhat deviously. "Oh I can just imagine what will happen." She whispered to Spike's ear. "How about some good ol'fashioned whacking? See if that will help." The dragon didn't think twice and slapped Clavichord square in his cheek, to which the unicorn opened his eyes and murmured "Oh yes, yes... Let's go Octavia. 'Night & Day'". The slick mare simply nodded and propped herself in her two hind legs behind her bass. Spike quickly got off the stage as the ponies gathered around to see what was going on. Octavia blinked in his direction, he smiled back. On the back,
Mixer Maestro was dimming the lights in the bar slowly. Soon, it was completely dark. Suddenly, a spotlight turned its light towards the stallion and the mare, blinding Spike for a brief moment. Casting a shadow was the beautiful figure of the black maned beauty, caressing her instrument with grace. A brief hoofstump greeted the musicians.
Spike was, for a moment, smitten by the sight. His delusion of Rarity started to kick in again, but the dragon knew it wasn't her. They were very much alike... And yet so different from one another.
Octavia nodded towards Clavichord and a stroke of his magic made the piano come to life. The sleepy unicorn played slowly with the company of Octavia strumming the strings to produce low, booming notes. The melody came out slow, yet somewhat refreshing. Octavia hummed alongside the piano, providing some high pitched notes the piano couldn't reach.
At first it all seemed fine and dandy.
Spike recognized the song from his lessons back in Canterlot, a song by Colt Porter. It was pretty, no doubt, but hardly something you'd hear with clinking mugs and drunken chatter. Some of the ponies made their way out of The Rabstallion, bored only seconds after they started. Spike couldn't understand how not a pony could appreciate this kind of music being played in front of them. Then again, if 'art' can be applied to both Sapphire Shore's recent hits and this then appreciating art was very subjective act. All seemed fine and dandy, the thinning audience notwithstanding.
It wouldn't get any better.
Spike knew the song by heart, and what Clavichord just played was a slowed down version of the first 12 compasses.
He got one note wrong.
Then another.
And another.
Octavia did her best to keep up with the mismatched times and the ponies were growing restless. The graying unicorn tried to play consistently, but the constant flubbing of notes only made it worse. Spike's face deformed into a frown as he saw Clavichord's head swaying around too dangerously across the keys. The ponies started too boo them, completely unsatisfied with what they were hearing. More and more ponies were leaving. Octavia kept playing nevertheless, modifying her beat to the clueless and drunken noise Clavichord was making.
And then, just like that, his head fell on the piano with a hellish noise from mismatched notes.
The ponies laughed and booed as Spike dragged Clavichord's limp body off the stage. Mixer re-adjusted the lights and simply watched as Octavia was left standing there completely at the mercy of the crowd. One of them even threw her a bank note, shouting "Here-get a better partner!" Everypony laughed, Octavia stood her ground with pride. Spike dragged the music teacher-turned-buffoon to a dark corner of the pub behind one of the high tables, the mocking burning holes in his ears. He looked back at the mare, her back perfectly straight and steely gaze into nothingness as the ponies continued to boo her presence off their sight. The humiliation was too much to bear on the shoulders of one single pony. Once more, the differences between the ponies he knew and the ponies he was getting to know was cutting deep in his heart.
Then he just noticed he and Octavia were staring at each other for quite some time. He looked into her deep purple eyes, shame muddled her expression.
Those eyes spoke a thousand words unknowable to any book he had read. Nothing could fully express it, though a close approximation was rather short: Shame.
Something tugged at his heartstrings.
It was not the usual depressive, melancholic state.
It was a call to action.
A curtain call if you will.
A most inexplicable urge.
"What are you doing?" Said the voice in his head as he stood up straight, just like she did.
"What in Tartarus name do you think you're doing?" Said the voice as he walked among the crowd of ponies towards the triangular stage.
"Answer me! What are you doing?" Said the voice as he blinked to Octavia, a sheepish smirk in return.
"Magic" Spike answered.
The dragon called for a silence by blowing hard between his sharp teeth and fingers, creating an acute whistle that could stunt within seconds. They responded immediately. He waited a few seconds for the crowd to pay full attention to him. All eyes were on Spike. In all truth he was shaking in his scales, making everything up as he went along. First, he addressed the audience. "In the name of The Rabstallion, I sincerely and deeply apologize for this obvious mistake. You deserve better music than this." General sounds of approval came from the angry crowd of ponies.
"In all truth, I was sent here by the Mixer Maestro himself just in case our mainstay pianist would be out of commission."
"As you can see," He then pointed towards the corner where Clavichord laid snoring. "all conditions are met." The corporate and solemn tone Spike donned got a very hearty laugh from everypony in the bar. Even Maestro, who was just playing along, had his own raspy fit.
"As such, it's necessary to introduce myself. My name is Spike." He then stretched his hand towards the slick mare. "This here is the beautiful Octavia." The mention got a few 'whoops' out of the gathered colts. "Enjoy the evening." A moderated hoofstomping concluded the introduction.
Spike turned nervously towards Octavia and muttered. "Do you know how to play 'I'm an Errand Colt for Rythm'? It's about the only song I can remember right now!" Octavia hissed "You serious? After what you said to them?" She hesitated a while before continuing. "I do know how to play that one and pray Luna you remember more songs by the time we're done! It's only like three minutes long!" Spike smiled confidently. "Not where I'm from." He said.
Spike sat down on the stool and the eerie silence silence of the audience settled. He caressed the tattered piano with delicacy. Every single thread of common sense told him to stop and flee. Then again, common sense sometimes is for loosers and small-fry tailors from Carousel Boutique.
He stroked the first chord and the piano sprang with joy, producing melody at first touch.
"Here's something that I'd like to bring to you..."
His singing voice matched the chords, for a moment everypony was taken aback to various degrees. The first chord got their attention, the second one retained it with an iron hooffull.
"Wrapped all in cellophane, designed for youuuuuuu..."
Some whoops in the audience gave Spike the confidence to nod Octavia. She immediately positioned herself to the next compass. For a moment there, Spike saw her close her eyes slowly, as if almost in a contemplative state. It was time to dive in and give it some fun. He startled the audience by the radical shift in tempo and notes, an intoxicating effect for first time listeners.
["Tell ya what's it all about.
'cause it's without a doubt!
Swingin' in a latetst style,
'n serviced with a smile!"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xtQruogwYc)
In came Octavia with an intricate and beautiful bass sounds that tugged at the crowd's bellies. Short, intense notes strummed with a glass-maker's precision. In between them, short pangs of notes came from Spike's claws as he sang merrily.
["If you want to swing and shout,
get your kicks and get about.
I'm an errand colt for rhythm - Send me!
Lace your shoes and follow thru,
Imma deliver straight to you.
I'm an errand colt for rhythm - Send me!"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xtQruogwYc)
The melody grew bouncier and more like a high pitched beat, Octavia weaved low tones in between. The ponies were wearing broad smiles. Some of them even began to follow the song with their hoofstomping.
["You can always find me down at Mixer's mugs,
That's the place where every gal and 'gator goes.
So if you want variety, take a hint
and call for me.
I'm an errand colt for rhythm - Send me!"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xtQruogwYc)
Now it was time for some more fun. Spike flourished the simple starting melody with fast and elegant arrangements, building upon what he already had. Octavia stopped playing to let him garner the speed he needed to pull off the crafting of a crescendo that would explode at the end of a few compasses. Spike sank his claws on the keys, eliciting a few more whoops and some hoof stomping from the now enchanted audience.
Two compasses in, Spike's claws glided amongst keys quickly and swiftly; elevating and slowing down the tempo like a reckless wave. Spike didn't see it, but the audience was delighted with his performance. Like puppets in the hands of a master, they began to sway with the music while the dragon directed their every step like a puppet-master. Some of the other ponies who were sitting forgot for a moment their foaming mugs of beer and cider; opting to listen.
Spike didn't even notice them, he was also entranced by the music eliciting from his claw-tips. For those brief moments, Twilight and Rarity were just figments of an infantile imagination. His life, a groundhog day at the Carousel Boutique and the Treebrary, was just a mere collection of images. The time was now, and now was the time for music.
Nothing more, only the music.
Octavia looked at the dragon for that time, feeling mere seconds stretching out to ages. She noticed the way he smiled, the way his eyes sparkled with glee as if he was being reunited with a long lost love. She could even see tricking droplets of sweat caressing his slick purple scales. She thought of dragons as these oddball, bumbling, fire-breathing slobs who had no appreciation for songs and instruments. All of that changed in a second with the charm of passion erupting from the dragon playing the piano.
She could've stared more if Spike didn't slow down his tempo, an indicative of her re-entry into the song.
Spike slowed down his playing to a more standard set of chords, letting the grey double-bass player to set another tempo herself. He felt his bones crackle and pop in his claws as he stretched them in between keystrokes. He took a pause to look around and see the merry bar he had created with his dexterity. Mixer Maestro caught his attention, raising a mugfull of a foamy ale to him and drinking it full. Spike grinned in return. Then there was Cara Al'Dente, looking pleasantly surprised and batting her eyelids after she noticed the dragon was looking at her. Spike breathed the atmosphere of happy, drunken ponies who swayed to the music. He loved every single moment of it.
Then, there was Octavia.
She had strummed a couple of notes in her double bass, the last one serving as another bridge. She looked at Spike, and Spike at her. In all the years of his short life he hadn't seen eyes so fierce. Spike felt other kinds of string being plucked inside of him as he bore into those deep purple eyes of hers.
"My turn." She cooed, high enough for the audience to hear as a whisper. She brandished the bow and tucked her bass between her forelegs. What happened next was a cacophony of low notes that somehow competed neck-to-neck with Spike's tune but complimented it at the same time. Time and time again, like the gentle rocking of a boat off-shore, she'd raised and lowered the tempo stitching a beautiful melody with booming notes that resounded in the audience's stomach and hooves. They all hoof-stomped, danced, swayed and shouted as the grey mare rewrote the rhythm at which their hearts beat with every single string. She didn't even look towards the audience, as if she and her instrument were the only ones in the world. For a moment, Spike couldn't see the oak and the bow. Octavia had melded herself with the strings and the body of the bass to become a tool of aural perfection. Her own body produced the amazing sound by a manner of sorcery he hadn't ever seen come out of Twilight's books.
Starry eyed, Spike prepared himself for the end of the long over-due end of the bridge. In his head, he could see the metronome speeding away, Octavia and him counting the beats. Raising his claws, the audience was enraptured, it was time to finish the euphoria. A hard press on the keys, and it was back to the original melody with which they began. Spike opened his maw and sang his heart out.
["You can always find me down at Mixer's mugs!
That's the place where every gal and 'gator goes.
So if you want variety, take a hint
and call for me.
I'm an errand colt for rhythm."](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xtQruogwYc)
A sudden silence, and a small riff from the piano. Octavia responded with a riff of her own. They could almost breathe in the number of beats.
"three... four..."
A descending arrange of chords in the piano for both of them, going slower as they progressed. The time came to cap off the song. Spike and Octavia roared in delight.
"I'M AN ERRAND COLT FOR RHYTHM!! Send me..."
With a few keystrokes more, the song ended in the starting chord, one octave higher.
Then, noise. Rapturous noise. Like the sound of a gushing river caving through the mountain side. Thousands of gallons of water destroying everything in its path. Noise to conquer all noises. There it was, the hoofstomping ovation. It ringed on the musicians' ear like a melody in its own right. Spike stood up from the stool, facing the crowd fixated upon him and the grey mare. She stood up on her forelegs, beaming with pride and joy. Her smile oozed sincere glee. The pair exchanged glances and bowed down to their audience, only eliciting a more rapturous stampede.
"You're not bad at all, small-fry tailor from Carousel Boutique." she said.
"Neither are you, old-fashioned manecut." he said.
It was all noise.
Author's Note
I am terribly sorry for the extra long hiatus. Moving to a different country (the USA) in three month's time takes a toll on your time dedicated to pony. I didn't even watch the show week after week since Sleepless in Ponyville until two days ago. As such, I apologize and I promised hereby to write this story and update it regularly. Next update will come a little later than a month, as I'd like to have a buffer for these very long chapters.
As always, today's song comes courtesy of Nat King Cole and many other jazz professionals and enthusiasts. I must say, I knew of this song when it came out in the All for You album by Diana Krall.
The song in the title fits the chapter perfectly, a song by Makoto Yoshinori Nagai Nagai Yume no Uta from the Baccano! Soundtrack.
If you want to follow me on my daily ramblings in both spanish and english, follow me @dailyOnix
