Nononononooooooo! The mint unicorn thinks as she gallops through the crowd. Train 704 to Ponyville is just starting to move forward. Ponies of all colours are waving out the windows, using scarves or rags or just their plain hooves, to say goodbye to their peers or family.
C’mon, c’mon, pleeeease just a few seconds more, please.
Lyra is already charging at full speed, barely being able to lift her sore hooves and barely being able to breath with her cramping and shriveled lungs. Her foggy breath rolls around and off her face, as perspiration falls to the floor, immediately freezing over. She has run at least a mile through the snow and biting wind in an attempt to fix her stupid mistake, but it looks as if she will not make it.
As the train advances more and more, the windows are hastily shut to close off the frost of wintertime Canterlot. Lyra’s heart sinks even further and tears begin to well at her eyes, because she knows this is the last train she’ll be able to catch until after Hearth’s Warming Eve, which is in two days. All of Equestria takes a three day break off of work, so the only way of transportation is lost on the day before, during, and day after the worldwide holiday of harmony.
The crowd instantly thins out and scatters, complete with grunts of cold and annoyed ponies, wishing their friends and family could have just gone warmly, without a proper goodbye. They all wanted to get back home and sit by the fire with their loved ones, sipping some cocoa, and Lyra would love nothing more, but now it’s impossible for her.
The minty mare slows and aims her head to the ground in shame, letting her ears fill with the certain scolding and unforgiveness to come from Bon-Bon. Lyra lets her saddlebags slip off and crash on the ground carelessly. Anything that was going to break is already broken. Her scarf is pulled and untwisted from her neck telekinetically as she takes a seat on the cold concrete. Aside from the train station, the world is covered in a sheet of snow, and Lyra is contemplating whether or not to stick her head in it to hide from the unbearable shame.
Just twenty minutes earlier, Lyra had sat in Cauline’s Quality Coffee, sipping some nice hot cocoa with plenty of whipped cream and marshmallows as she looked out a frosty window. The cool wooden bench for two she had sat on made her miss the company of Bon-Bon, even more than in the past three days she had spent in Canterlot. She was gift shopping there, not wanting anything less than the best for Bon-Bon, after she had been so nice. Well, she was always nice, but that year exceedingly so, Lyra thought.
Feeling heart-achingly lonely, Lyra tried to make some fun for herself by purposely getting some whipped cream on her snout and trying to lick it off. She leaned in to the marble tile table and puts her mouth on the straw, then leaned just a little bit more, dipping her nose in. A little smile grew as she remembered all the times she had done that with Bon-Bon, and she sat back up. Her tongue flicked upwards and snagged the edge of the small white pile, and deposited the spoils in her mouth. This repeated over and over again, at least twenty times.
As she neared the end of the small game, her ears picked up some giggling from the families in front of and behind her, who were also enjoying some nice cocoa. Instantaneously, Lyra’s face froze, turned red, and her heart dropped a notch. She looked towards the ponies, to see that they were all looking at her and giggling.
Her body unlocked and she brought up a hoof to rid of the remaining cream as she looked down to the cold marble table, longing to be anywhere but there. But, she was lazy and it was cold outside, so there she remained.
Ugh, normal ponies. If only you were here, Bon-Bon, you would flip this whole situation around and make them join in... That’s what I love about you... Lyra thought, smiling, wishing even more to be at home. The train should be picking up soon, I’d better get going.
She parted the folds in her scarf magically and floated out her ticket, looking for the time of departure.
4:30 eh?
Swiping a look at the clock, above the service counter, Lyra takes a deep breath. The little hand is on the three, so she had fifteen minutes left.
Yup, I got fifteen minutes still. Fif, teen, mine-youtes. Fife, tane, min-uttes. Yes, that. Whatever that is.
Her mind wandered as she leaned her head to the left a little, closing her eyes. She pictured two days from then, with her and Bon-Bon snuggling up to the fire as they opened each other’s gifts, with the crimson rug they owned becoming softer and softer as they shared each drink, as the fire became more and more pleasant throughout the sleepless night. Snow would lace the outside world, letting the calm moonlight reflect and enter through the windows, fighting with the flickering fire. With each present unwrapped, another lock would be opened in their eager hearts, overflowing their bodies with loving emotions, sending waves of butterflies through them.
Her eyes opened and she sighed, dragging her hoof this way and that across the table. She triple checked her ticket, reading through the whole thing, starting with the company name, skimming over the time, and down to the station number, A-7. Lyra looked to the train station, but interrupted her own view with a pleasant smile when she saw the fresh snow beginning to fall.
Shortly, she reminded herself of the importance and squinted to make out the number on the sign above the station. Although it was difficult for her to see through the frost on the window, it didn’t take all that long to notice that the number on the station number was perfectly vertical. Not curved at all. Station A-1.
No, but that’s... that’s halfway across Canterlot! How am I supposed to get there!
Her heart sunk to her stomach.
She sliced the air with her eyes, checking the ticket once again. Her things flew instantly into her saddlebags and those went on her back as she exited the door, leaving hastily strewn bits and spilled cocoa on the table.
“Thank you!” She yelled back, already running at full speed. She maybe had fourteen minutes to run a mile and a half through snow and crowds of ponies, then still have time to flash her ticket and find a seat.
Lyra rounded the first corner to be surprised by hundreds of ponies pushing and shoving their way to the edge of the main road. The annual Hearth parade! How could she have forgotten!From four to seven every year, the parade goes on and on, and on the day of Hearth’s Warming, the princess sends out the most memorable pictures to every pony in Equestria, sometimes even signed.
She stopped as she came to the crowd and contemplated possible actions. Her head backed up and her hooves shuffled, making her look very urgent. She tried to look over the ponies to see the street, but many of them were taller than her, even if only slightly. Her head shook violently, and without further hesitation, she walked into the crowd, bumping and shoving ponies. In all honesty, she made it to the street much faster than she had thought, but that was because a float was coming dangerously close to the sidewalk. It hit Lyra, bending some of the wire framing, causing a bucket of deep red apples to fall on her. The apples, which Lyra always accused of being fake on the floats, proved to be much heavier and more painful than she expected. A synchronized sympathetic “Ooooohhhh” from the crowd caused Lyra to turn the same colour of her attacker, now that she knew everyone thought she was stupid and in pain.
Shaking it off, she stood and bolted down the road, closely dodging the floats. The frosty air and snow felt like nails, but she continued, trying desperately to keep her saddlebags from slipping off her back. Her hooves were already growing tired and a running cramp sprung up, making her want to slow already. Still low and weak, her heart hammered into her ears and flooded her body with adrenaline. The saddlebags made nothing easier, and had it not been for the many presents and treats, she would have dropped them in an instant. Getting home was much more important than a few pieces of cloth.
The road became wider, giving her more room to run, so she went at full speed, dashing in front of ponies, upsetting them. Station A-2 came into her rushing view, and she looked over to it, but that was a mistake. A blue stallion in front of her had set up a chair to sit on with his foals, and his legs were stretched out all the way, reaching into the road.
Of course, she ran into it and flipped, landing on her neck and back. The rough cobblestone dug into her back a little, making small cuts and bruises, as well as tearing through a few layers of her saddlebags. A little neatly wrapped box fell out, unbeknownst to Lyra, but nothing else. The little blue box with yellow ribbon and bow sat on it’s side, lonely in the street, and watched the damaged mare get up again, dismissing the pain. With a limp and rocky breaths, she charged on. Even though Lyra had not done anything bad, this was her chance to make it all up to Bon-Bon. She just couldn’t afford to miss that train.
The train stations were in positions like star points along the half-circle of Canterlot, with A-1 through A-7 on the north side, and B-1 through B-7 on the south. A-7 and B-7 were right next to each other, but nearly all of the others were evenly spaced out.
Panting and hurting, Lyra continued without real interruption on past the next two stations, but at A-5, she was stopped. Smoke rose from one of the five Fillydelphia floats, but the fire that took place moments earlier had been quickly put out.
About a dozen fireponies stood around, shouting orders and trotting around, sifting some ashes here and there. The float had not been heavily damaged, and nopony was harmed save a few small burns, but a little perimeter of yellow tape and cones had been set up, making the floats go around it nonstop. Lyra had no way around, so there was no choice. There was still about nine minutes left, but walking through a crowd was a risk she was not willing to take.
She stopped, trying to keep calm and catch her breath. Then she waltzed right in, ducking under the tape. The ground was much warmer and easier to walk on, so Lyra did not speed up at all. Or until she got caught at least.
“Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here!” Shouted a deep-voiced mare. Lyra kicked it into maximum and sprinted, but to no success. She was surrounded by fireponies in dirtied golden fire suits, and nearly all of them were running towards her. She strained her tiring body to s go even faster through what she thought would be an opening in the closing circle, however, she forgot that even though there was no snow there, that did not mean that there was no ice.
BAM!
Her head slams into the road, instantly making her world black.
She laid there, with her tattered saddlebags and torn scarf, for a good thirty seconds, surrounded by the firefighting team.
Finally, somepony spoke up, “somepony get some water over here!”
About a minute later, an orange mare trotted over with a bucket in her mouth, swaying and splashing water out as she moved. It was held above Lyra for a good ten seconds, before they all nodded in agreement and dumped it out on her face.
Coughing and spitting from the barely breathing mare followed. Her mind came back to her in a matter of seconds however, so she confusedly asks, “huh? Whay time now? I need to.” And clambers to her hooves, nearly forgetting to pick up her saddlebags.
She gallops off, wobbling. And, well, you know the rest. She runs, gathers her thoughts, and barely misses her train.
So there she sits, in the unusual way she does, and cradles her throbbing head in her hooves. The once very pretty saddlebags just lay there too, no longer having a real use. Bon-Bon will not get her gifts. It will ruin Hearth’s Warming Eve for them for years to come.
Lyra bites her lip to prevent sobs, and a few tears roll down her cheeks. Ponies still surround her, not really paying any attention to her, and the movements are just blurs in Lyra’s eyes.
She screwed up.
Suddenly, she feels a hoof touch her back from behind, making the scrapes sting. She flings her watery eyes around and angrily frowns, wanting to punch whoever is stupid enough to bother her.
“The Princess wants to talk with you,” the white royal guard says, motioning her to stand between him and the dark green stallion, who is next to him. They are both wearing the standard golden armour with blue plums, looking as depressed and emotionless as usual. In the past, Lyra has wondered what their days are like, and why they’re always like that. But today, she is not so empathetic.
“T-The.. The Princess?”
They nod in unison.
Angrily, she stands and gathers her cold items, trying to prevent more tears. Her legs shake, both from fear and exhaustion.
They walk and walk, through the snow, through strange buildings, and finally they arrive at the great halls, where Princess Celestia usually spends her day.
The guards stop at the door and lightly shove her in, producing a small grunt from the unicorn. The large crimson carpet her hooves touch reminds her of home. It was one of the first things her and Bon-Bon purchased, the large red rug in front of the fireplace. It always seems to make things even more cozy in there, and it goes well with the deep brown hardwood floor. So many fantastic moments have been shared there, it really is a comfortable rug.
Her hooves thump softly on the long cloth as she looks to the ground, fearing to look up to the certainly disappointed Princess.
After what seems like an eternity to Lyra, she reaches the royal throne, which looks incredibly large in person. Immediately, Lyra begins muttering a fast paced apology, “ohmygoshprincess I’m sososo sorry I didn-”
“Hush now, Lyra heartstrings,” Celestia interrupts, “it was not I who requested your audience.”
The Princess waves a hoof and looks towards a golden door to her left. Lyra looks to the door suspiciously, then back up to the Princess in question.
“Go on now, please do not keep her waiting,” the great white ruler says gracefully. Without further hesitation, Lyra walks nervously towards what must be Luna’s private quarters. The Princess did not look mad to Lyra, but she still assumes the worst, and thinks she is walking to her punishment. She obstructed many ponies’ view of the parade, damaged a float, and entered a temporary off-limits area.
Her hoofsteps clack loudly on the marble floor as she steps off of the carpet
She reaches the large metal doors and looks back worrily to the princess, who just nods in return. Lyra brings up a tentative hoof, and strikes the door three times, which is answered in the blink of an eye by none other than Princess Luna, who beckons Lyra in with her large majestic hooves. She steps in and makes her way towards the center of the giant quarters, and is closely followed by Luna. The millisecond Lyra enters, her heart soars. It is quite the sight. Of course, she expects nothing less of royalty but, everything just seems... perfect, to Lyra. The large bed could hardly fit in her own living room! The bedspread is a soul-touching midnight blue, with stars scattered across it, complete with a black canopy cover. The room is much like a dome or circus, the walls being covered by a flowing fabric, forming a point at the top. Even the floor is amazing, with it’s spiral galaxies and constellations.
Nervously, Lyra begins her little quick apology, but stops again when Luna’s mouth turns into a slight frown and her hoof raises to stop the talking. She shuts up and looks to the ground, more red than ever.
“Do not fear, my child. We are not here to punish you in any way, w-, no,” she stops herself, “ I, would just like to ask a few questions,” Luna says.
“To... to ask questions?”
“Yes, my dear, I would like to have a small conversation with you. I have been watching you,” Luna continues in her pretty voice.
Greeeeat way to start off a conversation...
Lyra nods her head in agreement as her heart stops rushing, and Luna motions for her to take a seat on her own royal bed. She is immediately flattered that the princess would even let her think about it, so she almost completely relaxes, places her saddlebags gently on the floor, and hops up onto the bed, sitting the unusual way she does. Her hooves find each other instantly, and start fumbling around, making Lyra seem eager.
“We-, sorry, I,” the princess corrects herself. “Was confused about your... lifestyle, I suppose. I am still adjusting to this world, which seems entirely new to me,” Luna chuckles to herself a bit, looking in the direction where the moon should lay at night. “So I am trying to clarify as many things as I possibly can, and one of them, is you and Bon-Bon, Lyra.”
“Oh... that,” Lyra says a little depressively as her hooves come back down to her sides.
“Yes, now like I said, I have been watching you, but do not worry, only since you have been in Canterlot. I was trying to figure out, well, you. I did not want to bring this up directly, as some ponies might think of that as ‘awkward’, I believe.”
Luna chortles a little.
“Yes, that uh... that would be a fitting word,” Lyra confirms, showing a lopsided smile.
“But now, I am just wondering why you missed your train, if you do really love your partner.”
Lyra’s face droops again, and she searches for the words she wants to use, creating more of an awkward situation.
“Honestly,” Lyra starts, her face making a regretful expression, “I thought the one in A-1 was a seven.”
She floats out her somehow still intact ticket and shows the Princess, who nods silently.
“I see, but still, I am confused on why you love... her. I do hope this is not offending you in any way,” she says with a hint of worry. “It’s just... that I... really want to know,” she says inquisitively.
“However,” Luna continues, “ unless you feel up to it now of course, I must keep you in Canterlot until you can thoroughly explain this to me. That, and, you look like you could use a nice bath and some medical attention; I shall see to it right away. Until next time, my dear. Come see me when you know - I will be happily awaiting your response.”
The Princess giggles as Lyra cringes at the thought of hot water touching her scrapes, but then relaxes when medical supplies are mentioned. Plus, there is a way to get to Ponyville! Lyra’s heart takes flight once again, knowing that proving her love will be an easy task.
Thump-thump thump thump, thump-thump thump thump.
Lyra paces with a little limp, looking shamefully to the tan carpet she walks on. Luna found her a hotel to stay in, offering to pay, but the owner had told Lyra she can stay for free as long as she wants - the owner is a certain blue stallion, who apologized to her as soon as she entered the large hotel. Without hesitation, he had suggested she stay awhile and rest up, with a nervous smile on his face.
“Miss Lyra?” A squeaky male voice calls, “your uh, bath is ready.”
“Oh, thank you!” She says loudly, quickly stripping herself of her scarf and bathrobe. The servant nervously steps around the corner from the bathroom and bows a little, then leaves. Lyra walks with haste over to the other side of the white hotel room, past her large white bed and her white sofa, into the white bathroom. It all annoys her, though. Everything in there being so... perfect. Not like Luna’s room, where everything goes together and compliments one another in a theme, but like she is supposed to live by somepony else’s rules, and act all fancy-like. Canterlot is far from home.
Lyra enters the bathroom and takes a very deep breath, smiling a little. A hoof is lifted and slowly brought into the giant bathtub, which is nearly overflowing with bubbles. The tip of her hoof touches the surface, then descends slowly, making it feel like she’s gently putting on a heated sock. The steam and warm aura clears her head in an instant, making her a tad dizzy and revealing a large peaceful smile. She carefully submerges her other hooves and lets the heat take control of them, causing a cloud to fill her body. Slowly and delicately, she lays down in the bubbles, and flips over onto her back. A small moan of relief escapes her, but she cringes at the stinging; It hurts, but the relaxation is worth it. Bandages were given to her, but Lyra doesn’t think they’re necessary - a few little scrapes are nothing.
Hmmmm... Bon-Bon.... love... proof... what to do, what to do.
She lets the microscopic popping of hundreds of bubbles fill her thoughts and completely relax her, letting out a deep sigh.
So... what makes me love her? She starts, diving deep into her mind. There’s the fact that I’m never nervous around her, so theres one. But I guess that’s just part of her bringing out the best in me; how does she do that? What makes her do that?
She shifts around in the bubbles uncomfortably.
Lets see here... she always does cook well... but - no, that’s not part of our love. Ugh, I know all the answers but I just can’t find them! I know she loves me and I love her... but no, that won’t work at all, It is so much deeper than that, but... how can I explain it to Luna? What makes love ‘tick’? What makes ours different than anypony else’s? And why now of all times? Can’t you just send me back, then worry about love?
Deeper into the bubbles she sinks, blowing air and creating more in the water.
Oh Bon-Bon, I just want to see you, hold you and love you... But you must be so disappointed right now, huh? I should have been there half an hour ago with your presents... oh please don’t be mad when I get there. Assuming I can get there.
She feels progressively worse just by thinking.
I hate cocoa.
Clunk clunk clunk.
Somepony knocks on the thick wooden door, slightly vibrating the bathtub. Her heart free-falls a little, both from being startled and the hope of not being bored. That’s the main problem Lyra has had in Canterlot.
Who could that be? Luna?
“Just a minute! I’m in the bath!” Lyra yells at the door, flailing and landing a hoof on the side of the tub, attempting to lift herself up. Rapidly, she climbs out of the tub, leaving water to cascade from her down to the floor. She violently shakes herself off, splattering water all over the mirror, walls and ceiling, leaving very little of the bathroom still dry. The warmness instantly drains from her body, causing her to shiver and grumble a bit. Her hooves clickety-clack on the bathroom floor, then thumpety-thump on the soft carpet as she rushes over to the bathrobe she threw to the ground.
“Coming!”
A green magical aura surrounds the robe and it quickly wraps itself around her, complete with a knot in front.
The door swings open, revealing the owner of the hotel, who immediately turns bright red.
“Oh. Uh, I, oh, um, I didn’t realize... sorry,” he says nervously.
“Oh hello there! Sorry I was just in the bath,” she replies, then turns around. “Here, come on in a sec.”
The blue stallion lifts a hoof to step forward, but then freezes.
“Um, are you sure? I don’t want to intrude... but...”
Lyra cranes her neck around to look back, still walking and subconsciously swishing her tail side to side. “But what? I don’t mind.”
At least it’s somepony to talk to, thinking is boring.
“... alright,” he says hesitantly as she sits on the sofa and beckons him, patting the cushion.
“Come, sit. So what did you want?”
“Um, well, you just seemed kind of... down, I suppose,” he starts, taking a seat next to the dripping wet lyrist, looking down to the tan carpet. “Like you had a lot on your mind... is there uh, something you want to talk about?” He continues, looking back up to her. His face is only slightly less red.
Her heart drops a notch as she twists around, glancing this way and that.
“Ummm... no, not really,” she lies. “But thank you.”
“Are you sure? And it’s the least I can do, making you miss your train...”
“Oh please, that wasn’t you, that was my own dumb fault.”
She shows a wonky smile and darts her eyes to the ground, then back up.
“Oh, and yes, I’m sure... it’s personal.”
“Alright, I understand,” he agrees, nodding slightly. “But if you change your mind,” he continues, standing up and smiling a little. “You know where to find me.”
He turns and starts to walk to the door, but Lyra stops him, “wait!”
He spins to face her, showing a bigger smile.
“I never got your name... I’m Lyra. Heartstrings”
She slips off the couch and weakly curtsies.
“I am Ray, Ray Glye.”
Ray bows, making his long dark brown hair fall into his face.
Lyra studies him as he turns back around, catching a glimpse of his cutie mark - the top of a skyscraper with a crescent moon behind it.
“Well, have a good nights sleep Lyra, nice chatting with ya.”
“Likewise, goodnight Ray.”
The door swings open and shuts without another word, and she hears his hooves thump in the carpeted hallway.
Well he was nice.
The mint green unicorn trots relaxedly back into the bathroom, with her hair still hanging low and wet, dripping water in a dotted trail along the carpet. She looks down into the bath water, thinking what to do.
Should I? I’d just have to get out again so... nah.
She reaches in and pulls up the little plug, letting the water funnel down the drain, making annoying gurgling noises that will surely last for a few minutes. She twirls around and looks in the mirror at her dripping hair and exhausted face, scolding herself once more for missing the train.
Oh, Bon-Bon...
Lyra leans on the counter, supporting her chin with her hoof.
Alright Lyra, you can do this. All you need to do is just find exactly what makes you love her. It can’t be that hard, right? I mean, we’ve been together for such a long time, and nothing really that bad has happened, so that’s gotta count for something, right?
She lets gravity take control of her head, slamming it down on the swirly marble counter.
Ugggghhhhhh... I do need to talk to somepony, just to bounce ideas off of. And he does seem nice, so maybe I can talk to him tomorrow. Or tonight, I am kinda lonely, and he did say I could, but I don’t want to seem desperate or anything. Plus it’s been, what, twenty seconds? Talk about seeming needy. Or flip-floppity. Or pancakes.
Her stomach grumbles uncomfortably.
I wonder if there’s anywhere I can get pancakes this late. Or anywhere in Canterlot, everything here is so stupid, why can’t they just have some nice, cheap, junk food like everywhere else?
Another gurgle.
Screw it. I’m out.
She throws on her tattered scarf and boots, then slides on out the door, hoping restaurants don’t close before 6:30. Though her whole body is worn and tired, she walks with a quick pace down the hall, into the elevator, and across the lobby to the front desk, because she really wants some food. And somepony to talk to.
Ding!
Lyra rings the bell at the empty counter.
Ding!
She does it again, harder, making a double ring from the little bounce the bell does.
Ding!
Ding!
Dingdingdingdingdi-
Ray steps out from around a corner and makes eye contact with the annoying guest.
“Yeah, I hear ya! Quit i-!”
Lyra stops slamming her hoof on the marble counter and smiles innocently, reminding herself of those three little foals in Ponyville.
“Oh! Miss Lyra! How can I help you?” He asks, dropping his anger entirely.
“Hey, yeah I got bored really quick and I want some pancakes. You wanna grab something to eat?”
“Uuuummmmm...”
His cheeks become tinted lightly with red as he glances to the ceiling, analyzing his brain for his schedule.
“Umm,” he continues, cocking his head back to the corner he came around. “One sec.”
He hastily walks over and peers around the corner, then shouts, “hey! Think you could cover for me? Just for a little?”
A muffled “uuuuhhhh...” makes Lyra roll her eyes.
“Overtime?” Ray suggests. “Alright cool, be back in a while,” he says, flicking a nod and turning back to Lyra, smiling delightfully. “Here, let me grab a coat.”
He goes slightly out of the way and reaches under the reception counter, bringing up a deep brown coat that matches his hair. “Well, lead on,” he gestures to the unicorn as he steps out from behind the divider, letting the swinging separator door do it’s thing behind him.
They start towards the door as Ray secures his jacket.
“So... pancakes? You’re not from Canterlot at all, are you?”
She chuckles, “try Ponyville.”
“Ooh, Ponyville? That’s where uh... Rainbow Dash is from, right?” He asks as they take the first few crunkly steps into snow.
“Um, yeah? How’d you kn- oh, right, rainboom Wonderbolt savey thing.”
“Yup yup,” he replies, chuckling. “So you know where you’re going? ‘Cause I uh... I know a place.”
“To be honest, I got lost the second you told me to lead. Canterlot confuses me beyond confusion, so yeah, lead on,” Lyra tells him, smiling.
“Alright, so, about this place... do you...” he looks over to Lyra, leaning about an inch closer. “Do you drink?”
Lyra blushes fully in the foggy night, remembering some... less than stellar... experiences with the sauce.
The smoky breath rolls off of their faces under the streetlamps in a few moments of awkward silence.
“O... On occasion,” she nods nervously, the cold beginning to gnaw at her uncomfortably. “B-But before we go any further, you should probably know what I wanted to talk about.”
“Yes yes of course, here, we take a left up here,” he instructs, but still paying attention to the mint mare.
“Well, basically, I need to come up with an explanation on why I love my special somepony, a mare, back in Ponyville, and I was hoping to uh, bounce some ideas and stuff,” she explains, hoping she’s not shooting him down too suddenly.
As she feared, he suddenly stops in his tracks. Her heart slows and cracks, making the frost tear at her flesh.
“Really?” He questions, looking over to her strangely.
“Well, yeah.”
He laughs and continues on walking, leaving her confused in the dark.
“Wow,” he snorts, “me too. Well, I don’t have a special mare friend, or an explanation to give, but I mean I know what you feel.”
He glances back to her, gesturing her to start moving again.
“Kind of,” he continues. “See, I have a special somepony too, but it’s a stallion.”
She did not expect that.
“Wai-wai-wait, really!? I thought you’ve been hitting on me this whole time! Jeez, you scared me for a second there.”
She starts back up, a smile finding its way back across her face.
“Alright, here we are,” Ray says, walking up to a dark door. Muffled music reaches Lyra’s ears. It sounds like... jazz? in Canterlot?
He swings the door open violently, letting warm air and loud music wash over the mare. Inside are dozens of ponies, eating, laughing, smiling, playing saxaphone and bass guitar, and some doing... un-Canterlot-like things. Mostly smiling and playing music. A raised hardwood stage is to her right, with six ponies playing some quick-paced jazz, most notably a grey mare with a black mane, who’s expertly playing what looks like a cello. Two on the trumpet, one on the saxaphone, and one on the drums.
“Wh... what is this place?”
Ray quickly finds a table with four chairs around it and sits, beckoning Lyra.
“This,” he explains, “is a Canterlot secret. It has no name, but everypony who comes here knows how to bring it up. Some just call it the Place.”
“It’s... amazing. Is that Octavia up there!?” She questions, taking a seat across from the blue stallion. The whole place is brightly dim, most of the light comes from the stage and a bar on the opposite side of the building. It’s loud but quiet, energetic but calm, and... wild. Lyra is already in love with the place, thinking about bringing Bon... Bon... there... That’s right! She needs to talk, not relax.
But... it’s so cozy already, plus I still have tomorrow. But then again, the sooner I can get there the better, but come on! This place is so cool! And Octavia’s here!
The unicorn argues with herself in her head, justifying her relaxation.
“Yeah, that’s her. I think she’s uh...” he trails as the grey musician swiftly plays, finishing her solo. In the final few notes her energy increases greatly, and the bow comes up in the air, flicking towards the ceiling for dramatic effect. The whole room fills with applause and hollering as the mare relaxes, wiping her sweating forehead.
Ray whistles and pounds the ground with his hooves, smiling at her. He raises a hoof and waves Octavia over, who sees him and smiles. She rests her cello on the wall and gently sets down her bow, then hastily trots over to the side of the stage and down the stairs, making her way towards the table.
Ray and Lyra look towards each other and ask in unison, “you two know each other?”
They smile and giggle a little as Octavia takes her seat in the wooden chair, lined with fancy designs made out of iron.
“Lyra! Ray! How’s it going? You two know each other?”
They exchange glances and smile brightly, then turn to the grey mare.
“So, Tavi,” Ray starts, “Lyra here is stuck in Canterlot and wanted to chat a little, maybe you could help?”
“Wait!” Lyra interrupts Octavia’s open mouth, ready to speak. “I don’t know if I want to talk about... that with her so much,” she says, but second guesses herself. She remembers Octavia is in relatively the same position, so she drops it. “Well, actually, nevermind.”
“Alright then... so, Lyra, how are you? How’s Bon-Bon? Why are you in Canterlot?”
“Well, I’m here because of Bon-Bon, I was getting some gifts, but I missed a train, now the princess is making me explain to her why, and Ray’s letting me stay in his hotel, and this place is cool, and I just don’t like cocoa anymore.”
“Um, okay then. Why is Celesti-”
“Luna,” she corrects Octavia.
“Luna... making you explain...?”
“Why I love Bon-Bon.”
“Hm. Interesting. So how do you know Ray?”
Ray clears his throat. “That was my bad. I accidentally tripped her when she was running, so I’m letting her stay in my hotel.”
“Oh, well that’s nice. So Lyra, do you know how you’re going to explain it? Or is that why you need to talk?”
“The latter. Ray was gonna help me out, but now I don’t know, this relaxing place is taking my mind away a little, and I’m getting a little thirsty,” she hints, hoping to get a drink to loosen up.
Ray nods slyly and waves to a waitress like he owns the place. Octavia leans in to Lyra and whispers, “he’s the biggest donor to this place, and everypony knows him, so he gets a lot of respect.”
“Ah.”
“Alright, so what can I get you three? Might I suggest today’s special, the hard cranberry?” The white waitress with cobalt hair asks delightedly, like she’s genuinely happy to be there.
“Oop, can I get one of those? With two lemon wedges please,” Tavi orders.
“Ooh, cranberry lemon? I’ll try that too I think,” Ray seconds.
“Umm, I almost never drink, and when I do it’s plain hard cider, so, any suggestions?”
“In my opinion,” the waitress starts, “anything really. I don’t mean to brag, but every drink they make is great.”
Just as she finishes her sentence fire shoots in the air from the bar counter, causing some cheering to sound over the music for a moment.
“I’ll have what they’re having,” Lyra says slyly, sneaking a look at the drink just created.
“Coming right up, be back in a sec.”
She walks away and Ray leans forward on the table, looking intently at Lyra.
“Those are pretty strong you know, you think you can handle it?”
“I can try,” she jokes somewhat nervously. “So Tavi, how’s Scratch? And why are you playing underground jazz? It doesn’t seem like you.”
“Yeah I know, but Vinyl, who’s doing fine as ever -- if you know what I mean -- has gotten me into this lifestyle a little bit. It really is exciting, but unfortunately, she hasn’t listened to me about the concert life. I think I’m getting to her though; how’s your music life doing? Anything new?”
“Heh, well, I guess you could say that.”
“Wait wait, you play an instrument too?”
“Mm hm, the lyre. Kinda like a mini harp, but much more elegant. Arguably. Kinda like the french horn of the string instruments. Arguably, again,” she says, glancing to Octavia. The nervous pressure in the lyrist’s stomach that has remained there for her whole stay in Canterlot has disappeared entirely, and she hopes the alcohol will help even more. However, she knows she doesn’t handle it well, so she is planning to only take a few sips every now and again.
Another flare in the background. She smiles and looks around again, studying the place. Baskets of food sit on every occupied table, which leaves very few tables without. Bread, sandwiches, flowers, hay fries, apples, and every other possible food item are flying into ponies’ mouths, many of which are intoxicated.
“Here are your drinks, two cranberry-lemons with extra lemon and one fire.”
She slides the tray of drinks off her back as Lyra opens her mouth to say, “it’s called fire? That’s it?”
“Yup. Plain, simple, and exhilirating. Plus, it’s made with fire, so, yeah. Now what can I get ya’ll to eat?”
“Ooh, you think I could get a big ol’ stack of pancakes?”
“‘Course, back in a minute hun.”
She turns and leaves, letting Lyra’s mouth hang open in disbelief.
“So, let me get this straight... there’s an underground club slash restaurant where a famous musician plays jazz, ponies drink and eat pancakes late at night... in Canterlot?”
They nod like it’s nothing.
