Episode 1: The Ensemble
Part 3/4
by Legendary Emerald
“Bon Bon, over here!” Lyra said, waving. Bon Bon frowned, and lifted up her head to see two unicorns walking towards her. She put on a weary smile.
“Made another friend?” Bon Bon asked, her voice sounding tired. Lyra nodded.
“This is Vinyl. She works at that music store I was checking out,” Lyra explained, motioning first towards Vinyl, and then towards The Spinning Record.
“Nice to meet you, Vinyl,” Bon Bon said, extending a hoof. “My name's Bon Bon.”
“Okay,” Vinyl replied, not even glancing at the outstretched appendage. Bon Bon furrowed her brow, but smiled anyway.
“So did you get the job?” Lyra asked, bouncing up and down slightly.
“Oh, well, yes and no,” Bon Bon answered, not meeting Lyra's eyes. “It turns out there was a bit of a disconnect between the higher ups. One assistant manager hadn't been told that I was coming in today, and it seems that he hired somepony else only 5 minutes before I walked in.”
“Dang!" Lyra stomped her hoof. "What about the 'yes' part?”
“Well, they felt pretty bad about what happened, so they offered me the only other position they had available.” Bon Bon smiled through her sorrowful expression. “So for now, I'm a... waitress.”
“Wow, Lyra,” Vinyl chuckled, nudging Lyra with her shoulder, “your friend is kind of a loser.”
"Hey, that's not nice!” Lyra said, fixing Vinyl with an indignant pouty face.
“Don't worry, I won't judge you by the company you keep." Vinyl grinned.
“Hahaha, yes, well...” Bon Bon's words caught in her throat.
“C'mon Lyra, we gotta go,” Vinyl said, pulling on Lyra's backpack strap. “Your friend can come too, long as she doesn't embarrass us.”
“Wait, where are you two going?” Bon Bon asked.
“Over to Vinyl's place. Her roommate is in a band, and they need a lyrist. Even if they don’t know it yet." Lyra winked.
“Is it a real band? Do they perform?” Bon Bon questioned, ears perking up.
“Yeah, that's typically what a band does,” Vinyl answered matter of factually. “They play huge shows over at the main theater, and that's only one of their gigs.”
“Oh, wow!” Bon Bon exclaimed. Smiling nonchalantly, she sidled up to Lyra, and started to whisper sweetly into her ear, casting occasional glances at Vinyl. “Alright Lyra, no room for screw ups this time. If you don't get this job we're going to be eating nothing but hayseed for a month. You got that?”
“What's wrong with hayseed?” Lyra asked in her usual tone of voice.
“Too mane-stream,” Vinyl quipped. “Now are we going or not?”
“Yup. C'mon Bon Bon, you're slowing us down,” Lyra said. Vinyl began walking down the street, and the other two ponies followed her.
“This is Octavia and I’s pad. We call it Chateau le Musique,” Vinyl announced, fiddling with her keys. “Well, I call it that.”
“Dang, this place is way bigger than where me and Bon Bon are staying,” Lyra said, looking out over the spacious apartment complex.
“What was that you told me earlier about beggars being choosers, Lyra?” Bon Bon asked with a polite smile.
“Quiet. Octavia can be a bit touchy around strangers. I'll make sure the coast is clear,” Vinyl hushed the two.
There was a jingle of keys, and then the door to the apartment opened to let in the three ponies. Lyra, Bon Bon, and Vinyl walked inside across plush mahogany carpet. There was a large sofa facing away from them as they entered, pointed towards an old television set. A sink and bathroom area were to the immediate right of the entrance, while a sectioned-off kitchenette was located on the left. On opposite sides of the couch, two closed doors were situated.
“Honey, I'm home!” Vinyl called out. When there was no response, she walked over to the door on the right and opened it up. The sound of a cello escaped the room, but was quickly silenced.
“You were followed,” a grave voice responded.
“Yeah, don't worry, it's cool. I invited them,” Vinyl said dismissively. Her voice dropped low and she whispered, “Put that thing away before you hurt somepony.”
Lyra's ear wiggled, but Bon Bon's attention was focused on a nearby painting of a jungle.
“Lyra, not-Lyra, over here,” Vinyl said, waving a hoof over towards herself. Lyra and Bon Bon obliged.
Vinyl opened the door all the way, revealing a richly decorated room. The walls were painted a deep mahogany, matching the shade of the carpet. A red silk curtain hung across the back of one half of the room, made of similar material to the red sheets of the queen size bed that took up most of the bedroom. A trio of candles lit up the room, their flames reflecting off of a wall-mounted glass case containing several bottles of wine.
And in the middle of the room, standing upright with a large cello next to her, was Octavia. Her light gray coat and dark gray mane fit the somber look of the room like a glove, an environment that not even her pink bow-tie could put off balance. The tie went well with her treble clef cutie mark and her eyes, all three of which were nearly the same shade.
“Good afternoon,” Octavia greeted them somberly, pushing something with a long metal barrel between her mattresses.
“Hey!” Lyra waved.
“Good afternoon,” Bon Bon echoed with a very slight bow.
There was a small moment of silence shared between the four. Octavia looked to Vinyl expectantly.
“Oh, yeah,” Vinyl said, pointing to Lyra. “Octy, this girl right here is Lyra. Says she wants to join your band.”
Octavia took a moment to look over Lyra from horn to hoof.
“Instrument?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Lyre,” Bon Bon answered quickly.
"Acoustic. For the moment, at least,” Lyra added.
“For the moment,” Octavia repeated the phrase slowly. Again, she shared a glance with Vinyl. When it ended, she turned back to Lyra. “We were looking for a harpist, but we are flexible. If you want to try out, I won't stop you.”
“Cool. When's tryouts?” Lyra asked, smiling.
“Right now,” Octavia deadpanned.
“Right now?” Bon Bon echoed, her voice wavering.
“No time like the present, right?” Vinyl answered with a chuckle.
“You missed our normal practice time. Not that anypony but our pianist shows up,” Octavia said, beginning to place her cello in a brown leather carrying bag that sat against the wall. “We may be able see him on his way out.”
“You have a building rented for practice?” Bon Bon asked. Vinyl grinned.
“Something of the sort,” Octavia answered.
“This is where we practice,” Octavia said, indicating the most garishly decorated building in the city. It was a large, circular structure, with a pantheon styled entrance. The rim of the roof was covered in a string of what appeared to be Christmas lights, turned off for the day. The large light-up sign declaring the establishment's name, however, was left on. “El Grando Teatre.”
“How... why...” Bon Bon's face was a mask of confusion. “I'm pretty sure ‘teatre’ isn't even a word!”
“Neither is ‘grando’,” Lyra chimed in.
“The Teatre wasn't built for high class performance acts, but after the original owner's family lost the rights, the city bought it back and it became our main cultural center,” Octavia explained. “They decided to keep the name, for its 'special place in our history'.”
“They can take away its sleaze, but they can never take away its special place in our hearts,” Vinyl said, reverently placing a hoof over her chest. “Or its 90 bit entrance fee.”
Octavia led them through the large double doors and into a spacious white holding area with a linoleum floor. It was expertly cleaned despite its tackiness, and contained two ticket booths and entrances to the bathrooms. Four glass doors at the end of the room barred the entrance to the theater proper. Octavia walked over to one and placed her hoof against it; the door swung inward without protest.
“He's still here,” Octavia noted. She stepped through the doorway, the other ponies following suit. They entered into a plush red auditorium, four pews wide and many more lengthwise. A series of four light-producing chandeliers hung from the ceiling in a row down the middle of the room, providing just enough light to walk around in.
“I see where Octavia gets her decorating sense from,” Bon Bon said, gazing around herself at the familiar surroundings.
"You're a regular Sherclop Holmes, aren't you?” Vinyl chided, sticking close behind Octavia as the cellist neared the performance stage. Bon Bon leered at the back of Vinyl's head.
“We practice backstage,” Octavia said, stepping across the wooden stage and through the red curtain that served as a backdrop. The others followed suit.
After passing through the curtain, they found themselves surrounded by various theater props; paper mâché trees were stood up on either side of the room, and wooden cutouts painted to look like clouds hung from the rafters. The biggest curiosity was an enormous wooden bust of Princess Celestia, tucked away in a corner at the back of the room.
“This is where you practice?” Bon Bon asked, cringing.
“It's not much, but it works,” Octavia answered, taking her cello out of its case.
“This place is so cool!” Lyra said with a bounce. She sprung towards the giant head and got behind it. “There's a bunch of levers on the inside!”
“Lyra, please,” Bon Bon begged, holding a hoof to her forehead.
“My little ponies!” Lyra's disguised voice come out from the prop as the mouth opened and closed. “I do decree today to be Walk-On-Your-Hind-Hooves Day! Anypony who does not participate? To the moooon!”
Bon Bon sighed heavily and held her head in her hoof. At that moment, a brown pony with a white mane and tail stepped out from the treeline and saw the current spectacle. He walked over to Octavia and the other ponies, two pairs of eighth-notes on his flank, one white and one black, bobbing in time to music that wasn't playing.
“Why is the princess talking?” the pony asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“I always knew this place was haunted,” Vinyl leaned back on a tree prop and crossed her hooves.
“I'm so sorry,” Bon Bon apologized. “My friend is just a little...”
“Frédéric. I have somepony for you to meet,” Octavia interrupted. She turned her head to the statue. “Lyra! Front and center!”
Frédéric, Bon Bon, and Vinyl cringed at Octavia's sudden shift in tone, but Lyra simply popped her head out from behind the stage prop with a smile, and then trotted over to the others.
“Lyra, Frédéric,” Octavia explained succinctly. “She's here about the opening. Lyrist.”
“Oh really?” Frédéric asked, tone lightening considerably.
“Is it true that your harpist exploded?” Lyra asked suddenly, standing up and throwing both of her front hooves out.
“What?” Frédéric asked, taking a step back.
“Yeah! Vinyl told me you were all playing one day, and then—” Lyra was interrupted by the sound of cracking wood. She turned her head to see Octavia brandishing a broken bow and Vinyl wearing a bump on her head and a goofy smile.
“We lose more good bows that way.” Frédéric sighed. His horn lit up as a small stack of papers levitated to him from off to the side. He hovered them in front of Lyra. “It's unorthodox, but... this was to be our next performance. Do you think you can manage to create a sound that is not altogether hideous?”
"Are you kidding? I could play that in my sleep,” Lyra boasted, hardly even looking at the note chart. The right edge of Frédéric's mouth pulled to the side in disbelief.
“I-it's true!” Bon Bon interjected, beads of sweat on her forehead. “Sometimes she even keeps me up at night. S-sleep... playing. Umm...”
Lyra looked at Bon Bon questionably, and the panicking mare minutely nodded her head and pointed at Frédéric with her eyes. Lyra's mouth opened as she got the message.
“Oh, yeah, totally!” Lyra exclaimed. “I just can’t help myself. The doctors say surgery is the only solution, but I can't afford it.”
Bon Bon face-hoofed as Frédéric rolled his eyes and Vinyl chuckled. Octavia's face betrayed no emotion.
“Well I'm glad you're such a prodigy, because we are performing tonight at 8:30,” Frédéric said, pushing the papers forward. “And against my better judgement, you're going to be in it.”
“I am?” Lyra asked incredulously, taking the notes in her own magic field. “Wait, does this mean I'm in the group?”
“If you can keep up with us on stage tonight, you can count yourself among our ranks. Not like our usual audience will even notice a change in instrumentation,” Frédéric muttered as he walked off stage.
“Is this standard hiring procedure?” Bon Bon asked Octavia with a hint of disbelief.
“Frédéric doesn't play safe,” Octavia answered before turning to Lyra. “6 hours until curtain. Can you play as well awake as when asleep?”
“Of course,” Lyra nodded while Bon Bon smiled uncomfortably behind her. Octavia closed her eyes.
“I will help you practice, after Vinyl purchases me a new bow,” Octavia glanced at Vinyl for half a second. “But when you step on stage, it's going to be trial by fire.”
Bon Bon gulped.
“Trial by fire,” Lyra muttered. “I hope I don't end up like that poor harpist...”
Vinyl chuckled and Octavia fixed her with a glare. The white unicorn gave a stiff salute and left the stage.
Nothing remained in the dusty room other than two ponies, the instruments in their hooves, and the decaying sound of musical notes dispersing throughout the back of the auditorium. Bon Bon had left earlier, not wanting to interrupt the two musician’s practice, and Vinyl had disappeared shortly after delivering a new cello wand to Octavia.
"You're not doing terrible,” Octavia stated, no inflection in her voice..
“Is that a compliment?” Lyra asked, laying her lyre across her lap as she sat on a small, uncomfortable stool.
“Yes,” Octavia answered.
“Did you expect me to do terrible?” Lyra questioned, cocking her head to the side.
“No,” Octavia answered.
“‘k,” Lyra said. She let out a deep breath. “I'm trying as hard as I can. Doesn't Frédéric know it isn't easy to replace a harp with a lyre?"
“Didn't you know that when you agreed to try out for this position?” Octavia shot back, sounding only the tiniest bit snippy.
“It's just taking me awhile to adjust. I'll handle it, don't worry,” Lyra replied, petting the wires of her instrument gently.
“I trust that you'll be able to." Octavia nodded.
“Thanks." Lyra smiled. "But why didn't you guys just wait for another harpist? Wouldn't that have been easier?”
“Probably. And we planned to. But Vinyl vouched for you," Octavia explained. Her expression softened at the mention of her roommate. "I've come to trust her judgment on matters of musical talent.”
“But she never even heard me play," Lyra said.
“Oh." Octavia frowned. "Well, I suppose there is something to be said about luck and timing, then.”
Lyra laughed.
“Hey, how did you and Vinyl meet?” Lyra asked suddenly. Octavia raised her eyebrows, and then looked off into the distance. Her expression was unreadable.
“She wouldn't want me to say,” Octavia finally answered.
“Oh.” Lyra frowned. She looked around before grinning conspiratorially. “Could you tell me anyways?”
“I apologize, but I've been sworn to secrecy,” Octavia said, glancing over at Lyra and betraying the barest hint of a smile. “All I can say is... well, no, I really shouldn't say that either.”
Silence hung between the two for several moments.
“You’re fun to talk to. Like trying to figure out a murder mystery in a math textbook,” Lyra said cheerfully. Octavia sighed and moved her cello into position.
“Again?” she questioned, laying her bow across the strings.
“Sure," Lyra replied, readying her lyre. “A one, an’ a two, an’ a one, two, three.”
Lyra strummed a single note.
“Silence!” a loud voice boomed from behind them, knocking Lyra off her seat and sending a single piercing note from her lyre. Octavia spun around, and saw the bust of Princess Celestia wheeling about as if it were a live, severed head. She looked down at Lyra, who was picking herself off the ground.
“Don't look at me!” Lyra said. Fire spewed from the nostrils of the animated stage prop, stray embers sticking to its face.
“Your music has displeased the phantom of the Teatre!” the statue warned, slowly wheeling towards the pair on squeaky wheels. “Be gone with you!”
“Wait, that sounds like—” Lyra’s words cut off as Octavia hoisted her cello's neck over her shoulder and aimed the bottom of the instrument at Celestia. Lyra blink. “Huh?”
The cello clicked and whirred. A panel swung out on the bottom, and a metal barrel extended outward, followed by a long rod with a small flame at the end.
“Woah, cool!” Lyra exclaimed.
“This stage belongs to—” the Celestia statue started to exclaim. Its wheels suddenly screeched to a halt, and the whole monstrosity began to shudder. “No, no, no!”
The entire structure collapsed, breaking into a pile of painted plywood and sawdust. In the middle of the carnage lay a light blue unicorn in a purple costume, hooves still holding onto the sticks of a control panel that was no longer attached to anything.
“Trixie?” Lyra asked, jaw nearly hitting the floor. Octavia lowered her cello, the flame-thrower segment hiding itself away at the press of a button.
“P-pay no attention to the mare behind the... rubble,” Trixie warned, futilely working the controls.
“What are you doing here, Trixie?” Lyra asked.
“What does it look like Trixie is doing?!” Trixie roared.
“Is... that's a rhetorical question, right?” Lyra scratched the top of her head.
“Trixie is trying to run you two out of the theater!” Trixie shouted, tossing the useless control panel away. Octavia began to heft her cello again; Lyra put a hoof on it, stopping Octavia.
“Why?” Lyra asked.
“Trixie requires a fitting venue for her act,” Trixie explained, dragging herself out of the mess she'd made. “The roadside show didn't quite go as planned.”
“Maybe that's because roadside shows are supposed to take place on the side of the road, not, you know, in the middle of the road,” Lyra pointed out with smile.
“Trixie has no time to argue over semantics!” Trixie declared, stomping towards Lyra on her hind-hooves. “Now let Trixie take over this theater or she will have you both turned into whales!”
Trixie stood there, chest heaving with the exertion of her speechifying.
"Can I eliminate her now?" Octavia asked Lyra. Lyra emphatically shook her head, and smiled at Trixie.
“Let's start over,” Lyra said cheerfully. She cleared her throat and extended her hoof. “Hi, my name is Lyra Heartstrings!”
Trixie's eyes lit up in rage, but the fire behind them almost immediately dimmed. She sighed.
“And you are speaking to The Great and Powerful Trixie,” Trixie replied, returning the hoofshake.
“So, what're you here for?” Lyra asked innocently.
“Trixie is looking for a place to perform her feats of amazement, so that she can prove to all of pony kind that she is the greatest and most powerful and perfect and extra—”
“Cool,” Lyra cut in. “So you came to ask for permission, right?”
“Trixie does not ask for permiss—”
“Octavia, there's enough room on stage for two acts tonight, right?” Lyra asked, ignoring Trixie's protests. Octavia exhaled through her snout.
“It's... not my decision to make. You'd have to ask Frédéric,” Octavia answered, looking away from the other two mares.
“Somepony call for me?” a familiar voice responded from behind the red curtain. Frédéric soon spilled through the fabric, and immediately saw the mess that Trixie had made. “Dear Celestia, what happened to... Celestia?”
“I dunno. I guess she couldn't take the pressures of royal power any longer,” Lyra suggested with a shrug.
Another pony passed through the curtain, flank first, revealing a brown tail, sky-blue coat, and pink bass clef cutie mark. Then the pony's head followed, teeth grasping a large black instrument case that dragged along the ground. Once completely through the curtain, the pony let go of the case and raised its head with a flourish, stylishly combed mane staying as securely in place as the pink bowtie around its neck.
The pony seemed to notice the rapt attention it was receiving from those gathered. Pink eyes with long eyelashes winked at the three gathered mares. Octavia didn't react, while Lyra slightly blushed, and Trixie masked the red in her own cheeks with a look of indignation.
“Well, it was ugly anyway,” Frédéric sighed, bringing the other ponies' eyes back on himself. “Dusty old thing hasn't seen use since Hearth’s Warming Eve ten years ago.”
“Ew. You really shouldn’t talk about yourself that way around ladies, Frederic,” the beautiful blue pony responded, in a sultry masculine voice. “It can really hurt your chances.”
Lyra and Trixie's eyes shot wide simultaneously, a fact which the effeminate pony didn't fail to notice. He chuckled alluringly.
“Good evening, ladies. The name's Beauty Brass,” the stallion introduced himself, taking a small bow. He stole a glance at Lyra's head. “Mmm, I really like your mane.”
“T-thanks?” Lyra answered, taking a step back.
“No, really. It reminds me of toothpaste.” Beauty Brass continued in his suave tone. “I bet you're very... hygienic.”
“Heh, then you should meet my friend Colgate back in Ponyville,” Lyra waved away the compliment nervously.
“She sounds delightful,” Brass purred. He then turned his eyes on Trixie. “What's this? Two mares for the price of one tonight? Lucky me.”
Trixie appeared quite flustered, and did not respond. Frédéric seemed to notice the showmare's presence for the first time. He looked to Octavia.
“This is...” Octavia began.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie,” Trixie said, introducing herself with most of the usual flourish.
“I know. You were on the six o'clock news,” Frédéric said, raising an eyebrow. “What I want to know is why you're standing on my stage.”
“She wants to share the stage with us tonight when we perform,” Lyra said. “Octavia said it's fine, so don't you agree with her?”
Octavia narrowed her eyes at Lyra and opened her mouth to speak. Frédéric interrupted her.
“Hmm. Well we've already got an untested, narcoleptic lyrist on stage with us tonight.” Frédéric shrugged. “Sure, why not double down on all my risks?”
“You will not regret this decision, Trixie assures you,” Trixie boasted.
“She didn't even question whether that was sarcasm or not,” Beauty Brass muttered to Frédéric, who just smiled in return.
“So!” Frédéric clapped his hooves together. “Now that we're all here, before curtain call, for once, why don't we all do a practice run through our routine?”
“Okay. Sounds good to me,” Lyra said, picking her lyre off the ground. Beauty Brass began to unzip his case, taking out a sousaphone.
“Trixie has no need for practice. Trixie is perfect the first time, every time,” Trixie said, head held high.
“Suit yourself,” Frédéric said, walking past her and towards a piano half-hidden behind a tree prop. “We'll begin with the second song.”
All four of the musicians nodded in unison, hefting their instruments and waiting for Frédéric to give the signal to start. When it came, a simultaneously soft but piercing melody began to fly throughout the air.
Meanwhile, Trixie lay down in the corner, and gave an exaggerated yawn. But her ears remained up, catching the sound of the music. As they song continued, a smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. She began to mutter to herself
“Hmm... yes... and maybe then... perfect, as always,” Trixie concluded, grinning devilishly.