The Gemstone Quartet

by Lunafilly


The Founding of the Quartet

Lyrica arrived at back at her home feeling slightly hazy, but she had a clear objective in mind: to reinvent herself. The Gala had been her low, and she needed to create for herself a new high. She was convinced that she was every bit the musical equal of anypony currently popular, and she decided then and there to prove it.
I don't want to be a fluff piece, a has-been, or a second fiddle (or lyre, or cello)! But I'm not good enough on my own, I'm no big name. Octavia Melody had all those other musicians up there... a band! I could never carry a show by myself, but together with others... Lyrica preferred to perform alone, but she felt that this was necessary to her success. She had always been unable to take on other bands on her own, being weak as musicians went.
Lyra said she wanted a new image—something new—something modern! But classic, and elegant. Tasteful, so to speak. She started scribbling on a piece of paper, writing down her ideas.
"Lyre, violin, piano," she said to herself. She sketched some concert outfits, but she wasn't quite satisfied with them.
Perhaps I could go to that Rarity mare, and ask for a little help. Now, I need a name... four ponies. A quartet. The Lyrica Quartet? No, too self-centered. The Musical Quartet? Too obvious. Lyrica tried to think of a pretty word.
Flowers? Dresses? Gems? The Gemstone Quartet? I like it. Classic, and elegant. If a little too cute. Though Lyrica wasn't much of an artist, she drew up a simple flyer, colored it, and then traced ten more of them, repeating the process.
Her eyes stung and her teeth were slightly sore from holding the pencil. Hence, she soon went to bed, slept dreamlessly, and got up bright and early the next morning to make more flyers. After Lyrica felt she had enough of them, she put them up around Ponyville. When she had finished, she took a coffee to go and went back to her house to wait for applicants.
She eventually got a knock at the door, and four ponies walked into her apartment. One was blue with a spiky mane, and this was the pony who had tread on her hoof at the train station. The other was the Wonderbolt cadet who had collided with her the week before. The third was a yellow mare with a blue mane and a cowboy hat, who looked remarkably like Octavia Melody. The remaining pony was none other than Derpy Hooves, pushing a piano through the door.
"Excuse me?" Lyrica said, "I asked for a band. I got the stallion who stepped on my hoof at the train, the moronic pegasus who crashed into me, and a mare who looks the twin of my worst enemy! Oh, and you, Derpy Hooves. Hello." Derpy was obviously confused.
"A band? Sorry, I have to go deliver this piano. I must have the wrong address!" she said, lugging her piano out the door and flying off. After that, the Octavia-looking pony addressed Lyrica, speaking with a slight southern twang.
"Well, looks like we're all you've got. Are you in, or are you out?" she said, taking off her hat and wiping her brow.
"Well, I'm in!" said Midnight Strike. The blue stallion nodded.
"If you're not interested, we can have our band without you. Also, did I step on your hoof? I'm actually sorry about that," he said. Lyrica sighed.
"Fine. Let's do introductions, then. I'm Lyrica Lilac, and I know you're Midnight Strike," she said, pointing to Midnight, "but who are the rest of you?" The stallion stepped forward, dragging a corded microphone behind him.
"I'm Noteworthy," he said. The yellow and blue Octavia tipped her hat.
"Fiddlesticks Melody, at your service. Oh, and if your worst enemy is Octavia, I'm her older sister," she said. Lyrica frowned.
"I can't have any sisterly love, now, all right? Just repress that while you're around me," she said. Fiddlesticks snorted.
"Yeah, that won't be happening. I hate her guts," she said.
"Really?" Lyrica said, "That's fantastic!" Fiddlesticks grinned.
"You might be rude, blunt, and judgmental, but I think I'll like you better than I expected," she said.
"Sorry to break up your hater party, but when are we going to practice? I brought my instrument, so we could start, if the almighty Miss Lilac decrees it," said Noteworthy. Lyrica scowled.
"Yes, why don't we start right now. That would be just lovely," she said, trying to strain all hints of sarcasm from her voice.
"Cool! I play the drums, what does everypony else play?" said Midnight. Lyrica winced.
"DRUMS? Er, I mean... I was looking more for piano, or suchlike," she said. Midnight Strike's grin faded, and she stepped closer to Lyrica, breathing in her face.
"I'm gonna be in this band, and no stupid snooty music pony is gonna stop me," she said. Lyrica made a small choking noise, and nodded her approval. After that, Midnight's smile slid back onto her face, and she carried on setting up her instruments.
"I was planning on doing voice," said Noteworthy.
"I'm a fiddler, mostly," Fiddlesticks said. Lyrica shrugged.
"I do play the lyre," she said. Noteworthy snickered.
"Well, they don't exactly call you Guitarica Lilac, do they?" he said, intending a harmless (if weak) joke.
"Well, I don't know why they call you Noteworthy, because you certainly aren't! And if all you're going to do is insult me, then you can scoot your flank right out of my home!" shouted Lyrica.
"Geez, somepony's got anger issues," whispered Midnight Strike, a little too loudly.
"I DO NOT HAVE ANGER ISSUES!" Lyrica yelled. After that, though, everypony settled down and got to work, and the rehearsal went as well as it could have. Despite this, in Midnight Strike's words:
"Wow, we kinda suck." Before they all went home, they swore to practice three times a week, and they made good on this promise. The next day and the day after that, they met to rehearse once more. Though the band's instruments didn't fit very well into Lyrica's apartment, they were able to practice (despite the steady stream of complaints from her landlord). They gradually improved, and Lyrica actually managed to fit the drums into the group, prompting this reaction from Midnight Strike:
"Wow, we totally suck less!" After this was said, Lyrica pulled a jug of sparkling cider out of her fridge.
"From the Apple family farm! May I propose a toast?" she said. Everypony nodded, and some maretini glasses were found in the cabinet.
"A toast to sucking less!" yelled Noteworthy, and everypony else chanted it after him, clinking their glasses.
"A TOAST TO SUCKING LESS!" they said, saying it over and over again, a refrain to some ridiculous song, the motto of their founding.