Bright Star

by darf

Chapter I: Coffee

“When will this be over?”

The voice made its break under a steady milling of voices and din of cutlery. It sounded like a voice weared by obligation, but unfettered by experience. It sounded young, impetuous, and feminine.

It also belonged to a pegasus with a blonde mane, orange coat, and disinterested face, leaning against the back counter at The Fresh Blend, a coffee shop in the small to medium sized town of Coltlet, just west of Canterlot.

The voice that met it after a few seconds was much less perturbed.

“Hmm?”

A dainty, delicate annunciation. belonging to an off-cream coloured earth-pony with a mane like rich auburn and chestnut. She regarded the pegaus on her other side as she wiped down a nearby coffee pot using a small cloth.

The pegasus sighed, but said nothing.

“What do you mean?” the earth pony asked with a soft laugh. Her voice demanded a book report. The pegasus’s face spelled out a show-and-tell.

“This,” she said simply. as a few more seconds went by, she sighed again, loudly. “All of this,” she said, spreading her forelegs wide into the air. “This dumb job, this dumb place, being a server in this dumb coffee shop instead of doing something exciting with my life.” The pegasus leaned back against the counter and scowled.

“Well,” the earth pony said, putting down her cloth. “That depends entirely on you.” The earth pony looked over the section of counter she’d just finished wiping, narrowing her eyes for a moment before giving an almost imperceptible nod of her head. “Things aren’t going to change unless you change them.”

The pegasus blew a puff of air upwards past her nose, tossing a bit of her blonde mane sideways in the miniature breeze.

“Well, duh. I mean, it’s not like I want everything to suddenly turn awesome overnight. I’m just sick of everything right now.”

The earth pony turned on the tap of the nearby sink and let a thin stream of water wash away a splash or two of light brown liquid left on the side of the metal.

“I think there’s more worthwhile about the present than you’re giving credit.”

The pegasus shook her head. Over the constant background hum, a milling together of ponies voices at their tables, sipping from cups and exchanging chatter, a strain of subtle melody joined the atmosphere, bows across strings in a soft accompaniment.

“Even the music is too much. Can’t we play something popular, at least?”

The earth pony’s face flickered into a sour looking expression for a moment, but quickly returned to an unreadable complacency.

“There’s nothing wrong with the music.” She paused a moment and looked up at the clock, then back down to her co-worker. “Would you like to go home early today? It seems like you’re not in the best of moods.”

“Nah.” The pegasus pulled herself off the counter and shook her head shortly, ruffling her wings on her back for a few seconds and then settling them back in. “I need the hours. Why, are you sick of me already?”

“No, of course not. I’m just worried you’re going to get miserable if you have to stay here much longer.”

The pegasus grinned and cocked her head a bit to the side.

“Oh, come on. I’m not that bummed out.” The pegasus brought her head straight again, but paused as she was mid-way to beginning a new sentence. Her eyes seemed stuck, affixed on a point behind her co-worker and past the counter, looking towards the door.

“Hey,” she said softly. The earth pony in front of her raised an eyebrow.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Don’t turn around... there’s somepony watching you.”

Immediately, the earth pony’s head screamed at her to pivot and look, but she held her pose, standing nonchalantly behind the counter, facing in the opposite direction.

“Watching? How do you mean?”

The pegasus peeked up over the cream colour of the pony in front of her, then quickly ducked her head back down and did her best to look as though she was entirely uninterested in anything besides whatever was going on behind her serving station.

“He’s... he keeps looking up at you. And he’s writing something, in a notebook it looks like.”

The earth pony chanced a look over her shoulder.

There indeed was a pony, seated at a table at the far side of the coffee shop. He looked as well dressed as any noblepony who’d ever happened into the shop, wearing a black vest that complemented the middle-to-dark blue of his coat. His mane was a small contrast, a somewhat scraggly mess of ruffled black, and he had a pair of glasses on, small, and just barely kept at the bridge of his snout. He was staring downward intently, and his horn glowed as a small pen scurried across the notebook atop his table.

The earth pony listened hard, and thought that, very faintly, she could hear the noise of the ink being scratched onto the paper. She turned her head back to her co-worker.

“Do you think he’s writing about you?” the pegasus asked, giving a soft flap of her wings to help her see over the counter before coming back down.

“I don’t imagine what he could be writing about.”

“Maybe he’s a stalker. He’s taking notes on your schedule so he can follow you after work.”

The earth pony’s face wrinkled.

“Why on earth would you say a thing like that? He looks harmless.”

The pegasus shrugged.

“You never know.”

The two stood for a moment, both of them trying their best to avoid paying undue attention to the pony watching one or both of them.

“You should go talk to him.”

The earth pony’s expression dipped again.

“What? I don’t see why I should do a thing like that. He’s a customer, and I’ve no right to intrude on his day.”

The pegasus rolled her eyes and blew a breath of air out of the corner of her mouth.

“Puh-lease. He’s obviously checking you out. If he’s not stalking you, maybe he’s writing you a love note? He keeps looking up at you before he writes anything.” The pegasus paused and craned her neck to see over the counter, then quickly pulled her head back close to her chest. “There, see, he did it again. You should totally go talk to him.”

“I’ll do no such thing.” The earth pony scowled and began to move to the other side of the counter. The pegasus held up a foreleg to block her, which was met with a stern glare.

“Come on! If you don’t go talk to him, I will. Just say hi or something. Ask him why he keeps looking at you.”

The earth pony paused for a moment. She looked back again, over the counter and towards the door. The unicorn seated at the table was still writing, though it came in fits and starts. He was sticking his tongue out between his teeth as he leered at his notebook, and a faint glow from his horn shone as his pen swished through the air, back and forth over top of the paper, like a pendulum, seemingly ticking as he waited for the words to come.

His eyes were the same colour as his coat, the earth pony noticed. A dark, deep blue, like the far-out swirl of the ocean.

She looked back to her co-worker, who was smiling.

“Oh, alright. I suppose there’s not really any harm in it.”

“That’s the spirit.” The pegasus patted the earth pony on the shoulder as she walked, rounding the corner of the counter and pushing past the small, chest-height wooden door. She looked back once as she walked, but found the pegasus grinning at her widely, nodding in encouragement. And so she walked the rest of the way. She stood at the unicorn’s table for a few seconds. He seemed not to notice her.

She tried to make out the words in his book upside down, but they were in too flowery a cursive to read.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice quiet.

The unicorn shook in his seat like he’d been shocked. His cup jostled on its saucer, spilling a small amount of milk-softened coffee onto the table. His pen dropped unceremoniously onto his notebook.

“Oh, my goodness. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The unicorn looked around him as though someone might be watching. He looked down at his notebook, then back up to the earth pony, who was smiling at him. He shook his head again and picked up a small napkin which he used to blot up the spilled coffee.

“Oh... no, it’s fine, I just wasn’t... sorry. I’ll clean this up.” His voice was young, but not juvenile. He sounded like he might be late for something. Like maybe he enjoyed singing. The earth pony smiled.

“It’s alright. I do apologize again for startling you.”

“No, it’s... don’t worry about it. I, um. Is there something I can help you with?”

She smiled wider. Those were the words she was supposed to ask, most of the time.

“Well... this may be a bit odd, but I was put up to it by my friend over there.” The earth pony gestured with a hoof towards the counter, where the pegasus, who had been staring over and smiling, gave a cheerful wave and nod. “She, um... she said you were looking in my direction rather regularly. Staring, she called it. And she noticed you were writing something, and the two of us couldn’t help but wonder... was it me you were writing about?”

The unicorn’s face shone crimson behind his coat. Even though the coffee spill on his table had long since been soaked up, he padded the table with the napkin with increased fervour, smearing away nothing other than the few motes of dust that might be settled there.

“Oh, uh... well, that is to say... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare... you, I just...” The unicorn’s stammering quickly faltered into nothingness. An obvious but small sheen of sweat began to collect on his forehead.

The earth pony put a hoof to her mouth and giggled.

“It’s alright. I’m flattered, if anything. Do you mind if I ask what it was you were writing?”

The unicorn looked down at his notebook, then back up to the earth pony, still smiling at him, sweetly. He looked back down to his notebook and leaned forward, covering it with his forelegs.

“That... I’d, um, prefer if you didn’t.” The earth pony raised an eyebrow at him, which he answered with an increased bluster. “It’s nothing scandalous!” he said, waving a hoof in the air emphatically. “It’s just... I... well, I’d prefer if you didn’t,” he said, his tone dulling.

The earth pony tilted her head a bit to the side. Her eyes moved over the unicorn, hunched over the table, as though she was seeing him again for the first time. Sizing him up. Guessing at what his nervous smile might mean.

“I see,” she said. Her head straightened, and her eyes lingered on the unicorn’s vest.

“Oh,” she said. “You have a bit of coffee on your...” she trailed off, pointing towards the unicorn’s chest.

The unicorn sat back and looked down awkwardly, pressing his chin against his chest to spot the offending spot of coffee. As he looked, the notebook vanished under the one hoof he’d left on it, which sent him jerking forward. His expression quickly flashed from puzzlement to panic.

“Oh, no, don’t, if you could please give that back...”

The earth pony smiled devilishly as she stepped back, holding a hoof forward like some sort of invisible barrier as she turned the notebook the right way around.

“In a moment. I just wish to see what it is you’ve been scribbling about me.”

The unicorn’s face fell. He stayed frozen, mid-lunge for his book, as the earth pony’s eyes went over the ornate cursive. Her mouth moved as she read the first few words.

“Saccharine dew, affixed to brightening fixture, content with the softness of her expression... content with the concealment of a lingering love for all of life... alight in her smile, bright and undermining of her toil...”

The unicorn’s expression fell further as the earth pony read. He sank to his chair and slumped backwards, looking as though his body had been drained of energy.

“Auburn crest, purely quaffed, iridescent shimmering surrounding...” the earth pony went on, her eyes scanning slowly over the densely packed letters. “How friendly a fortune must fare to spare the look of her laugh, and in passing, bringing a heart to brim with...” She looked up, her expression devoid of indication. “It stops there,” she said.

The unicorn didn’t respond at first. He leaned forward in his chair and ran a hoof over his head, staring at the center of his table. After a further few seconds, he looked up and swallowed nervously.

“It, uh... I was...”

“It’s about me then?” she asked. She stepped close to the table then, closer to the side, and set the notebook down, taking care to avoid the napkin at the corner.

The unicorn nodded solemnly.

“It is. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s beautiful.”

The hum of tandem strings drawled through the air of the shop, mixed still with the bustle of intermingling voices and chatter of old friends and acquaintances. Behind the counter, the pegasus with the blonde mane stretched herself forward, straining to make out the strains of conversation at the table closest to the door.

The unicorn stared at the table for a moment before looking up to the earth pony again. She was smiling at him.

“It is?”

She nodded.

“I’ve not had anypony write such things about me before. I’m flattered, really.”

“Oh, well... that is to say, I didn’t mean to, er, I didn’t want to—”

“What is your name?” The earth pony leaned forward, close enough to the unicorn that she could see the nervous flitting of his sea-blue eyes behind his glasses.

“My name? It’s uh, well... my name is...” He stopped for a moment, coughed, cleared his throat, and adjusted the spectacles on his snout. “My name is... Bright Star,” he said.

The earth pony’s eyes danced to his side. Hidden under the lower part of his vest, she could just make out the shimmer of a star’s points, stretching out on his blue coat.

She extended her hoof, which Bright Star met after a second, shaking at first, but then getting the better of himself and holding it as properly as he could manage. The earth pony smiled at him and curtsied demurely with her eyes closed.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Bright Star. My name is Keening Iris.”

Bright Star’s eyes went blank for a moment, as though the crest of waves in them had crashed, washing something away that had been there before. His lips moved over the name for a moment before he spoke.

“Keening Iris,” he said slowly. “That’s... such a—”

“Strange name, I know. You can just call me Iris, if you prefer. Everypony does.”

Bright Star pressed his hoof harder against Keening Iris’s for a second, and she opened her eyes wide at the pressure before he pulled his hoof away. He looked down through his glasses at the table again, then back up. For the first time since she’d walked over, Iris saw him smile.

“It’s a beautiful name,” he said quietly.

The two of them sat and stood in silence for a few seconds, the hubbub of the shop milling around them.

“So, Mr. Bright Star,” Iris said, leaning forward and resting her foreleg on the table, “do you intend to write more things about me?”

Bright Star looked up at her again with a nervous smile.

“I’d very much like to, yes.”

“Well, that will be fine then.” Iris pulled herself up from the table and straightened her posture. She looked back to the counter where her co-worker was beaming madly at her.

“But only if you shall let me see them.”

Bright Star nodded. Iris waited a few seconds, smiling, before turning curtly and walking back behind the counter. A small line had begun to build during her conversation, and she tapped her co-worker gently on the shoulder as she walked to serve the ponies waiting for their drinks.

After a minute passed, Bright Star let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair. When a few more seconds had passed, his horn glowed, and his pen drifted to his notebook, where it began to write.

Comments

[Bad Horse]

weared by obligation => wearied

It sounded ... It also belonged to : a little jarring that the only thing being joined by "also" is "it"; technically correct, but one would normally use "also" (rather than no conjunction at all) either when the verb is the same, or to highlight an implication ("Ron believed in himself. He also believed the world was flat." has both the same verb and an implication.)

She regarded the pegaus on her other side => pegasus , also, she can't really have an "other" side at this point, since you haven't referenced either side of her.

I'm slightly thrown out of the story because the voices sound like Rarity talking to Dash.

Over the constant background hum, a milling together of ponies voices at their tables, sipping from cups and exchanging chatter, a strain of subtle melody joined the atmosphere, bows across strings in a soft accompaniment. : Would be nice to specify whether this is recorded music, as we've seen only Vinyl's record player in Equestria, so when you say there's music, I look around and try to figure out where the band is.

She paused a moment and looked up at the clock, then back down to her co-worker. “Would you like to go home early today? It seems like you’re not in the best of moods.” : Confused me because it says they're co-workers, but suggests the earth pony is the supervisor.

I see Bright Star is your Keats. "Quaffed" means "drank", and I wonder if you're confusing it with "coiffed", though I suspect you mean "quaffed". The poetry is all semantic mismatches, e.g., hair being quaffed, fortune faring friendly, the look of a laugh. More modern or maybe French symbolist than Keats. I've never liked Keats' poems anyway; all technique and enthusiasm, no depth of thought.

The story's gotten a very good reader response--35 of 40 went on to chapter 2 (tho that's attributable to the shortness of chapter 1), and 33 of those went to chapter 3. 16 gave it up-votes. Those are extremely good numbers.

You've set up 2 different sources of tension, the pegasus' dissastisfaction, & the shy poet. That's good for such a short intro chapter. The former was eclipsed by the latter; it might have been good to have reminded the reader of it before ending the chapter.