Leaves like fire

by Shaslan

The Interview

“You’ll see my work history is all in order.”

The voice was smooth like molasses, like honey syrup poured over a sticky toffee apple. It was rich, and deep, and sonorous, and it was the voice of a stallion used to sweet-talking others. A stallion used to getting his own way.

It reeked of entitlement, and Chancellor Neighsay’s already sour mood soured further.

“You understand that Saint Whinnian’s is a rigorous institution, Mister…uh…Gladmane? We have high expectations for our colts and fillies.” He peered doubtfully over his spectacles at the rotund stallion in the sparkly suit. “And for our staff, too.”

The sun was out today — golden light filtering through the small leaded panes of glass, shaded crimson and orange by the leaves of the creeper that covered the edges of the windowframe. It tinged Gladmane’s silver hair, too, and Neighsay narrowed his eyes. Were those sparkles in his mane, as well?

“I got no problem with high expectations,” said Gladmane contentedly, seemingly unaware of how his incorrect grammar set Neighsay’s teeth on edge. “I used to run a pretty big operation myself over in Las Pegasus.”

Neighsay nodded, mouth turning down at the corners. “That’s as may be, but running an hotel is a little different from leading a department in the nations finest unicorn school.”

He emphasised the penultimate word, expecting to get at least an eyebrow raise from the earth pony — he had gotten more than that from the other three earth ponies and pegasi these damned quotas that the meddling Princess Twilight Sparkle had forced on him. Enough mentions of proud unicorn heritage and the long and storied history of unicorn magic had been enough to see the rest of them off.

Only one faux-candidate left, and then he could get to the real possibilities still in the waiting room. There was a mare about there who had played the lyre with the Canterlot Philharmonic. Lyra Heartstrings, her name was, and the thought of entrusting his precious students to someone with her background made his heart sing.

Gladmane, in contrast…well, best to say that it was not a favourable contrast and leave it at that.

Casting around for a few more fabricated excuses, he landed on the sight of the three bits on the other stallion’s flank.

“I notice that your cutie mark is…not exactly relevant.”

Gladmane smiled with the practised ease of a performer. “Well now, I started off humble. When I was a colt, I found a few little pennies made a fine percussive instrument.”

The Chancellor pursed his lips. “Well, here you’ll find that we prefer more traditional instruments. Harp, flute, violin and piano are all popular — and our organ programme is award-winning.”

Gladmane shifted in his seat, leaning forward. “I ain’t worried. Before I opened my hotel I was a singer myself. I play guitar, drums, bass, piano and violoncello. I know how to teach the theory of pretty much any instrument you’d care to name. I’d be a catch for a joint like this.” He grinned as he spoke, and a shift in the breeze outside cast a yellow-gold speckle of sunlight across his cheek.

“I’m not sure you’re quite the right candidate for this role,” Neighsay said icily. He would clearly have to be more direct. The usual strategies weren’t seeming to have an effect on this one.

“Funny,” replied Gladmane. “Because the more I see of this place, the more I think you need me.”

He smiled, and it was such a charming, devilish smile that if Gladmane had been a unicorn stallion instead of an earth pony, Neighsay’s breath might have caught in his throat. His heart might have stuttered, just a little bit.

As it was, he simply unfurled his handkerchief and coughed hastily into it, to provide an explanation for any sudden redness in his cheeks.

It was horrible, the way autumn always played havoc upon his lungs.

When he was recovered, Neighsay leaned back in his seat, curling his lip just the slightest bit,“And what makes you think that?”

“I know how to run a school, Chancellor,” said Gladmane. “Especially on a flagging budget like this one.”

Shooting upright, Neighsay sucked in a breath. If looks could have killed, Gladmane would surely have dropped dead right then and there. “What do you mean, flagging budget?”

Gladmane just smiled, his expression one of supreme self-satisfaction. “I can recognise the signs. This post isn’t the only vacant one. You’re looking for twelve teachers. Twelve. You’re dripping in marble and gilt lampshades, but it’s all dusty — you can’t afford your janitors any more, can you?And under all that pretty ivy outside, the stonework is crumbling.”

It was difficult, but Neighsay drew himself up further still. If he hadn’t had to let Lump and Clump the doormen go, he’d have called them in here right now to throw this lout out on his rump. “How dare you—”

Gladmane held up a hoof. “I do my research before I come to a joint like this. Fees have gone up for the past seven years, but your place in the exam league tables have kept on dropping. I looked you up in the Canterlot Times, and your scholarships for poorer students with strong magical ability folded three years ago.”

Temporarily silenced, Neighsay struggled to find his footing.

Seeing the opportunity, Gladmane ploughed on. “I ran the biggest hotel in Las Pegasus for twenty years. We were in the red for nineteen of those, but not one of my guests ever suspected. We papered over the cracks and powdered our noses until it all looked the part. And,” he leant closer, “I played my staff off against each other, until I was the only one they could trust. And then I lowered their real-terms pay every year. For nineteen years.”

Blinking in shock at the end of this tirade of information, Neighsay tried to find his old armour — hauteur and cold outrage. But somehow, it was no longer in reach, and all he was left with was bewilderment.

Madame Chauncy the music teacher had been the twelfth to leave. The janitors were gone, Lump and Clump, everypony. Even his own red robe had one darn too many, stitched late into the night with his own horn as he tried to hide the frays.

And for this stranger to come in, and to expose all of it, within minutes of meeting him…it was too much. It was too much.

“I can help you,” Gladmane said, and his voice was still deep and sonorous as a siren’s. “I need a place to stay, and you need a strong right hoof. We can help each other out, me and you.”

And Chancellor Neighsay felt his mouth open, and heard a strange hesitant voice that did not quite sound like his own say: “…Maybe.”

Because it would be a relief, to have someone to lean on. Someone clever, and strong, and better than the common ponies. Someone like himself.

And this stallion with his glitter and his pompadour was somehow, beneath the razzmatazz, exactly like Neighsay.

“What do you say, then?” Gladmane asked, offering another of those heartbreaking smiles. “We got a deal?”

Neighsay imagined what it would be like to hear that bass voice rumble in song, a country ballad of some sort. Imagined what it would be like to watch this smooth talker prod and poke his staff into accepting lower pay. Imagined what it would be like to see Saint Whinnian’s restored to its former glory.

“Yes, Mr. Gladmane,” he said, suddenly not caring that a lyrist from the Canterlot Philharmonic was outside his office waiting for an interview. “I think we have a deal. The job is yours.”

And this time, when Gladmane grinned down at him, the sun and the burning-red leaves colouring his silver hair like fire, Neighsay allowed himself to be dazzled.

Comments

[DecoGalileo]

This is what I've been waiting for! A BL story involving Neighsay!

[dertoxbraid]

stunning! interesting take on both characters.

He smiled, and it was such a charming, devilish smile that if Gladmane had been a unicorn stallion instead of an earth pony, Neighsay’s breath might have caught in his throat. His heart might have stuttered, just a little bit.

hrnrrghrh. how lovely!

[Turbotune]

That, is a very interesting ship that I never thought of, but once you showed their interaction, I felt that this could work out very well for each other.
I mean they have so many things in common, and there should be more of it!
Too bad it's so short, it could be an opening to a very realistic pony story with some serious business gay romance.

[Bicyclette]

The sun was out today — golden light filtering through the small leaded panes of glass, shaded crimson and orange by the leaves of the creeper that covered the edges of the windowframe. It tinged Gladmane’s silver hair, too, and Neighsay narrowed his eyes. Were those sparkles in his mane, as well?

ooh, pretty!

He emphasised the penultimate word, expecting to get at least an eyebrow raise from the earth pony — he had gotten more than that from the other three earth ponies and pegasi these damned quotas that the meddling Princess Twilight Sparkle had forced on him. Enough mentions of proud unicorn heritage and the long and storied history of unicorn magic had been enough to see the rest of them off.

aww dang, and here i thought Neighsay was only bigoted against non-ponies. this is some advanced pony racism!

Only one faux-candidate left, and then he could get to the real possibilities still in the waiting room. There was a mare about there who had played the lyre with the Canterlot Philharmonic. Lyra Heartstrings, her name was, and the thought of entrusting his precious students to someone with her background made his heart sing.

i do like to imagine this Lyra as the absolute disaster of a little shid she is in my headcanon, which really makes the racism even more absurd

Casting around for a few more fabricated excuses, he landed on the sight of the three bits on the other stallion’s flank.

love how in pony world staring at another pony’s butt is a normal thing to do to get to know them better

It was horrible, the way autumn always played havoc upon his lungs.

hehehe

Seeing the opportunity, Gladmane ploughed on. “I ran the biggest hotel in Las Pegasus for twenty years. We were in the red for nineteen of those, but not one of my guests ever suspected. We papered over the cracks and powdered our noses until it all looked the part. And,” he leant closer, “I played my staff off against each other, until I was the only one they could trust. And then I lowered their real-terms pay every year. For nineteen years.”

aww that is so evil, they are perfect for each other!

The janitors were gone, Lump and Clump, everypony.

just from their names i already love Lump and Clump

[And this time, when Gladmane grinned down at him, the sun and the burning-red leaves colouring his silver hair like fire, Neighsay allowed himself to be dazzled.

Shas you did it again, delivering a gorgeous story about an unexpected ship that you make work all too well and then ending it in a place where i want more, so much more! damn you Shas, you can’t keep getting away with it!

[Vivid Syntax]

Very intense interaction, especially for such a tight story. Nice work!