A Walk Through Canterlot: Déjà vu!

Greetings.

After a great peak on my Insanity Scala (and a rather cheap story that was born from it) sense is slowly returning into my head again. Amongst other things, I outlined Of Law And Friendship a bit. For this, again amongst other things, I wrote a two pages long dialogue between Luna and a ghost to get a better hold of her character in the story. Unexpectedly I ended up with open questions on society that would fit into the relation I see between Twilight and Trixie. So, having in mind that I also got to finish a story that stars both Twilight and Trixie, I tried the same scheme again, to see if something useful could come out for Luna's Thoughts. I orignially wanted Trixie to meet Twilight by coincidence in Canterlot and then randomly start a dialogue.

What came out, however, is much closer to Luna's Thoughts than I would have imagined. In fact, if one ignores some details like building names, it comes rather close to a simply change in pov to what we've seen in the first chapter. I still have not written the dialogue, but the fact that I came out that near to Luna's Thoughts shows me that there are some connections to be made. If I can solve the problems that are in my head right now, I may be able to work through the stories way faster than I did to this point. What shouldn't mean anything for a potential reader, as I am a true professional in keeping myself from typing handwriting into a digital document. Yes, I indeed do keep doing process, even if it's only a few lines a day.

Anyhow, here's the short experiment, Trixie heads towards her cosy bed after a long day. Since I see it that close to Luna's Thoughts it may be interesting for someone.

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Calling it a day

Another cloudy dusk amidst the unchanging voices and stamping of Canterlot's crowds. Trixie had performed yet another show this day at the Old Marketsquare, from the stairs of an old, unused building that allowed her to peak out just the tiniest bit. It hadn't been the best place for attention seeking ponies, but good spots were rare and swarmed by concurrence. Now the majority of her belongings were stuffed into the saddlebags on her sides. The rest, boxes too large to be transported as easily and signs she used to attract attention, either have been reduced to single use, she used to utilize magical firework-boxes that could be reused a limited amount of time, or stored away near the stairs. Many things haven't proven to be worth the work of safekeeping, making it multiple walks to her place of resistance to keep everything together. There also was a stinging pain in her right hint-leg, what would have made carrying heavy things rather unpleasant. It was an obvious fact that she wouldn't have the will to press for a better spot tomorrow anyway.

The hip of a pony pressed against her left saddlebag, forcing her to balance out with the right side. She glanced tiredly towards her tormentor. It was an earth pony with orange coat and a colourful mane. He didn't pay any attention to her. It wasn't that he was busy or distracted by something; it was simply due to a bottleneck created by two larger carts that pressed the home-heading ponies a bit tighter together. Naturally the pace slowed down, something Trixie could have lived without as the last warming sun rays slowly hid behind the buildings that towered multiple floors high into the sky to all sides. Autumn was around the corner, and in this mountainous height coldness came early and happy. Of course, as swiftly coldness descented upon the capital's citizens, as slowly ascended warmth from the glowing fields and sparkling lakes of Equestria.

After she passed the obstacle the crowd slowly lifted up. Multiple ways spread into whichever direction a pony could desire to head to. The road system of Canterlot was complex. The space that the two princesses took from the mountain to build a city was limited, and long ago they must have developed a system that allowed the best compromise between density of population, living quality and safety. Trixie never really had tried to understand the system completely. It was too ordinary. She knew which roads to take to get to the Opera District, the place where she slept since she came back to Canterlot some months ago, and that was all she needed to know about it all.

On her way she passed several little shops, some of which were highly specialized in few wage goods. At a corner sat Pens And Quills, one of such stores and proof that this system worked. Albeit they only sold tools to write, Trixie could remember herself standing often in the little house in her early youth, testing all sorts of pens and quills made from the strangest feathers. It was still the same house in the same colour, and probably didn't change much on the inside either. Some steps further was a shop located she didn't recognize. The name didn't give any insight on what was to be sold. Chances existed that it was one of the more experimental shops new merchants opened to centralize their business and make managing easier. 'Sell everything that a pony desires and you will never run short of customers' a young businessstallion once had told her. She never learned if this principle had paid off for him. Nor had she any knowledge whether the old unicorn that sold her her first quill was still around. Her need for writing utensils had died down over the past years.

Then she reached the crossroad that led her straight into the Opera District. It was one of the larger districts. The princesses paid much attention to enable their citizens to have a little break from everything in the late hours, or to find their true selves on one of the many stages. The centre of it was a pompous building with its own plaza. It simply was called The Great Opera and was one of the greatest buildings the capitol had to offer – all below the castle, of course. The castle itself was on the other side of the city, built into the mountain itself. If one stood in front of the opera with enough distance in between, and it required quite a bit, then one could see the towers ranging into the sky behind and above the richly ornamented façade. All this lurked vision-hunting visitors from all over Equestria and even across the borders, creating a permanent swarming in the centre of what she called home. The Great Opera also served as a public panic room in emergencies, what left several guards around the place permanently to manage everything, should need be. At one time the princesses seemingly figured that not all ponies would be able to reach the safe caste in time, should Canterlot found itself under attack. Given the broad ponies she sometimes saw and the narrow streets, they might have been right about that.

She passed the whole spectacle with the same disinterest she carried in the morning. A smaller and duller street on the other end was her destination. There shined no light from the permanent lit magical lamps on the plaza into it, adding a warm and welcoming darkness to the mix. Many windows of the houses at the sides of it were broken or sealed with wooden planks. It was no shame; nearly of these buildings outdated everything across the markets in terms of age. They were old theatres with small stages. Once in them newcomers as well as served artists gave their programme away to no more than sixty ponies a time. Just as it is with giants, the Great Opera cast a shadow over many small theatres. The desire in the population to pass the Great Opera to see something insignificant shrinked with the years. Without the ability to grow in the light of Canterlot, these theatres, like plants, died down. Now only the small theatres with the best locations still earned coin. It was a wide-spread problem these days, apparently.

Beside a blue-painted door Trixie stopped. She laid a hoof against it and with a whiny shriek the angles gave in to the pressure and allowed her to open the door. She didn't know when the lock broke. It already was in this state when she found this place.

Inside, there was an abandoned till, from where one either went to the dusty stage with its torn seats, or directly towards the backrooms, where some abandoned requisites served her well as furniture.