//------------------------------// // Chapter 64 // Story: The Mask Makes the Pony // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Peering down, Flicker was somewhat surprised by just how good his vision was. All of the lights had dimmed, but he could see quite well, and he was a little mystified by it. The crowd had a strange silence to it, a silence that carried with it a demand. Overwhelmed by sensation, Flicker’s ears pivoted to face every sound around him. A cough, somepony breathing, the creak as somepony shifted in their seat, each little noise drew forth a reaction. A trapdoor in the middle of the stage far below opened, and Octavia rose up on a lift. She was wearing a slinky black evening gown, and her mane was pulled back into a tight, severe looking bun, making her look a bit like a schoolmarm. She stood there for a moment, took a deep breath, and then addressed the crowd. “Hello, and a fine how do you do to all of you. As you no doubt know, I am Octavia.” The prim little mare paused, cleared her throat, and then turned about on the stage so that she might have a good look at all of her audience. “Tonight, I must ask you for your best behaviour, as I have a very special guest with me. He’s a little shy, and it took me so much convincing to get him to do this. Please, I ask that you treat him with the same respect that you would treat me.” The trapdoor opened again and the lift rose, bringing with it a short, squat, bipedal figure wearing a tuxedo. The crowd gasped upon seeing that it was a diamond dog, and Octavia made a gesture for him to come over to her. Flicker watched with great interest while all around him, the crowd reacted to the sudden appearance of a diamond dog on the same stage as Octavia. “This is my friend, Johann Bark.” Octavia lifted her head and peered up at the nosebleed seats. “He’s quite young, timid, and shy. Just like I am.” She waited for a moment so that the crowd might laugh at her joke, then continued, “He and his family immigrated to Equestria from Germaney. They are hard working, industrious, and young little Johann here, he has a dream to play the piano. He’s quite good. The problem is, he is having trouble getting gigs because of his species… and I find this sort of behaviour reprehensible.” Flicker leaned forwards in his seat and looked down. Much to his surprise, he was able to focus upon the expression on Octavia’s face, even from where he sat, which was quite a ways away. He ignored the crunching sounds from beside him as Piper snacked on some granola. “Why, Johann, you look smashing,” Octavia said to the diamond dog standing beside her. “Thank you,” he replied with a gruff accent. “Are you ready to begin?” Octavia asked. The diamond dog’s sharp inhale could be heard on the microphone, and then he nodded. “Very well then, let us begin…” After a brief swell of silence, the music started. A few notes came from the piano, and then Octavia coaxed something beautiful from her cello. She moved like a gardener tending some priceless, fragile rose, and her body swayed as she leaned into her cello with a tender embrace. Johann was hunched over his piano, his ears bouncing as he struck his keys, his paws moving in a smooth blur. His tail wagged from side to side behind him and the spotlight faded, becoming dim. The diamond dog kept his head down, his nose almost to the keys, and his long arms allowed him an amazing reach of the keys. The music crashed against the audience like waves against the rocks and a peculiar feeling of emotion overtook Flicker. He thought of his sister for some reason and was moved to some unknown, maudlin emotion that made his heart feel heavy. Like so many others around him, Flicker found it difficult to breathe—some unseen, unknowable force clamped itself tight around his barrel, and try as he might, he could not break the spell. The music was as sad as it was haunting and Flicker had no defense against it. In moments, he was laid bare, his insides raw and exposed. His head felt heavy and it made his neck stiff to hold it up. Without even realising that he was doing so, he reached out, seeking comfort, and his fetlock wrapped tight around Hennessy’s foreleg, gripping it in a sweaty, fearful embrace. Hennessy looked up, his mane spilling down over his face, and he said nothing as he glanced at Flicker. Then, the colt looked down at Flicker’s fetlock, his eyes glistening with liquid emotion in the faint, dim light. Sitting on the other side of Hennessy, Piper did the same, clutching at the earth pony colt, and she began to sniffle. Octavia’s magic was inspiration, that was her gift, her talent, and it did not translate well to recorded form. For all of the times that Flicker had listened to various records of hers, he had felt nothing, for such was his talent, his gift, which gave him stoicism as a boon. But now, exposed to Octavia herself, the earth pony with, perhaps, the most powerful magical talent of this era, he bore the full brunt of it and was powerless against it. Flicker was inspired. He had placed the last vestiges of his equinity into his sister as though she were a vessel. He had stripped himself of weakness, of frailty, and he had voluntarily made himself a machine made of meat, muscle, and sinew. In this moment, exposed to Octavia’s most powerful magic, Flicker was inspired to be a better pony. Not a machine that wore a mask and black body armor, not a mindless killer that obeyed every order, but a better pony. All those things that Flicker saw as weakness and buried were now uncovered and exposed. Octavia, moving her bow across her strings, recovered those hidden treasures, those bits and pieces of Flicker that he had stashed away, feeling as though they were useless. And not just Flicker, either, but everypony (and everybody) in the crowd. Hennessy and Piper were not spared either. Both hurt, both harmed, both of them were laid bare by Octavia’s magic and the two of them suffered the same reaction as Flicker. Sitting together, the three of them began soul-searching, with Piper and Flicker both clinging to Hennessy. There was nothing that anypony could do but ride it out. Swept up in sensation, overcome with emotion, Flicker felt it far more than his companions because so much of himself had been lost. With each note, each resonant note of Octavia’s bow caressing the strings of her cello, Flicker could feel buried, long hibernating, even long-dead parts of himself waking up and springing to life. For Flicker, this was a frightful, turbulent spring after a long, cruel, unforgiving winter. Unable to bear the onslaught, Flicker wept as Octavia poured her heart into his soul. Weary, sweaty, shaking, and starving, Flicker let out a moaning whimper of relief when the music ended. Applause did not come right away, no, the audience was just as drained as he was, and there was a vast, smothering silence as all present tried to recover. The lights remained dimmed, and with there being no music, the sound of weeping could be heard in the dark. A murmur passed through the crowd—the sound of many sniffles and snuffles all happening at once. The sound of bodies moving against themselves, against each other, of forelegs wiping eyes and bodies being embraced. All of these things had a sound, and they could be heard now in the melancholy dark. Octavia placed her cello on its stand and slipped the bow into a decorative glass vase beside it. With both of her forelegs, she smoothed out her gown, tossed her head back to throw loose strands of her mane out of her face, and then dropped down on all fours, moving with a fluid, silken grace normally found in feline creatures. Looking a bit dishevelled, his bow tie askew, Johann rose from his piano bench and then shuffled over to stand beside Octavia. He bowed at the waist, stiff, and when he rose, he tilted his head back to look up and around at the audience, who were still recovering. At long last, some applause began. It was weak, weary, it was an exhausted but still somehow enthusiastic effort. Most were still too stricken to do much of anything and some were in a fugue-induced fugue. Up high, in his lofty seat, Flicker struggled to comprehend what had just happened and why he felt the way he did, just like so many others. “I need some fresh air,” Piper said in a thick, sibilant whisper to the others. Nodding, Hennessy agreed. “I do too.” Ears sagging, Piper turned her head to look Hennessy in the eye. “I’m sorry if I was all sweaty while I held onto you. I feel rather awkward…” Her words trailed off with a nasal whine and she could say nothing else. “Don’t mention it.” Turning about, Hennessy looked over at Flicker. “You okay?” There was no reply from Flicker, who looked rather vacant. Hennessy poked him and there was no response, just a blink. Hennessy tried again, this time waving his hoof in front of Flicker’s eyes and even booping him on the snoot. Flicker remained unresponsive, and Hennessy sighed. “He needs some air, I think. Think you can carry him outside, Piper?” “Yeah, but first I really need to pee…” It was now almost midnight, and in the chilly night air, Flicker revived. He sucked in a few deep lungfuls of air, snorted, and then took off at a hurried trot that startled his companions. They moved double time to catch up to him, and fell into pace with him as he hurried down the crowded streets of Canterlot, streets filled with other concert-goers departing the show. “Flicker, where are we going?” Piper asked as she bumped against his side. “There is a place I need to be,” Flicker replied, but he did not elaborate any further. “I’m starving.” Hennessy sniffed the air as though he was hoping to smell food. It was late, but there were still places open and he looked around with a hopeful expression as he walked. “Flicky, that place you needed to be, can we eat there?” “No.” Flicker’s voice was a flat, nondescript deadpan that offered no feeling. “Dog farts.” “Ew, gross, Hennessy, really?” Ignoring his companions’ banter, Flicker moved like a pony with purpose through the crowded streets of Canterlot. Pausing, Piper studied the building made from pale pink marble. To one side was a florist's shop and the other side, a chocolatier’s confectionary. It seemed somehow apropos, given the nature of the building. For the life of her, she could not figure out why Flicker would want to be here, of all places, and she was baffled. Flicker didn’t seem to be the sort of pony that would visit one of Princess Cadance’s chapels. Flicker moved through the door without pausing, and when Hennessy halted in the doorway to get his bearings, Piper shoved him through. It was rude to stop in a doorway, and she felt justified with her hard shove to get Hennessy moving. As she passed through the doorway, she saw Flicker go to Princess Cadance’s statue and sit down in front of it. The statue of Princess Cadance was an odd construction, it showed the princess sitting on a heart-shaped pillow beside an open box of chocolates. A pink spotlight was affixed on the statue, bathing it in an almost labial pink glow. Just looking at it made Piper feel rather moist and she shuffled, embarrassed, curious as to why she had the reaction she was having. She crept closer to Flicker, feeling almost afraid, and there was a peculiar sensation that she was intruding on something private in this most public of places. There were other ponies here, but not many. Glancing at Flicker, she realised that he was praying—his eyes were closed and his lips were moving, though words could not be heard. Embarrassed, she felt a hot, searing flush move through her body, and she looked away as her ears burned from a keen feeling of awkwardness. She looked at Hennessy and watched his non-verbal response—he shrugged. An unwelcome sense of confusion settled over Piper and she tried to make sense of all of this. Why would Flicker come here to this place? Even worse, it felt as though the statue of Princess Cadance was looking right at her. Piper tried to dismiss the feeling, but it made it worse, and she averted her eyes, staring down at the floor, hoping and praying that she had not offended any supernatural force. Princess Cadance’s eyes were now boring a hole right into her skull, into her brain, and drilling into wherever Piper’s soul was secured. “Why are we here?” Hennessy asked. Gritting her teeth, Piper hoped that Flicker had finished praying, lest the statue of Princess Cadance turn her stony fury upon Hennessy. She glanced upward for a moment, saw Princess Cadance looking down right at her, and she averted her eyes once more. “It’s equinal,” Flicker replied, and he said nothing else. Smacking his lips once, Hennessy was undeterred. “Is this about me?” “No.” Flicker’s response was a husky grunt. “But this place is about love, isn’t it?” Hennessy leaned in a little closer to Flicker and poked him with his hoof. Saying nothing, Flicker looked up at the statue of Princess Cadance for a time, and then he returned his gaze to Hennessy as his face contorted with some unrecognisable emotion. Flicker shuddered, blinked once, and then turned away from Hennessy, unable to look the earth pony colt in the eye any longer. “Don’t you dare shut me out,” Hennessy said with a surprising amount of force and anger. Bristling for a second, Flicker looked at Hennessy, and Piper sucked in a deep breath without even realising it. She gnawed her lip, fearing the tension that was now thick in the air, and she could feel all of her stomach muscles contracting as her teats grew hard from fear. There was a weird energy in this place that Piper just could not deal with. “I came here so I could let you in,” Flicker admitted, and then saying nothing else, he closed his eyes once more, bowed his head, and continued praying. More than anything, Piper wanted to leave.