//------------------------------// // Shown // Story: Gilded Sister // by Kind of Brony //------------------------------// “J-just one more set,” I tell Dad as he looks on, worried. “I’ve got this.” The downy feather rises shakily from the ground, a pale pink aura flickering around it, and stops at eye level before lowering gently down. As the exhaustion sets in, I’m tempted to drop it, but I force myself to maintain control as it descends, and repeat the process nine more times.      With a massive puff of air, I collapse, joining the downy feather on the grass as I try and catch my breath. Soon, Dad is at my side and the spots begin to fade from my vision, “Are you okay, Pure? Do you need some water?”      “Yes… Please…” I wheeze, rolling on my side and laying my head down while Dad moves to pour me a glass of ice cold water from a silver pitcher. While he does so, Bluey lowers his face next to mine, smiling broadly.      “That was great, Pure! You’ll have the regular feather up in no time!” It’s kind of cute, his determination to encourage me. After the fright I gave everypony a couple of days ago, he’s been much more attentive during my exercises, though I think it’s mostly just worry that I’ll have a repeat of that incident and he’s keeping a close eye on me. I’ve seen Mom peeking out the window multiple times doing the same thing.      “Thanks,” I say, both to my brother for the praise and to Dad as he sets the water down next to me. With some effort, I sit up and reach for the glass. My forehooves shake a little and I splash the grass some, but I eventually get the cup to my lips and down half of its contents in a few gulps.      “I’d say that was quite the successful training session,” Dad says with a small, but pleased smile. “Five sets is a good starting point. I’m proud of you.”      I smile in return and move to stand, Bluey quickly making to help. “You know, you didn’t have to watch me, Blue,” I comment once I'm on all four hooves and feeling steady enough to stand without leaning on him. Though the physical fatigue is quickly fading, I can still feel an odd emptiness inside that I now know is my depleted magic. It’s kind of chilly, and I can feel the magic of others more acutely against my horn.      “It's fine,” he answers.      “But Table Flip invited you over after school, right? You could have hung out with him instead of here in the garden.”      “Eh, I got some more practice. That’s always good, right?”      Not when you barely focused on your own exercises and instead watched me like a hawk. I hold back a sigh and tell him thanks, but it is a little frustrating. It’s only Monday of the second week, and I fear I may not be the only one who ends up magically burnt out. It made sense for me to practice after school since I didn’t do so during class, but Bluey practiced then and now. He was supposed to be skipping the weekday sessions because of this, but I guess plans have changed.      “If you’re still feeling up to it you two, Grandma Golden and Grandpa Rouser will be stopping by today, and I know they’re eager to take you to their theatre house for a tour.”      I can feel my second wind filling me as Dad finishes, and I nod excitedly. “Of course! I can’t wait to see Granny and Grampy again, right Bluey?”      “The theatre might be kinda fun,” he answers hesitantly before smiling a little wider. “But Granny and Grampy are for sure fun! You think they’ll take us out to ice cream like that one time?”      “Mhmm! I can taste the hot fudge brownie now.”      “And the banana split!”      “Just don’t let your mother know how much ice-cream they actually get you,” Dad says with a chuckle. “If she asks, just tell her you each got a cone so she doesn’t know you’ve spoiled your appetite.”      At this, both my brother and I share a look before turning our serious gaze to him. “Our lips are sealed. Sweet secrets are to the grave.”      Once Dad had finally stopped laughing, we all made our way inside and Mom ended up telling some funny stories from her own foalhood. She and her big brother got up to some pretty zany things when they were younger, the theatre serving as the perfect playground for their shenanigans growing up.      She’s in the middle of regaling us of Uncle Sunlight trying to court a performer nearly twice his age and bungling it up when a servant comes in leading two older ponies. “Granny, Grampy!” Bluey shouts, up in a flash and across the room before the rest of us are even on our hooves.      “Hey there, champ!” Grampy says, picking the colt up and nuzzling his mane. “Sorry it’s been so long, we had a big performance at the theatre to prepare for.”      “Opening night was a big success though, and with it, the company doesn’t need Revel micro managing anymore,” Granny finishes, moving to her husband’s side to get her own nuzzles in. “So we can spend plenty of time with the two best foals in the world.”      “I don’t know what that all means, but yay!” Bluey wiggles free from Grampy’s hold and lands with a stumble before running to my side. I'm walking at a leisurely pace to greet my grandparents, not quite back up one-hundred percent after training, when my brother practically burrows his head under my side so that I am leaning on him. “Pure’s really excited to see the theatre, so let’s go!”      "Calm yourself, son,” Dad says, coming up from behind us. “I’m sure Golden and Revel would like to sit down a moment before heading out.”      “Well, if they’re really that eager, we could head out now,” Grampy muses, watching as Blueblood carries me to the door. It was kind of embarrassing, but I knew he was just trying to help. “You want them back by eight at the latest, right? Going now means we have more daylight to spend together.”      Mom sighs good naturally. “I suppose, though I was hoping we could have lunch before they left. They’ve had nothing but snacks since breakfast.”      “Oh, that’s nothing to worry about, dear.” Granny response. “I’m sure we can stop and pick them up something on the way.”      Bluey and I share a smile. It sounds like a plan to me.     “I can’t believe you actually finished that,” Golden Garden comments, looking back at me while I can only look on contentedly from atop her back, a stomach full of decadent chocolate confection radiating warmth to my whole body. Mister Scoop's Ice Cream parlor made a mean brownie, and the size of my head, too. What a bargain.      “Pure can always eat more cake,” Bluey comments, stopping a moment to levitate a jelly bean to his mouth from the pouch in his hoof. As much as he’s progressed with his magic, he can’t walk on three legs and use magic at the same time yet. It’s still pretty impressive though. “Aunty would be proud.”      “I’m proud!” Grampy exclaims with hearty guffaw. “Did you see the look on the mare’s face when Pureblood ordered that monster? Priceless! I don’t think even the best actors I know could pull off such an expression.”      “Yes, well, if we don’t want our daughter to give the same, we should probably just tell her we got a couple ice cream cones. The amount that mare worries…” Granny trails off with a shake of the head and a wry smile.      “New mothers are always like that with their first foals. I remember you were just the same with Sunlight. The boy scraped a knee and you’d have an entire team of surgeons prepped in the ICU waiting to bandage it.” The brown stallion gives his wife a dry look. “They were not amused…”      "Oh, hush you!” Golden chides, bumping into his shoulder. “So I panicked a little, sue me. With all that blood, who wouldn’t?”      “Let’s just make sure we don’t have a repeat today. I don’t think Ornate would let her foals out of the house ever again if she got called to the emergency room.”      Granny rolls her eyes before pointing her nose forward. “And you say we mothers worry too much. Look, we’re already here.”      At this, I perk up to look around my grandmother’s neck, spotting a large building, shining like new, yet with an air of history that made it stand out from the structures around it. It wasn’t just the size, but the architecture itself that set it apart.      Where most buildings in Canterlot were tall and slender, offering little floor space for each of its several layers, this one was wide and appearing to only have two floors, if the row of windows near the top were any indication. The lower half lacks any glass, yet is noticeably taller than its second floor.      “Beautiful, isn’t she? The Canterhorn Theatre House has stood here nearly as long as the city itself. Even before Princess Celestia made this place the new capital, in fact,” Grampy explains with pride.      “It’s big,” Bluey comments with a small amount of awe, and I agree. It may not be the tallest building in the city, but it's still one of the biggest. I’d guess only the royal palace is larger.      “Much to the chagrin of our neighbors,” Granny says with a small sigh. “Space on a mountain is valuable and the Theatre takes up a lot of it.” She shakes her head. “But that’s neither here nor there, let’s get inside.”      While I was a bit curious about the statement, It’s largely forgotten when we enter. If the outside was impressive, the inside is even more so. Fine red velvet lines the entry hall, sending a shiver up my spine as I am set down and feel the softness under my hooves. The walls are a warm cream color with gold motifs and shining chandeliers hanging from the ceiling to bathe it all in a inviting glow.      “Wow,” I breathe. “It’s so pretty.”      “Class never goes out of style,” Grampy agrees with a nod. “And this is only the front. Wait until you actually see the auditorium.”      I’m definitely eager now as I trot to the head of the group, head whipping this way and that to take in all of opulence around me. Passing the empty ticket booth, I even poke my head inside to make sure I don’t miss anything.      I’ve understood for a while now that my new family is wealthy on both my parents' sides, but I’m still shocked to see something so magnificent and know it belongs to the goofy grandparents who crack jokes and sneak us treats whenever they can get away with it. This place looks like it should be run by a stuffy, stony-faced stallion, not somepony as silly as Grandpa Revel.      This thought is compounded when we enter the biggest room I’ve ever seen in either life. Rows upon rows of velvet-lined seats sat before a curtain-clad stage, the wood polished to a mirror finish that reflects the lights of the chandeliers above like stars upon its dark surface. The walls are lined with large paintings of mares in flowing robes and stallions in shining armor.      “It’s beautiful.” It’s an understatement, but true.      “Yep, janitor was just through here an hour ago making sure everything’s spick and span for the show tonight. That stallion really takes his job seriously,” a voice answers from behind us.      A pink mare with a blue mane is leaning against the entryway frame, a small smile on her lips. “How’s it going, Pure? Keeping your brother in line, I hope.”      While Bluey protests to that, I can only smile wide and shout, “Class!” and run to the mare, wrapping one of her front legs in a hug. “What are you doing here?”      Class Act raises an eyebrow. “I’m an actress, squirt, I kinda work here. If anything, I should be asking you that.”      “Their parents let us have them until sunset, so we decided to bring them here to show them what we do,” Granny explains, followed by Grampy tilting his head.      “What are you doing exactly? And where’s the others? I figured you’d all be doing some rehearsal before tonight’s show.”      “We are, we’re just taking a break and I decided to get some air, then I saw you all coming from down the street so I came back in. Most of the others are upstairs.”      “And the bluebird problem? Has that been resolved?” Grampy asks, to which Class simply shrugs.      “Not much of a problem, but the stagehooves are still working on it. Most we can hope for is that they’re more careful, or that the audience doesn’t notice if they mess up again.”      “What’re you talking about?” I pipe up curiously, mind going to the show that was supposed to have happened last night. “Did something go wrong during the play?”      “Just a slight technical problem,” Granny says, getting a smirk from the younger mare.      “During one of the scenes, bluebirds are supposed to circle the leads while they spin, but some of the prop birds that hung down from above tangled together and nearly tripped up the dancers. Double Tap managed to save face though and turned the fall into a dip, so it wasn’t a big deal.”       “Not a big deal? Here at Canterhorn Theatre, every show is flawless!” blusters Grampy, looking ready to go on a rant before his wife shushes him.      “Why not just make birds outta magic?” Bluey suddenly questions, a spark of interest showing through his boredom. Despite attempts to change his mind, the colt still finds the performing arts underwhelming.       “What, like illusions?” Class Act quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah, I don’t think Fogger is up to that, and I doubt we could get an FX specialist willing to come all the way here from Applewood to work the stage.”      “Wha-?” is Blueblood’s response, and I can’t help but agree.      “Hyper-realistic illusion magic is very complicated,” Granny cuts in. “Far beyond most unicorns and quite exhaustive from what I’ve heard, so it’s better suited for the big screen where the casters only have to perform the effects once to be recorded.”      While my brother is still a little lost if his expression is anything to go by, I understand at least the gist of the explanation. Really, I’m more shocked to learn there are movies here. Who knew?      Grampy scuffs. “Bah! Moving pictures are just a fad, they’ll fade out of style soon enough. Nothing but canned drama, I tell you. Real ponies on stage, that’s what audiences want to see!”       “Yes, yes, we know,” interrupts Granny before her husband can continue his tirade. “You’ve been saying that for years, but right now we have a couple of foals who I’m sure would love to meet the actors. They’re upstairs, yes?”      This last bit is directed at Class Act who nods, and our little group begins the trek to the second floor, a surly and grumbling brown stallion in tow.      Pureblood hit it off splendidly with the rest of Canterhorn Theatre’s crew, though a large part probably had to do with her tolerance for cheek pinching and cooing sounds while a couple of the actresses fawned over the adorable pair. Little Blueblood quickly grew tired of it as he vainly attempted to swat the hooves away and eventually slipped away to talk to Fogger and the other stagehooves who sat in the corner, huddled over a box of props.      “Oh, you’ll be a star for sure,” one mare gushed, hooves on her cheeks. “I can tell just by looking at you.”      “So adorable, she’d fill the seats now if she went out on stage,” another agreed, pulling a brush from somewhere and running it through the filly’s mane.      “Of course she’ll be a hit!” Revel Rouser announced. “Our little princess is going to give Celestia a run for her bits for most recognized face in Equestria.”      “Oh? Are you going to push her into the film industry,” a stallion teased with a knowing smirk. “The industries been booming, after all.”      “Never!” While Revel bellowed his non-too-flattering views of cinema, the stallion that brought the subject up got a few hard elbows and glares while he chuckled.      No longer the center of attention, Pureblood slipped away to join her brother in listening to the backstage ponies. “Yeah, we’ve used puppets plenty,” Fogger, a dull black unicorn stallion with a smoke-grey mane was saying, “They’re useful for your non-pony characters, like the time the heroes fought an ice golem. That was a complicated marionette, but we managed, so you wouldn’t think a couple dozen bluebirds on strings would be hard to control.” At this, the stallion narrows his eyes at the box before him, giving it a light kick. “Which is why we didn’t give much thought on practicing our coordination.”      Bluey looked into the box before lighting his horn and dragging a wooden ball from it. Attached to that was a long, thin, translucent strand which ended in an exquisitely carved bluebird. “So you hang ‘em down like this,” he asked, trying to lift the bird off the floor, but not managing enough height.      A steel-grey aura overtook the colt’s blue one and levitated the ball to the ceiling, taking the bluebird airborne. “Yep,” he confirmed with a short nod. “Me and Cookie Smoke are up on the rafters controlling them. Problem is there’s no stability with just one string, so they sway a lot, and if we aren’t careful, they tangle together. We’ve been working on the routine all day though, so hopefully we’ll have it down pat by tonight.”      “Why not just float the bird instead of the ball so there won’t be strings? That’s easier, right?”      Fogger chuckled at the colt's question. “It would be, but then the audience would see the magic glow, which kinda breaks the immersion. It’s why we keep magic up above where ponies can't see.”      “Can you do it without the glow, though?” Pureblood wondered aloud, tilting her head. “When I practice levitation, the glow flickers sometimes when I start to get tired, like it’s not even there for an instant, but I don’t drop the feather… Most of the time, anyway.”      At this, the stallion actually takes on a thoughtful expression. “Huh, guess I never really thought of it that way, but I don’t think that’s something any of the stagehooves can do. Making lights and fog and stuff is what we usually use our magic for, so doing the opposite and having our magic not be seen on stage would be difficult to say the least.      “I’m guessing that takes a lot of magic control, too, picking up something with just enough magic to not drop it…” At this, Fogger’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he focused on the ball still gripped in his magic. Slowly, the aura faded from both ball and his horn, and the stallion’s tongue poked out of the side of his mouth. As the aura sluggishly dimmed more and more, small beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, and he began to hold his breath.      Despite his best efforts though, the aura flickered out completely before it was much less than half gone and the ball and bird tumbled to the hardwood with a clatter. Releasing the air from his lungs in a puff, Fogger hunched slightly and said, “Nope, that ain’t gonna happen. A good idea in theory, kid, but it’d take some serious control to manage levitation without showing an aura. Feels like trying to thread a needle with a rope; too much magic for something so small.”      “You figuring things out for the show tonight, Fogger?” Revel Rouser questioned as he approached his grandfoals, his rant from before finally over. “Stringer sent a letter saying she’d be back in Canterlot by tomorrow night, but that still leaves one, maybe two shows without her running the birds.”      “We should be able to manage, boss,” Fogger responded. “If anything, we’ll just make sure to space them further apart and maybe use a few less birds until we have her up there with us. But we still got some time left to practice, so who knows? Maybe we’ll have it down before tonight.”      “Hopefully you do,” Revel said with a nod. “I like for all of our shows to be the best that they can, and that includes perfection in even the smallest details.”      “Hey, Pure, you alright?” Blueblood’s question attracted the attention of the adults to the little filly staring at the grounded bird with an unreadable expression.      “Yeah,” she answered distractedly, finally looking away from the one-string puppet to the special effects pony. “You said that levitation without the glow uses less magic?”      “Uh, yeah, and more concentration,” was the confused reply.      “That’s… interesting.” Pureblood still looked deep in thought, and her grandfather could only wonder what had her so occupied. Perhaps she just found a new interest in special effects? The thought brought a jolt of excitement to the aging stallion. It would be backstage instead of in front like he imagined, but the idea of having one of his grandfoals joining in the family business was a happy one.      Maybe he could get little Blueblood into directing; the colt had the air of a leader, after all. It’d be a perfect fit and a dream come true for Revel Rouser.