//------------------------------//
// Concert Talk 
// Story: Living in Equestria 
// by Blazewing 
//------------------------------//

Eventually, I caught up with the Crusaders outside Vinyl and Octavia’s new place. They had already dismounted and were waiting by the door.

“What took you so long?” asked Scootaloo, completely genuine.

“Well,” I said, a bit dryly, “since I’m not a pegasus, and since I can’t teleport, all I have are my own two feet, and they can’t keep up with a skilled scooter driver.”

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Dinky giggled.

“Ohh, right,” said Scootaloo, looking a little meek. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to leave you in the dust like that.”

“It’s fine,” I said.

“You need your own scooter!” Dinky suggested. “I know somepony who could make you one, if you want.”

“Ooh!” said Scootaloo, keenly. “Yeah, that’d be awesome! I mean, I’d never trade in my trusty scooter, but there’s some awesome ones that I’ve seen in the shop, like the Zipwing 260! Super-speedy and with great traction, but the steering’s kinda ehh. Now, if you want something safer, there’s the Cloud 9: reliable, sturdy, and takes you where you wanna go.”

“Thanks for that, Scoot,” I said, grinning, before turning to Dinky. “That’s sweet of you to offer, Dinky, but you don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to,” said Dinky, innocently, “but now I kinda want to.”

Before anything more could be said, Apple Bloom approached the front door and knocked.

“Come in!” came Octavia’s muffled voice from inside.

I stepped forward, turned the knob, and let the girls go in first before I followed.

The split in design that I had seen from the outside had carried on into the interior. One side was prim and comfortably decorated, with hanging pictures, armchairs, a coffee table, and a sofa, while the other had a more careless, casual look to it, with a mini-fridge and a beanbag chair. It also helped to determine whose side was whose by the cello and music stand laid with care on one side, and the turntable and speakers having pride of place on the other. The Crusaders and I looked around at all this with great interest.

“Yo, D-man!” came Vinyl’s voice.

A doorway leading to a staircase was at the back, smack-dab in the center of the split, like a neutral zone. Vinyl stepped through it with an energetic step, reared up, and mussed my hair in a playful way.

“Good to see ya, bro,” she said, before turning to the fillies. “What’s up, half-pints? Gimme some hoof!”

She raised her hoof, and all four managed a simultaneous high-five with her.

“Welcome to our casa,” she said, proudly, turning around with her forelegs spread wide, as though she were displaying a magnificent art gallery or the like. “Tavi really lucked out in finding this place, huh?”

“I’ll say,” I said. “It’s like it was built for you and your separate tastes.”

“Real coinky-dink, am I right?” asked Vinyl. “You should check out the kitchen! I tricked out the dishwasher!”

“Yes, wonders never cease when you’re involved,” came another voice.

Octavia stepped out of a door leading off of her side, smiling graciously at the sight of us. A tea tray was perched atop her back, balanced perfectly in spite of the weight of cups, saucers, a teapot, and a plate of cakes.

“Hello, Dave, girls.”

“Hello, Octavia.”

“Hi, Miss Octavia!” chorused the girls.

“Here, let me,” said Vinyl.

Her horn glowed, and the tray lifted up off of Octavia’s back, the contents clattering about dangerously.

“Vinyl” said Octavia, both annoyed and anxious. “Please, it’s fine! I had it perfectly-”

“Up-bup-bup,” said Vinyl, holding up a hoof to silence her. “It’s no trouble. Leave it to me.”

She steered the tray onto the coffee table and set it down with a clunk, sending the cups scattering, and I thought I even saw some tea splash out from beneath the teapot’s lid. Octavia sighed, walked over, and righted the cups.

“Thank you, Vinyl,” she said, patiently. “That was quite...thoughtful of you.”

“Anytime, Tavi,” said Vinyl, proudly. “Gotta make a good impression on our company, after all. How would it be if the first guests we had since settling down saw you dump a whole tea tray, just ‘cuz you didn’t wanna put me out by asking me to help?”

Octavia tutted impatiently and rolled her eyes, while the fillies giggled.

“Make yourselves comfortable, dears,” she said, turning back to us.

I took a seat in one of the armchairs, while the Crusaders piled up onto the sofa. Vinyl used her magic to drag the beanbag chair over and plopped herself down in it, earning a look from Octavia, who, after handing out cups of tea for us, settled herself more sedately in the other armchair.

“I hope this isn’t too soon to call on you for help,” I said, taking a sip. “You only just moved in, after all.”

“Not at all, not at all,” said Octavia, waving her hoof airily. “The move itself went rather quickly. It helps when you’re friends with a unicorn, albeit a lazy one. Even so, I was surprised at how quickly Vinyl hopped to.”

“Hey, I just wanted to get outta there and into this new place,” said Vinyl, helping herself to a cake. “Besides, I can be proactive.”

“Only when it suits your interests,” Octavia quipped.

Vinyl simply stuck out her tongue before taking a bite.

“So, then,” Octavia went on, “you wish for us to assist you in this amateur concert you’re putting on?”

The five of us nodded.

“As ponies who would know a thing or two about performing for live audiences, who better to ask?” I said.

“Well, lemme tell ya somethin’ up front, D-dude,” said Vinyl, after cramming the rest of her cake in her mouth and swallowing. “It’s not as simple as standing in front of a crowd and playing a few notes or humming a bar or two. Tavi and I make it look easy, but trust me, it’s more complicated than it looks.”

She took a huge swig of tea. Octavia raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll scald your throat if you drink your tea like that, Vinyl,” she said, reproachfully.

“No worries,” said Vinyl, casually, tapping the side of her own neck. “Chords of steel, babe.”

That statement just gave me the image of Vinyl standing in a courtroom in a red suit, shouting ‘I’m fine!’ and staring down people with bugged-out eyes. The fillies looked impressed, while Octavia rolled her eyes

“Much as it surprises me to have to admit it, Vinyl’s right,” she said. “Putting on a show means choosing the right venue, selecting the right talent, and putting on the right performance. Do you know where you’re going to perform?”

“Well,” said Apple Bloom, “Ah thought we could host it at Ponyville Park. Plenty of room to set up a stage and have a big audience.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, and Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Dinky nodded their agreement.

“Splendid,” said Octavia. “Next, do you know who will be performing?”

“All five of us, of course,” said Scootaloo, proudly.

“Um, not all of us,” Sweetie Belle corrected. “I’m not really comfortable singing in front of an audience. I mean, I did, kinda, when we performed in the talent show, but the girls were singing with me. I don’t wanna be up there all by myself. I’d much rather help out behind the scenes.”

“That’s fine, dear,” said Octavia, kindly. “After all, it isn’t just the performers who are the most important in a production.”

“Yeah,” said Vinyl, putting her forelegs behind her head and crossing her hind legs. “There’s all kinds of ponies who wait in the wings in case a performer screws up. Of course, Tavi’s way too much of a perfectionist to even let the remote possibility of a mistake happen on stage. She’d go ballistic if one of her cello strings was even slightly out of tune.”

The fillies giggled. Octavia shot Vinyl a sharp look.

“Whaaat?” asked Vinyl, shrugging defensively. “I was complimenting you.”

“You have a very odd way of paying ponies compliments, Vinyl,” said Octavia, dryly.

Vinyl made a dismissive noise.

“But, again, she has a point,” Octavia went on. “It helps to have ponies on-hoof backstage to help with any problems. For instance, my dear friend Beauty Brass plays the sousaphone in my ensemble, and she used to have trouble slipping it on and off again by herself. She has to wear it around her middle, and it’s not very easy for an Earth pony unless you’re particularly dexterous, so we’d often have to have a stagehoof help her with it.”

Oof. That sounded uncomfortable.

“But it’s almost second-nature for her now,” said Octavia. “She just has to be careful not to have too heavy of a meal before a performance, or her sousaphone won’t fit over her stomach at all. She also tends to be rather deaf for an hour or so after a performance. You’d be, too, if you were playing a loud instrument right by your own ear. Bless her.”

She chuckled good-naturedly, so it felt safe to join her. She then cleared her throat,

“But, dear me, we seem to be straying off topic,” she said. “Who else do you know who’s performing?”

My four filly friends shot each other funny looks before Apple Bloom said,

“Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon said they wanted to take part, after talkin’ with Dave. We weren’t quite sure what to make of it, but we couldn’t exactly say no.”

“We wondered if they were only signing up to make a mess of things,” said Scootaloo, darkly. “It’d be just like them.”

“They weren’t very polite about it, either,” said Dinky, pouting. “They said we ‘could use the talent’, like we didn’t have too much ourselves.”

All four of them looked troubled and suspicious. I well remembered Diamond Tiara’s condescending and airy speech about possibly taking part, though I also remembered the friendly smile Silver Spoon had given me when they left. Perhaps, if there was foul play at work, Silver Spoon at least might be able to talk sense into her friend.

“Let’s not worry about that, now,” I said. “We’ll just have to make sure there’s no room for funny business or potential sabotage.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Vinyl. “That’s another thing to watch out for: unpleasant performers. I remember doing a joint-session with another DJ once. He was a really arrogant jerk who thought he knew my job better than I did, kept shooting me ‘tips’ and ‘hints’. He even had the gall to wear these really gaudy sunglasses during the show, just to look extra flashy. It was all I could do not to punch his lights out.”

I gave her a funny look that she didn’t seem to notice, one mirrored by Octavia. It was a bit rich for Vinyl to be talking about wearing flashy sunglasses, when hers seemed practically glued to her snout.

“Anypony else?” Octavia asked the girls.

“Well, we haven’t been getting a lot of sign-ups,” said Sweetie Belle, “but my sister Rarity seemed interested. She said she’d have to ‘discuss it with a few ponies’, but she didn’t really say what she meant.”

“And Pinkie Pie said she wanted to join, too,” said Dinky. “Something about ‘breaking out the old gang for another show’.”

I raised a puzzled eyebrow at this. What could Pinkie have meant by that?

“So, that makes at least 7 performers, potentially 8,” said Octavia, thoughtfully. “That’s a good number for a live amateur concert. What sort of music do you intend to perform?”

“We know what instruments we wanna play,” said Apple Bloom. “Ah’m gonna do a harmonica piece.”

“I’ll be on the piano,” I said.

“I’m gonna sing,” said Dinky, proudly.

“And I’ll be on the drums!” said Scootaloo, with zeal.

The drums? I hadn’t really considered that. I looked at the others, who were looking mildly skeptical or uncertain, but Scoot didn’t seem to notice.

“Sounds like an intriguing and diverse variety,” said Octavia, approvingly.

“We just don’t know what songs we wanna play yet,” said Scootaloo.

“I found a whole bunch to choose from, though!” Sweetie Belle piped up.

With obvious effort, she lifted up and dumped the load of music papers down onto the table, making the tray and its content rattle. Octavia winced slightly. Vinyl looked unfazed. Swallowing another cake and wiping her mouth on the back of her hoof, she lifted the sheets in her magic and floated them over to herself, flipping through them as they floated before her sunglassed eyes.

“Hmmm! Not a bad variety, kiddo,” she said. “Classical, rock, jazz, folk, polka, blues...”

“I didn’t know what everypony’s favorite genre was,” said Sweetie Belle, “so I kinda took my pick from each one I could find.”

“Keeping options open,” said Vinyl, approvingly. “I like the way you think, Sweetie B.”

Sweetie Belle beamed at this praise.

“Well,” said Octavia, “what I would do is update your promotional material with a deadline for submissions, perhaps a week or so from printing. Once we have a firm understanding of how many ponies are performing, we can begin making preparations for a final concert date and setting up a proper stage.”

“That won’t be a problem,” said Scootaloo. “I’m sure Featherweight’ll let us print out our flyers again in the Foal Free Press office.”

“In the meantime,” Octavia went on, “I suggest giving serious consideration about what you want to perform. You don’t want to choose a song, confident that it’s what you want to play, only to change your mind at the last minute. Even the best performers may doom their shows with overconfidence and lack of forethought.”

Now that was a sobering thought, and the others seemed to think so, too. They traded apprehensive looks with each other and me.

“Ah guess we can keep this sheet music at the clubhouse,” said Apple Bloom, “so we can all come by and choose somethin’ if we can’t decide right away.”

“Sounds good,” I said, and the others nodded, Octavia and Vinyl looking satisfied as well.

From there, the visit became much more casual and pleasant. The cakes Octavia had prepared certainly didn’t go to waste, thanks to Vinyl and the fillies, but I managed to snag one before they disappeared; they were quite delicious. Upon request from Dinky, Octavia graced us with a song or two on her cello. As she played, I noticed that Sweetie Belle seemed to appreciate it just as much as I did. Her eyes were closed, a smile was on her face, and she seemed to be drinking in every note. I knew just how she felt; it was wonderful. When Octavia finished, we all applauded her.

“Classic,” said Vinyl, approvingly, and Octavia smiled at her. “But take a listen to this, everyone.”

Brushing cake crumbs off her fur, Vinyl hopped up and went behind her turntable.

“Oh dear,” Octavia muttered.

With a flare of her horn and a flick of a switch, Vinyl showed off one of her latest mixes. At full blast. The whole house seemed to rock with it, and everything that wasn’t bolted down quivered in its place. My eardrums were pounding by the end, and the bass made me feel like I was having palpitations. My fellow Crusaders looked equally discombobulated, except Scootaloo; she hardly seemed fazed, and was grinning, in fact. Octavia herself seemed more annoyed than disoriented, but Vinyl seemed utterly pleased with herself. We applauded her all the same.

“It’s a catchy piece of ...sound, Vinyl,” she said, dryly, “but one you ought to reserve for your club if you’re going to set the volume that high.”

“Hey, you know me, babe,” said Vinyl, proudly, “It’s whole hog or not at all. I don’t do anything halfway.”

“Unfortunately, I know,” said Octavia. “And don’t call me ‘babe’.”


***


The sun was beginning to set by the time we decided it was time to head for home, filling the sky with a beautiful myriad of fiery colors that tinted the clouds as well. I told the Crusaders that they didn’t have to wait for me, as I was gonna stay back to talk with Vinyl and Octavia. Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Dinky piled up into the wagon, Sweetie Belle trying to keep a hold on her stack of music sheets. I could see her trying to put a magic aura around it, but it was still a bit shaky.

“You going to be all right, Sweetie Belle?” I asked.

“Yep, don’t worry,” said Sweetie Belle, smiling. “Between the three of us, we’ve got it.”

“As long as Scootaloo doesn’t hit another pothole,” said Dinky.

Scootaloo scowled.

“That only happened once, and it came outta nowhere,” she said, grumpily, as she jammed her helmet onto her head and got on her scooter.

She cheered up, though, as all four fillies bid Vinyl and Octavia goodbye, thanking them for the afternoon, and giving me a ‘see you later’ as well. Soon, the foursome were off, the stack of music wobbling dangerously in the wagon. I turned to the two music ponies, who were watching the Crusaders go with smiles on their faces.

“Such lively and sweet little dears, aren’t they?” asked Octavia.

“Good kids, those little squirts,” said Vinyl, nodding.

“Yeah,” I said. “They’re such bright and eager fillies. It baffles me how they don’t have their cutie marks yet.”

“Are they hoping to earn one by this concert?” Octavia asked.

“Well, more or less,” I said, a little awkwardly.

I teetered on the point of telling them they expected me to get a cutie mark as well, but I decided against it. I felt it would just make things even more awkward.

“But, really, thanks for offering to help us with this,” I said, sincerely. “It means a lot.”

“Of course, bro,” said Vinyl, nudging me on the arm. “No problem.”

“Anything for a friend,” said Octavia, patting me on the hand. “When you’ve got a final roster for submissions by the deadline, let us know, and we’ll start brainstorming in earnest.”

“You bet,” I said. “And hey, you’re both welcome at my place anytime, if you want to stop by.”

“Why, thank you,” said Octavia. “I’ll be sure to take you up on such a generous offer in the near future.”

“And it’s not so cold, so there’s not as big a chance of you waking up to find one of us in your bed with you,” said Vinyl, cheekily, making me blush.

“Vinyl!” Octavia scolded.

“Just kidding, Tavi,” said Vinyl, shrugging.

Octavia sighed and shook her head.

“Well, have a good night, you two,” I said, recovering myself.

“And you,” said Octavia, smiling.

“Take it easy, D-man,” said Vinyl, grinning.

With that, I took my leave, and the two musical ponies went back into the house. Even if we were still a ways from having everything ready or set in stone, it felt good to have made some progress. I wondered who else might sign up before the deadline.

As I was walking, I caught sight of something that made me pause. Off in the distance, I could see two ponies walking side by side, deep in conversation. A second later, I realized that it was Moonlight and Almond. I ducked behind a tree, hoping they didn’t spot me, and I watched as they walked off towards the park. Moonlight was positively beaming, her pale cheeks rosy, a noticeable spring in her gait. I could even hear a snatch of what she was telling Almond.

“...Didn’t realize until I looked again that Pinkie had swapped the chocolate chip cookies with the oatmeal raisin! We all had a good laugh about it, though.”

“It sounds like every day working with Pinkie Pie’s an adventure,” said Almond, grinning.

“That’s one way to put it,” said Moonlight, giggling.

I watched them until they were out of sight. It made my heart feel pleasantly warm and light to see Moonlight looking so happy and chatting so animatedly. Her circle of friends was certainly expanding nicely, a far cry from the shut-in she used to be. With a smile in their direction, I continued on towards home.

Friday, March 8


***


I took a walk over to the Crusaders clubhouse the next day. I figured I might as well get a start on choosing a song for the concert. Like Octavia said, it wouldn’t do to pick a song I wasn’t going to use at the last minute. I’d had close shaves with that kind of indecisiveness and procrastination back in school, when I was choosing subjects for a research paper. I wasn’t keen on repeating that mistake.

I half-expected to find the others hanging around the clubhouse, but it was empty. The mass of music sheets Sweetie Belle had collected was sitting on the table, except it wasn’t one giant teetering stack anymore. It had been separated into several smaller piles. I walked over and looked at the top sheet of each. They seemed to have been divided by genre. Well, that made things much easier.

Now, the only question was, what song did I want to play? Well, preferably, something lighthearted, perhaps even comical, maybe even something with a heartfelt touch to it. I leafed through the piles. Familiar titles sprang up at me: ‘Piano Mare’, ‘Shipoopi’, ‘I’m Still Standing’, ‘Somewhere Out There’, and ‘The Entertainer’, among others.

I decided to grab these ones first, just to practice on, and hoping the others hadn’t had their hearts set on them first. I wouldn’t want to deprive them of music they wanted to play. Then, making sure the piles still looked neat and tidy, I headed off.


***


I was just returning to the house when I saw Moonlight emerge from hers. The smile on her face told me that she was still in a good mood from her evening with Almond last night. She turned and spied me.

“Hello, Dave!” she said, brightly.

“Hello, Moonlight,” I said. “Fun night last night?”

“Oh, yes,” said Moonlight, blissfully. “Almond and I went to the park for a nighttime walk. I think that’s what I said we planned, right?”

“I think so,” I said.

“Well, the way there was just as enjoyable. The sunset was just gorgeous. It made all the leaves on the trees shimmer.”

“I saw it too,” I said. “It was one of those that has all kinds of colors to it.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Moonlight, happily.

“So, what’s Almond like?” I asked.

“A lot chattier than I would’ve thought, when he was acting so shy at Sugarcube Corner,” said Moonlight. “But he has a lot of neat stories to tell. Barnyard Bargains gets some interesting customers, and he’s full of anecdotes about them.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I think you’d really like him.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” I said. “So, do you have any more plans set?”

“Not right now, but hopefully soon,” said Moonlight.

She sighed happily, her expression dreamy. I smiled.

“He really makes you happy, doesn’t he?” I asked.

She nodded, then seemed to come out of her little reverie.

“But, in the meantime,” she said, “we can still read more Shadow Spade if you want.”

“Of course!” I said. “I’ll probably return the last one and grab the next when I go see Twilight on Monday.”

“I’ll do it,” said Moonlight. “I haven’t visited Twilight in a while, and it’ll be good to catch up with her. I’ll even pick the next book for us to read, as a surprise.”

“Well, now, that sounds like a sweet deal,” I said, approvingly. “Wait here, then.”

I headed inside, set the sheet music on top of the piano, grabbed the copy of Shadow Spade still sitting on my coffee table, then returned to Moonlight, handing it to her.

“I’ll ask Twilight what the next best one is, after this one,” she said, as she tucked the book under her wing. “What were you carrying before, by the way?”

“Music,” I said. “Sweetie Belle picked up some random songs for us to practice for the concert.”

“Oh!” said Moonlight, interested. “Do you know when it’s going to happen?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I think the girls are going to print up updated flyers with a deadline for submissions. After that, we’ll work out the finer details of when we’re holding it.”

“Sounds good,” said Moonlight. “I can’t wait to see you all perform. I know it’s going to be great.”

We shared a smile, and Moonlight trotted off for Ponyville, the book clasped tightly to her skinny side with her wing, as I headed back inside.


***


I spent the rest of the afternoon testing out the songs I’d picked up, in the hopes of narrowing down which would be the best candidate for the concert. It wasn’t easy, especially since, at the moment, I wasn’t sure which would go over best with our potential audience. What if what I played bored them, or fell short of their expectations of me? I didn’t want to think about it, but I half-wondered if they were expecting some big, grand, chart-topping performance from someone who was now a member of the royal court. The thought unnerved me a little.

Just before I was thinking about taking a break around 4 o’clock, there was a knock on the door. I got up and opened it, and saw Scootaloo hovering at my eye level, grinning and holding a sheet of paper in her hooves.

“Hi, Dave!”

“Hey there, Scoot,” I said. “What’s up?”

“We stopped by the Foal Free Press’s printing office, and Featherweight and Shady Daze let us reprint our revised flyer. It took most of the day to redraw it, but I think it looks a lot better! Take a look!”

She handed the one in her hooves to me. It looked much the same as the first edition, except that the Crusaders and I had been added to it onstage, in convincing likeness: me sitting at the piano, Scootaloo banging on a pair of bongo drums, Apple Bloom playing the harmonica, Dinky singing (complete with a speech bubble containing musical notes coming from her mouth), and Sweetie Belle standing by with a clipboard. At the bottom of the flyer, a new line of text had been added, reading:

“Deadline for Submissions: Friday, March 15”

“It looks great,” I said, honestly. “Did you draw this yourself?”

“Heh, yep,” said Scootaloo, proudly. “I sometimes doodle when I’m bored in class, and I love when we get any assignment that asks for illustrations.”

Heh. I knew that feeling, sure enough. I was a doodler when I was in school, though it was usually only in lulls between lessons, especially after I’d gotten a few reprimands for doing it during.

“You on your way to hand them out, then?” I asked.

“Uh-huh,” said Scootaloo. “Dinky and I are on delivery duty, and we’re gonna paste these on every door, wall, and lamp post we can, until we run out! We’ve got plenty to go around!”

I looked past her outside. The Crusaders’ wagon was sitting in the grass, coupled again to Scootaloo’s scooter. Dinky was sitting in it, helmeted and accompanied by more flyers and a big roll of blue painter’s tape. She beamed and waved at me, and I waved back, grinning.

“Well, sounds like you’ve got a lot to do,” I said. “I don’t wanna keep you, so thanks for letting me know.”

“No problem,” said Scootaloo. “See ya later!”

She flew back to her scooter, plunked her helmet on, and flapped her wings hard, sending the scooter and wagon off with a jolt. Dinky had to place her hooves atop the stack of flyers to keep them from flying away after the sudden burst of speed.

“Not so hard, Scoot!” she cried.

“Sorry,” said Scootaloo, “but time’s bits, little sis!”

“But we’re not making money for odd jobs anymore.”

“You know what I mean.”

I watched them go, both bemused and amused.

(Just watch out for potholes, Scoot,), I thought, before going back inside.

Saturday, March 9