Although it was past nine in the morning and there were few ponies betting on the gambling floor, Lully felt that he was too early to show up for work. The Zebra in uniform at the roulette table had propped his forelegs up, rubbing his heavy eyes. Normally, he didn’t mind the mornings himself, especially when it was one of those clear and warm kinds that makes everything fresh as soon as you wake up. But waking up and going to work with a headache with not enough sleep wasn’t much help for him.
His ears perked up when he heard somepony clearing its throat. Raising his head, he saw his supervisor there with a frown. “So, how’s the party last night?”
“Well, good morning to you too, mademoiselle.” He said rubbing his eyes. “And no, I didn’t go to that club next door if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Then how come you look like you’re about ready to go to La La Land?”
The Zebra waved a hoof at what few gamblers there were. “I believe you’d be pleased to hear that I was forced to work later than intended. Apparently, these ponies are attracted to me.”
“In what way?”
“Oh, the usual reasons.” He said to her, yawning. “My sense of humor, exotic looks, flowerily complements, spontaneous magic, easy to talk to, being an open invitation to-”
“What was that last part?” His supervisor interrupted, blinking.
“Easy to talk to?”
“No, the one before that.”
Lully thought for a moment. “The spontaneous magic?”
“Yeah, that part. What are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Lully asked as he stretched his forelegs. “Not too long ago, a bust of magic overcame me, and I was managed to produce quite a show for those who witnessed it.”
Her expression didn’t change beyond being unconvinced. “Uh-huh.”
“It’s true! An entire club witnessed it and saw that I cast a spell that livens thing ups.”
“Are you sure you didn’t take or ingest anything to make you think you cast magic?” The supervisor deadpans. “Last time I’ve checked, you don’t have a horn.”
“But you never see what I could do, mademoiselle. Perhaps you should stick around to see what may happen.”
“Not gonna happen.” She looked at her clipboard. “As of now, I still got to make sure that the other blackjack dealers are fully stocked and ready to go. Meanwhile, I suggest that you at least take a moment and get yourself some coffee. And judging by your face, you’re gonna need it.”
He gave a salute. “Oui mon Capitaine.” An eye roll from his supervisor later, the Zebra left his table and walked past the games and gamblers towards a door that said for employees only. As soon as he pushed through that door, he entered a place that was the stark contrast of the opulent decorations of the casino. White plain walls that had a few chairs, a small table, watercooler, and a cabinet that had a coffee pot with a newspaper next to it. All illuminated by stale fluorescent lights.
‘Oh, how little times have changed.’ He thought as hooves mechanically marched towards the pot of coffee. ‘Even centuries after the Pranch monocracy has fallen, the servants still have to endure a spartan life for the sake of service.’ The Zebra poured himself a cup of the dark, cheap liquid into a paper cup before stirring in the packets of sugar and cream. ‘Is this how I’m expected to spend the rest of my days? My legacy to be given a second chance of life? I was the court composer to the King of Prance, a blazing comet to trail blaze. I wrote ballets for the king when he danced at the utmost grandeur.’
Lully sighed. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen…” he muttered before downing his cup down his throat. When he put his cup down, he noticed the newspaper and the picture that was on it. What caught his eye wasn’t so much of the headline about Prince Shining Armor going on tour. Rather, it was the black and white image that was on it. “Is that…” He picked up the newspaper, examining the face that was on it. “That face… He looks just like…”
Louis.
That name echoed in his head. The more he stared at that face, the more of his memories of the Prench King returned to him. This stallion, this prince, had the same face from the smile to the gleam in his eye – it was the same. Although he couldn’t explain how, seeing that face again, he felt his heart skip.
Even when he returned to his table, he seemed to forget about his moment of gloom that brought a smile to his face. Hope and joy filled his heart and mind, and to his eyes, the mock Versailles seemed real enough to make it appear that the Court of Love has been restored to its glory. And so, he began to daydream.
His imagination painted with bold colors. Of cool Saddle Arabian drum beats with the sweet flowing stream string of a guitar, almost like the setting of an exotic garden of palms, and blooming orange trees. And then, that alabaster face shines forth like the crescent moon. Then, he speaks. A voice of a violin that speaking as the prince in the language of poetry. A tongue that perfectly forms the sound that seduces the soul to gladly surrender to love itself. One of youth but with the sophistication of experience that softens even the hardest of hearts and set afire those that are yielding to its hypnotic song.
Yet, with a waking eye, Lully bears witness to his daydream taking effect in the reality around him. The gambling floor, of what few ponies that were nearby, gravitated towards him. He could swear that in the eyes of those that swarm around him like bees to a flower, that they reflected the affectation that was pulsating in his blood.
“Um… good morning.” Lully straightens up but still let the internal melody play on. “Care to take your chances with me?”
“What a dreamy accent.” A mare sighed lovingly.
The Zebra blinked. “Why, thank you, Madame.”
“Do you come here often?” A random stallion questioned.
“I work here.”
“Nice uniform you got on.” Another mare complemented.
All around him, ponies gave him praises and complements the longer his inner song played on. If anything, Lully noticed that not one of them had sat down to play a round of roulette and instead seemed to spend more time flirting with him at every angle. Complete strangers circling around him like predators, ready to pounce.
“So…” Lully said, “Are any of you going to gamble or…?”
Immediately, a mare’s hoof threw down a room key. “A wild ride in my room on black.”
Another hoof, this time a stallion who placed down his key. “A good licking of that carrot on red.”
The Zebra was taken aback. “Excuse-toi”
“All of my bits and gets to plow my fields on red even!” A mare cried out.
“My child’s college fund and I’ll be on the bottom on black odd!”
“I get to have his foal on black seven!”
“An orgy on red twelve!”
As the crowd placed their bets, shouting ever increasingly desperate bids to get a piece at Lully, the Zebra wisely decided that this would be the time to press that button underneath the table to summon security. However, as quick as the response was for the blue-uniformed security guards to come to his rescue, he just as quickly regretted it as soon as they too started flirting with him.
“Looks like I’m gonna have to place you under arrest,” a mare security guard said as she levitated a pair of hoofcuffs, “because you’re so handsome that it’s criminal.”
Fortunately for Lully, just when it looked like he was running out of options for help – as well as an escape – the music inside of him came to an end, snapping everypony out of the spell.
“Uh…” One of the mares that were closest to him looked around embarrassingly, “What just happened?”
“Did we just…” a stallion next to her began but he too trailed off when he realized what he and the rest of the crowd were doing. Turning his attention to Lully, he said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what came over me.”
The rest of the crowd agreed and awkwardly separated away from the table.
Even Lully, after being left alone, was still comprehending what just happened. “Huh… That was… new…” He wondered if something like this would happen every time he thought about the Prince in the newspaper. Perhaps, he thought, that as soon as the next payday comes through to earn enough, he ought to go searching for him.
There was something about rain that brings one into a meditative state. Despite having very little to do in his tiny little shack of a cabin, Debussy sat there to gaze at the sea as storm clouds occasionally rumble and mummer over the waves on the rocks and the tapping on the roof. Even with having the unfortunate luck of being his day off from going out to sea, there wasn’t much to do in his current condition except to stare out the window as if it were a painting.
He was already awake since the crack of dawn as the rains refused to let him sleep any further. Breakfast could always wait as, to his mind, it was still too early to be concerned about hunger. Rather, it was the view that brought a perspective of his thoughts that questioned himself.
‘What did happen the other day?’ He thought as he witnessed a wave become sea-spray upon the black rocks. ‘How did I cause a blizzard to appear and bring- no! Stop it right now! Get it through your head, it’s not her! It wasn’t your daughter! There’s no possible way that she can be alive after for so long.
‘Only… It is something you wanted. To see Chou-Chou again. At least for one last time. It’s not right for a father to outlive his own child. But here you are, going from composer and toast of Paris to a stingy sailor in a new body by the sea. So… what is a stallion to do now? Do I really just salvage garbage at the bottom of the sea for the remainder of my days? After all the things I’ve published? But… be reasonable, you have to be pragmatic when you’re not in Prance and not with…’
He paused to listen to the thunder that echoed across the gray sky. Continue to watch the white waves ebb and flow twist and crash upon the rocks like an ancient dance.
‘But is this really what I want? To give up being an artist altogether? I could be composing some ditty for the piano, my impressions of this gray sea on paper. It’s not right to be cooped up inside a shack on Horseshoe Bay to do nothing but feel sorry for myself. I mean, I’ve been given a second chance to live again, not to mention that I have time now to create.’
He felt his stomach growl, making him aware of the empty feeling inside of him. As much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew that beast would return to demand to be feed. So getting up and putting on what clothing he had: a black rubber raincoat, he walked out of the shack and headed towards the microscopic town towards the pub – praying that it might be open.
Indeed, it was, but as soon as he entered through that every sailor was staring at him with cautious eyes. It almost as if he suddenly became an outlaw to be feared, even when he knows there’s no reason to be. At the same time, given the blizzard incident, he knew that wasn’t exactly true.
“I was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up.”
Debussy turned to the voice and blinked. “Captain? I thought you and the crew would be gone by now.”
“Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas.” He said, pointing at a rain tapping window with a wing. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to set sail if the winds make the waves nasty at any time.” He then gestured over to an empty seat at the bar that was next to him. Debussy accepted the invitation. After sitting down to place an order for a plate of eggs and haybacon, the Captain started up a conversation. “So… Are you doing well this morning?”
“As well as one can be in this type of weather.”
The older Pegasus nodded. “Aye, it’s pretty understandable with outside being so gloomy and all. But I’m sure it’ll pass.” After downing whatever it was in his mug, he asked, “By-the-way, how did you do it?”
“Captain?”
“I mean, how did you make a blizzard appear so suddenly and go just as quickly? Granted with you bein’ a unicorn it’s possible with all those fancy illusion spells. Only, that one certainly felt very real, we all felt the cold. Not only that, but to make that snow filly appear – so how was it done?”
Debussy shrugged. “I don’t know any more than you do. I guess I was missing my daughter so badly that… it just happened.” Looking over his shoulder, he added. “Still, it doesn’t explain why everypony here looks to me as if I have a bomb.”
“To be fair, I have an idea why. After that instant blizzard, word got out about it and now some of us aren’t sure what else could happen around you. Especially if you sit down at that piano again.”
“In what way?”
“Well… who knows. If you sat down and play again, we just don’t know what else you might conjure up. Maybe bring in a sandstorm or a hurricane. Or maybe you’ll bring a siren into the pub – we just don’t know really. I mean, if you could do what you did not too long ago, what else can you do?”
“Good point…” Debussy muttered. “Still, I have quite a lot on my mind as of late.”
“Like your daughter for instance?” He nodded. “Ah, I see… Anything else?”
The unicorn looked at him in the eye and asked, “Do you think I should go back to Paris?”
He shrugged. “How would I know. Why? What’s in Paris?”
“I mean, should I go back to what I used to do? Composing I mean. Although part of me wonders what the point of would be doing so if I have no family there. But another is pondering that I could go back to what I used to do – play on the piano, write music to be published. I can’t say if my work would still be welcomed, but should I consider that chance?”
“Can’t say.” The Captain replied. “I mean, I’m only here because it’s where I found my calling. Not only am I content with living by the sea but working in it too. A stallion has to have something he’s passionate about, you know. There’s no point in doing something that would drag you into the abyss if you had an opportunity to swim to the surface.”
Debussy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean by that metaphor.”
“Simply put, you gotta follow your own happiness and see where it goes. Mine ends up here. But the trick is to persevere.”
“Even so,” he pointed out as a plate of his breakfast was sat down in front of him, “it’s rather hard to do when there’s no hope to move beyond.”
The old Pegasus frowned. In a serious tone, he said. “No, never do that.”
“Do what?”
“You must never give in to despair, allow yourself to slip down that road and you surrender to your lowest instincts. Even in the darkest of times, hope is something that you give yourself, that is the meaning of inner strength.”
Debussy went quiet from these words, looking between him and his breakfast. “When did you become a philosopher?”
“Hey, I may not have gone to school, but at my age, I know a few things. What I’m saying is that if you want to continue on with being on the crew, fine. Or if you want to quit and go back to Prance to rebuild what you once were, fine. But before you do so, I suggest you ask yourself what is it that you want and why.”
The unicorn sighed as he picked up a fork and took a couple of bites of his eggs. “You’re right, Captain. I know deep down that you’re right. But when one reduced to nothing, it’s rather hard to start up again – or knowing how. You see, when I used to write music, I have broken the rules to make what I wrote as beautiful as possible. The only problem is, ponies don’t very much like things that are beautiful – they are so far from their nasty little minds.”
“I disagree.” The Pegasus captain said after he downed the last of his drink. “Beauty is always appreciated no matter where in the world you are or what it is. It’s why some ponies look back to old things like books and song or such stuff – because true beauty never fades, but ponies need to be reminded of it once in a while.”
Debussy turned to his breakfast, but the words that the older Pegasus said was left to be marinated in his mind. While scarfing down the eggs and haybacon, he reflected on what made him happy, on what gave him meaning. In his life as a composer, as much as he loves the tranquility of nature – especially the sea – or spending time with his daughter, it was music that gave color to it all. The piano alone brought about so many things. Of dreams, of lovers, of family and friends, that were hidden in the chords. This what brought him meaning when he was alive all those years ago, so couldn’t he do it again here?
“Alright.” He said after swallowing the last bite. “I want to test something.”
“Test what?”
“I’m going to play the piano again. If I still have my touch, I’ll make preparations to leave Horseshoe Bay back to Paris. If not, then my calling is here.”
The captain raised an eyebrow. “Okay… And if you do decide to go back to Prance?”
“Admittingly, I would need to earn enough to make the trip home. But it still stands.” He got up from his seat and headed towards the piano. No sooner had he made his march towards fate, did the ponies in the pub instantly took cover. Debussy tries to take no notice of this but did roll his eyes as he wasn’t planning to do any harm whatsoever. Sitting down at the bench and opening the lid of the keys, he closed his eyes to daydream.
The pub became silent as if everyone was holding their breath to see what was about to happen. All eyes were on the unicorn that for a long moment, he sat before the instrument like a monk in meditation. For several minutes, he didn’t do anything until he raised his hooves up to the keys. But even then, his hooves hesitated. Opening his eyes, an image began to paint in his head – of a warm Spring day.
With gentle strokes of the lower keys, a glow at his eye level appeared and expanded open as wide as a mirror, like a portal. To Debussy’s amazement, he saw bright Paris as he knew it. From the warm sky to the green rows of trees by the river where couples took their stroll whispering sweet nothings to one another as they went by. As he turned his head, the portal moved along with him, showing Paris as he remembers it in every direction. He tried to reach out to the portal, but even as he got up and move, that tunnel vision was always out of reach.
“What’s happening?” The Captain asked.
“I think…” Debussy said as he paused to look down at the cobblestone street that had a line of trees swaying in the breeze. “I think I’m seeing my past. My memory of Paris.”
“Hold still for a moment.” The old Pegasus said as the Composer held still. “My, look at that… This is your memory?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But…” The Captain tilted his head. “How can that be? Look at the clothing, and there are no electrical wires anywhere. This stuff looks like something out of a hundred or so years ago.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is this a memory we’re seeing?”
“Sir, it’s just as I…” Debussy turned his head and froze. There in the sights of his vision, he saw a filly playing hopscotch underneath the shade of the trees. The Captain went around to see what he was gawking at and saw the young filly that had no cutie mark. A yellow coated, green-eyed foal playing as she hopped from one chalk-drawn square to another. He noted that her brown mane was done up in a style that the old stallion had seen in ancient black-and-white photographs. At first, he wasn’t sure why the unicorn was amazed at this until he whispered aloud: “Chou-Chou…”
Then it clicked. “Is that your daughter?”
Debussy nodded. “I remember now… it was on one spring day that she wanted to come with me on my walks. Most of the time she got distracted and played instead. Since I was always so busy with my work and the… divorce that happened, I decided to take her out of the house for a while so that we may have a chance to bond. And you know what? Her playfulness inspired me. This was the very moment that I decided that I would write to her my apology for putting such a heartache that was going on by immortalizing this moment when she was truly happy.”
The quiet melody came to a close, and gently the vision of the past faded away into nothing. For a long minute, the pub was quiet as a sudden realization came across everypony there. The Captain was the first to speak on their behalf. “How… old are you?”
Debussy shrugged. “Old enough to know that it’s about time that I should make preparations to head home.”