//------------------------------// // For Your Eyes Only // Story: An Establishment Of Exclusivity // by Snakeskin Ducttape //------------------------------// “Timid cats, eh?” Francis asked, amusedly, as he, Spencer, and Lloyd walked through the market of Canterlot. “Are we gonna let that stand?” “Ooh, are you talking revolution? We have to check if high treason can apply to us,” Lloyd said. “Not revolution, just a little good-natured revenge.” “How does one exact revenge on Princess Celestia?” Lloyd asked. “Here’s how you do it,” Francis said, holding his hooves out to frame the mental image. “We wait until high-speed cameras have been developed. Then, we place one in her private quarters, together with an airhorn relabeled as sprinkles, and then we turn on the camera, and wait.” Spencer and Lloyd looked up into the sky and smiled at the mental image, as Francis purchased some things from a stall for the bar. “So here’s a question,” Lloyd said, as they waited for their change. “If, back when Celestia and Luna were fighting, and Celestia sent Nightmare Moon to… well, the moon, if she had failed, and missed, would Luna have been or have not been over the moon?” Lloyd asked, to Spencer and Francis sniggers. “That’s no way to speak about the princesses,” the mare behind the counter said, giving them a dirty look. “Ah don’t worry,” Lloyd said, waving away her concerns. “It’s not disrespect. We like those two. They’re fun.” “Oh, you’ve met them in person, have you?” “Sure. Manage to fluster Luna as well.” The mare’s expression was giving way to curiosity. “Why, are you some sort of troubadour?” “No, but we know a bunch of them. Kinda.” “What’s your name?” the mare asked. “Lloyd.” “Spencer.” “Francis.” The mare gave them a scrutinizing look. “Those are some interesting names. Where are you from?” “So far away, we don’t even know where to point,” Francis said, and pointed up into the sky. “Could be up there.” “Anyway, we’ll see you later,” Lloyd said, as he swept the last of his purchases from the counter into his saddlebag. “Have you noticed how ponies don’t think human names sound stupid?” Spencer asked. “Yep. I think some of them sound scary to them,” Francis pointed out. “Heh, what’s the scariest human name to a pony?” Spencer asked. “Ooh, yeah, something with a bunch of hard consonants.” Lloyd put his hoof on his chin as he thought. “Mordecai Grimshaw,” Francis suggested. “Heh, yeah.” Lloyd added. “I bet some ponies would mishear it as Grimshawl though.” Francis chuckled. “Grimshawl? Like a bonnet that someone’s embroidered little cartoon skulls on.” “Heh. So what’s a pony name that sounds tough to a human?” Lloyd asked. “They called him Machete,” Spencer quoted. “Just a tool for trimming undergrowth, and has three syllables like most pony names.” The three friends chuckled in mock-dumb tones as they walked among the stalls, before their ears involuntarily angled themselves towards a stand, their brows furrowing in suspicion. On a stand, surrounded by several ponies appreciatively nodding their heads to the cheerful beat, was a radio, the owner of the stand seeming very pleased with having decided to bring her music player to work today. That wasn’t what made the former humans suspicious though, it was the song it was playing. The techno beats and untz-es made them stumble for a bit, but sure enough, it was not a pony song. “When I get lonely and I’ma sure I’ve got enough, She spreads her wings and she comes in form above. Don’t need no warning at all! We’ve got a thing that’s called pony love!” That was all they heard before Lloyd and Francis tackled Spencer and dragged him by the tail to get him away from the music. It was easier said than done considering the size of Spencer. “Hnng! Let it go, Spence!” Lloyd grunted as he pushed against Spencer’s barrel, to the confusion and alarm of the ponies around them. “It’s not worth it!” Spencer, for his part, just stood still, his hooves grinding along the ground as he slowly moved backward, a look of confusion, anger, and sadness on his face. “How…?” “Spence. Spence!” Francis said, standing himself in front of the big earth stallion. “Look at me. Are you angry?” “I…” Spencer started, before his eyes widened, and he stomped a cobblestone a few inches further into the ground. “Spence,” Francis repeated. But Spencer just slumped, both to his friends’ worry and relief. “What’s up?” Lloyd asked. “... I messed up.” “No you… wait, did you?” Francis said. “Yeah.” “You let Lyra in, but she didn’t hear that song,” Lloyd pointed out. “It wasn’t her. Remember a few nights ago when we almost collapsed by the end?” — “Look, you can’t get in here,” Spencer said, a few nights before the event at the market. “I can, and I will,” the haughty mare, not wearing anything on her rear, said. “Not if I say no,” Spencer said, and decided to go into some more detail so as to not get stuck in a situation where both just insisted on yes and no. “Look, this is a private establishment, and as one of the owners, I have the same say who gets in and who doesn’t as you have in your own house.” “Then I demand to speak to the other owners,” the mare demanded, surprising no one. “They’re inside, and you’re not getting in there. You didn’t pass the test, so you’re not getting in.” “I will get in there, and I will speak with them,” she said, and walked up to where she was almost pressing her face against Spencer, which would have looked more intimidating if it wasn’t for the fact that he was more than twice her mass. “No!” Spencer said, loudly, struggling to keep himself from yelling. “And why not!?” she demanded. “It’s against the law!” “Loaaaaw!” a white-coated and red-maned unicorn, dressed in what looked like a karate gi, standing next in line shouted, trying to look as manic as possible, but stopping once Spencer and the mare looked at him in confusion. After a moment, Spencer was up to speed, and just waved him in. “I’ll grant you that one,” he said. “He gets to go in!?” the mare shrieked. “He passed the test,” Spencer said. “No he didn’t!” “Yes he did.” “No he didn’t.” “Yes, he did.” “No, he did,” a relatively slim minotaurs said, crouching down and placing his head next to the mare, helping her stare at Spencer. “No, he didn’t,” Spencer said, struggling to keep from smiling. “Yes, he did,” the mare insisted. “Yep. Glad we cleared that up,” Spencer said, and smiled. The mare went through the recent exchange in her head, looking at the minotaur hulking above her, before letting out an enraged grunt and storming off. “Hey, Dan,” Spencer said, and indicated the big, spiked club in the minotaur’s hand. “Been tabletop-ing?” “Yep. Can I keep it with me tonight?” “Nope. Never.” “Oh, come on. I can help you push people away,” Dan said. “Sure, but not with that you’re not,” Spencer said, and put his hoof to his chin. “You know, there’s an opening for a passphrase in there. You need it to defend yourself from who?” “Uhm… oh, the Lord of Neverwinter.” “Acceptable. In you go.” “Thanks,” Dan said, leaned the club by the side, and opened the door. “Oh, I love this song. Oh, sorry.” The minotaur made way for Lloyd, who was heading out to check up on his colleague. “Getting pretty loud in there aren’t they?” Spencer asked him. “Well, you know, if people need to play it loud to feel better, I guess they should.” “Yeah, but people, ponies, are gonna hear.” “I’ll say,” Lloyd said, and pointed to a group of mares and stallions who were already pretty spirited over what the night would offer. They had picked up on what song was playing inside the club, and were starting to murmuring the lyrics while nodding their heads. “Aw, crap,” Spencer muttered, and started pushing his way through the line. It took mere moments before the group was singing the song loudly and spiritedly. “Weee’ve got a thiiiing that’s-uh called, radar-uh hu-löööÖÖve!” At about this time, Spencer had made his way behind the party, squeezed them against each other, and were pushing them towards the entrance like a plow. “Lloyd! Open up!” Lloyd kicked the doors open just as the big loader that walked like a pony known as Spencer shoved the still singing pile of merry patrons in through the door. “We’ve got a LINE in the skyyyAAAII–” Their singing was cut off from the people still in line by Lloyd slamming the door shut after them, he and Francis collapsing against it. “Haah…” Spencer breathed an exasperated sigh. “What a night.” “Tell me about it. And now I’ve gotta go in there and serve them.” “Ah, you love it.” “So do you.” “Yep.” They looked at the line of waiting ponies behind them, most of which looked anticipatory, but others whose expressions ranged from confused, amused, and a little scared. “Give us a minute, folks,” Lloyd said. “We’ll be right with you.” They took a few moments to breathe some stress out of themselves, before Spencer’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Hey… did you see any pony butts in there?” he asked. “Hmm?” “I think… ah fff- there were people in there with no pants,” he said, threw the doors open, and rushed in. — Vinyl Scratch’s eyes were wide, but they were behind her goggles so it was hard to tell. She took in the scene in front of her, and her jaw dropped. The song that the interestingly dressed ponies outside had sung was now playing in full volume. The band on the stage were swinging their hooves and talons, seemingly wildly, but always managing to strum the perfect tune and land the perfect beat, and gripping the microphone and singing as if possessed by sirens, and holding the tripod against them like a very special somepony they… they… … Well, put simply, it looked very charismatic. These ponies, and other creatures, managed to look very… provocative, despite the prevalence of pants and skirts. Vinyl suddenly felt very underdressed. Besides that, ponies, and others, were dancing on the floor, on the tables, on the railings, and on the bar. They were swinging in chandeliers, pressing against each other and singing along without a care in the world between swigs from mugs and bottles. The bartender was working for four or five ponies, but having a huge smile on his face as he did, bouncing bottles and mugs between kegs and patrons with all four hooves, and sending them across the bar, always missing the hooves of the dancers. She took a few steps forward when a thestral in a full suit and pants spun out of a group of dancers like a twister, and spun into her. Instead of being knocked to her side, the stallion managed to catch her mid-spin, and turn the collision into a tango dip. The blonde-maned and charcoal-coated thestral gave her a suave grin, a rose in his mouth, before he looked down at her undressed lower half. Vinyl’s sense of being underdressed intensified as the stallion looked back towards her goggles-covered eyes and waggled his eyebrows at her. Before anything else could happen, a pair of big forelegs wrapped around her and lifted her off her hooves. “Sorry, folks,” a stallion behind her said, as he walked on his hind legs towards the door, Vinyl still in his firm but gentle grasp. — Francis put a hoof or Spencer’s wither, as his large friend slumped on a nearby park bench. “Come on, man. It’s okay.” “They made a techno remix of it.” “It was just one song.” “They put horse lyrics in it!” “Ponies,” a passerby insisted. “Whatever.” “Hey, come on, you’re the bulwark. We’re gonna need you strong, buddy,” Lloyd said. Spencer just sighed. “We’ll help you out more,” Francis offered. “It’s not that. It’s… well, this was the first chip in the armor.” Francis and Lloyd looked at each other. “Yeah,” Francis reasoned. “I guess it was. One song out of countless. It’s gonna take ages before it turns into a real dent.” “Besides,” Lloyd added. “Isn’t it going to be a lot easier to turn pony-ponies away after this.” Francis chuckled, and finally lifted his head. “I guess.” — Twilight finally felt prepared. She had the quills, she had the scrolls, she had practiced on and refined her old memory-to-print spell. Rarity had taught her what clothes to look for, Applejack had told her what beverages to keep an eye on, Pinkie Pie had taught her what dance moves were found in Equestria and which ones were found in different dimensions, Twilight hadn’t picked up the Pinkie-ness of that yet, everything was ready. She sat down on the cushion, powered up the scrying orb, and looked. She felt the disorienting sensation of looking into a scrying orb that hadn’t been told what to focus on yet. With some force of will, Canterlot appeared before her, or beneath her, or around her, it was hard to tell. A little focus, and it was decidedly beneath her. She didn’t technically hear or see anything, she just felt. Felt the taste of the crisp night air, the scent of the wind, the lights from the street lamps, the various feelings of the ponies around her, the sleepiness of a pegasus that was passing by, the relaxedness of a pair of sleeping foals in a nearby house, and, of course, her target, the invigorating and thrilling sense of alien festivities in this strange new club. Her senses moved, from the spot up in the sky, down towards the street level, outside the club. It was, as always, disorienting, having the scrying orb dumping information into her mind, the tastes, and sights, and sounds, and the feelings of the ponies around her. Still, it felt like she was slowly getting the hang of it. A mare had just been let in through the automatic door, when a stallion walked up to it, and put his hoof on it, pretending confusion. “There was a hole here,” he said, looking around at the frame. “It’s gone now.” “Pff, nice,” a large stallion to the side said, and opened the door. — The stage was currently empty, except for the drummer. Not because there was no music playing, but because everyone except the drummer had moved away from the stage, onto the bar, where the main vocalist, a pony and a hippogryph dressed in glamorously studded, black (faux-) leather and airy silken shirts, had been switching back and forth between singing at each other and together, while their backing musicians had sung along, while playing all the various instruments; bass, guitar, sax, etc. Now they had joined in a dance, to the enthusiastic cheering of the crowd, who mostly helped with the singing. “Rock’n’roll ‘n brew! Rock’n’roll ‘n brew!” “They don’t mean a thing when I compare ‘em next to you.” “Rock’n’roll ‘n brew! Rock’n’roll ‘n brew!” “You know that you and I, we got better things to do.” When the song was wrapping up, the band was slowly dancing back towards the stage through the crowd,  They parted ways, and the drawn out crescendo was playing in unison to the singers bowing to the crowd back on stage, who cheered on in the same high spirits as always. “Hah, hah… thank you, we- we love you all,” the sweat-soaked hippogryph mare panted. “We love you too!” someone shouted from the background, making the cheers flare up again momentarily, to the grins of the band. The hippogryph smiled back, as she managed to catch her breath. “And, as is our custom now, I think it’s time for an applaud to the guys running this joint, the men with the plan, Francis, Lloyd, and Spencer. I know you’re busy out there, Spence, but let’s make sure he hears this!” she shouted over the further cheers. Francis and Lloyd grinned as they kept preparing the refreshments behind their bar. “Yes, yes,” she said, as the crowd simmered down again. “We really love the work, giving us a place where we can remember home.” After another small cheer, the hippogryph spoke again, her voice a little heavier. “But, as you know, it’s not always so nice as this, remembering home. Sometimes it feels really heavy.” The crowd let out a murmur of agreement, nodding at each other. “And while it’s great to celebrate like this with you all, in such high spirits, it’s also important to acknowledge the bad parts sometimes. So we thought we’d play something with a little different feel to it.” The hippogryph turned to one of the guitarists. “Hit it, Clive.” — Twilight, despite pushing her control and focus to their limit, couldn’t hold back the wave of joy and excitement she had felt from the crowd. She was absolutely elated, the feeling reminding her of some of the really good times she felt together with her friends. Somepony on stage started strumming a guitar, and the crowd whooped their approval of the choice of song, but there was a hint of something else now coloring their high spirits, which seemed to rapidly grow and mingle with the vibrant, electric feeling of joy. A stallion on the stage took the mic, and started singing. It was something about lines on faces and looking in mirrors, but Twilight couldn’t concentrate on the sounds, she was too captivated by the emotions emanating from the crowd. The joy was still there, but it had stepped aside and made room for something else. It was… sad, in a very profound way, and yet there was a feeling of great value. They cherished this sadness. Some were singing along, but not in the loud way they had before. Others had sat down on the couches and chairs, and were leaning against each other with their eyes closed, holding on to a great heartbreak. She couldn’t tell if it was something she was familiar with, or just related to something she had felt before. It was hard to tell, but it reminded her of when Shining Armor had first left for the academy. Not immediately, but in the months and years that followed. There was one point where he had been training out in the field and Twilight hadn’t been able to meet him in a very long time. This reminded her of how she felt then, only worse. Much worse. Twilight was absolutely still, her senses now fully disconnected from her body. She was only vaguely hearing, seeing, and smelling the interior of the club, but what she was really focused on was the emotions of the ponies and other creatures around her. She didn’t realize how captivated she was, and couldn’t stop herself from absorbing more, and more, and more… — “And the geological institute reports that they have found no indication that the soil should pose any problems when it comes to refilling the reservoirs,” Kibits said, reading from the scroll in his magical grip. Princess Celestia nodded, managing to have the feeling of being pleased with the smooth running of her nation overpower the feeling of immense boredom. “As for the survey for expanding the railroad…” Celestia sensed a prickling in her horn, and a shiver ran down her spine. She suddenly lifted her head, looked off in a seemingly random direction, and went still, like a cat spotting its prey. “Your majesty?” Kibitz asked. “Twilight,” Celestia said, mostly to herself. Kibitz opened his mouth, then nodded, and started rolling up the scrolls and putting them back into his briefcase as Celestia raced out of the room. Outside of Twilight’s old study, Celestia slowed down, and very gently put her hoof on the door. It opened to reveal the dark room beyond, lit only by her sister’s night sky. There, on a couch, underneath a blanket, was a gently rocking lump. Celestia softly walked in, closed the door behind her, and walked up to her student, eyeing the orb on the nearby table and making sure it was currently dormant. Celestia didn’t have to ask to know what had happened. She gently lay down on the couch, and as softly as she could, slid under the blanket, and embraced Twilight, putting a wing over her and holding her close. Twilight gently nuzzled into Celestia’s embrace, gentle, quiet sobs occasionally wracking her. Celestia rested her chin on her student, and made sure that the blanket covered her thoroughly, before settling down. She lit up her horn and magically examined her as carefully as she could, and let out a relieved sigh. ‘My wonderful, wonderful little Twilight. You wise, good-natured, beautiful, inquisitive, benevolent… foolish, foolish girl. I’m so sorry.’