Lyra Heartstrings and city parks have been a peaceful pair: ten years and counting. Her lyre’s gentle melodies jibed with the park’s tranquil winds and greenery. She would become the center of a paradisaical retreat from downtown’s bustling deafening clamor, dizzying motions, and the nose-crinkling stink of smoke and smoke. Never the type to busk for profit. Then again, she has never been the type to conform to Big Music’s dictates: she was the weird gal who grew up with some ancient instrument from Attacka.
Today, ponies find her relaxing with the lyre: their sturdy strings thrumming under the shining glow of her magic—all as she rests from an informal open-air “class” of how to be a unicorn. Lucky her, unicorn being her new lot in life: couldn’t imagine how hooves would strum it well, though she’s heard of Pinkie playing the drums—with drumsticks, somehow.
Grass flows under her. She’s sat like this for the past week: sitting on her fours—or, worse, reclining on her four hooves, too much like a real horse. The inhumanity! Strangely comforting to rest anywhere now, but the nagging at the back of her mind persists: this is wrong.
Over there, a bench. It’s occupied by Shoeshine polishing her horseshoes—not sure if it’s her classmate or the farrier from the other side. Doesn’t matter: she’s sitting all comfy on fours, taking up two human spaces when she could take up only one.
The glow disappears from the strings; the humming dies. If she won’t have her humanity back, she’ll make some of her own.
So the walk begins, each step a thunderous declaration. Lyre levitates above her head like a mystical plumb bob telling everyone that, yes, this is Lyra, and she will take back her dignity.
Shoeshine scrunches her nose at the approaching Lyra. “Um… sorry, ma’am. I don’t have any bits to give to you…?”
A huff comes from Lyra, lyre looming over her as a specter. “I don’t need bits today. What I need is redemption.”
The blue stranger’s eyes follow Lyra’s: the empty spot on the bench. “Um, okay… suit yourself, I… guess? Just don’t do anything illegal….”
With a curt nod, Lyra raises herself to her hind leg. Just like the human she was, she sits down on the bench.
She also sits on her tail’s dock.
“Aaaahhh—!”
“I know this will sound crazy, officer, but—“
“I live a train’s trip away from Ponyville, Miss Shoeshine. I’ve seen more than my fair share of crazy.”
“Doesn’t matter: things still get crazy there… oh, you want me to get on with it? Right. See, it started when Lyra—that Lyra from Earth, I think… it started when she wanted to redeem herself by sitting on her tail….”