Two: The Song of a Long, Long Dream
Night fell upon the citizens of Ponyville and the gentle glow of the Moon at its full bathed the town.
Spike hunched in his own vest, hoping that nopony would recognize him. In his left claw was a hoof-full of bits he expected to spend drinking cider. Through his mind raced a million and one thoughts, hesitating whether just greeting Octavia and quietly removing himself from the scene or going along with whatever The Rabstallion had in store for him.
Getting there, however, was a different story. Having a bookworm unicorn as a surrogate mother came with its drawbacks, one of them not being particularly street smart: Spike had meandered around Town Square and its vicinity since 7 pm, not having a single clue where the bar actually was. He had hoped to encounter a racket of ponies going on and finding such a thing would somehow lead him to the right direction.
All the while, a very different Ponyville revealed itself to the young dragon. The lights painted the buildings and houses in very different hues, creating shadows in places the sun didn't quite manage to reproduce. The bright colours were replaced by toned down blue, gray and brown tones. Candlesticks made flickering images come alive in a manner of form that Spike never appreciated fully. The ponies walking down the cobblestone streets casted large shadows as they came and went. Night was also the time for lovers, as couples of all colours and races would nuzzle or kiss each other. Spike saw a pair of teenaged ponies sharing a tender moment tucked away in an alley, another one openly showing their affection on a bridge connecting both sides of town separated by a stream. Spike simply passed by them, feeling a small bout of pain going up in his chest.
He had figured out Octavia to be a mare used to move in a very classy type of crowd: Uptown folk more suited in Canterlot or Manehatten than they did in a town like Ponyville. Spike pictured her like another kind of Rarity, just this time it was music rather than fashion what drove her daily life. Spike's imagination morphed the image of the slick-haired gray mare into the fab perm curls of... He quickly dismissed it, shaking his head back and forth. "It'll be a long night, for sure." He sighed. Broadback, the pony philosopher of yore, was having a laughing fit from beyond the grave.
Spike made his way into some kind of night district he'd never seen operational during the day: A collection of houses adapted and modified to accomodate just enough ponies to have a small crowd in them and a big one outside. They were all pushing each other to gain access to the small entrances.
In one of these establishments that looked like a lounge with a veranda, Spike spotted a stallion leaning on his porch and smoking the last strands of a cigarette just a few feet above him. He looked unoccupied enough so Spike looked up and shouted. "Excuse me! D'you know the way to the Rabstallion?!"
The stallion simply looked down and pointed his hoof lazily towards a left turn of the street, not uttering a single word.
"Thank you!" he shouted again.
Spike didn't see it, but the stallion rolled his eyes in irritation as he let go of one last puff of smoke.
Spike eventually made it in front of a large building that used to be a bank once. It had been closed and made into a restaurant, however he had never seen the lights below ground. Spike followed the crowd of ponies assembling outside towards one of its sides. Sure enough, there was a sign hammered on the wall lit by a streetlight: "The Rabstallion". It featured a cartoon pony passed out on the floor. Below the sign was a staircase going down, full of ponies cramming around the entrance. Spike could hear the bustling crowd, clanking of glasses and loud obnoxious shouting. Spike cringed, regretting he had come at all.
He turned around and started to make his way back to the Treebrary when a familiar voice called out to him. "Ah! There you are Spike! Glad you could make it!" she said cheerfully.
Spike looked and there she was: Sitting on the rail that separated the ground floor from the basement was the grey mare. She had her front hooves crossed, one of them barely touching the ground while the other dangled up and down. Spike simply stood there, his mouth locked in a stalemate in which the choices were shouting a goodbye or simply run over random syllables.
The mare stood up and cantered towards him. "Colour me surprised, I didn't think the small fry tailor from Carousel Boutique would come here." Spike snickered at that remark. "Neither did the small fry tailor." He muttered in a volume high enough for Octavia's ears only.
Her face changed quickly from a smirk to a sincere smile.
"Well then, suppose we better get in." He said, prepared to charge into the crowd outside the entrance.
Octavia nodded and laughed softly. "Oh, Spike. Remember, you're with me. Let me lead you into the real entrance of The Rabstallion."
Spike was expecting her to simply lead the way with a whisk of her tail or some other simple gesture. A tug to his vest was too much. She wasn't a unicorn so she couldn't possibly tug his clothes without touching him. Spike expected just a gesture from his unlikely company.
She, however, decided to surprise him.
The surprise came by doing something Spike was absolutely surprised about: She stood up on her hind legs. In the blink of an eye, Spike went from looking down on her to having her purple eyes meet his. She grabbed his claw with her hoof and pointed towards the back of the building "Come! You haven't got th'foggiest about this place! I'll be your charming tour guide for the night." A wink was just the icing on the metaphorical cake.
Spike was flabbergasted to say the least.
He even wondered if a reaction from his ample repertoire would fit in the situation. Yet, for the grey mare it came about so naturally it seemed as if everypony should be able to walk like her.
Not trot. Walk.
Spike couldn't help but smile to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yesterday, I slept at 10 pm trying to stifle Twi's and Candle's lover blabber under a pillow. Now I'm at a bar I've only heard of with a mare I just met." He muttered to himself. Surely, this was a twist for the ages.
"This is us, Spike."
"Huh, what?" He said very confused.
"I said, this is our entrance, you dolt!" She said, a tinge of exasperation strewn in her voice. Spike mouthed an apology that never came to as he entered the bar's back-door. Holding it open was a roughened stallion with receding mane and a beard that made him look like he had taken a noise dive into a dustbin. Octavia turned away from Spike to greet him.
"Still trying to loose some weight, eh Brick?"
The bouncer pony shrugged and smiled. "I'll start when the missus quits 'er peddling over daisies at the market!" He replied with a cheer.
"That mare could argue the three sides of a paper." Octavia whispered into Spike's ear as they walked down the narrow hallway. That got a nice chuckle out of the dragon.
From there they could see the bustling crowd inside The Rabstallion: Under the dim light, warm lights of the premises the colour on the ponies' coats looked dimmed. So did the ponies themselves. Some were laughing outrageously, some were clinking mugfulls of cider and beer. Others were bending over small tables or sitting on tall stools. The night had another flavour Spike was just getting to try. The Rabstallion wasn't exactly a large place, but it was big enough.
Spike immediately noticed a small triangular stage where a piano and a large double-bass propped just three hooves above floor level. It was a tattered, vertical piano; much like the one he played at Carousel Boutique that very day. Again, it was Octavia who jarred him out of his thoughts.
"Come'ere! I'll introduce you to the barkeep!" she said cheerfully.
Through a small entrance Spike had to bend his head to get through was the sacred realm of any bar: The bartender's counter and liquor cabinets. In there, an ocre-coated unicorn with graying hair and weary blue eyes was just about to finish a drink. Half empty bottles and dirty glasses zoomed past both Spike and Octavia as they either went into the sink or returned to old mahogany shelves. The grey mare waited patiently for the old stallion to finish serving the drink. After garnishing the high-ball with a lemon wedge, he dinged a bellhop bell in the counter and shouted with a raspy voice "RABSTALLION KNOCKOUT READY!".
A cue for Octavia to lunge out and hug the old pony. "Surprise, Maestro!" she said with glee.
He responded with a genuine laugh, as he hugged the gray mare like a long lost friend. "I started to think I wouldn't see you this evening!" The barkeep said as he corked a bottle and put it back in its place. Spike barely had the chance to read the red label: 'Griffon Kingdom Pastis Number 10'.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." She reassured. Turning to Spike, she extended her hoof and gently pulled Spike closer to the ageing bartender. "Maestro, meet Spike. A friend of mine who's up for replacing Clavichord's students if they're not available."
The dragon didn't know what she was talking about but went with the flow anyway. He offered his claw and Maestro shook it firmly. "Nice t'meetcha, kid. Name's Mixer Maestro. R'just Maestro. The Rabstallion is my pride and joy and you'll always be treated as a friend in this establishment. A friend of Octavia's a friend of mine." Said the ageing bartender in a stern, raspy voice.
Spike couldn't help but beam a wide smile. "Much appreciated, sir." He said confidently.
"'Ere kid," Mixer Maestro growled, handing him a dark bottle. "Have'ya ever tried the Special Moon Brew Beer?" Spike took it, feeling the icy cold of the glass. "No, sir. I believe I haven't."
Mixer shook his head in dismay. "Octi, honey... Y're like one of them merponies from folktales!" Mixer shouted in between hearty laughs.
Octavia snickered at that remark. "How so?" she said.
"'Cause you ain't doin' nuthin' but bringing me 'ere small lil' saplings and next thing you know they're passed out in mah storefront!" He said.
A brief moment of silence.
Then, rapturous laughs. Spike couldn't help himself but to shed some happy tears, picturing an image where his drunken behind was kicked out of the bar by the bouncer he met just moments ago. Octavia's laugh was dignified and pretty, yet every bit as loud as Mixer's grating-on-a-cheese-log laugh. The dragon couldn't remember the last time he had laughed that hard.
Wiping off his tears, Mixer pointed towards the narrow hallway.
"Octi, dear. Get'm a seat in the fancy cushion room so he can hear you both play." Octavia nodded and beckoned Spike to follow her. The dragon waved to the barkeep one more time, but the orders were piling up and the drink-making machine was once again full speed ahead.
"He's an old coot, but he's one of the most dependable ponies you'll ever get to know." Octavia informed Spike.
He simply smiled and brandished his beer bottle like a trophy. Beyond another door just a few steps away from the main premises was a small yet cozy room that had an open view of the whole bar. In there, a stallion and a mare lounged on paisley red cushions and a love seat circling a round black table. The same dim lighting just added to the laid-back, bohemian mood.
Octavia took her time to introduce the other ponies to Spike. "Hello, darlings! This is Spike, a friend of mine who will join us for the evening."
Small mumbles resembling 'Hello' came out of their muzzles.
"Spike, this is Calligraphy." She said, pointing towards a white unicorn with scrambled grey mane. He nodded and so did the dragon.
Then, Octavia sat beside a light-pink mare sporting heavy makeup and a yellow perm so curly and large it rivalled Pinkie Pie's mane. "...and this here is Cara Al'Dente." She raised a glass-full of what the dragon assumed was champaign or a light-coloured beer.
It took Spike a second to figure out how was he supposed to return the gesture and clinked his bottle with her glass. Cara Al'Dente immediately took a sip while Spike sat slowly on the couch at Octavia's side.
"So, Spike is it?" Cara asked.
Taken by suprise, Spike stammered through his response. "Y-ye-yes it is, ma'am."
"Don't be so formal, dear! After all, we are all in one of those special and delicious places where any and every formality just... vanishes." She chuckled with that last word. Spike nodded and brought the green bottle to his mouth, the bubbly goodness of the brew stroking his tongue.
After the sip, Spike shouted with glee. "PUHAAAA! This is good stuff!"
Octavia smiled. "Glad you liked it, small fry tailor from Carousel Boutique." Spike shot her a crude and sardonic smirk, she answered with a smile halfway between sincere and poker-faced.
"So that's what you do for a living?" Cara inquired.
"Yes it is," Spike answered, a bit ashamed. "I'm currently under Rarity as a tailor for her designer line of clothes."
Octavia pushed Spike even further. "So, I assume you must know a lot about fashion then?" She asked.
Spike smiled, not wanting to be suckered into a series of increasingly humiliating questions. "As a matter of fact, my dear Octavia, I do. I do know that last century that mane of yours became as fashionable as a bucket on your head." He said.
The grey mare leered at him, while Spike just waited for his words to sink in. Not a moment later the small group of ponies broke out in smug laughter, well aware of the game Octavia was playing.
"Touchè, but then again I'm not terribly interested in fashion. I'm a classic. Classics never out of touch." She said with an extra bout of confidence.
Spike sipped on his beer again and asked. "So, who is this... Clavichord I keep hearing about? He's the stallion who...?" Octavia rolled her eyes at the name's mention. Similar reactions were produced by the rest of the party.
The stallion named Calligraphy started to explain. "I'll try to put it in words you can understand. Clavichord's talent is to teach little fillies how to play the piano, ironically his special ability doesn't include... well... You'll see when he or his students get here."
Sighs of exasperation could be heard from everypony else.
Spike gulped down some saliva, venturing to ask further. "So... is he that bad of a player?"
Octavia sighed, depriving her words from the sophisticated twist they had. "He's not only a complete drab to listen, he's hard to play with too." She crossed her hooves in disgust.
Spike was taking all their comments in when he eyed the stage once more. There were two instruments: A piano and a double-bass. If he was meant to replace Clavichord, then it meant he played the piano. Which meant that - "Octavia, do you play bass?" Spike asked.
"Took you long enough to figure out." The gray mare answered with a bit of a chuckle.
Cara Al'Dente joined her too. "Oh dear, this dragon here is so sweet!" She said while placing her mane curls around her head. Spike looked towards the floor and sipped on his beer, chuckling as he did.
It was a different crowd for the young dragon. Ponies Twilight didn't know about. These two thoughts put together put a sheepish smile on his face.
The distinctive ding on Carousel Boutique's chimed to signal the entrance of visitors. Fire embers painted long and elastic shadows on the store's walls. Candlelight picked his fiancée's coat as she entered the large room, placing it on a hanger nearby. On it were three other pieces of clothing: A green sweater with a pale pink scarf, a faux-leather coat and a stetson hat. Candlelight hanged Twilight's dark cloak as she trotted towards the brightly lit room.
"Ah, Twilight! I am ever so glad you could come this evening!" said haughty fashionsta.
"Howdy, Twi. Better get munchin' on them apple pies. Granny Smith's recipe perfected!" The more humble farm pony said in a warm voice.
Inside, the small get-together was framed by tiny teacups covered with baroque designs and a huge teapot donning the same thing. Rarity was sitting on the opposite side of the table from Applejack, Fluttershy in between them sipping her tea quietly. She mouthed a "Hi" so low only her pet bunny could hear it. Alongside Rarity was Fancy Pants, solemnly waving his teaspoon in circles with magic. Twilight took her seat and so did Candlelight.
"Ah, I feel so lucky to have all of you here! If we had Rainbow and Pinkie then we'd make the whole gang!" Rarity blurted out, failing to restrain her excitement. Fancy Pants chuckled quietly, sipping his tea as he did.
"Say, Twi?" Asked Applejack. "What've you been up to these days? After that thing-a-magic you did for them folks at Canterlot Copypress?"
"Well..." Twilight began hesitantly. "Not much since then. The Automatic Letterhead Exchange Method still has a lot of wrinkles that need to be ironed out. Canterlot Press has been kind enough to sponsor my research but I think it'll be done with in three months. Besides," She began to say as she nuzzled up the periwinkle blue colt. "I'm more concerned with... personal matters as of now."
Those last words came out with a special kind of endearment. Rarity beamed, serving the couple a mix of jasmine and chamomile tea. "Who would've known our own little bookworm would get hitched?"
Twilight chuckled at that remark. "I prefer the term, mare in eternal pursuit of knowledge."
Applejack let go of a hearty laugh. "Sugarcube, a bookworm's a bookworm. No matter how y'spin it." That got out a few more laughs from the party, even from quiet Fluttershy.
Rarity sipped down a bit of her tea and asked "Say, Twilight dearest? When can we expect to hear some wedding bells, hm?"
A flurry of batting eyelids preceded a perplexed Twilight and Candlelight looking at each other in fright. She stammered through her response, deeply flushed. "Um... We-we-we haven't really talked about it." Rarity rolled her eyes letting out a sigh.
Fancy Pants patted her back "Now, now dearest. Don't be hasty. It's not like we've talked about it either."
A sudden silence fell upon the party, Rarity turned her head slowly towards the colt with a moustache and spoke in an icy-cold voice. "Tell me why we haven't done that, Fancy?" The colts in the room were sincerely frighentened, specially Fancy Pants.
His response though, was devoid of hesitation. "Darling, have you asked yourself when did you or that tailor of yours have had a moment's breath since the whole Carousel Hoofmades collection started?"
Rarity softened her expression and smile. "Yes. Yes, I guess you're right." A realisation starred across her mind, horrified. In one of her staple mood swings, Rarity clinged onto Fluttershy while on the verge of tears. "Darling! I didn't even have the courtesy of telling you I wouldn't go to our weekly spa session! How long has it been!?"
Her pink-maned friend closed her eyes and piped quietly. "4 weeks straight."
Rarity threw herself over the nearby red velvet cushion, bawling. "THIS IS THE WORST POSSIBLE THING! I AM THE WORST POSSIBLE FRIEND!!"
Silence, then laughter.
First was Applejack, who was trying very hard to contain her laughter, burst into tears. It was contagious, as Twilight and Fluttershy soon joined her. Their coltfriends joined them nervously, not sure how to react. Even Angel Bunny had stopped munching on his carrot to stare at the drama queen.
Scowling, Rarity retorted. "What in Celestia's name is so funny?"
Applejack hugged her belly, sprawling on the floor and dying of laughter. "I haven't heard you say that in a long, long time! Yer just gold, Rarity. Just gold... COMEDY GOLD!"
"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Twilight roared with laughter. Rarity picked herself off from the couch and puckered her lips, not at all content with her friends laughing at her.
A good solid minute passed by with everypony but the fashionista shedding tears. Once they all collected themselves, the tea party resumed. Of course, the occasional snickering by Applejack and derisive grins from Rarity were constant all throughout the evening.
"So, Rarity." Inquired periwinkle Candlelight. "When I can expect your designs to be on the cover of Equa?"
Rarity ruffled her mane, quite prideful of herself. "Well, Darling... They first have to go over them editors at the magazine. That's why I've been rushing some of the designs to have a first-looks photoshoot by tomorrow evening. If Spikey Wikey finished a little something called Mio Bisogno, I've only got one more dress to go!"
Twilight beamed. "Really? Has Spike been that helpful?"
Fancy Pants decided to answer that. "Well, considering that I could get her out of the Boutique today... I'd say that dragon has been more than helpful!"
Rarity came closer to the moustachioed colt and nuzzled up. "That is very true."
Fancy Pants zipped on his teacup a bit more, commenting further on the matter. "Though I have to add miss Twilight... He's rather cold and that sometimes can be misunderstood as rudeness."
Candlelight rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it."
Twilight shrugged it off. "Beh, he's just rebellious. That's all. He's changed a lot in the past few years, not just on the whole... height thing."
Applejack chuckled. "Well, Ah'reckon you fellas gonna be alright once y'all move out offa Treebrary. Going to Canterlot, I recall." Both Twilight and Candlelight nodded softly, smiling. "I'm guessing Spike'll have to quit Canterlot Boutique one's that done and away with." added the orange mare.
The expression on the purple mare's face changed in a matter of seconds to a quiet discontent. Candlelight noticed this immediately, embracing her tightly and hiding her face. Everypony in the table witnessed this and fell into a complete silence. Fluttershy started to shrink, attempting to make herself scarce. Applejack was genuinely bewildered by her reaction, her jaw open in mid-sentence. Both Rarity and her coltfriend had already mastered their poker-faces, shining them in full display. For a brief period of time there was an understanding amongst the guests in Carousel Boutique.
A simple, yet poignant understanding.
Being the Element of Honesty herself, Applejack broke the ice by asking Twilight in the most blunt tone she could muster. "Spike IS coming to live with you, Twi. Right?"
Twilight's mind came to a halt, a stalemate of sorts. She was confronted with the disembodied eyes of her friends. She felt assaulted by them. She felt defenceless against them. For a few moments, those eyes looked at her from the long end of a deep chasm. They demanded an answer. They demanded her response. Twilight closed her eyes shut, a voice in the back of her head screaming the hard cold truth: Twilight Sparkle was asking Spike to leave. Spike had no place in her life now. He was to be tossed aside. Inside her eyelids was the image of the dragon's stare boring holes in her skull. They also demanded the truth.
Then, Twilight did something that defied her very own mind.
"Yes, AJ. He's coming with us." She said in a hasty, matter-of-fact voice. Applejack smiled warmly in response. "Heh heh, well Rarity I'd suggest you better work him good 'cause he ain't going to be 'round no more!" She said. The party continued their conversation, steering it away to other topics. Twilight didn't listen. She was instead assaulted by a different kind of thought, one more direct and blunt. A judgement passed down by a perfect jury.
"Twilight Sparkle, you magnificent liar."
Spike was in quite a predicament. Not one he hadn't been in before, mind you. It felt very different to be squished between two mares he had just met today rather than in between Twilight's friends. The situation was not that different either.
"Say, dear Spike what's it like to be the underling of the one truly most fabulous of fashionistas in Ponyville?" Cara Al'Dente asked with a musky perfume strung in between her every word. "I bet under that heavy mascara and perfect mane she hides a couple of..." Cara giggled, pulling Spike towards her even harder. "Of what?" she asked with glee. Octavia paused for dramatic effect and shouted "BALD SPOTS!!"
The party roared, Spike couldn't help but let go of a few chuckles. Both mares stared down at him.
"What's it gonna be, dragon?" Cara crooned in a malicious tone.
"Have I got a delicious reward if you so choose to spill the beans on little Miss Perfect." Octavia fluttered her eyes in a deliberate attempt to sway Spike into submission. Her smile was difficult to resist, so was her mellow voice.
The stallion named Calligraphy was none the wiser, switching in and out of conciousness after his fourth pint. Spike smiled mischievously, knowing full well what the situation entailed.
"I did notice something very strange the other day at the Boutique last month." He began. Both Cara and Octavia looked at him very attentively.
"See, the back of the fitting room is a place where Rarity keeps her own private collection of clothes. Some of the things there have never been shown to the public and I doubt they ever will. I think in that room there are the very first clothes she did. But that is not what this story is about."
Octavia had to break her concentration just so her mug didn't slip off accidentally.
"No, I was just about to get her a pincushion as I walked in the fitting room. She just happened to leave the door to her secret chamber open. I had never seen that room before so I couldn't resist taking a peek."
Cara's hat fell off her head, but she didn't notice.
"I could only see Rarity's shadow on the wall, fidgeting around with her ears. That's when I saw it."
"SAW WHAT?!" The mares shouted in unison.
"I saw pulling her mane... CLEAN OFF!"
The horrified looks in both their faces was priceless: Mouths agape, expression locked in confusion and their eyes transfixed on the dragon.
"BWAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh, Celestia!! You girls ate it!! You girls ate it whole!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" Spike was laughing uncontrollably, gasping for air. Only then it dawned on them that the whole story was a huge lie. They had been played by the now roaring dragon between them.
Swiftly but surely, Octavia pinned down Spike on the couch with a sucker punch to the stomach. The dragon started coughing, the air blown out of him. Cara grabbed the Moon Blend Beer bottle from Spike's hand and lifted it over his head. "Ow! What gives!" He wheezed in between his coughs.
"Sweet revenge, dearie." Cooed the curly maned pink mare.
The bottle tilted and its contents spilled over the dragon's face. Unable to break free of Octavia's grasp without hurting her, the dragon simply gave up as the foaming remains of his beer poured down his face and stained his vest. Not all was lost, Cara poured it so that he could still drink the zesty drink.
A brief silence preluded a quiet laugh from all involved. Even Spike, feeling his clothes soggy and cleaning to his scales, joined in.
"Oh, gee... I guess I had it coming." He said merrily. The other mares simply nodded.
As with all the good things, that moment came to an abrupt end. "Oi, wotcher step!!" Shouted Brick the bouncer from the other side of the hall. Clunky footsteps resounded on the old floorboards. Octavia cringed, unable to hold back her disdain. Cara Al'Dente simply ruffled her mane and kept drinking from her glass. Spike had to look very hard in order to make out the discreet frown in her face. The shadow cast by the dim light on the entrance got shorter and shorter, then he heard a flailing voice. "Mneeeeh, I'm here 'Taviaaaa!!"
In the private room stumbled a frail unicorn with a pale brown coat. His tussled unkempt grey mane in an uneven pattern and from his weary eyes hung black, saggy bags. On his rump was a pentagram with a g-clef and some quarter notes. He didn't look fit to even trot in a straight line. Octavia rolled her eyes and called the old stallion's name. "Are you perhaps drunk, Clavichord?" she said.
"Pffffff, missy I'll-I'll have you know that ah-I myself... yes! I myself played for'er majesty Princess Celestia at 'eh privuht party! I'm very much capable of playin' wi'a bit o'buzz with the likes of you inna bar! Yes!" Clavichord didn't speak words, he stomped the ever-loving daylights out of them and then gargled the poor things out. Octavia snatched a clear bottle out of his magical levitation grasp and placed in on a table. "Domecq Aged Tequila?" He read aloud, bewildered.
"Mind reading some other time and give me a hoof? Well, claw?" Octavia called. She tried to carry Clavichord on her back, on the brink of passing out. Spike got up and strapped the old unicorn's other hoof on his back. Together, they dragged him through the bar floor as the ponies drank merrily. Mixer Maestro was keeping an eye on them, shaking his head disappointed. Along the way towards the piano and double-bass they got every kind of look there was: Amused, bewildered, freaked, indifferent and so on. Octavia was smirking all the way, hiding the embarrassment the suposed piano virtuoso was making her go through. Spike didn't care, it was just another turn in this the most bizarre of nights.
Spike propped Clavichord on the stool in the stage he would share with Octavia. He saw in his eyes that he was just not ready to play efficiently. "What should we do? He can't play like this!" he whispered to Octavia. She smirked somewhat deviously. "Oh I can just imagine what will happen." She whispered to Spike's ear. "How about some good ol'fashioned whacking? See if that will help." The dragon didn't think twice and slapped Clavichord square in his cheek, to which the unicorn opened his eyes and murmured "Oh yes, yes... Let's go Octavia. 'Night & Day'". The slick mare simply nodded and propped herself in her two hind legs behind her bass. Spike quickly got off the stage as the ponies gathered around to see what was going on. Octavia blinked in his direction, he smiled back. On the back,
Mixer Maestro was dimming the lights in the bar slowly. Soon, it was completely dark. Suddenly, a spotlight turned its light towards the stallion and the mare, blinding Spike for a brief moment. Casting a shadow was the beautiful figure of the black maned beauty, caressing her instrument with grace. A brief hoofstump greeted the musicians.
Spike was, for a moment, smitten by the sight. His delusion of Rarity started to kick in again, but the dragon knew it wasn't her. They were very much alike... And yet so different from one another.
Octavia nodded towards Clavichord and a stroke of his magic made the piano come to life. The sleepy unicorn played slowly with the company of Octavia strumming the strings to produce low, booming notes. The melody came out slow, yet somewhat refreshing. Octavia hummed alongside the piano, providing some high pitched notes the piano couldn't reach.
At first it all seemed fine and dandy.
Spike recognized the song from his lessons back in Canterlot, a song by Colt Porter. It was pretty, no doubt, but hardly something you'd hear with clinking mugs and drunken chatter. Some of the ponies made their way out of The Rabstallion, bored only seconds after they started. Spike couldn't understand how not a pony could appreciate this kind of music being played in front of them. Then again, if 'art' can be applied to both Sapphire Shore's recent hits and this then appreciating art was very subjective act. All seemed fine and dandy, the thinning audience notwithstanding.
It wouldn't get any better.
Spike knew the song by heart, and what Clavichord just played was a slowed down version of the first 12 compasses.
He got one note wrong.
Then another.
And another.
Octavia did her best to keep up with the mismatched times and the ponies were growing restless. The graying unicorn tried to play consistently, but the constant flubbing of notes only made it worse. Spike's face deformed into a frown as he saw Clavichord's head swaying around too dangerously across the keys. The ponies started too boo them, completely unsatisfied with what they were hearing. More and more ponies were leaving. Octavia kept playing nevertheless, modifying her beat to the clueless and drunken noise Clavichord was making.
And then, just like that, his head fell on the piano with a hellish noise from mismatched notes.
The ponies laughed and booed as Spike dragged Clavichord's limp body off the stage. Mixer re-adjusted the lights and simply watched as Octavia was left standing there completely at the mercy of the crowd. One of them even threw her a bank note, shouting "Here-get a better partner!" Everypony laughed, Octavia stood her ground with pride. Spike dragged the music teacher-turned-buffoon to a dark corner of the pub behind one of the high tables, the mocking burning holes in his ears. He looked back at the mare, her back perfectly straight and steely gaze into nothingness as the ponies continued to boo her presence off their sight. The humiliation was too much to bear on the shoulders of one single pony. Once more, the differences between the ponies he knew and the ponies he was getting to know was cutting deep in his heart.
Then he just noticed he and Octavia were staring at each other for quite some time. He looked into her deep purple eyes, shame muddled her expression.
Those eyes spoke a thousand words unknowable to any book he had read. Nothing could fully express it, though a close approximation was rather short: Shame.
Something tugged at his heartstrings.
It was not the usual depressive, melancholic state.
It was a call to action.
A curtain call if you will.
A most inexplicable urge.
"What are you doing?" Said the voice in his head as he stood up straight, just like she did.
"What in Tartarus name do you think you're doing?" Said the voice as he walked among the crowd of ponies towards the triangular stage.
"Answer me! What are you doing?" Said the voice as he blinked to Octavia, a sheepish smirk in return.
"Magic" Spike answered.
The dragon called for a silence by blowing hard between his sharp teeth and fingers, creating an acute whistle that could stunt within seconds. They responded immediately. He waited a few seconds for the crowd to pay full attention to him. All eyes were on Spike. In all truth he was shaking in his scales, making everything up as he went along. First, he addressed the audience. "In the name of The Rabstallion, I sincerely and deeply apologize for this obvious mistake. You deserve better music than this." General sounds of approval came from the angry crowd of ponies.
"In all truth, I was sent here by the Mixer Maestro himself just in case our mainstay pianist would be out of commission."
"As you can see," He then pointed towards the corner where Clavichord laid snoring. "all conditions are met." The corporate and solemn tone Spike donned got a very hearty laugh from everypony in the bar. Even Maestro, who was just playing along, had his own raspy fit.
"As such, it's necessary to introduce myself. My name is Spike." He then stretched his hand towards the slick mare. "This here is the beautiful Octavia." The mention got a few 'whoops' out of the gathered colts. "Enjoy the evening." A moderated hoofstomping concluded the introduction.
Spike turned nervously towards Octavia and muttered. "Do you know how to play 'I'm an Errand Colt for Rythm'? It's about the only song I can remember right now!" Octavia hissed "You serious? After what you said to them?" She hesitated a while before continuing. "I do know how to play that one and pray Luna you remember more songs by the time we're done! It's only like three minutes long!" Spike smiled confidently. "Not where I'm from." He said.
Spike sat down on the stool and the eerie silence silence of the audience settled. He caressed the tattered piano with delicacy. Every single thread of common sense told him to stop and flee. Then again, common sense sometimes is for loosers and small-fry tailors from Carousel Boutique.
He stroked the first chord and the piano sprang with joy, producing melody at first touch.
"Here's something that I'd like to bring to you..."
His singing voice matched the chords, for a moment everypony was taken aback to various degrees. The first chord got their attention, the second one retained it with an iron hooffull.
"Wrapped all in cellophane, designed for youuuuuuu..."
Some whoops in the audience gave Spike the confidence to nod Octavia. She immediately positioned herself to the next compass. For a moment there, Spike saw her close her eyes slowly, as if almost in a contemplative state. It was time to dive in and give it some fun. He startled the audience by the radical shift in tempo and notes, an intoxicating effect for first time listeners.
In came Octavia with an intricate and beautiful bass sounds that tugged at the crowd's bellies. Short, intense notes strummed with a glass-maker's precision. In between them, short pangs of notes came from Spike's claws as he sang merrily.
The melody grew bouncier and more like a high pitched beat, Octavia weaved low tones in between. The ponies were wearing broad smiles. Some of them even began to follow the song with their hoofstomping.
Now it was time for some more fun. Spike flourished the simple starting melody with fast and elegant arrangements, building upon what he already had. Octavia stopped playing to let him garner the speed he needed to pull off the crafting of a crescendo that would explode at the end of a few compasses. Spike sank his claws on the keys, eliciting a few more whoops and some hoof stomping from the now enchanted audience.
Two compasses in, Spike's claws glided amongst keys quickly and swiftly; elevating and slowing down the tempo like a reckless wave. Spike didn't see it, but the audience was delighted with his performance. Like puppets in the hands of a master, they began to sway with the music while the dragon directed their every step like a puppet-master. Some of the other ponies who were sitting forgot for a moment their foaming mugs of beer and cider; opting to listen.
Spike didn't even notice them, he was also entranced by the music eliciting from his claw-tips. For those brief moments, Twilight and Rarity were just figments of an infantile imagination. His life, a groundhog day at the Carousel Boutique and the Treebrary, was just a mere collection of images. The time was now, and now was the time for music.
Nothing more, only the music.
Octavia looked at the dragon for that time, feeling mere seconds stretching out to ages. She noticed the way he smiled, the way his eyes sparkled with glee as if he was being reunited with a long lost love. She could even see tricking droplets of sweat caressing his slick purple scales. She thought of dragons as these oddball, bumbling, fire-breathing slobs who had no appreciation for songs and instruments. All of that changed in a second with the charm of passion erupting from the dragon playing the piano.
She could've stared more if Spike didn't slow down his tempo, an indicative of her re-entry into the song.
Spike slowed down his playing to a more standard set of chords, letting the grey double-bass player to set another tempo herself. He felt his bones crackle and pop in his claws as he stretched them in between keystrokes. He took a pause to look around and see the merry bar he had created with his dexterity. Mixer Maestro caught his attention, raising a mugfull of a foamy ale to him and drinking it full. Spike grinned in return. Then there was Cara Al'Dente, looking pleasantly surprised and batting her eyelids after she noticed the dragon was looking at her. Spike breathed the atmosphere of happy, drunken ponies who swayed to the music. He loved every single moment of it.
Then, there was Octavia.
She had strummed a couple of notes in her double bass, the last one serving as another bridge. She looked at Spike, and Spike at her. In all the years of his short life he hadn't seen eyes so fierce. Spike felt other kinds of string being plucked inside of him as he bore into those deep purple eyes of hers.
"My turn." She cooed, high enough for the audience to hear as a whisper. She brandished the bow and tucked her bass between her forelegs. What happened next was a cacophony of low notes that somehow competed neck-to-neck with Spike's tune but complimented it at the same time. Time and time again, like the gentle rocking of a boat off-shore, she'd raised and lowered the tempo stitching a beautiful melody with booming notes that resounded in the audience's stomach and hooves. They all hoof-stomped, danced, swayed and shouted as the grey mare rewrote the rhythm at which their hearts beat with every single string. She didn't even look towards the audience, as if she and her instrument were the only ones in the world. For a moment, Spike couldn't see the oak and the bow. Octavia had melded herself with the strings and the body of the bass to become a tool of aural perfection. Her own body produced the amazing sound by a manner of sorcery he hadn't ever seen come out of Twilight's books.
Starry eyed, Spike prepared himself for the end of the long over-due end of the bridge. In his head, he could see the metronome speeding away, Octavia and him counting the beats. Raising his claws, the audience was enraptured, it was time to finish the euphoria. A hard press on the keys, and it was back to the original melody with which they began. Spike opened his maw and sang his heart out.
A sudden silence, and a small riff from the piano. Octavia responded with a riff of her own. They could almost breathe in the number of beats.
"three... four..."
A descending arrange of chords in the piano for both of them, going slower as they progressed. The time came to cap off the song. Spike and Octavia roared in delight.
"I'M AN ERRAND COLT FOR RHYTHM!! Send me..."
With a few keystrokes more, the song ended in the starting chord, one octave higher.
Then, noise. Rapturous noise. Like the sound of a gushing river caving through the mountain side. Thousands of gallons of water destroying everything in its path. Noise to conquer all noises. There it was, the hoofstomping ovation. It ringed on the musicians' ear like a melody in its own right. Spike stood up from the stool, facing the crowd fixated upon him and the grey mare. She stood up on her forelegs, beaming with pride and joy. Her smile oozed sincere glee. The pair exchanged glances and bowed down to their audience, only eliciting a more rapturous stampede.
"You're not bad at all, small-fry tailor from Carousel Boutique." she said.
"Neither are you, old-fashioned manecut." he said.
It was all noise.