//------------------------------// // 6 // Story: Planescape: Equestria // by Applechaser //------------------------------// Your impulse is to throw yourself down on the bed or stalk around the room in a brooding sulk. Possibly alternate the two for variety. That’s an impulse that seems worth resisting, though. There’ll be blizzards in Baator before you give Rainbow Dash that much satisfaction. Instead you step in front of the mirror and start running a comb through your hair, getting ready to go out – a breath of fresh air in the palace grounds will hopefully clear your head a bit. You find yourself forcibly reminded of yesterday’s resolution not to trust any piking ponies, wondering what the fuck happened to that. Somehow you got drawn in again and dropped your guard, so this is what you get. It’s no good being bitter or sulking about it; you just need to stop acting like such a gully sod. Thinking of the ponies as fey might not have been going far enough. As far as Rarity goes, at least, it seems like a succubus would have been a better comparison – and you sure as Sigil don’t intend to join the ranks of the lovelorn. Your resolution starts to falter almost immediately as your gaze in the mirror strays to your clothes and again you’re struck by how much passion, art, and insight have been poured into the outfit you’re wearing. Is it possible that she only gave you the cold shoulder to put up the most convincing possible front to Rainbow Dash? After all, it seemed to work, as far as that went – Dash now seems smugly convinced that you don’t have a Tanar’ri’s chance in Nessus of getting anywhere with Rarity. If that were the case, though, couldn’t she at least have given you some kind of sign? Why are you even still thinking about this? This is why you shouldn’t be sulking in your room. Your hair looks good enough, time to get out of here. You breeze through the living room without looking at Rainbow Dash and stride off through the palace corridors, looking for a way out into the gardens. Your winding path through the echoing halls of the palace takes you eventually to the exit you’d been hoping for, but you’d been imagining something more along the lines of an unobtrusive side door where you could slip out to the gardens in solitude. You find yourself, instead, approaching a large set of glass-paned double doors that open out onto a broad, shallow flight of steps that sweep down to a driveway that approaches the palace from the rear through its grounds. The grand ballroom is nearby, and there is a constant stream of ponies coming and going with all manner of different provisions, materials and equipment. There are huge barrels and cases upon cases of bottles, pallets of fresh produce, baked goods and snack foods, paper and fabrics of every conceivable colour, construction materials and supplies, and a diverse array of things that you don’t recognise and can’t even speculate about. Chief among these is a huge black cuboid, a little taller than you are and thicker than you could get your arms around, made of some slightly glossy material with what looks like closely-knit webbing covering one side of it. The strange object is perched precariously at the top of the steps down to the driveway as you approach, rocking ever so slightly backward and forward and threatening at any moment to overbalance and go crashing down. Everypony seems too caught up with their own tasks to pay it any mind, despite the plaintive cries that reach your ears from the other side of it as you get close. “…Vinyl! Oh, gosh, Vinyl, you confounded pest, where in Equestria are you? I… I can’t… hold it much longer…” The plea ends in a tremulous squeak as the big black block tilts further and begins ever so gradually to slide. You make a lunge and grab hold of the thing, struggling to get a purchase on it until you find a handle that seems to have been built into its surface for just such a purpose. Its movement is arrested, and with a heave – assisted by a push from the pony on the far side – you get the thing up on firm ground. “Oh, thank goodness,” comes the sigh of relief from your still-unseen ally in disaster prevention. Her voice is soft and velvety, her cultured accent reminding you a little of last night’s time in the company of Canterlot’s upper classes but without the unpleasant sneer that some of them affected. It reminds you of somepony else, too, but you’d rather not think about that right now. “Really, Vinyl, what were you thinking?” she continues, sounding rather out of breath. “How could you run off to sign autographs at a time like that? It’s not as though I even have any experience with dragging all this heavy equipment around. It’s you who dragged me into this madness, you could at least have the decency to do your share of the work.” “Um, ma’am?” you cut in, poking your head around the corner of the box. “I don’t think you’re talking to who you think you’re talking to.” Your eyes light on a pale grey pony with a sleek charcoal mane who is slumped, recovering her breath, against the side of the black box. A blush of embarrassment rises to her cheeks as she looks up at you with thick-lashed lilac eyes. She wears a pink bow tie on a white choker around her neck, and her cutie mark is a treble clef in the same light purple as her eyes. “Oh dear, I do apologise,” she says softly. “That’s okay. I’ll précis the rant if your friend comes back so you don’t have to do the whole thing twice.” The hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth although she still looks more embarrassed than anything. “Thoughtful of you, but I don’t think that will be necessary,” she says, casting her eyes downwards. “Oh, but where are my manners? My name is Octavia. Thank you for your assistance, good sir. Impeccable timing.” “People do say that about me…” you say with a cocky grin. “I’m Anonymous. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” “Yes – likewise. Your reputation precedes you. I had the good fortune to run into miss Fleur de Lis earlier on today and she had an awful lot to say about you, although I confess that I didn’t follow it all. Something about how you’re not really a dragon, although I’m sure I don’t know why I would have thought that you were. In any case, it seems you made quite a hit with her.” “Funnily enough she mentioned you to me as well. I got the impression that she thought awfully highly of your musical talents.” “But not so highly of my choice of collaborators, hmm?” she smiles. “Err, perhaps not. I’m certainly looking forward to hearing you this evening though. Pinkie’s been trying to explain pony music to me but so far I haven’t understood a word she’s said. Is this your instrument case?” you ask, patting the black box beside you. “Oh dear me, no,” Octavia chuckles. “This is an amplifier.” “Oh. What does it amplify?” “Sound. In this case, the sound of my cello.” “Ahhh, you’re a cellist? At least that’s one thing I’m familiar with.” “Yeees… although it may not be quite as you would recognise it. Vinyl and I have been experimenting with a lot of electro-magical effects on my sound.” “…electro-magical?” “As in, a combination of electronics and magic.” “Okay. I have no idea what 'electronics' is.” “Oh!” her eyes widen. “Of course…umm… Vinyl might be better qualified than myself to explain. If she ever comes back.” You nod. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve always more or less believed that the best way to understand something is to experience it, and I guess I’m going to be experiencing your electronics later on, right?” “I suppose that you are.” “In the meantime, it seems like you’re short somebody to move your equipment. Want a hand?” “A… hand? Oh! A hoof. Yes, I see what you mean. That’s an awfully kind offer, but I couldn’t possibly accept…” “Come on, really, it would be my pleasure.” “I… are you sure?” “Sure I’m sure. I’ll consider it a service to the arts.” “Welllll…then, thank you, yes, some help would be very much appreciated. I had hoped to get unloaded and set up in time to do a soundcheck before the guests start arriving, but there’s no way I can manage by myself.” “Then let’s hop to it.” She nods, and together the two of you hoist the amplifier aloft (Octavia balancing her end skilfully on her back) and carry it through to the ball room’s raised stage where it joins an already formidable array of similar devices. There are several more weighty items waiting in a wagon at the bottom of the steps. You and Octavia are just hefting the last of them in when a pale lemon-coloured unicorn pony makes her appearance, sporting a pair of purple-tinted sunglasses and a strikingly styled blue mane streaked through with iridescent highlights. “’Sup ‘Tavi? You look kinda beat, want me to take that for ya?” “Vinyl! Vinyl Scratch, you lazy, unreliable, flaky, reprehensible…” She’s slipping out from under her end of the speaker as she rants, Vinyl taking the weight onto her own shoulders. “…irresponsible, shirking, insufferable…” You and Vinyl crest the top of the stairs and start manoeuvring through the double doors towards the ball room. “…indolent, shiftless, fickle, frivolous, thoughtless...” You traverse the ballroom, making your way through and around the ponies rushing everywhere making their preparations. >In all the noise and hubbub you miss some of what Octavia is saying, but you pick up the thread again as you and Vinyl set the speaker down on the stage next to the others. “…inconstant, immature, regardless -reprobate-!” “Relax, ‘Tavi. That one filly was all like ‘OHMYGOSHIT’SVINYLCANIHAVEYOURAUTOGRAPH’, and I mean, c’mon, I can’t just leave a fan hanging. And then, like, she had friends, and they all wanted autographs too, and she wanted to show me this drawing she did of me and stuff, it was pretty chill.” “’Chill?’ Ugh. Not to be a -downer- or anything, but what was not particularly chill was how you left me to be crushed beneath that ridiculously oversized amplifier of yours as it tumbled down a whole flight of stairs to its inevitable destruction.” “Oh, right. But that didn’t happen, huh?” “Thanks only to the assistance of Anonymous here.” “Oh yeah. Hey dude.” “Hi.” “Sooo…” she turns back to Octavia. “Are we gonna get set up and do a soundcheck, or what?” “Hmph. Anonymous and I did all the heavy lifting, the least you can do is take care of the rest of the set up while I relax with a cold beverage… if it’s possible to get one anywhere amidst all this chaos.” “I bet I can dig us up a couple,” you put in. “If you wouldn’t mind some company, of course.” “Oh, well… of course not. After all, you earned some relaxation too.” Whatever look Vinyl might be giving Octavia right now is lost behind the purple sheen of her glasses. “Pfft, whatever,” she mutters after a moment. “You kids have fun and stuff. Just be back in time to soundcheck, ‘Tavi.” “Of course,” Octavia says primly. “Lead on, then, Anonymous.”