//------------------------------// // Chit-Chat // Story: A Late Gift // by Iam Atrie //------------------------------// Thump-thump thump thump, thump-thump thump thump. Lyra paces with a little limp, looking shamefully to the tan carpet she walks on. Luna found her a hotel to stay in, offering to pay, but the owner had told Lyra she can stay for free as long as she wants - the owner is a certain blue stallion, who apologized to her as soon as she entered the large hotel. Without hesitation, he had suggested she stay awhile and rest up, with a nervous smile on his face. “Miss Lyra?” A squeaky male voice calls, “your uh, bath is ready.” “Oh, thank you!” She says loudly, quickly stripping herself of her scarf and bathrobe. The servant nervously steps around the corner from the bathroom and bows a little, then leaves. Lyra walks with haste over to the other side of the white hotel room, past her large white bed and her white sofa, into the white bathroom. It all annoys her, though. Everything in there being so... perfect. Not like Luna’s room, where everything goes together and compliments one another in a theme, but like she is supposed to live by somepony else’s rules, and act all fancy-like. Canterlot is far from home. Lyra enters the bathroom and takes a very deep breath, smiling a little. A hoof is lifted and slowly brought into the giant bathtub, which is nearly overflowing with bubbles. The tip of her hoof touches the surface, then descends slowly, making it feel like she’s gently putting on a heated sock. The steam and warm aura clears her head in an instant, making her a tad dizzy and revealing a large peaceful smile. She carefully submerges her other hooves and lets the heat take control of them, causing a cloud to fill her body. Slowly and delicately, she lays down in the bubbles, and flips over onto her back. A small moan of relief escapes her, but she cringes at the stinging; It hurts, but the relaxation is worth it. Bandages were given to her, but Lyra doesn’t think they’re necessary - a few little scrapes are nothing. Hmmmm... Bon-Bon.... love... proof... what to do, what to do. She lets the microscopic popping of hundreds of bubbles fill her thoughts and completely relax her, letting out a deep sigh. So... what makes me love her? She starts, diving deep into her mind. There’s the fact that I’m never nervous around her, so theres one. But I guess that’s just part of her bringing out the best in me; how does she do that? What makes her do that? She shifts around in the bubbles uncomfortably. Lets see here... she always does cook well... but - no, that’s not part of our love. Ugh, I know all the answers but I just can’t find them! I know she loves me and I love her... but no, that won’t work at all, It is so much deeper than that, but... how can I explain it to Luna? What makes love ‘tick’? What makes ours different than anypony else’s? And why now of all times? Can’t you just send me back, then worry about love? Deeper into the bubbles she sinks, blowing air and creating more in the water. Oh Bon-Bon, I just want to see you, hold you and love you... But you must be so disappointed right now, huh? I should have been there half an hour ago with your presents... oh please don’t be mad when I get there. Assuming I can get there. She feels progressively worse just by thinking. I hate cocoa. Clunk clunk clunk. Somepony knocks on the thick wooden door, slightly vibrating the bathtub. Her heart free-falls a little, both from being startled and the hope of not being bored. That’s the main problem Lyra has had in Canterlot. Who could that be? Luna? “Just a minute! I’m in the bath!” Lyra yells at the door, flailing and landing a hoof on the side of the tub, attempting to lift herself up. Rapidly, she climbs out of the tub, leaving water to cascade from her down to the floor. She violently shakes herself off, splattering water all over the mirror, walls and ceiling, leaving very little of the bathroom still dry. The warmness instantly drains from her body, causing her to shiver and grumble a bit. Her hooves clickety-clack on the bathroom floor, then thumpety-thump on the soft carpet as she rushes over to the bathrobe she threw to the ground. “Coming!” A green magical aura surrounds the robe and it quickly wraps itself around her, complete with a knot in front. The door swings open, revealing the owner of the hotel, who immediately turns bright red. “Oh. Uh, I, oh, um, I didn’t realize... sorry,” he says nervously. “Oh hello there! Sorry I was just in the bath,” she replies, then turns around. “Here, come on in a sec.” The blue stallion lifts a hoof to step forward, but then freezes. “Um, are you sure? I don’t want to intrude... but...” Lyra cranes her neck around to look back, still walking and subconsciously swishing her tail side to side. “But what? I don’t mind.” At least it’s somepony to talk to, thinking is boring. “... alright,” he says hesitantly as she sits on the sofa and beckons him, patting the cushion. “Come, sit. So what did you want?” “Um, well, you just seemed kind of... down, I suppose,” he starts, taking a seat next to the dripping wet lyrist, looking down to the tan carpet. “Like you had a lot on your mind... is there uh, something you want to talk about?” He continues, looking back up to her. His face is only slightly less red. Her heart drops a notch as she twists around, glancing this way and that. “Ummm... no, not really,” she lies. “But thank you.” “Are you sure? And it’s the least I can do, making you miss your train...” “Oh please, that wasn’t you, that was my own dumb fault.” She shows a wonky smile and darts her eyes to the ground, then back up. “Oh, and yes, I’m sure... it’s personal.” “Alright, I understand,” he agrees, nodding slightly. “But if you change your mind,” he continues, standing up and smiling a little. “You know where to find me.” He turns and starts to walk to the door, but Lyra stops him, “wait!” He spins to face her, showing a bigger smile. “I never got your name... I’m Lyra. Heartstrings” She slips off the couch and weakly curtsies. “I am Ray, Ray Glye.” Ray bows, making his long dark brown hair fall into his face. Lyra studies him as he turns back around, catching a glimpse of his cutie mark - the top of a skyscraper with a crescent moon behind it. “Well, have a good nights sleep Lyra, nice chatting with ya.” “Likewise, goodnight Ray.” The door swings open and shuts without another word, and she hears his hooves thump in the carpeted hallway. Well he was nice.  The mint green unicorn trots relaxedly back into the bathroom, with her hair still hanging low and wet, dripping water in a dotted trail along the carpet. She looks down into the bath water, thinking what to do. Should I? I’d just have to get out again so... nah. She reaches in and pulls up the little plug, letting the water funnel down the drain, making annoying gurgling noises that will surely last for a few minutes. She twirls around and looks in the mirror at her dripping hair and exhausted face, scolding herself once more for missing the train. Oh, Bon-Bon... Lyra leans on the counter, supporting her chin with her hoof. Alright Lyra, you can do this. All you need to do is just find exactly what makes you love her. It can’t be that hard, right? I mean, we’ve been together for such a long time, and nothing really that bad has happened, so that’s gotta count for something, right? She lets gravity take control of her head, slamming it down on the swirly marble counter. Ugggghhhhhh... I do need to talk to somepony, just to bounce ideas off of. And he does seem nice, so maybe I can talk to him tomorrow. Or tonight, I am kinda lonely, and he did say I could, but I don’t want to seem desperate or anything. Plus it’s been, what, twenty seconds? Talk about seeming needy. Or flip-floppity. Or pancakes. Her stomach grumbles uncomfortably. I wonder if there’s anywhere I can get pancakes this late. Or anywhere in Canterlot, everything here is so stupid, why can’t they just have some nice, cheap, junk food like everywhere else? Another gurgle. Screw it. I’m out. She throws on her tattered scarf and boots, then slides on out the door, hoping restaurants don’t close before 6:30. Though her whole body is worn and tired, she walks with a quick pace down the hall, into the elevator, and across the lobby to the front desk, because she really wants some food. And somepony to talk to. Ding! Lyra rings the bell at the empty counter. Ding! She does it again, harder, making a double ring from the little bounce the bell does. Ding! Ding! Dingdingdingdingdi- Ray steps out from around a corner and makes eye contact with the annoying guest. “Yeah, I hear ya! Quit i-!” Lyra stops slamming her hoof on the marble counter and smiles innocently, reminding herself of those three little foals in Ponyville. “Oh! Miss Lyra! How can I help you?” He asks, dropping his anger entirely. “Hey, yeah I got bored really quick and I want some pancakes. You wanna grab something to eat?” “Uuuummmmm...” His cheeks become tinted lightly with red as he glances to the ceiling, analyzing his brain for his schedule. “Umm,” he continues, cocking his head back to the corner he came around. “One sec.” He hastily walks over and peers around the corner, then shouts, “hey! Think you could cover for me? Just for a little?” A muffled “uuuuhhhh...” makes Lyra roll her eyes. “Overtime?” Ray suggests. “Alright cool, be back in a while,” he says, flicking a nod and turning back to Lyra, smiling delightfully. “Here, let me grab a coat.” He goes slightly out of the way and reaches under the reception counter, bringing up a deep brown coat that matches his hair. “Well, lead on,” he gestures to the unicorn as he steps out from behind the divider, letting the swinging separator door do it’s thing behind him. They start towards the door as Ray secures his jacket. “So... pancakes? You’re not from Canterlot at all, are you?” She chuckles, “try Ponyville.” “Ooh, Ponyville? That’s where uh... Rainbow Dash is from, right?” He asks as they take the first few crunkly steps into snow. “Um, yeah? How’d you kn- oh, right, rainboom Wonderbolt savey thing.” “Yup yup,” he replies, chuckling. “So you know where you’re going? ‘Cause I uh... I know a place.” “To be honest, I got lost the second you told me to lead. Canterlot confuses me beyond confusion, so yeah, lead on,” Lyra tells him, smiling. “Alright, so, about this place... do you...” he looks over to Lyra, leaning about an inch closer. “Do you drink?” Lyra blushes fully in the foggy night, remembering some... less than stellar... experiences with the sauce. The smoky breath rolls off of their faces under the streetlamps in a few moments of awkward silence. “O... On occasion,” she nods nervously, the cold beginning to gnaw at her uncomfortably. “B-But before we go any further, you should probably know what I wanted to talk about.” “Yes yes of course, here, we take a left up here,” he instructs, but still paying attention to the mint mare. “Well, basically, I need to come up with an explanation on why I love my special somepony, a mare, back in Ponyville, and I was hoping to uh, bounce some ideas and stuff,” she explains, hoping she’s not shooting him down too suddenly. As she feared, he suddenly stops in his tracks. Her heart slows and cracks, making the frost tear at her flesh. “Really?” He questions, looking over to her strangely. “Well, yeah.” He laughs and continues on walking, leaving her confused in the dark. “Wow,” he snorts, “me too. Well, I don’t have a special mare friend, or an explanation to give, but I mean I know what you feel.” He glances back to her, gesturing her to start moving again. “Kind of,” he continues. “See, I have a special somepony too, but it’s a stallion.” She did not expect that. “Wai-wai-wait, really!? I thought you’ve been hitting on me this whole time! Jeez, you scared me for a second there.” She starts back up, a smile finding its way back across her face. “Alright, here we are,” Ray says, walking up to a dark door. Muffled music reaches Lyra’s ears. It sounds like... jazz? in Canterlot? He swings the door open violently, letting warm air and loud music wash over the mare. Inside are dozens of ponies, eating, laughing, smiling, playing saxaphone and bass guitar, and some doing... un-Canterlot-like things. Mostly smiling and playing music. A raised hardwood stage is to her right, with six ponies playing some quick-paced jazz, most notably a grey mare with a black mane, who’s expertly playing what looks like a cello. Two on the trumpet, one on the saxaphone, and one on the drums. “Wh... what is this place?” Ray quickly finds a table with four chairs around it and sits, beckoning Lyra. “This,” he explains, “is a Canterlot secret. It has no name, but everypony who comes here knows how to bring it up. Some just call it the Place.” “It’s... amazing. Is that Octavia up there!?” She questions, taking a seat across from the blue stallion. The whole place is brightly dim, most of the light comes from the stage and a bar on the opposite side of the building. It’s loud but quiet, energetic but calm, and... wild. Lyra is already in love with the place, thinking about bringing Bon... Bon... there... That’s right! She needs to talk, not relax. But... it’s so cozy already, plus I still have tomorrow. But then again, the sooner I can get there the better, but come on! This place is so cool! And Octavia’s here! The unicorn argues with herself in her head, justifying her relaxation. “Yeah, that’s her. I think she’s uh...” he trails as the grey musician swiftly plays, finishing her solo. In the final few notes her energy increases greatly, and the bow comes up in the air, flicking towards the ceiling for dramatic effect. The whole room fills with applause and hollering as the mare relaxes, wiping her sweating forehead. Ray whistles and pounds the ground with his hooves, smiling at her. He raises a hoof and waves Octavia over, who sees him and smiles. She rests her cello on the wall and gently sets down her bow, then hastily trots over to the side of the stage and down the stairs, making her way towards the table. Ray and Lyra look towards each other and ask in unison, “you two know each other?” They smile and giggle a little as Octavia takes her seat in the wooden chair, lined with fancy designs made out of iron. “Lyra! Ray! How’s it going? You two know each other?” They exchange glances and smile brightly, then turn to the grey mare. “So, Tavi,” Ray starts, “Lyra here is stuck in Canterlot and wanted to chat a little, maybe you could help?” “Wait!” Lyra interrupts Octavia’s open mouth, ready to speak. “I don’t know if I want to talk about... that with her so much,” she says, but second guesses herself. She remembers Octavia is in relatively the same position, so she drops it. “Well, actually, nevermind.” “Alright then... so, Lyra, how are you? How’s Bon-Bon? Why are you in Canterlot?” “Well, I’m here because of Bon-Bon, I was getting some gifts, but I missed a train, now the princess is making me explain to her why, and Ray’s letting me stay in his hotel, and this place is cool, and I just don’t like cocoa anymore.” “Um, okay then. Why is Celesti-” “Luna,” she corrects Octavia. “Luna... making you explain...?” “Why I love Bon-Bon.” “Hm. Interesting. So how do you know Ray?” Ray clears his throat. “That was my bad. I accidentally tripped her when she was running, so I’m letting her stay in my hotel.” “Oh, well that’s nice. So Lyra, do you know how you’re going to explain it? Or is that why you need to talk?” “The latter. Ray was gonna help me out, but now I don’t know, this relaxing place is taking my mind away a little, and I’m getting a little thirsty,” she hints, hoping to get a drink to loosen up. Ray nods slyly and waves to a waitress like he owns the place. Octavia leans in to Lyra and whispers, “he’s the biggest donor to this place, and everypony knows him, so he gets a lot of respect.” “Ah.” “Alright, so what can I get you three? Might I suggest today’s special, the hard cranberry?” The white waitress with cobalt hair asks delightedly, like she’s genuinely happy to be there. “Oop, can I get one of those? With two lemon wedges please,” Tavi orders. “Ooh, cranberry lemon? I’ll try that too I think,” Ray seconds. “Umm, I almost never drink, and when I do it’s plain hard cider, so, any suggestions?” “In my opinion,” the waitress starts, “anything really. I don’t mean to brag, but every drink they make is great.” Just as she finishes her sentence fire shoots in the air from the bar counter, causing some cheering to sound over the music for a moment. “I’ll have what they’re having,” Lyra says slyly, sneaking a look at the drink just created. “Coming right up, be back in a sec.” She walks away and Ray leans forward on the table, looking intently at Lyra. “Those are pretty strong you know, you think you can handle it?” “I can try,” she jokes somewhat nervously. “So Tavi, how’s Scratch? And why are you playing underground jazz? It doesn’t seem like you.” “Yeah I know, but Vinyl, who’s doing fine as ever -- if you know what I mean -- has gotten me into this lifestyle a little bit. It really is exciting, but unfortunately, she hasn’t listened to me about the concert life. I think I’m getting to her though; how’s your music life doing? Anything new?” “Heh, well, I guess you could say that.” “Wait wait, you play an instrument too?” “Mm hm, the lyre. Kinda like a mini harp, but much more elegant. Arguably. Kinda like the french horn of the string instruments. Arguably, again,” she says, glancing to Octavia. The nervous pressure in the lyrist’s stomach that has remained there for her whole stay in Canterlot has disappeared entirely, and she hopes the alcohol will help even more. However, she knows she doesn’t handle it well, so she is planning to only take a few sips every now and again. Another flare in the background. She smiles and looks around again, studying the place. Baskets of food sit on every occupied table, which leaves very few tables without. Bread, sandwiches, flowers, hay fries, apples, and every other possible food item are flying into ponies’ mouths, many of which are intoxicated. “Here are your drinks, two cranberry-lemons with extra lemon and one fire.” She slides the tray of drinks off her back as Lyra opens her mouth to say, “it’s called fire? That’s it?” “Yup. Plain, simple, and exhilirating. Plus, it’s made with fire, so, yeah. Now what can I get ya’ll to eat?” “Ooh, you think I could get a big ol’ stack of pancakes?” “‘Course, back in a minute hun.” She turns and leaves, letting Lyra’s mouth hang open in disbelief. “So, let me get this straight... there’s an underground club slash restaurant where a famous musician plays jazz, ponies drink and eat pancakes late at night... in Canterlot?” They nod like it’s nothing.