//------------------------------// // Prelude // Story: Sketchy Salad Symphony // by Sketchy Sounds //------------------------------// The dull white noise of rain hitting stone echoed through the lamp-lit streets of Canterlot. It was a dreary autumn evening, the sky overhead hung with drab grey clouds. It was hardly weather to be out in, unless you had taken leave of your senses. Certainly, that was what Salad Sandwich mused to herself as she set about cleaning up the shop floor of Graze, the family-run sandwich bar belonging to her parents. The young unicorn busied herself with sweeping up the floor, cleaning the counter-tops, wiping down the tables, and all that other sort of busy work, humming to herself all the while. It’d been a fairly slow day today, not least because it was starting to get colder outside these days as the year pressed on toward winter. You always felt the biting chill of the wind up here in the mountain city a good while before winter ever actually came in full force. Just as she was about to stow away the mop and bucket, her ear flicked as she heard a quiet, steady sound over the rain. It sounded like a horse-drawn cart, headed this way. Who would be out on a night like this, drawing a cart? she wondered to herself, but she paid it little heed for the time being. However, the noise increased in volume, finally prompting her to take a glance out the shop’s glass front. Sure enough, a cart drawn by a single horse was moving slowly down the street. The horse in question was covered with a thick raincoat draped over its head and back. Whether it was a colt or a filly she couldn’t really be sure, although whichever it was, he or she was looking a sorry sight. She felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor thing, but it looked as though he or she knew where they were going. She turned away from the window and was about to head up a flight of stairs into the family home above the shop when she heard the clopping of hooves and the slow rumble of wheels grind to a halt. She stopped in her tracks, glancing over her shoulder. A silhouette darkened the window. In an instant, she recognised it as the same figure she’d just seen before. She frowned slightly to herself, trotting back toward the shop door as she saw the shape outside do much the same. There came a soft rapping at the door in a staccato pattern. A brief glow of her horn saw to the task of partially opening the top of the door, and she peered a little hesitantly out at the sodden figure as the rain pattered loudly behind them, squinting her eyes a bit as the cool and damp night air blew in. “You... do know we’re closed, right?” she said, slowly, with a slight air of suspicion in her voice. “Yep, I can see that.” came the reply. “So, why’ve you come knocking so late in the day?” It was, after all, past sunset by a fair while - and whilst Canterlot was a vibrant and active city during both day and night, Graze wasn’t a 24 hours a day establishment. “I’m... looking for a friend of mine.” came the reply. The voice was unmistakably masculine, though the accent was curious. It sounded like some sort of blend of the typical upper-class Canterlot and something else very rural. That, and... something else about it sounded somehow familiar, but Salad couldn’t place her hoof on it. Before she could utter another word, the stranger spoke up again. “Uhm.... this, ah, is Graze, right? The Sandwich family shop? I mean, if it’s not, then I’m sorry, and I’d love some directions...” Salad tilted her head at that, and then her eyes began to widen a little. The stranger apparently noticed this, and at the same time, shifted his head forward a bit. She caught a glimpse of ocean green eyes under the hood, and a pale white-grey coat as he shuffled forward a bit, peering at her. “...Sally?” he said in incredulous tones. Salad gasped. Outside of her family, there was only one other she’d ever known who called her that - or rather, whom she allowed to call her that. “Sketchy!?” she gasped, taking a step or two back. “Goodness me, is that you!? It’s been, what... how many years!?” The colt poked his head through the door’s top opening, deliberately catching his hood on the frame; this revealed a light brown coloured mane and the same ocean green eyes as before - and now, Salad could see, a huge grin on his face. “Strike me dead! Little Sally Sandwich. Or not so little now, I guess... Uhm, I know it’s asking a massive favour and all, but... would your folks mind if I crashed here tonight? I’ve just gotten here from Shetland. My hooves are killing me, and I’m soaked... and it’s cold... and I’m miserable...” he trailed off, his smile starting to fade and his gaze shifting downward. Salad frowned slightly at that. She’d known this particular pony since the two of them were foals, almost, and in all this time, she’d only ever seen this sort of look on his face a scant few times. None of them had been pleasant. She cast the thought aside for the moment, however, and focused on the more immediate task of lightening her friend’s mood. “I don’t care if they tell me off.” she grinned. “There’s no way I’m leaving you out on the street. Bring your cart through the arch, I’ll go tell them what’s going on.” Her ploy worked, as the greyish pony’s face immediately lit up once more with a smile. “Thanks, Sally. I knew I could count on you!” “Anytime, sugar-cube.” Salad replied, turning and galloping off up the stairs. Some time later, the two of them were sat in the living room of the Sandwiches’ above-shop home, huddled by a warm fire. “So lemme get this straight,” Salad asked her friend, “yer movin’ back ta Canterlot?” Now that she was off-duty as a representative of the business, she’d dropped the well-practiced, formal tones and speech she usually adopted whilst behind the counter in favour of her ordinary, more rustic manner. Her friend nodded his head. “That’s right, Sally.” he replied, a grin on his face. “I’m old enough now to look after myself and, what with my mum getting ready to move and her parents having passed... well, there was precious little keeping me in Shetland. So I figured, now was the time to come back here and make a fresh start, in a manner of speaking. Especially when I realised what it was I wanted to do with myself. I figure I’ve more of a chance of living my dreams here than there.” Salad turned her eyes momentarily to her friend’s flank, which, last time she’d ever seen him, had borne no marking of his special talent. This was no longer the case, however, as the colt’s flank nowadays was emblazoned with a combination of two things: a pencil threaded through the prongs of an alto clef; a mark declaring to the world that this was a pony whose talents of music and art with the pencil were tied strongly together. She smiled to herself, looking back to his face. “Ah can see that.” she said. “Ah’m glad tuh see y’ finally got yer mark. Ah was a mite concerned when yuh left and y’ were still blank as could be.” Her friend’s response to this was simply to grin and nod. “I was, aye. But I’d always had this feeling that it was those two things that I was destined for. I just... I don’t know, I’d always had my doubts. Up til the day I sat down with one of my teachers and had a heart-to-heart about it all, then came home and told my mum I knew what I wanted to do with my life. Next thing you know... bam.” he said, a nostalgic expression creasing his features. Salad nodded, peering again briefly at the mark. “...ma music theory ain’t spectacular.” she admitted, before asking “That’s a, uh... tenor clef, ain’t it? Or is it an alto?” “Well, technically it’s either.” Sketchy replied. “But it fits me. I’m certainly no treble.” The rosy-coloured unicorn let out a giggle as she made a bad joke. “Yup, no treble at all!” Her earth pony friend rolled his eyes at that, laughing. “That was terrible, Sally!” She grinned back at him, enjoying the shared joke for a few moments. Seeing him here in front of her again stirred a lot of old memories: when she was still just a foal, her and the grey-white pony had spent many happy days playing together. Really, he’d been more like a big brother than just a friend; the two of them had been almost inseparable growing up. They’d gone to the same nursery, then the same school, and their individual circles of friends had always included each other. Sitting here and talking again, it was almost as though he’d never left; the memory of a few years spent apart seemed like some sort of strange dream. She snapped out of her internal musings when she saw him cocking his head at her. “Bit for your thoughts, lass?” he said, a small smile playing round his mouth. Salad’s own expression broke into a broad smile as she got up from where she was sat, walked over and plonked herself down on the floor next to him. She leaned into him gently, and tucked the top of her head under his chin, taking care not to poke him there with her horn by accident. “Ah was just thinkin’, if yuh wanna know, that it’s real nice tuh have yuh back. Ah’ve missed yew somethin’ sore, hon.” She heard him let out a happy sigh, and felt his weight against her as he leaned back into her in kind, slightly. “Ditto, Sally. You’re the little sister I never had... it’s good to be home.” “...home... that’s a point, hon, where are yuh gonna live?” she asked, taking her head out from under his chin and glancing up at him, a small note of concern in her voice. “Oh, that’s taken care of. You know the Old Chapel on Beech Grove? I’m moving into one of the apartments there.” he answered. “I know it’s hardly luxury accommodation, but it’s a roof over my head and that’s what matters.” “It is, at that.” Salad agreed. “Well that’s good. Fer a moment I was worried that maybe yuh’d just dived on in without thinkin’.” “Nah, not this time.” Sketchy replied with a hint of a laugh. “I made sure to think it through. The only uncertainty in it all was managing to find a roof on my arrival here. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pick up my keys the same day I arrived, after all. I’m glad you hadn’t moved shop since last I was here.” “Not likely, hon.” she replied. “This here’s our home, after all. And there’re always gunna be hungry ponies tuh feed.” “True. Speaking of which...” he replied, a mirthful undercurrent in his voice. She smiled at that, getting to her hooves. “CLTC on hearty white, right?” she inquired, a twinkle of happiness in her eyes. The large earth pony nodded, his face cracking into a grin. “Spot on. Not that I expected any less.” “A good shopkeeper remembers her regulars’ favourites!” Salad replied over her shoulder as she trotted into the kitchen. “Even if they ain’t been around in years.” she added with a wink as she went to prepare her old friend his favourite sandwich. That left Sketchy on his own to reflect on things for a little while, as Salad had a tendency to fall silent when working in order to focus on her task. It was something she’d always taken very seriously, which was something he thought was a brilliant quirk of her nature. Still, he mused, if you were going to do something and do it well, it was important to have focus. This was part of why he’d taken the decision to move back to Canterlot, among other things. In Shetland, thanks to the small size of the community, it was difficult to find solitude. It wouldn’t be right to say that he was anti-social, of course; if anything, Sketchy was a pony known for being a friendly and overall agreeable sort. However, in the small Shetland community, it was difficult to ever get a good amount of time to yourself. The locals, it seemed, had raised socialising to an art form, and it was one in which every pony there was a master at. Coupled with a small population, this meant not a day went by without there being some pony stopping by to natter your ear off about this, that, or the other. It wasn’t that this annoyed him--well OK no, it did annoy him a bit--it was just that, with everyone being so sociable all the time, it meant less time on his own for doing his own thing, and following his own interests. Here in the big city, he’d be a stranger to most - and hence, able to blend into the crowds, vanish from sight. And get some peace and quiet all day long, if he needed. That last thought brought with it a smile and a sigh of relief, as he contemplated the idea that, finally, he’d be able to take time to do his own thing once in a while. As he continued musing on the idea of becoming familiar with the concept of “me time”, a delicious-looking and mouth-wateringly smelling sandwich floated before his eyes, sat on a pastel blue plate and held aloft in a soft pink glow. “Bon appetit, Sketchy.” came Salad’s voice from the side. He looked round to see her grinning at him, and he returned the expression with a grin of his own, and a nod. “Cheers, Sally. You’re a gem.” he said thankfully, tucking into the snack. The taste of crisp vegetables and creamy cheese sandwiched between fresh bread hit his taste-buds in a cascade of flavour - though what it tasted of more than anything else was the relief found at the end of an arduous trek, and the hope and expectancy of new things on the horizon.