//------------------------------//
// At the Gala 
// Story: The Gemstone Quartet 
// by Lunafilly 
//------------------------------//

Lyrica checked her watch, which read four forty-five, plenty of time to meet her sister at the train station. She opened her door and trotted down the hall of her apartment building.
I've always disliked that train. A pink eyesore, if you ask me. Still, one can't be taking taxis everywhere. Lyrica stood on the sidewalk and fixed her hair for the fifteenth time. Not only did she dislike the train, she also disliked waiting for it, the feeling of being beholden to some visitor from some other city.  just before a black and gold pegasus smashed directly into her at high speed. The pony wore goggles and the uniform of a Wonderbolt, and her mane and tail were disheveled.
"Whoops! Hey, I'm Midnight Strike, and I'm looking for work! You know about a job I could maybe get?" said the pegasus, who was apparently named Midnight Strike. 	
"You lout! Out of my way!" Lyrica yelled, storming through the hall.
It disgusts me when I come across mares like that, who simply don't know how to behave. Ugh! If she were raised in a barn, she'd have better manners! Lyrica continued towards her destination, breaking into a run when she neared the station. She arrived momentarily, winded and panting heavily. She waited around for a moment, pacing back and forth. After a few tedious minutes, she spotted her sister getting off the train.
"Oh, Royal! Right on time, as always!" Lyrica said, galloping up to Royal Ribbon. Royal responded with equal verve.
"Sister, dear! It's lovely to see you. Would you like to get dinner first, or go pick out our Gala wear?" she said, smiling ingratiatingly.  
"Let's cut to the chase and go shopping first," Lyrica answered. Royal was quick on the uptake, and introduced some further plans of her own.
"If we have a late dinner, there's a fashion show we can attend after that!" said Royal, clearly up for whatever Lyrica decided. Lyrica nodded in turn, and Royal gestured in the general direction of the boutique she wished to patronize, while pulling a map out of her saddlebags.
"The Carousel Boutique is over that way, so let's get going!" said Royal. The two mares bustled over to the Carousel Boutique, reaching their destination quickly and without incident. They were greeted at the door by Rarity, who seemed extremely pleased to have customers.
"Oh, hello there, darlings! I have several excellent pieces for sale that I think will suit you very well!" said Rarity, leading the sisters inside. She showed them over to the clothing racks, pulling out a ruffled saddle, choker and bow set that had a color scheme perfectly matching Royal's blue eyes (as well as complementing her pink coat and blue mane). Royal nodded approvingly.
"Well, this just looks gorgeous!" she said, pulling a small sack of bits from her saddlebag. Lyrica cringed at the amount of money the ensemble cost.
"On a budget, dear?" Rarity said, giving Lyrica a sympathetic look. Lyrica nodded grudgingly, and Rarity led her over to a shelf of accessories hidden behind a velvet curtain. Lyrica perused it for a moment, before deciding on her selections: a costume pearl necklace, a sash with a rose on it, and a small feather hat that happened to match her earrings precisely. Rarity smiled approvingly.
"Why, you look downright glamorous!" she said. Lyrica made her purchase, and walked out of the store with Royal, waving politely to the proprietor on her way through the threshold. The newly outfitted siblings went on to the fashion show, which they pretended to enjoy for the benefit of Rarity, who sat nearby them and seemed to like the model quite a lot, though she acted in a manner that could be considered crude and unattractive. The mare had on a lovely dress and her hair was done up beautifully, but her routine consisted of doing bizarre things such as scratching herself and floating upside down across the stage. At dinner, Lyrica and Royal laughed and were glad to have something to talk about, even if it was only a small town fashion show.  After the two mares had eaten their fill, Royal headed home, and so did Lyrica, though her travel time was briefer. Lyrica turned off the lights and slipped into bed, satisfied with her day. 
A week later, Lyrica was freshly washed, primped, and prepared for what she was certain would be an extremely unpleasant day at the Gala.
I have to go watch Octavia play her stolen show... but I told Royal I would go. Why did I say that?
"I spent all that money on the accessories too," she worried aloud. On her trip to Canterlot, she could not shake her mood. Lyrica snapped at everypony who happened to come near, and she yelled at a blue stallion who had the misfortune to step on her hoof. Lyrica tapped out a beat on the floor of the train, the song she had been planning to play on her lyre at the Grand Galloping Gala. For hours, she had practiced, hoping that her appearance would be acclaimed by an attending reporter, Marey Fetlock (who Lyrica had always had a crush on). Lyrica replayed her fantasies in her head, scoffing at her recent hopes. 
"As if anything would have come of it," she said, snorting. Despite her self-scorning, her mockery felt hollow. She turned deeper and deeper in her own mind, exploring every outdated reverie present in her head, regretting the moment when she finally had to return to reality. When she did, her mouth tasted sour and her eyes stung. She arrived at the Gala in a terrible mood, and this was worsened by her sister's evident cheer. 
"Hello, Lyrica!" said Royal. Lyrica managed a smile.
"Hello, Royal. Lovely to see you," she said, making a last-ditch to appear happy and sane. The two walked in together, and they drifted around the party while chattering idly for a few minutes. After an affected conversation with some Wonderbolt or other, Royal eventually left to chat up a brown stallion who was standing over by the snack table, leaving Lyrica on her own. Lyrica winced as Octavia came onstage with her fellow musicians, and counted to ten repeatedly to stop herself from screaming. She bounced from hoof to hoof, breathing loudly and swallowing large quantities of fruit punch. She was about ready to cry when a pink pony with a puffy mane and tailored dress bounced onto the stage, after which the band reluctantly played the pony pokey. Unable to conceal her pent-up rage, Lyrica exploded at the pink mare. 
"Young lady, this is not that kind of party!" she said, channeling her suddenly-misdirected aggression. The pink pony looked on the verge of tears, and Lyrica was just beginning to apologize when she was approached by Marey Fetlock. Marey's perfect blonde ringlets bounced, and her violet eyes glimmered. She wore a purple ruffled dress that looked beautiful and expensive. Lyrica was bowled over by the reporter's looks, but she almost spit out her punch when she heard the question that the attractive journalist asked her.
"So, how do you feel about the sudden loss of your last shot at fame, Ms. Lilac?" said Marey. Lyrica's face turned red, and she gulped down the remainder of her drink.
"How did you know that I was going to play here?" she said. Marey grinned in a sickening manner, her sneer accompanied by her sparkling white teeth and derisive laugh.
"Oh, no pony is impervious to a few bits, least of all Lyra Heartstrings," she said. 
"Why are you interviewing me in the first place?" said Lyrica. She was sweating, shaking, and trying in vain to steady herself.
It's like trying not to drown in a tidal wave. Also, the tidal wave is made of piranhas.
Marey snickered.
"I needed filler. Anyway, how do you feel about Octavia Melody?" she said. If Lyrica had been trying not to drown, her attempts were made futile by this last bit of flesh pulled from her bones.
"I WILL DESTROY HER!" she shrieked, noticing that her anguish had gained an audience.
I don't care. Celestia damn them all, may they burn in Tartarus for the rest of their days. I can't believe I thought that evil reporter was attractive! Lyrica ran from the Gala, and never looked back, taking a near-empty train from Canterlot. She tapped her hoof on the train floor, no longer to any beat. She muttered to herself over and over again, the same word.
"Why, why, why, why," she said. It wasn't a question, and it eventually ceased to be a word. It just became a chant, a sound, an expression. It lost any meaning it might have had, an inquiry posed to nopony, repeated endlessly into the night.