Derpy's eyes were opened wide and shaking in their sockets.
"Oooooh," she sang as she rocked back and forth. "Pretty!"
"Ahhhh," Lyra said next to her, just as transfixed. "Isn't it mesmerizing, Derpy?"
She nodded her head emphatically. "Yup! It's so, so... so pretty!"
"You know, there are probably Breezie sprites in there," Lyra said.
"Really?" Derpy exclaimed with a gasp. "That's sounds amazing! Even though I don't know what Breezie sprites are, they sound really nice!"
"Oh no, not at all," Lyra corrected matter-of-factly. "Breezie sprites are horrible, demonic creatures that latch onto your head and suck you dry of all your happy memories, leaving you a cold and empty husk to drown eternally in their flaming eyes of endless suffering! Aren't they the best?"
"Ohhh...." Derpy was still puzzled. "Yeah, they're... err... really cool!"
Lyra's forehead creased. "It's okay, kid," she said, bouncy as always. "You know, Breezie sprites aren't very well documented because of myths that say they're made up, so we don't know a lot about them. Maybe we'll be the first ponies in all of Equestria to discover a friendly demon Breezie sprite!"
"I don't know..." Her ears drooped.
"Their wings are sparkly."
"Well, then they can't be all that bad!" said Derpy, perking up again like a flower in the sun. "How do we get them to come out?"
"My research," Lyra began, "says that Breezie sprites look for bold, confident ponies, since they're mostly likely the ones with the most happy memories to suck dry. So it's a good idea to open your eyes really wide and not blink if possible. Then, sing a happy song by them; that's always a good sign that you're defenseless against their teeth of death. Also, say 'pepper quill' a bunch of times. No clue why that one works. I saw it on a flyer by the Manehattan Theater, so I guess it has to be true. Isn't science funny that way?"
"Yeah! Ooh, I wonder if they like muf--"
"Let's find out, kid!" Lyra shouted, grinning from ear to ear. "You ready? One, two, three! My little pony! I used to wonder what friendship could be--"
Suddenly, the door was flung open, and in walked Octavia, dragging an instrument case behind her.
"You!" Lyra screamed, leaping to her hooves and pointing an accusing hoof at the newcomer. "I thought you were just incredibly antisocial, but now I know you're just ungoddessly dense! You do not appreciate this wonderful pegasus filly nearly enough!"
"I'm a special snowflake!" Derpy shouted in triumph, still unblinking.
"I swear," Octavia grumbled as she tried to catch her breath, "in another life, I'd never choose a bulky, heavy instrument like a cel..." She trailed off as she looked up at her two roommates. "Oh, for the love of Harmony, have you two honestly spent the past two hours staring at a potted plant?"
"Shh!" Lyra ordered, still concentrating fully on the tiny daisy. "Your rotten personality will never make the Breezie sprites come out!"
"Hi, Octy!" said Derpy with an enthusiastic wave. "How was your day today?"
"Oh, forget that grumpypants, kid," said Lyra.
"Yes, and how about you lead by example?" added Octavia, collapsing on the bed. "Ugh, after that brutal practice today, I just want to be left alone."
"Oh no!" Derpy cried. "Poor Octy! I'm sorry you had a bad day! Here, do you want a hug?"
"No!" Octavia screeched, scuttling away from Derpy's forelegs held in front of her like a zombie. "I want to live, I want to live!"
Lyra rolled her eyes. "What a drama queen," she remarked.
Octavia didn't even have an opening to retort as she trembled behind the Great Wall of Pillows she had created as a shield. "Thank you for your concern, Derpy, but really, I'm fine. Just..." Her face screwed up in pain. "Just being a drama queen like Lyra said."
"Oh." Derpy let her forelegs drop.
Phew. Octavia breathed a sigh of relief.
"But you get a best-friends' hug anyway!"
Octavia's heart nearly jumped out of her chest. "Wait, no, noooooooo!"
Lyra was close to tears by that point. "By Faust, she even does villain cliches!"
And with that, Derpy lunged in for the kill, breaking through the pillows to quarterback-tackle Octavia in a fierce hug.
"Can't... can't... breathe..." Octavia choked out before collapsing.
Lyra chuckled and walked over to the two mares. "Even I'm not cruel enough to torture her like that. Come on, Derpy, get off of her, before she develops even more psychological trauma."
"Okay!" The pegasus dived off the mattress like a diver from a springboard, somersaulted in the air, and landed lightly, gracefully, on her four hooves.
Behind her, Octavia trembled, her eyes wide in horror from under the sheets.
Lyra grabbed her saddlebag from the bedpost and a blue turban from who-knows-where. Then she bucked open the door and gestured with a silly flourish. "Let's get going, kid! It's time to paint the town red!"
"Ah, I simply love this town, you know?"
Together, the two young mares strolled through what could have only been Canterlot's shopping district. Lyra's telekinesis was laden with about a dozen shopping bags, all overflowing with the most curious of items. Sock puppets, ornate candle holders, a piece of red paper enchanted to fold into a lantern, the deed to a history museum, a foal's mobile, and something alive shifting around at the bottom of a hatbox.
"I mean, where else could you find a store that specializes exclusively in corkscrews from the year 766 ANM?"
"It's amazing," Derpy said breathlessly, not really paying attention. Though she had bought nothing and didn't plan on buying anything on their outing, her head was pivoting every which way, just as it had been for the past three hours. Her eyes, round as saucers, never lost their wonderment as they drank in the sights and sounds of that beautiful city.
"Of course, it's not perfect," Lyra continued, "at least, the ponies certainly aren't. Remember that couple who called us a pair of street urchins for gawking at that glow-in-the-dark wine cooler? But seriously, that store was so fun. China measuring cups? A vase of peacock feathers? The things rich people think of is hilarious!"
Derpy cocked her head to the side so she could see all Lyra's bags. "But I thought you were rich," she said.
"Oh, I guess I am in a way," Lyra answered with a shrug, "but not that kind of rich. I'm not high-class rich, the ones who live in the creepy old haunted mansions and can trace their roots back to the princess. My family's new money, from Fillydelphia. They're the ones who could go to those high-society balls, but only if they bribed their way in. Because it's not 'our city.'" Lyra's eyes were cast downwards. "But it is," she whispered. "It's my city."
Then the unicorn looked up and shook her head. "Oh, what am I talking about?" she asked, tapping the side of her head, as if her thoughts were water stuck in her ear. "Ooh, there's an ice cream vendor! Want some?"
Derpy nodded excitedly. "Yes, please!"
Together they ran up to the ice cream vendor, already hoofing out cones to the little fillies crowding around him. Derpy and Lyra eagerly joined the line, much to the surprise of the philanthropists passing by with their noses stuck in the air. Whenever she heard a disapproving humph, Lyra just adjusted her turban, smiled affectionately at the little fillies and colts, and looked away.
Finally, it was their turn. Derpy got coconut with chocolate-strawberry swirl. Lyra got vanilla.
"Really?" Derpy asked, holding back a giggle. "Nothing extra special like ravioli-pineapple?"
"Vanilla is extra special," Lyra said defensively. "It's a classic."
Lyra took the tip of her ice cream and smeared it on Derpy's nose. "There, now you're a classic too! And speaking of classic, how about we go someplace really amazing?"
Taking Derpy's hoof, Lyra ran through the dense crowd of ponies with ease. She darted around legs, under carts, over signs, through aghast shouts, in the air of that magical place. And with Derpy by her side, she felt amazingly light, unlike anything she had ever felt before. That mare was the most magical part of it all. Lyra's heart felt strange, exhilarated. She felt as if she could fly.
Then she remembered Derpy was a pegasus.
"Wee!" Derpy whooped as she flew so high that her hooves brushed the rooftops, her tiny wings apparently undeterred by Lyra's weight smashing into lampposts. "Wee! This is the best, Lyra!"
"I'm--" Crash! "--glad!" Crack! "But please--" Thud! "--can we--" Ow! "--land now?"
At that, Derpy finally looked down and realized how high up they were. "Oh. Okay!"
Derpy's wings snapped shut.
"Weeeeeeeeeeee!"
"If I die," Lyra shouted over the wind, "let me just say I have no regrets. Weeeeeeeee!"
Derpy made a graceful pirouette on a park bench, while Lyra crashed face-first into a pile of grass.
Lyra lifted her head and spit out a mouthful of dirt. "You are the craziest mare I've ever met, Derpy Doo," she said, grinning so much it hurt. "It's been an absolute honor."
Lyra sighed and sat down on the bench. "Good job on taking us exactly where I wanted to go, by the way," she said. "This is the Moonlight Grove," began Lyra, making broad, sweeping gestures to the willow trees with silver-tipped leaves that swayed lazily in the slow twilight wind. "Legend says that Princess Celestia commemorated this garden about 400 years before Canterlot Gardens, though a formal commemoration was never given. Apparently it was meant to be part of her private estate by the castle, but after her fight with Nightmare Moon, she changed the plans to keep it open it the public."
Lyra closed her eyes. "It has a sad history, which is probably why more ponies go to visit Canterlot Gardens. This place is a memorial to the lost castle in the Everfree, but also to anypony lost to violence or disharmony. They say the tears from ponies remembering the ones they love water the willow trees, giving them their silver leaves. I've always thought it's nice of the dead. I mean, you can see yourself in the leaves, so maybe they're saying that the ones you lose live on in you."
"That's beautiful," Derpy whispered.
For a while, the two mares sat in a comfortable silence under a silver willow tree. While there were still ponies milling around, there was a calmer, more peaceful atmosphere surrounding Moonlight Grove.
Then in the peaceful murmur of a slowing city, a delicate soprano slowly crescendoed: "Come now, my love, to the garden of stars. Where the ponies of nighttime do play. For it's cool and it's bright and the moon's safe at night. Come, my love, let's be up and away."
Derpy's ears perked up at the sound of Lyra's singing. "What song is that?" she asked.
Lyra shrugged her shoulders. "I have no clue," she said. "I just thought of it now. What, haven't you ever been in a spontaneous musical number?"
She shook her head.
"Really? Huh. Weird. You wanna sing with me?"
A blush rose to Derpy's cheeks. "Oh, I don't know, I'm not very good..."
"Which just proves to me that you need to sing with me. Come on, don't be shy." Lyra stood up and pressed her hoof against Derpy's. "Don't let me sing all alone; Octavia will think I'm crazier than I already am."
Maybe it was Lyra's exuberant smile, or the silver leaves like stardust, or the silver light reflected in Lyra's shimmering eyes, but something deep within Derpy prompted her to say, "Okay."
Then before Derpy knew what was happening they were already off. Lyra's bags and their ice cream cones were abandoned in favor of twirling through the willow trees. Somewhere in the spinning, Lyra's turban unfurled into a silk blue scarf wafting through the air. And still they danced around other ponies, who all stopped to watch - with wonder, not disgust - as they sang loud and strong:
Come now, my love, to the garden of stars.
Where the ponies of nighttime do play.
For it's cool and it's bright and the moon's safe at night.
Come, my love, let's be up and away.
There's nothing to fear if you stay close to me.
We're soaring, we're falling, we're rising in song.
Don't close your eyes, lest you leave from this dream.
Come, my love, let's be up and along.
As the morning sun rises, the time's come to part.
Don't see it, don't see it, the moon holds us tight.
Silver's worth far much more than gold in my heart.
Stay, my love, it's a magical night.
Derpy was a painter. She didn't plan to paint that day. Yet she did, but not with sprite sparkles or red. She painted the town with silver.