//------------------------------// // See The Moon So Bright // Story: In The Belly Of The Lights // by Miller Minus //------------------------------// It was scarce at the ball that night. Usually, the castle ballroom would be filled to the doors with the regal, the posh, and the dazzling Canterlot elite; but that night, in the familiar yellow glow of Canterlot's higher estates, whether it was through a mishap in scheduling or a missing bag of invites, it was scarce. The most excited guest from the lead-up felt alone in the idle chattering. It wasn't for all the missing guests, but just one. It was an hour before she left the ball. She gave herself a full hour of cordial greetings, pleasant mingling and business meetings; but after the sixth glance at the clock, she left. She trotted to the garden doors, opened them quietly and slipped away. Only one member of the party noticed her final glance, her final sigh, and her exit to the garden. There was no fanfare, there were no happy or sad goodbyes; she was simply ready to leave. He peered out the window to see her saunter away, sit on a stone bench and look skyward. When her eyes hit the moon, her expression transformed into one of listless bliss. He rudely waved away his conversation partner and followed her, eager to cast off the golden glow of the ballroom and seek a place next to her in the silver. The half-moon greeted her by painting her scarlet dress in a solemn glow. It sat with her on the stone, lazily but surely holding to her form. The pearls in her carefully tossed mane and tail glimmered in the new light more brilliantly than in the old, and the precious stones embedded in her necklace cast unequal patterns underneath her chin. The unmoving painting stared at the moon's face, as if engaging in muted conversation with its light. "Is your date in the can?" the stallion asked when he arrived, studying the face that betrayed the sad scene around her. Her smile faded and she rumpled her nose, not taking her eyes off the moon's embrace. "In a manner of speaking, I suppose," she replied, carrying the words to him with fitting poise. He sat down a pace away from her on the bench and watched as she shared her smile with him momentarily before returning it to her friend among the stars. After almost a minute of silence, he inquired again, and she revealed that she had been invited to the ball through an eloquent letter, signed by a stallion from a well-known, upper-class family. The letter expressed interest in her company, as opposed to her business. "It was a match made by Princess Cadance herself," she explained as her smile became aloof. “Him, the son of the wealthy, entrepreneurial Brand family; me, the diversified fashion designer with a growing clientele, turning heads across all of Canterlot with her designs, but... I suppose she had other plans for me." The stallion shifted in his spot instead of speaking. "Truthfully," the mare continued, "I'm half expecting my friend Rainbow Dash to jump out from behind the flowers and reveal herself as the master prankster. And then we could laugh at my foolishness, grab some ice cream, and catch the next train home. But..." Her listener surveyed the plants for a sign of the trickster, but they were the only two in the garden. "...It looks like I'm riding alone tonight." The unicorn mare unzipped a hidden pocket underneath her chest and pulled out a silver pocket watch. She glanced at it, sighed, and hid it away again. "So why don't you look sad?" the stallion finally asked, rubbing his foreleg and accidentally scuffing his suit jacket with dirt. "Well, to be honest I've spent all of the past week worrying about tonight," she confessed. "I thought of every question, every answer, and everything that might turn this night into another... Gala, as it were. I checked and rechecked my dress. I wrote scripts for us to follow in my mind. I..." She shook her head, still smiling, still staring. "But then he didn't show up," her visitor surmised. "Either that or he saw me across the way and simply changed his mind." "I still don't understand." She turned her smile to him again. "Well," she began, "my night wasn't a complete waste. It wasn't a waste at all, in fact. I now have a meeting with two barons of the fashion industry scheduled for next week, and I have a new line of formal wear that I'll have to get started on bright and early tomorrow morning if I'm to have any hope of finishing before Tuesday. And on top of that, I even had a pleasant catching-up with my good friend Fancy Pants. I may not have met my handsome and princely stallion tonight, but in the end, I suppose..." She looked back to the moon one final time and shrugged her shoulders loosely. "…I'm numb to that idea," she whispered. They both glanced back at the golden scene playing out in the ball. The ponies were enthralled with each other's company, sharing exquisite hors d'oeuvres and scattering stories with laughter that leaked through the windows. None of them noticed the estranged members in the garden. "So what's your story?" the mare inquired. "Uh," he stuttered as he rubbed a hoof on the back of his neck, scattering hairs onto his sleeve, "kinda the same as yours. My date didn't really show up, either. Except... I didn't get anything done in there." He laughed suddenly but dropped it when she didn't join him. "So when's your next train?" he deflected. "Not for another ten minutes. Although, they are running every half-hour tonight. I may stay a while longer, yet. After all, it would be a shame to let such a beautiful night..." She looked up to see a deep blue cloud now shielding her from the moonlight. She frowned and retrieved her watch again. "Hey, so listen," the stallion chimed while she stashed the timepiece away, "I kinda had this whole thing planned for me and my date tonight. We were gonna hang out at the ball, then I was gonna take her down to the city... We were gonna... well... get my money's worth." He laughed again and pulled a wad of beaten up tickets out of his coat pocket. He lightly shook them in his hooves while covering them in a disappointed sigh. She noticed in their mess they were folded into identical pairs. "I'm sorry it went to waste," she said tepidly. He stood up from his seat and stuffed the tickets away, before dressing himself in a rather dangerous looking smile. "But it doesn't have to! Hey, how about we stick it to the ponies who ditched us, huh? Really show 'em that just 'cuz they don't wanna show, doesn't mean it's gonna ruin our night. Whaddya say? Wanna blow this place and go see what else is happening in Canterlot? It's on me." She smiled warmly and shook her head. "I'm flattered, sir, truly I am, but I don't even know your—" "Patchwork!" he interrupted. "Patchwork?" "But you can call me Patch." He held a toothy grin between his wide, desperate eyes; and for a moment, she recognized it. She had seen it many times before on the face of the friend who never failed to cheer her up: the generous wish for happiness and the eagerness to please. She was at home in Ponyville, likely planning for somepony's birthday party, but her pleading smile had somehow travelled without her. "I suppose there's no harm in it," she finally replied, smirking and raising a hoof for him to take. "Rarity." "Alright, let's go!" Patchwork turned away and skipped towards the garden's front gates. Rarity left her hoof dangling for a few seconds before raising an eyebrow at him. He stopped and looked back confusedly. "You coming?" he called. Rarity stood up and removed the small amount of dirt on her deep-red dress with her magic. She tightened the stoned brooch around her neck and narrowed her eyes at the stranger. His coat was a burnt tan, and his mane was a striking yet disheveled sky blue. His cutie mark was of two horseshoes, clanging together if the decal behind them was any indication. His bow-tie sat loosely around his neck, and the dirt on his sleeve had not been cared for. But then she noticed his shoes. They were two deftly assembled collages of leather, built for dancing, running, and any other stress he could put them through. They were not new, but their age had been well hidden by stitches and polish. She gave one last look to the ball, filled full with formality and familiarity, before surveying him again. "Hmmm."