//------------------------------// // The Face-Off // Story: The Velveteen Mask // by Crystal Wishes //------------------------------// "I hate her," Velvet spat as she slammed an empty mug down on the counter, then yelled, "Bartender! Another!" Nightingale squeezed Velvet's shoulder. "Look, I know you're upset, but—" Velvet glared at her. "But what? But I shouldn't drink? Why? Why shouldn't I?" Nightingale winced and shrunk back from her. "Drinking should be for fun," she whimpered. "Not because you're angry." "And why not?" Velvet turned her narrowed gaze to the mug that was set in front of her. "The bartender doesn't seem to mind!" "Well, that's because you're paying him not to mind." Nightingale sighed. "Okay, just finish this drink, then you can sleep it off at my place?" "Don't tell her what to do!" a mare's voice cried, and they turned to see Lazuli sitting a few stools away. One of her eyelids was halfway closed and a snarl twisted her mouth. "Today was rotten! Hours, wasted! Hours, gone! All because Little Miss Perennial wants to bolster her fame!" Velvet rolled her eyes and gestured both hooves at Lazuli, glaring up at Nightingale. "See? See? I'm not the only one who's angry! I think you're the weird one for not being angry!" Nightingale sighed. "I am angry, I just... I don't think this is a healthy way to be angry. Let's go out and yell at the night sky, or throw some popcorn off the side of the city! That way, nopony gets hurt, and nopony does anything they'll regret." Velvet downed the hard cider and tapped the mug against the counter. "Bartender!" Rage bubbled over. She knew Perennial was self-absorbed, but this pushed it to a whole new level. It was almost hard to breathe from the anger that was constricting Velvet's throat. She wanted to cry, she wanted to yell, she wanted to punch Perennial right in the face, she— "I know what I'll do," Velvet mumbled, a smirk starting to curl her lips. Nightingale's wings flicked out as worry crossed her expression. "Velvet?" Velvet started to snicker. "Oh, I know exactly what I'll do." "Velvet, what are you thinking?" Nightingale bit her lower lip. "Let's just get you home and maybe make crazy decisions in the morning when you're sober." Velvet just grinned at nopony in particular as the plan formed in the back of her mind. Perennial had better look out. Velvet was coming for her. Or, to be more specific, her title. --- "Can you just do that?" Dawn shifted to sit upright on the couch. "Can you just take her role?" Velvet waved a hoof. "Of course I can! I just have to be better than her, that's all. Now, pay attention." She rose up onto her hind legs and readied herself. "Let me know how this looks." She danced across the small space of Dawn's living room. Over and over, she repeated her self-made mantra under her breath: "I am a swan." Grace. Dignity. Poise. Every move had to be perfect. Flawless. There was no room for error. No room for mistakes. Perennial never made any—at least not while performing. Velvet had to be the very best, even better than Perennial. "No!" Velvet glared down at her left hind leg when it skidded rather than glided. "No, no, no, that's not right. Wait, let me try again." Dawn smiled and wiggled her ears. "I think it looked great!" Velvet paused to stare at the mare. Trying to combine practice with spending time with Dawn might not have been her best idea. Dawn knew nothing about ballet. Velvet could only be so aware of herself; she needed a pair of eyes that knew what to look for. Slowly, Dawn's ears drooped. "Or... not?" "Huh?" Velvet blinked, then grinned and shook her head. "Sorry, I was in my head. Don't worry about me." Dawn slid off the couch. "I am worried, though." She walked up to Velvet and nuzzled their cheeks together, mumbling, "This is really important to you, and I want to support you, but I don't know what I can do." Velvet inclined her head to nibble on Dawn's ear. "You're fine, babe. You watching me is more than enough." It wasn't, but she definitely couldn't tell Dawn that. A small shiver ran through Dawn from the intimate touch. "A-Are there any parts that need a partner?" "Er, well, yeah, but—" "I want to try!" Dawn pulled back and beamed up at her. "What can I do?" Velvet raised her brow. This was a waste of precious time she could be spending on practice, but what could she say? Nothing? That would just hurt Dawn's feelings. Maybe she should have just stayed home. She put on her best smile and asked, "Well, do you feel confident standing upright?" Dawn stood up. Though she wobbled a bit, she kept her balance. "Yup!" "Okay." Velvet stood as well. "Now, put your hooves on my waist." Once Dawn did so, Velvet put all of her weight onto her right hind leg and raised the other legs into a high arabesque. "Now, move in a small circle to help me turn about on my hoof." While Dawn giggled and carefully guided them in a circle, Velvet went over the rest of the routine in her head. She had so much practice to do and so little time. Auditions would be held in four days, though that was largely just to pick understudies. Everypony would have the same role they had during the initial performance. But if Velvet had her way, that would change. Perennial had had her time to shine long enough. It was Velvet's turn. "How was that?" Dawn asked as Velvet lowered her left hind leg. "Did I do okay?" Velvet flashed a smile. Okay? Well, it was slow, choppy, wobbly, and still a waste of time, but honesty was not the best policy in this situation. "Better question is, did you have fun?" Dawn shifted from one hoof to the other before she let go of Velvet and dropped down onto all fours. "Well, I don't think ballet is for me, but it might be fun to learn enough so I can help you practice." "Oh yeah?" Velvet laughed and tapped Dawn on the nose. "Maybe next time, cutie, when I'm not in a rush." Dawn went briefly cross-eyed before focusing her gaze on Velvet, her expression brightening. "I can take lessons! Do you recommend anypony?" "Recommend? I, uh, well." Velvet tried to offer a casual shrug. "My old teacher might be a bit too, uh, advanced. She didn't really do the basics. Maybe look around? If you really want to do this. It's really okay. I can practice by myself." She cleared her throat. "Which I should get back to, if you want to start on lunch or something?" "I can do that!" Dawn trotted into the kitchen, a spring in her step. "That I don't even have to take lessons for!" She giggled as she started to rummage through the pantry. With Dawn distracted for the moment, Velvet stood up and started the routine over. She was a swan. She was grace. Dignity. Poise. Every move had to be perfect... --- Four days wasn't nearly enough time to practice for such a complicated and demanding role like Odette, but time waited for nopony. Conveniently, Crystal had taken a short vacation to go visit her publisher in Manehattan, which gave Velvet plenty of time to dedicate to practicing without distraction. Sweat clung to every inch of her as her performance came to a close and she struck the final pose: forelegs in fourth position, left hindleg in fifth position, right hindleg stretched out croisé derriere. She hurt all over, but the adrenaline rush kept her from falling to the floor in a crumpled, aching mess. The music faded out just after she finished moving. She had done it. She hadn't missed a single step, and her timing had been impeccable. She had really done it! "Very good," Beauchamps said, clapping his hooves together. The other members of the board did the same. "You would make a wonderful Odette." The pain that had seeped into her very soul dissipated at the words. She dropped down onto all fours and smiled. Through her panting, she managed to say, "Thank you!" "But—" And just like that, her heart sank. "—as you know, Perennial is our prima ballerina. I'm afraid we can't simply take the principal role of Odette away from her." Velvet's lower lip trembled as a new wave of pain—different from before—crashed over her. "R-right." "We would be happy to have you be her understudy alongside Beryl, though." Beauchamps gave her the lightest of smiles. "I wasn't aware that you were interested in this style of ballet." "Right," Velvet said dumbly. Emphasis on dumbly. What was she thinking? Did she really believe she had what it took to take the role? She puffed her chest in a show of false bravado and tried to smile. "Thank you for the opportunity." She turned and hurried toward the door. What had come over her? Too much alcohol, that was what. Too much alcohol, too much anger, and foolish confidence. She was nothing like a swan! She was a goose that had honked too loudly. Perennial would always be at the top, and there was nothing she could do about it, except— "Velvet Step," the very pony's voice said. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Velvet came to a stop and listened to the hoofsteps approaching her from behind. "Find out what, Perennial?" she asked, trying to keep the hurt out of her tone. "That you thought you could audition for Odette when I already have the role?" Perennial tossed her mane and laughed. "Honestly, what were you thinking?" Velvet clenched her jaw, jerking her head to the side to shoot a glare over her shoulder. Emotions roiled around in her chest, making it hard to keep an even tone as she muttered, "Just leave me alone, Perennial." "Why? Why should I? You never leave me alone!" Perennial jabbed at hoof at her. "Don't think I don't hear the things you say behind my back. Do you think it's easy being a prima? Do you think it's easy being me? Do you even know how hard I worked to get here? No, you don't, because you couldn't finish Canterlot Academy, much less attend the Canterlot School for Ballet! You can't just dance your way in off the streets and expect the world to be given to you on a silver platter! What have you ever truly earned?!" And there it was. The last straw. The final crack in the dam. Velvet felt a rush of hot and cold surge through her as she whipped around and snapped, "I work twice as hard as you do!" Perennial scoffed. "I doubt tha—" "Shut up! Just, shut up!" Velvet stomped a hoof against the floor. "Maybe I didn't go to ballet school, but I trained under Shimmering Waltz for two years! You think you're tough to deal with?" She laughed breathlessly. "Try spending one day with her!" She stepped forward, shoving her face in Perennial's, scowling. "What have I earned? I did earn something. I earned that role that you took away from me! You're just an annoying little dancer with a big attitude, but what are you without your title?" With a derisive snort, she pulled back and turned to walk away. Velvet quickened her pace the moment she rounded the corner and broke out into a gallop once she was out of sight. Tears welled up and burned her eyes, making it hard to see, but she knew the way to her parents' bakery from the studio by heart. It was the closest safe place to cry and she needed to feel safe for a while. The door gave no resistance when she pushed on it. Pepper Ridge looked up from behind the counter with a smile that quickly faded. One look at her and he knew. He always knew. "Excuse me a moment," he said to the customer at the front of the line, then waved for Velvet to follow him into the back room. She walked as calmly as she could around the counter and after him. The moment she crossed the threshold, she dropped down onto her haunches, slumped forward, and let the tears fall. "What happened?" he asked softly, looping his forelegs around her and pulling her close into a tight hug. The scent of everything he had baked that morning overwhelmed yet comforted her more than anything else. A shuddering sigh escaped her and she raised her hooves to bury her face into them. "Just a bad day at work," she mumbled with a hitch in her voice and a sniffle. "That's all." He tucked her head under his chin. "Perennial again, huh?" She snorted. He always knew. "Uh-huh." "What happened this time, sweetie?" She took in a deep breath and tried to hold it, but it sputtered out in a sob. "I ca—I can't do this anymore. I hate her. I hate her, I hate her, I hate her!" He gave a soft sigh. "That bad, huh?" With a growl rumbling in her throat, Velvet pushed against his chest to put distance between them, looking up at him through tears. "I quit! I'm going to quit. I'm going to quit and work here and be happy for the rest of my life!" Pepper's ears folded back, but he smiled. "Would that really make you happy?" "Yes! It would! Because you and Mom aren't horrible, cruel, self-absorbed ponies with their heads so far up their a—" "Shh," he interrupted, putting a hoof on her mouth. "Red's here, you know." Velvet blinked. She blinked a few more times to clear her vision and turned her head to see Red cowering in the corner. She had completely forgotten he was there! "Oh, buddy, no, I'm sorry." She pulled away from Pepper to walk over to the colt. "Red, I'm sorry. Sisi's sorry." Red whimpered, his ears drooping so low that they nearly disappeared into his fluffy mane. "Siii..." "Don't be scared, all right?" She scooped him up into her embrace. "I'm fine. I didn't mean to say ugly words or yell." She cooed softly, cradling him back and forth as he relaxed against her chest. Pepper sat down beside her and wrapped a foreleg around her shoulders. "It's going to be all right, Velvet." He kissed her temple. "I promise. We'll work things out. If you want to quit, then we'll support you. You know your mother and I will always support you." Velvet looked up at him. "Where is Mom, anyway?" He smiled. "Oh, she's been a little stressed trying to get Red to say 'Mama'." Red squeaked out, "Mamaaa!" The smile fell into a light frown and Pepper sighed. "He only seems to say it when she's not around, see?" He shook his head. "Anyway, since we're not busy today, she's upstairs taking a nap. Why don't you go upstairs and talk to her to try to feel better?" Velvet just gazed at her father for a moment, then smiled. "No, it's okay. I'll help you out down here. Besides, I don't need to feel better." She kissed his cheek. "I've got my great and wonderful dad to take care of that." Pepper's ears wiggled and he stood up. "Well, then, get to work, missy! If you plan to spend more time here, then maybe we should work on making sure you're familiar with the register, eh?" "Yes, sir!" Velvet nuzzled Red's mane before setting him down. "Stay here and play with your blocks, okay?" Pepper chuckled, shaking his head and wagging a hoof. "You're way behind the times, sweetie. He's not into blocks anymore. It's all about the trains now. I'm surprised you didn't notice his newest delight!" He smiled at Red. "Go on, show her the choo-choo, Red." "Choo!" Red bounded over to a brightly colored train set and beamed at Velvet. "Choo-choo!" He patted the red engine, accidentally knocking it over. He gasped and stared at his hoof with wide eyes. Velvet grinned. "That so? Well, my little cutiebug, when my shift is up, we'll have to see if that choo-choo can stand up to my silly faces!" She tilted her head, stuck out her tongue, and crossed her eyes. Red looked back and forth between his train and Velvet. There seemed to be some sort of indecision going on in that adorable little head of his, but he finally just sat down and started to push the train along the colorful rug that served as his designated play area. After blowing a kiss at Red, Velvet followed her father out to the counter where he greeted the customer, "Hello! I'm so sorry for the delay. Thank you for waiting." "I suppose one must have patience for the good things in life," the mare said, primping her mane with one hoof. Whether she was serious or joking wasn't clear at all and Velvet almost took offense, but bit back the first remark that came to mind. The customer was always right. Except for when they weren't, but even then, comparing their mane to a bloated pug was never the answer. Pepper kept his picture perfect smile in place and asked, "What can we get for you today?" "Yes, I'll take..." Velvet watched her father as he entered the order into the register, making a note of everything he said and did. She would make her parents proud. Maybe not as a ballerina, but she would be the best daughter-sister-cashier-helper they would ever have. She held her head high with dignity. There was no more room for another mistake. Not again.