Nightingale squeezed Velvet's hoof. "Hey, we did our best, okay?"
Velvet didn't look at her. She kept her gaze fixed firmly on the door through which the ballet master would enter. All of the auditions were finished. It was out of her hooves now, but it wholly and completely consumed her every thought.
"We literally could not have practiced any more than we did." Nightingale ducked her head to try to meet Velvet's gaze, smiling. "It probably would have killed one of us if we tried. Maybe even both of us!"
The first sound Velvet finally made was a whimpering chuffle. "That's exactly it, though. We tried so hard! If we fail, what does that mean?! That our hardest isn't enough?!"
Nightingale rolled her eyes and flicked a wing to slap Velvet on the back. "We're not going to fail. Worst case, we just get stuck in the corps like normal! It's not like we'll never get to dance again. Celestia's crown, you're so overdramatic sometimes."
"Yeah, well, you're not dramatic enough." Velvet scrunched up her shoulders and flattened her ears.
How had she done in the audition? Doubt pervaded every inch of her. Her mind was clouded and her hooves felt heavy. Was she breathing? When was the last time she had taken a breath in? Breathing was supposed to be an automatic thing, but now that she was thinking about it, she was pretty sure she had stopped breathing.
Right as Velvet sucked in a ragged breath, Nightingale asked, "Do you regret trying out?"
"What?" Velvet blinked at her.
"Do you regret trying out?" Nightingale repeated, raising one brow and continuing, "Now that it's said and done, is this stress right now"—she gestured a hoof in a circle at Velvet—"worth the potential reward of a good role together?"
Velvet frowned and swatted at the hoof. "Of course! At least, I think so. We had fun practicing." She returned her gaze to the door. "It was fun. This part, waiting, is not. They're totally separate things, though, so—"
The chorus of whispering among all the ballerinas came to a halt when their ballet master Beauchamps stepped into view. He was a lanky unicorn who had a figure like a cut gem, with sharp edges like a pointed snout and pronounced cheekbones, the spitting image of his great-great-grandfather of the same name who had invented the system of the five hoof positions in ballet.
His black mane fell down to his shoulders in the most absurd cascade of curls which bounced in a way that would turn most mares green with envy as he walked across the floor. Each hoofstep resounded in the tense silence like the drums of war. He stopped in the center of the room and looked out at them all with his usual look of disdain, as though it were their fault that his father still held the position of ballet master at the Royal Ballet, relegating him to the smaller, less prominent company.
"The role of Canterella shall be played by Perennial," he said in a perfectly even tone that belied any feelings or opinions on the matter.
The oh-so-surprising announcement was met with polite hoofstomps as Perennial rose, bowed, and settled back down with a pleased smile.
"The role of the Stepmother shall be played by Beryl Waltz."
In response to her own, just slightly louder round of applause, Beryl chimed, "Thank you, everypony! I look forward to practicing together!"
"The role of the Stepsisters shall be played by—"
Velvet's heart stopped pounding and her chest seized with the suffocating feeling of preemptive despair. All of that work, all of that effort, all of that hope was about to be torn from her. The role of Kitri had fallen to her by happenstance, but this position she was going to have earned.
"—Nightingale and Velvet Step."
Nightingale let out a whoop of joy and Velvet's jaw dropped. Their sister ballerinas drummed their hooves and a few whistled congratulations.
"We did it!" Nightingale squealed, throwing her forelegs around Velvet.
Velvet stared at Beauchamps, who stared back with a vacant look of forced patience as he waited for quiet to return so that he could continue. She inclined her head to look up at Nightingale.
"Oh my gosh, we have to go celebrate." Nightingale practically trembled with excitement and her wings quivered at her sides. "We are so going to celebrate!"
Velvet just blinked.
---
"Louder!" the song shouted, and the crowd responded with wild screams just before the beat dropped, giving way to heavy bass that shook them all to their very cores.
Ballet and raves were two different things, but mixing the two could often lead to interesting results. The synergy between Velvet and Nightingale from their practice stayed strong as they let the music flow through their hooves. Every move was made more impressive pas de deux: when Velvet spun, Nightingale held one of her hooves to keep her close; when Nightingale fluttered her wings to rise into the air, Velvet swept underneath her to lift her up before they dropped back down as the rhythm shifted.
They were on fire. Not literally, of course, but Velvet's blood burned with the thrill of the moment, the elation of their success, and the sear of alcohol—and she was sure Nightingale felt the same.
Throbbing music. Flashing lights. Ponies in all directions dancing and drinking. It was the true high of night life, and Velvet wanted it to never end. She felt great. She felt alive.
Unfortunately, the bell curve of alcohol kicked in and she toppled down the other side of it, then literally toppled over her own hooves.
"Whoa!" Nightingale flared out her wings to make a buffer zone around them, pushing back any potential tramplers that were too lost in the music to notice the fallen mare. "You okay?"
Velvet snorted and forced herself upright, though the sudden motion made the room spin for a moment. She stared at Nightingale and blurted, "S'fine! I'm fine! So fine."
Nightingale frowned at her while Nightingale's voice laughed somewhere behind her, and Velvet realized that the face did not belong to her friend. The random mare rolled her eyes and returned to her dancing while Velvet turned to face the real Nightingale.
"You are so not fine." Nightingale wrapped a wing around Velvet and pulled her close. "Come on, let me take you home."
Velvet tried to shove her away. "Nooo! Can't go home, not like this! Gotta find a mare, sleep it off at her place." She looked around. "I'll find somepony, 'kay?"
Nightingale's wing remained firmly in place and she shook her head. "Not tonight, Miss Step. I think you're too drunk. I've got a perfectly nice couch with your name written on it."
"Uhh?" Velvet flapped her mouth a few times while Nightingale guided her stumbling self to the door. "Wait, uh, literally?" She tried to waggle her brow and managed a lopsided grin. "You into me?"
"Nope, and nope!" Nightingale laughed, shaking her head. "You're kind of missing a key part for me, sorry!"
Velvet just stared dumbly as they walked down the street. "Money?"
Nightingale laughed again. "What? No! Hey, I'm not shallow! I'm just not into mares, that's all."
"Oh." Velvet blinked once, then twice. Then it clicked. Eclairs. "Wait, what?" She shuffled her hooves faster to try to get ahead of Nightingale and peered up at her. "Then why do you go to the Mare Contraire, huh?"
The feathers of Nightingale's wings trembled as she broke into a chime of giggles and snickers. "It's not really a fillyfooler bar, you know. It's just a nice mares' retreat that's kind of gotten a reputation for that because of ponies like you!"
Velvet faced her gaze forward while her mind whirled. Nightingale was straight. The Mare Contraire was a—somewhat—normal bar! What else was life lying to her about?
They stopped outside an apartment complex that seemed a little less nice than the condominium Velvet lived in. The doors faced out to the world along open walkways, whereas a pony had to enter through a main entrance to even get to her and Crystal's front door. But drunk and stumbling beggars couldn't be choosers.
Nightingale withdrew her wing but kept her shoulder to Velvet's as she guided her up a flight of stairs. "Step, step, step, step, step... keep stepping... No, not stumble. Step!" She giggled. "Okay, you're here. It's the second door, we're almost there. And—" She fiddled with the lock, then pushed the door open. "Here you are!"
It seemed nice enough. The floor was carpeted. There was furniture. There were also doors set against the walls.
Velvet saw none of it—not really, anyway. She saw a couch facing her, welcoming her into its cushioned embrace, and once her face hit a throw pillow she was out.
---
Though her eyes remained closed, Velvet felt herself rousing from slumber. The first thing she noticed was the uneven surface beneath her that, slowly, she recognized as separate couch cushions and a stray throw pillow tucked under her right foreleg.
She was not home. Where was she?
She opened one eye and peered into the darkness, slowly turning her head as she blinked both eyes open. Even in the dim light, the presence of sequins became extremely apparent. On the glass coffee table was a vase that shimmered with sequins and housed plumes of feathers. The pillow clutched to her side was smooth on one side and bedazzled on the other.
Velvet's ears perked with realization. Sequins! Right! Nightingale's ballet bag had her cutie mark emblazoned on one side in colorful sequins.
The fuzzy memories of the evening faded in and out, pulsating with the distant melody of electronica that came with them. Once she pieced together enough of what happened, she rolled off the couch and tiphoofed her way to the kitchen. Most ponies kept stationery in the kitchen to jot down grocery lists. And, to Velvet's delight, Nightingale was like most ponies in that way.
Nightingale—
Thanks for letting me stay the night.
Velvet spat out the pencil and stared at what she had so carefully written. She had never been very poignant or eloquent, certainly not like Crystal, but it would do. Velvet tore off the sheet, set it where she had been sleeping on the couch, and quietly made her way out the door.
The sun was still below the horizon, which meant she had plenty of time to get home before Crystal would wake up. Velvet smiled and kept her aching head held high. Her life was really looking up, now that she thought about it. Her best friend was most-definitely-despite-arguing-otherwise getting engaged soon, she and her second best friend got a great part in the upcoming ballet, her adorable baby brother was still perfect, and a sugary sweet bed partner was the cherry on top.
Her soaring mood, however, came tumbling down when she opened the door and saw the state of the living room. Everything was still neat and tidy, but there was something wrong with it nonetheless.
Sitting right in front of the door was a stack of six suitcases—since when did they even own that many?—and three hat boxes.
Velvet's hoof rose slowly to rub a new ache that settled just behind her right temple. Crystal was leaving for a week. A single week. Velvet packed lighter than this monstrosity of luggage when she was going on tour for twice as long!
Indecision settled in the forefront of her mind. Three options readied themselves, fighting to be picked. The most tempting, of course, was to just walk around the pile and go to bed. Her muscles tensed and relaxed at the very idea, but an irritated groan rumbled in her throat. It would probably be better to march right into Crystal's room and shame the mare into repacking.
However, the third option, struggling meekly between the other two, leaped forward. A grin curled her lips as the idea crossed the finish line. Hangover or not, tired or not, she could never resist the opportunity to torture Crystal. Lightheartedly, of course.
With all the precision and grace her tired hooves could muster, she began the arduous task of unpacking each suitcase and finding new homes for the items within. There was absolutely no need for eight different necklaces! Velvet rolled her eyes and stuffed two of them under the sofa cushions, tossed three into her own room, hid one in the silverware drawer, and the remaining found themselves wrapped around the base of the lamp.
Velvet paused to look at the clock on the wall and groaned. It would take hours to unpack everything, and she only had three before she estimated Crystal would wake up early, excited for the trip. She needed a better strategy.
After dumping all of the packed items onto the floor, Velvet sat down and started to organize them into two piles: 'all right, Crystal, you can take this' and 'seriously, Crystal, you do not need this whastoever'. The latter pile was brought into her room and stuffed under the bed, along with the suitcases Crystal had stolen.
Quietly, Velvet carried some of the remaining items and luggage into Crystal's bedroom, where the mare slept soundly and totally unaware of her insanity being undone. Velvet paused to look at her and smiled.
Though her body begged for sleep, the delayed rest would be worth every second of Crystal's despair in the morning—which was growing nearer, so Velvet stopped her dallying and tiphoofed back to the living room.
Hooffull by hooffull, the various articles of clothing, cosmetics, accessories, board games, and magazines were scattered around the entire condo. Velvet stood in the middle of the room, a smug smile on her face. She saw all that she had done and it was good.
Velvet stalked into her bedroom, shut the door behind her, and eyed her bed with a predatory hunger. Oh, her comforter had never looked so inviting as it did right then. She skulked near the foot of the bed before she pounced in it, wiggled her way under the sheets, and let out a contented sigh.
"Velvet!" Crystal's voice shrieked.
Velvet shoved her head under her pillow. "No, no, no, no..."
Crystal knocked on the door. Velvet could hear the muffled sound of the mare trotting in place. "Velvet, we've been robbed!"
Velvet snorted. She sniffled. She sobbed. Then, with what little spark of energy she could muster under the layers of total exhaustion, aching hangover, and seductive sheets, she slipped out of bed and stumbled her way to the door. She opened it and muttered, "No, we haven't."
"Yes, we have!" Crystal thrust a hoof toward where the suitcases had been. "My luggage is gone!"
A yawn bubbled up and Velvet's vision blurred for a moment. "No." She smacked her lips. "I unpacked it all"—just a few minutes ago—"last night."
Crystal's eyes went so wide that it was hard for Velvet to not bust out laughing. "You did what?!"
"I unpacked it all last night," Velvet repeated slowly and carefully, a bit of a tired slur slipping in. She sighed and shook her head. "Crystal, there were six suitcases and three hat boxes. You won't even be gone a full week! I know that you're insane, but come on!"
"But he'll be here in a few hours!" Crystal whined, resuming her stationary trot, her legs rising and falling with increasingly anxious speed. "I don't have time to repack everything!"
Velvet oh-so-slowly bobbed her head up and down. "That's the point. Pack only what you need, you stupid filly."
"Ooh, Velvet, you—" Crystal gave an indignant huff before running into her bedroom, where she undoubtedly found the empty suitcases sans Velvet's. "How did you not wake me up while ruining my perfectly packed luggage?!"
Velvet followed her at an idle pace and slumped against the wall. "I'm pretty light on my hooves." She leaned around the doorframe to peer into Crystal's room. "And you're not quite the Princess of the Pea, you know."
Crystal said nothing, though her tail gave an irritated flick. The unicorn just stared at her room while magic flew about to grab this and that with wild abandon. There was a derisive snort when she found a scarf in her jewelry box and shoes hanging up in the closet. Velvet's purposeful disarray had Crystal all out of sorts, and it was delightful to watch.
"Good luck," Velvet finally said, an amused grin on her face. "I liked some of what I saw, so I may have put some things in my room." Just as Crystal gasped and ran past her, Velvet hummed in thought. "Or was it the kitchen? I don't know, it was really early in the morning. I was tired and it was dark."
Crystal skidded to a halt just outside of Velvet's bedroom door. Silence held them until she visibly deflated and dropped her head in defeat. "I'm not going to have time to repack everything, am I?"
That'a girl! And it had only taken her nearly half an hour to figure it out. Velvet smiled and shook her head. "Nope."
Crystal looked over at her. "I need to only pack the essentials, don't I?"
"Yup."
Crystal sighed and started the walk of shame across the living room. "I assume you returned anything you thought was essential to my room and hid the rest, didn't you?"
A grin lit up Velvet's face. "Now you're catching on!"
After a pause, Crystal lifted her head with renewed vigor. "Okay. All right. I can do this!" She looked at Velvet. "What's my limit?"
Velvet smiled wider, raising a hoof. "One bag."
"One?!" Crystal squeaked. She stared with her mouth agape and eyes wide. "Velvet! One bag?!"
Velvet mimicked her expression with the exaggerated embellishment of wiggling her ears. "One week, one bag!"
Crystal scrunched up her nose, looked to want to fight, then rolled her eyes and stormed to her room. "Fine!"
While Crystal was preoccupied with the task of repacking for real, Velvet moved over to one of the sitting pillows and flopped down into its cushioned embrace. She could sleep after Crystal had left for the Crystal Empire; right then, she wanted to relish in the fruits of her late night labor.