//------------------------------// // The Siren Song of Ponyville // Story: Rhythm and Rhyme // by MyHobby //------------------------------// Ponyville Talent Show Draws Crowd Ponyville has certainly impressed in the last few years. As the city has become the fastest-growing in Equestria, its events and holidays have drawn national attention. Ponies travel from all over the country to experience its down-to-earth Winter Wrap-Up, its princess-blessed Nightmare Night, and its irresistibly charming Hearth’s Warming Eve Pageant. The Bi-Annual Ponyville Talent Show, beginning just next week, has promised to be one of the high-points in the city’s calendar year. Not only will some of the most brilliant acts in the country be put on display, but according to inside sources, hometown radio darling Sweetie Belle will debut her newest single, “The First Dance.” The latest dish on the current guest list includes such recognizable high-society names as Fancy Pants, Mayor of Canterlot, and Gaston Fletcher, Mayor of Cloudsdale. Rumors that Princess Celestia herself will be in attendance have remained unsubstantiated. If you can, I recommend making travel plans for Ponyville this summer. It’s full of big-time heroes and small-town charm and, as always, remains my number-one choice for a vacation in Equestria. —Excerpt from “What’s Trending with Trenderhoof,” originally published in The Manehattan Big *** Button Mash took his seat on the open field, a single red rose clutched in one hoof. He was far from the only pony in attendance of Ponyville’s talent show. A sea of colors surrounded him on every side, joking, jostling, and jumping. Ponies weren’t the only species on display, either. Diamond dogs walked beside griffons, breezies sat astride sheep, donkeys and minotaurs laughed together. Their numbers were smaller by sheer volume, but there was no denying the variety from all across Equestria. His suit was a little too tight around the barrel. Because of course it was. Never mind that he was a beanpole of a pony who couldn’t put on weight if he tied barbells to his fetlocks. No Rumble, Button thought, not everybody has it in them to be buff. He tugged at his shirt collar and sat up straight to keep the rental coat from getting grass stains. His mother assured him he looked snappy, but then, she was his mom. It was her job to say stuff like that. “Focus, Button. Focus.” He took in a slow breath and wheezed it out. He gazed at the rose and held it like it might shatter. “This is the day, the hour, the time. It’s what you’ve been preparing for. You’re ready. Relax and enjoy the show.” Relax, he thought. Sit back and enjoy it, he thought. Strange as it was, he had a difficult time believing his own pep talk. Applejack—the Lord Mayor of Ponyville herself—walked onto the park’s humble wooden stage, a microphone stand slung beneath her foreleg. She set it up and tapped the head, eliciting a squeal that sent ears folding back against scalps. “Sorry. Welcome, one and all, to the Bi-Annual Ponyville Talent Show!” Hooves and paws slapped together. Feet drummed into the ground. A few shrill whistles shot into the air. “Darn tootin’!” Applejack shouted. “The first contestant in this season’s show is a pony real near and dear to my heart. I’ve known her since she was just about yea high—” She lifted a hoof to her knees. “—but I could always tell she had somethin’ special in store. She’s a show-stopper and no mistake! Give it up for the musical stylin’s of Sweetie Belle!” The applause rose past polite and entered a fever pitch. Button Mash stomped his free hoof against the soil, shouting for all he was worth. Darn right he’d give it up. He and every other sapience in the crowd. For many, this was why they’d come. For others, this is why they’d come back. There was a reason Sweetie Belle opened every show she attended. A very, very good reason. Button mash didn’t even register the moment Applejack left the stage. His eyes were locked on Sweetie Belle. Gentle curves trailed from her shoulders to her tail. She walked with a practiced grace, her hips swaying with each step. Her curly mane bounced as she took a bow. The applause died down, and the audience became quiet enough to hear a cough from across the field. Sweetie Belle brought her face close to the mic. Her small, frameless glasses glinted in the spotlight. She bobbed as a simple piano melody reached out towards the crowd. Her face glistened with sparkles. Her thin, white dress wafted in an early-summer breeze. Button felt his heart take a nose-dive in his chest. He was crazy. He was nuts. There was no way— Her silvery voice spread softly across the audience, robbing him of cognitive thought. “I saved the first dance for you, dearest love A waltz or minuet will do Close to each other, we’ll be ever true I saved the first dance for you” The stage thrummed as though filled with magic. A clear, strong voice carried her words. A stringed instrument joined the keys as she entered the chorus. “Would you save the first dance for me? Whispering promises, kisses so sweet Would you save the first dance for me? Open the depths of your heart And let our love be” Button flinched at an unexpected flash of red. The unicorn beside him lit their horn, the air becoming hazy around the corona. To the right, a pegasus spread their wings. Dew drops flicked from their feathers. All around, dust rose at earth pony hooves, and grass blades danced of their own accord. Her voice reached a high note as she moved into the second verse. Button heart thrummed all the harder, though for a different reason. The entire audience was thick with magic pouring out of pony hearts. It thrummed in time with her voice, rising and falling with her pitch-perfect notes. No one was left unaffected. “I saved the first dance for us, dearest one I gave up my heart to your trust Your cheek against mine, we do as we must I saved the first dance for us” Sweetie’s voice returned to its softest as she reached its end. “Would you save the first dance for me? Whispering promises, kisses so sweet Would you save the first dance for me? Open the depths of your heart And let our love be” The last notes of the song disappeared before the audience erupted into frenzied cheers. Button Mash was bumped out of his reverie by the unicorn beside him, whose whistle was a decibel or two away from shattering glass. Button rubbed his overheated forehead. His skin prickled and his lungs ached from yelling. There was a very good reason Sweetie Belle sold out concerts. Sweetie Belle ducked off the stage, replaced soon after by Lord Mayor Applejack. “Hoo-ee! Was that a performance or was that a performance? Don’t go away Ponyville; we’ve got a whole lot more show where that came from! Next up is Peachy Pie and Sunny Daze, with their acrobatic rollerblading act!” Button felt the old, familiar tremble in his limbs. He glanced at the door to the stage, where the contestants and/or performers were gathered, awaiting their turn. He could try to sneak his way in. Say hi and encourage her. Or something. It wasn’t much of a plan, really. He held the rose close and stayed put. He’d have his chance, and one that was less likely to get him thrown out by the bouncer. Bulk Biceps had this way of smiling that discouraged shenanigans. Peachy Pie and Sunny Daze rolled onto the sage in a blur, leaping over each other at speeds that would have left him rumpled and bloody on the floor. At the very least, he reasoned, watching the show would give him time to collect his thoughts. Decide how he was gonna broach the subject. Get up the nerve. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was only fooling himself. *** The light of a cigarette broke through the shadows at the edge of the field, where Ponyville Park became Whitetail Wood. A cloud of smoke wreathed the head of a pony, who watched the talent show closely. He leaned against a tree, scratching the stubble on his chin. The tip of his cigarette charred and released a stream of smoke and nicotine into his mouth. He puffed slowly, savoring the familiar sensation. It was a good night to spend outside, he decided. The sky was an open sea filled with sparkling diamonds. The grass was a sheet of the finest silk against his hooves. A velvety breeze tugged the cloud of smoke away from his head. He sat a fair distance away. No point in disturbing ponies with his smoke, after all. He wasn’t there to be noticed. A jovial tune played over the audience’s cheers as two ponies rollerbladed past the curtains. He clapped his hooves after an especially impressive jump. “Hello, Poni,” a mare’s voice said behind him. “I thought you preferred pipes.” Poni Caballeron smiled. He slicked back his black mane with a hoof. “I use a pipe when I celebrate. To relax. I’m working at the moment.” Merry Mare slunk out of the shadows. Her tail swished with practiced movements. Caballeron felt like a snake entranced by a charmer. “Working?” she said, sliding her forelegs over his shoulders and across his chest. “That’s no fun.” He reached his foreleg up and felt her mane against his coat. They watched the show continue, though Caballeron didn’t pay it much attention. “Working is what keeps me going these days, my heart.” “You need a hobby, Poni.” Merry let out a single laugh from the back of her throat. “You need to come back to Ponyville more often.” “With how often Yearling hangs around these days?” Caballeron shook his head. He scratched his cheek and let out a gray huff. “I’m a passionate lover, not a suicidal one.” “I didn’t even know you were in town.” She lifted a hoof to grip his shoulder. It was a surprisingly strong grip, even for an earth pony. He allowed the contact, though he would probably bruise. “Scuttlebutt had to inform me. When were you going to say something?” Ah, so the interrogation had already begun. It was to be expected, and fairly light in terms of what Merry was capable of. “When the job was done, I’m afraid. I don’t want to involve you.” Her grip slacked. He saw her lips twitch, as if holding back a response she didn’t want to give. “Why the secrecy?” she asked at last. “The treasure-hunting business has become more dangerous in recent months.” Caballeron’s throat bobbed as she wrapped her legs tight around him. “Jobs are more difficult to come by. At times, desperate individuals pay high salaries.” He rolled his eyes and gave her a sad smile. “I swear, I’m going to give mercenaries a bad name.” Merry set her jaw. “You’re working with Ahuizotl again, aren’t you?” Caballeron chuckled mirthlessly. “You know me too well.” Merry snorted. “Alright. What’s the plan this time? Steal the sun and drive it into the oceans? Cause the sun and moon to collide? Kidnap Daring Do and hang her upside-down over a pit of fire ants?” Caballeron narrowed his eyes. The two ponies onstage linked forelegs and spun in a blur. “Now you’re just teasing me.” “My point is that Ahuizotl is a madcreature.” Merry’s velvety ear touched his cheek. “He has no endgame worth seeing through. His gold is blood money, and his followers are morons.” She kissed his neck lightly. “Why bother yourself with all of that?” He felt his heart sink. “Because he has me by the dock, to put it plainly. I am… obligated to assist him.” “That’s not an answer.” “Then I’m afraid I am disinclined to give one.” He leaned back against her chest. His cigarette was little more than cinders on the edge of his lips. “Suffice it to say, this is the last time I’m taking a job from the monster.” Merry let out a low murmur. He watched her eyes trailed down his body, studying his scars, tracing his cutie mark of a golden skull. “Why did he send you to Ponyville?” A smile trailed across his face of its own accord. He pointed towards the stage. “Because of the opening act. That enchanting mare, to be precise.” Merry Mare nudged the small of Caballeron’s back. “Should I be jealous?” “She’s half my age, if that.” “That’s what makes it scandalous.” Merry pursed her lips in a tight smile. “To hear her sing is quite the treat, is it not? The way her voice grasps you and guides you. The magic that seems to overflow from every facet. The light in your chest that begs to be let out.” “Creating harmony.” Caballeron smothered the butt of his cigarette in the grass. “Igniting unity.” “Unity right from the heart.” Merry tilted her head back, nudging her glasses into place on her nose. “Joining their magic to the music. A natural siren’s song.” Caballeron felt his mouth grow dry. The familiar tune of his lover’s singing voice hummed at the edge of his memory. “Something very much like that.” “So then,” she said, her breath tickling his ear, “what does Ahuizotl want with the ability to unite hearts, hmm?” Caballeron reached into his shirt pocket and pulled a fresh cigarette forth. He struck a match against his hoof. “It’s for him to know, and us to fear, I suppose.” “A lot of ponies are going to be upset with you if you do anything to hurt Sweetie.” He leaned his head back and placed a kiss on Merry’s lips. “Story of my life, my heart. If all goes well, I’ll be long gone before anypony finds out.” Merry ran her hoof down his cheek. “How long will that be?” “As soon as possible.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Unless you had other plans?” “I had a thought.” She kissed the tip of his nose, lingering a second longer than necessary. “Several fairly licentious thoughts.” “Ah.” A ring of smoke drifted out of his smiling mouth. “Then perhaps my duty can be delayed a night. Or three.” *** “Oh my gosh, that was amazing!” Sweetie Belle laughed at Scootaloo’s exclamation. She sat before a vanity mirror, touching up her makeup. She gave a pair of contact lenses a wary glance before pushing them aside. “So you liked it?” “Did I ever!” Scootaloo hovered overhead on purple-colored wings. She rubbed Sweetie’s shoulders with her orangey hooves. “Did you even see the audience? They were soaking up every word! I don’t think I’ve seen so many ponies stupefied at once.” Sweetie blew a breath through her lips. “Then you don’t remember our old rock ballad.” “That’s a different sort of stupification.” Scootaloo rolled her eyes upwards and pursed her lips. “Stupefaction. Stupidecaloosion. Whatever. Point is, they love you.” Sweetie looked over her sparkling, soft face. She set her frameless glasses gingerly over her muzzle. “How did your act do? With the juggling?” “You kidding?” Scootaloo grasped a bottle of water and poured it out over her hoof. The water tension held with the power of her pegsus magic, forming a bubble of liquid. She tossed it to herself, grinning wide. “They ate that up pretty good, too. Got a nice rainbow going for the finale. Dash woulda been jealous.” Sweetie Belle leaned her forelegs against the vanity and rested her cheeks in her hooves. She stared into her reflected green-tinged eyes. “I wish our sisters could have been here tonight.” Scootaloo mirror image grimaced for all of an instant before a smile broke through. “You know how it is. They’re doing important stuff. Cloudsdale isn’t gonna fix itself, you know.” “It’s been a year and a half.” Sweetie shrugged. She took what was left of the water bottle and downed it in a single gulp. “I’m starting to think it’ll never be fixed.” “Take a hit, keep on going.” Scootaloo laughed. “Old pegasus motto.” “Since when?” “Since I said so just now.” Sweetie nudged Scootaloo with her knee. “Ageless wisdom, to be sure.” The other performers clattered around as they cleaned up their gear, or spiffed up their clothes. Lyra waxed the strings of her lyre. Peachy Pie brushed her coat where it had ruffled beneath her skates. Spike hoisted his piano across his back with bulging muscles. A few out-of-towners stuck to the edges of the room, muttering amongst themselves or speaking uproariously of something or other. Sweetie Belle balanced a tube of lipstick on a spark of magic. “Do you think I’ve got a future in this?” Scootaloo cocked a brow. “’Scuse me whilst I consult with the fates.” “Ha, ha.” Sweetie stuck her tongue out. “I mean really, this whole showbiz thing. Do you think I’m cut out for it?” “Doooes it make you happy?” “Yeah, most of it.” “Dooo you wanna do it more?” “More or less.” Scootaloo flipped over to float on her back, her wings spread, her magic holding her a couple meters above the ground. “Then speaking as your friend, I think you should do what you wanna do if it makes you happy. I mean, you’ve always got sewing to fall back on.” Sweetie twisted her seat to face her friend. “‘Clothes designer’ is a little more involved than just sewing.” “By day, the simple burlap-clad seamstress of Ponyville!” Scootaloo covered the lower half of her face with a wing. “By night, the mysterious and alluring star of song and stage!” Sweetie held back a snort. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” “Ah, aha.” Scootaloo landed with a soft pat. “But I’ll never stop trying.” A movement caught Sweetie’s eye over Scootaloo’s shoulder. Applejack walked through the backstage area, a male griffon following her closely. He wore a pricy-looking outfit of soft fabric and deep shades of red. His shoulder pads were far too poofy to be in style. They made a beeline to the vanity, waving to get her attention. Sweetie Belle stood with practiced grace and bowed her head. “Mayor Applejack.” “Howdy, Sweetie. You did real good tonight.” Applejack winked, tipping her ever-present hat. She stepped to the side and indicated the griffon. “Might I introduce a longtime acquaintance of mine: Lord Mayor Fletcher of Cloudsdale.” “Call me Gaston,” the griffon said. He held a talon towards Sweetie Belle and took her hoof. The tip of his beak lightly kissed her fetlock. “Your performance was absolutely beautiful tonight, Miss Belle! Astounding and amazing both! So much so, in fact, that I was hoping to offer you a job.” “A job?” Sweetie Belle moved to pulled her hoof away, but he didn’t quite let her go. She kept her smile bright regardless. “I am… I would certainly be willing to hear more.” “Of course.” He led her by the hoof a few steps away from Applejack and Scootaloo, within eyeshot of the stage. He waved his free talon at the empty park. “As you might have heard, Cloudsdale has come under hard times recently.” “Yes, of course.” Sweetie Belle bit her lower lip. She could feel her tail swishing beneath her skirt. “My sister was there when it happened.” He looked at her with a lowered eyebrow, before comprehension dawned. “Lady Rarity, right? Lovely mare. Quite generous with her time.” No kidding, Sweetie thought. “She always has been.” Gaston nodded, bringing his free talon up to stroke a gold button on his shirt. He turned his head to the side so that he could look her right in the eye. “I am holding something of a gala to raise awareness of the needs of Cloudsdale. Ponies and creatures from all over the world will be there. If you’d like to, I want you to perform at the gala.” Sweetie Belle blinked. Her mouth moved, but her voice all but failed her. “Huh?” “There’ll be live musicians ready to learn your music. There’ll be a captive audience…” His sharp beak parted in a grin. “It could be a marvelous way for you to spread the word about your talent. Not only across Equestria, but all over the world! Think of it as a little paid advertising, and the Citystate of Cloudsdale is doing the paying.” Her dry mouth interfered with her ability to process. “All over the world?” “And then some, if my guest list has anything to say about it!” He chuckled at what he obviously thought was a rather clever joke. She found it difficult to maintain eye contact, but she couldn’t tell if it was because she was dizzy, or because his eye kept moving. “Um. That… is a very generous offer, Mayor Fletcher—” “Gaston please, Miss Belle.” “—Mayor Fletcher…” She cleared her throat, giving her head a shake to clear the cobwebs. “May I ask what sort of performance you’d be asking for?” “I figured I’d let you decide the song list,” he said. He picked a water bottle off a nearby cooler and offered it to her. “Care for a drink?” “I’ll pass.” He unscrewed the cap with two claws while the rest of his talon kept the bottle steady. “Probably lower-key stuff, like your song tonight. We can’t have your incredible voice overpowering the congenial, lucrative conversation.” He raised his head a bit, turning his eyes to the ceiling. “Though if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t exactly mind.” He took a deep, long swig. “I’ll give you some time to think it over. Say, a week? Will you give me your answer next Saturday?” “Um, well…” Sweetie Belle gave him a smile that didn’t quite feel sincere. “I’m sure I could come up with an answer by then.” “Bravo!” He crushed the bottle before tossing it into a nearby garbage can. He leaned down to kiss her hoof once more. “I shall speak with you then.” He released her and marched over to Applejack, striking up a conversation Sweetie couldn’t quite hear. The blood pumped through her ears, drowning out her surroundings, swirling in her head. “Hay, Sweetie,” Scootaloo said, patting her back, “you okay? What did he want?” “H-he wants me to sing.” Sweetie looked over her glasses. “For an audience from around the whole world.” “Holy guacamole!” Scootaloo faced Sweetie, placing her forelegs across her shoulders. “Are you gonna do it?” “I—I don’t know.” Sweetie furrowed her brow. Her lips trembled. “I dunno if I can do it.” “Says the famous radio starlet!” Scootaloo came alongside her and touched a hoof to her chest. “Dude, trust me when I say this could be your big chance! Your time to shine! Your age of new dawning or something corny like that!” A sea of faces appeared before Sweetie Belle’s mind’s eye, all screaming, all cheering, all jumping and rollicking. Her ears fell flat against her head. “Uh huh.” “I mean, come on, you could easily be the next Coloratura!” “Yep.” “We’re talking super-famous! Bigger than Sapphire Shores! Bigger than Ritzy Glamour! Bigger than… than…” Scootaloo threw her forelegs in the air. “I dunno. Celestia!” Sweetie Belle sat down in the middle of the floor, her tail sliding up to lie beside her leg. She let her shoulders droop with a huff. “I’d be the next person to leave Ponyville.” “Well… well, yeah.” Scootaloo settled down and matched her friend’s pose, resting a wingtip against her foreleg. “But it’s not like you’d be away forever.” “That’s what Rarity said.” Sweetie couldn’t bring herself to meet Scootaloo’s gaze. “And that’s what Rainbow said. But they aren’t here anymore. Their homes are somewhere else. And R—” She bit her tongue. Scootaloo bobbed her head, leaning back and stretching. “Rumble, too. But he’s trying to come back. He wants to come back.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a cough. “I made him promise to.” Sweetie Belle smiled and rested her forehead on Scootaloo’s shoulder. “Well of course he is when he has all of you to come back to.” “Yeah, and that’s why all of them come back.” Scootaloo patted her back. “Their friends. Their families. The things that make life worthwhile. So chin up, alright? Nobody’s making you leave Ponyville forever.” Sweetie smirked. “Who’d be around to keep you from flying into a barn door?” “I resent that remark, as I resemble it.” Scootaloo hoisted Sweetie gently to her feet. “Come on, let’s get you home. You’ve got time to think it over, right?” “A week.” Sweetie looked around the area. Most of the other performers had left, leaving only a few stragglers, such as themselves, behind. They walked past friend and stranger alike, headed for the door. “Home sounds good. It sounds very good.” A flicker of her magic opened the door to the warm mid-spring night. She took a deep breath in and smelt flowers on the wind. “Have a nice evening, you two,” Bulk Biceps said from his place beside the door. “See yah, Snowflake,” Scootaloo said. “Have a good one—” A fresh voice jumped out from beside the stage, accompanied by the frenzied patter of hooves on grass. “Sweetie! Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo flashed a glance over her shoulder, her purple bangs swishing in front of her eyes. “Ain’t you popular tonight?” Sweetie followed her friend’s eyes, focusing on a particular young stallion making up his own one-pony stampede. It only took a second of studying his gait, build, and brief flashes of brown coat to identify him. “Button?” He slid to a halt, his chest nearly bursting. He breathed heavily, and his head hung low. He lifted a hoof. “H—Hi.” He clutched a hoof to his belly, puffing out his cheeks with every huff. “Pretty… Your songs was aweso—just, amazing. It was really great.” Sweetie giggled, scraping a hoof along the ground. “So you noticed.” Scootaloo looked from Sweetie, to Button, and back again. Her eyes widened with realization. “Oh hay, look! It’s a thing! A thing I should check out all by myself! Sweetie, you should stay right here and don’t even move while I go and check out that thing! I’ll just leave you two here all by yourselves! I’ll be right back after I check out the thing! Bye!” She took off in a cloud of dust, leaving Sweetie to her own devices. Sweetie Belle brushed a lock of mane behind her ear. “So you really liked it? Like, ‘liked it’ liked it?” Button Mash’s throat did that little bouncy thing it always did when he was flustered. She couldn’t help but giggle when she saw it. “Y-yeah!” he said, nodding a little faster than needed. “Yeah, of course. I loved it. Top ten, easily. Definitely, definitely upper tier stuff. Definitely.” He reached for his jacket pocket with a snap of his hoof. He fumbled around for a little bit until he was able to hold out a single red rose. The stem was wrapped in cloth to keep the thorns from pricking his hooves. “Here. I got this for you to celebrate the show. I just… I saw it, and I thought…” Sweetie Belle raised a shoulder and pressed her cheek against it. “It’s beautiful.” “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He passed the flower into the soft glow of her magic. He watched with held breath as she sniffed it. “It made… It made me think of you.” Sweetie’s cheeks prickled with heat. She might have said something if she could, but her words failed her yet again. She covered it up by taking another smell of the fresh, light perfume of the rose. “I mean…” Button Mash ran a hoof through his spikey mane. “I was wondering… are you av—eh—available for dinner? Sometime? Next week? Maybe?” His eyes popped right to the ground as he sat on his haunches, his forelegs a whirl of explanatory motion as he spiraled out of control. “If you’re not busy, of course. I understand if you’ve got a lot to do or just plain would rather not. I mean, you’re always working on something and I just figured hay why not—” “Button.” The name came out as a stuttered sputter. “A-are you asking me on a date?” He paused, his legs settling to the ground. He pressed his lips tight and nodded with a snap. His voice was small and just a little squeaky. “Uh huh.” Her heart rumbled with a parade of magic. Her pulse roared through her neck and limbs. “Wh-where would you like to go?” “The café,” he said in a rush. “Next week Wednesday. I’m putting on a show, but afterwards we, you know, we could eat together and stuff. If you wanna.” “I wanna…” She shook her head to ward off the rush of dizziness. “I would be delighted. When is your show?” “Just from four to five.” He cleared his throat, rubbing his foreleg with the opposite hoof. “I’ll see you there?” “Yes. Yes, of course.” Sweetie remembered to smile, though only just. Her insides shook, but she kept the nervousness within, projecting an outward appearance of calm. Was it effective? She doubted it. “I wouldn’t miss it.” He glanced at the sky. The full moon reflected in his pupils. “Getting late. I guess I gotta go.” “Okay.” Sweetie brushed her curly mane back, even as another lock fell over her eyes. “Good night, Button.” He gave her a wide, uneven grin, then scampered off towards downtown. Sweetie Belle watched him go until he disappeared behind the distant buildings. She giggled. It rolled down her throat to become a full fledged laugh that carried across the park. Scootaloo flapped to a halt beside her. “Wow. You’ve got it bad.” “Shush!” Sweetie turned away, her tail hiked. “I’ll have you know that I merely anticipate that he shall be good company.” “Oh I totally believe you.” Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “How long’ve you been crushing on him? Ten years? Twelve?” Sweetie scrunched her muzzle. Her tiny smirk parted her lips. “Since I was eight?” “Eleven years, then.” Scootaloo huffed and pushed Sweetie gently along by her shoulders. “All I can say, girl, is that it’s about time he did the stallionesque thing. Because you sure as heck weren’t gonna say anything.” “I was waiting.” Sweetie outpaced Scootaloo’s shove by breaking into a trot. “For the opportune moment.” “Oh! The opportune moment!” Scootaloo smacked her forehead. She floated along with halfhearted downbeats, more hovering than flying. “Excuse me, it all makes sense now! That’s a perfectly good reason to wait! The all-elusive opportune moment!” “Neither of us,” Sweetie said, “have been in any sort of position for a relationship until now.” “Says the gal who was presented with two potentially life-changing decisions in the space of thirty minutes.” Sweetie’s horn flashed. Her magic gripped the tip of Scootaloo’s tail and yanked her downward. “Oh shut up and be happy for me.” Scootaloo landed with a canter. She flashed her a lopsided grin. “I am happy for you. I’m just genetically engineered to give everypony a hard time.” Sweetie Belle nuzzled her cheek. “I’d be worried if you didn’t.” They made their way through downtown, beneath the flickering magic-powered streetlamps. A building somewhat between a tent and a cupcake came into view, familiar and comforting. Sweetie produced a set of keys and clicked the door open, favoring her friend with one last smile. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” “Sure thing!” Scootaloo hopped into the air and hung there. “Maybe I’ll be able to drag Apple Bloom away from the farm. We’ll have a grand old time.” A powerful flap of her wings launched her into the sky, towards her home down the street. Sweetie Belle swung the door shut and leaned against the cool wood. Muffled music drifted from the phonograph in the Inspiration Room. It was an old Sapphire Shores album, originally a gift for Rarity, but soon passed down. Just like Carousel Boutique itself. Sweetie rubbed sweat from her brow before it could run her sparkling makeup. She eased herself through the foyer—the showroom, really—past the full outfits on ponnequins. Some designs were Rarity originals. Some were put together by Coco Pommel in Manehattan, or were part of Sassy Saddles’ dabblings in Canterlot. A few, however, had Sweetie Belle’s name on the label. Such as the dress on Sweetie’s back. She peeled it off piece by piece, laying it back on the ponnequin she’d gotten it from. She’d clean it tomorrow. When she wasn’t as tired. Maybe some lucky customer would see it and remember it from the show. She was often her best advertiser. Her magic flickered. Wooziness rattled between her ears. She held her breath until the spike passed. She opened her eyes, having clenched them shut at the start of the flash. A piece of the dress lay on the floor where she’d dropped it. She picked it up in her mouth and nudged it into place on the stand. She’d finish tomorrow. At the moment, she desperately needed medicine. She trotted towards the stairs, upwards to the bedroom and bathroom. As funny as shape as Carousel Boutique had, the interior was fairly common in terms of Ponyville homes; a workplace on the ground floor, with living quarters on the second. She passed a table on the way, in the waiting area for clients who weren’t currently trying on clothes—or who had to wait for their companions to decide on a design. Magazines lay scattered across it, featuring clothes from all over the kingdom and beyond. Sweetie glanced at them, her eyes drawn to one name that featured repeatedly. Rarity Wows with Summer Lineup! Tips on Spring Colors with Rarity! Rarity to Design Twilight’s New Wardrobe! Fashion Designer Opens Charity She gave the last magazine a double-take. That one was over a year old, well worth retiring. She picked it up between her hooves, holding it close to her face. It didn’t seem right to throw it out. She tucked it beneath her foreleg and hopped up the stairs. A quick walk took her to into the bathroom, in front of the medicine cabinet. Bottles and toothbrushes were pushed aside to reveal a tall, silver cylinder. She unscrewed the cap and poured a single milliliter into a cup. The medicine glinted golden, and smelled of honey. It tasted like fire going down her throat, though. She could feel the very instant its healing power met her heart, and her whole body tingled as the effect spread. The magic pathways through her body—her fairy strings—expanded and strengthened. She tested her horn by lifting the magazine in a quick spell; it swayed to her whim. Sweetie Belle yawned wide. Her joints were tight and her muscles ached; the bed couldn’t have called louder if it tried. She splashed water on her face and daubed until her coat was clean, then shuffled her way into her room. The pillows felt like clouds of silk, and the covers enveloped her in a protective seal. She slid her glasses off to place them on her nightstand, next to the old magazine. The lights dimmed with a glistening spell. Tomorrow had problems of its own, but for now, she could rest. *** “Button! I say, Button Mash!” Button Mash stumbled down the street, the top buttons of his shirt undone. He rubbed his mane once more for good measure, having tousled it beyond recognition. He paused under a street light so that the hailing pony could catch up with him. “Hay, Pip.” Pipsqueak eyed him as he walked closer, examining Button Mash’s wrinkled tuxedo. “You look like you were on the wrong end of a funeral parlor brawl, chap.” “Thanks.” Button looked down at his vastly shorter, vastly more muscular friend. A sardonic smirk crossed his face. “That means a lot coming from you.” “Any time.” Pipsqueak nudged Button’s knee. “What’s with the getup? Awfully spiffy for an evening stroll.” “I wanted to look nice.” Button resumed his walk. Pipsqueak pattered on to keep up with his longer strides. “For tonight’s talent show.” Pipsqueak chuckled, his eyebrows dancing. “For the show, or for a certain mare in the show? Honestly, Button, when are you gonna stop dancing around the point and just ask her to—?” “To dinner?” Button said, his voice a dull monotone. “Perhaps this Wednesday night? After my show? Yeah, that sounds about right.” Pipsqueak’s smile faded. His brow furrowed. “You didn’t.” “Yeah,” Button squeaked. “I did.” “Well…” Pipsqueak’s eyes widened almost as much as his grin. “Well, bully! Jolly good for you, what ho! It’s high time you made forward movement with that whole thing! Wait—” He reached for Button’s shoulder, which was a few inches above his head. “Wait, did she say yes?” Button’s voice cracked, so instead he just nodded. “Top-hole!” Pipsqueak smacked Button across the side with a friendly hoof. It stung quite a bit. “You go-getter, you! You need my help making the evening perfect, just say the word! We’ll have music, dancing, home-made potato soup! Darned if there’s anything more romantic than potato soup!” Button gave that a good long think. “What?” “Leastwise that’s how Pa said he started his courtship with Mum.” Pipsqueak flicked a speckled ear. “It seems applicable to other circumstances…” “I don’t think Sweetie’s overly impressed by potatoes.” “Her loss.” Pipsqueak poked Button in the sleeve. “Seriously, though. Right on, mate. Good for you and all that muckety muck. What’s got you wandering around Ponyville after dark, though? Just a spell to clear your thoughts which I am rudely interrupting?” “Kinda, but I don’t mind the interruption.” Button scratched the back of his neck. He was nearing his house, so he slowed his pace slightly, just to give the conversation more time to play out. “I’m mostly clearing my thoughts, but it isn’t working. I’m stuck between wondering if I made the right decision, or if I should have waited more, if I even have anything to offer, I dunno.” He blew a raspberry and threw his head back. He narrowly missed a light pole, swerving with scrambling legs. “I asked… I asked Sweetie out because of sheer, desperate terror. I was scared I’d miss my chance and never see another, so I jumped. So… so what am I even doing?” Pipsqueak shrugged. “What you want?” “Thanks, I never woulda guessed.” Button Mash rested before the door to his home. He leaned against the frame, gazing at the moon. “What am I worth, Pip? What do I have to give? She’s gonna regret saying yes, I just know it.” Pipsqueak rubbed his chin, pacing back and forth with small humming sounds. He clicked his hooves together. “Look at it this way, chap. You offered her a choice, yes?” “Uh huh.” “And she made a choice, then?” “Yup.” “Well, then.” Pipsqueak reached up to wrap his foreleg around Button’s neck. “Experience tells me that it’s best to let ponies make their own decisions. You offered her the conundrum, she made her selection, and now your job is to show her she was right.” Button sighed. “No pressure.” “None whatsoever.” Pipsqueak swept his hoof in an arc. He gave Button an extra squeeze before releasing. “Point of it is, I imagine she said yes because she happens to like your charmingly goofy self. So just be your charmingly goofy self and you’ll be set. Right?” “Sounds logical to me.” Button Mash chuckled, his knees knocking. “Which should be the first sign to worry.” “You’ll do fine!” Pipsqueak flicked his head and carried on down the road. “Just believe in yourself a little! And come to me for any and all advice!” “Yeah, sure!” Button waved, his teeth grinding a little. “I’ll enthrall you with the after-disaster report!” “Confidence, wot!” Button Mash laughed lightly. He pushed the door open and pulled off his suit. He hung it gingerly on the back of a chair, then proceeded to set up his ironing board. He’d finally done it. He’d finally saved up enough for his own house. It was small, tucked between two stores on Mane Street, but it was cozy. One bedroom, one bathroom, and one kitchen. More like a glorified apartment, if he was being honest. Hay, it wasn’t like his job at the theater paid more than the peanuts he served. He slumped into a chair and waited for the iron to heat up. Magic power flowed from the siphons in the wall, through a wire, and to the metal plate. He wasn’t about to iron the tux, that’d require special cleaning, but the cotton shirt could use a good flattening. He’d only worn it once; it’d be good for another day without a wash. The clock chimed eleven with a merry little jingle. A gift from his mom, naturally enough, decorated with images of Daring Do and Ahuizotl, straight from the film adaptation of the book series. It played a music box version of the theme song every hour on the hour. He hummed along with it until the key wound down. A picture of his family hung beside and below the clock. There was his mother, his father, his older brother, and himself at eight years old, eleven years ago. He snorted when he saw his rounded, babyish face. He still had that little beanie hat with the propeller, though if he wore it in public, he’d never hear the end of it from Snips and Pipsqueak. Or his brother, come to think of it. Assuming he was coming home any time soon. Button hung the shirt in his tiny closet, then set about halfheartedly brushing his teeth. He had a long week to prepare for, between work, his show Wednesday, his date with Sweetie… What was he thinking? He slapped the tooth brush against the counter, splattering paste all over the mirror. “Pip’s right,” her muttered through a mouthful of foam, “just let her make her own decisions. All I gotta do is present the option. That’s all. That’s the start.” He spat and wiped his mouth with a washcloth. The mirror was next, revealing every scraggly detail of his thin face. His eyes were tired, baggy, vacant. His nose hairs—which he thought he had dealt with prejudicially—still had stragglers. His stubble was winning the war on his chin. What the heck was he thinking? “If you love something…” he said, and turned in for the night.