“Come along, Octavia, don't dawdle,” chided Papa in the accent he always tried in vain to hide. “It is not good to be late.”

The stubborn young filly dragged her hooves. “Why did we have to take the train all the way to see some concert, Papa? There are orchestras at home.”

Papa chuckled. “Because, my filly, there are orchestras, and there is the Fillyharmonic. Now come, we must find our seats.”

Octavia followed her father, but she did not understand what he meant. She of course liked all the orchestral concerts Papa and Mama took her to see back home, but if pressed, she could not honestly tell the difference between one and the next. They were all well-dressed ponies playing pretty music. Octavia would much rather have stayed home and listened to Papa play the piano than gone all the way to Fillydelphia just to hear more of the same.

The concert hall was impressive, she had to admit. Tall carved-stone pillars held up a high vaulted ceiling painted with elaborate frescoes. Gas lights filled the auditorium with a warm glow that gleamed in the gilded edging and brass rails. There were balcony seats high above, and Octavia craned her neck to see what nobleponies might be up there. Why, they looked like they could even contain the Princess herself!

She could not get a clear view before Papa prodded her along. Their seats were near the back of the lower gallery. “Humble seats,” said Papa with a smile, “but the best ones for listening.”

On the stage, between the velvet curtains, the orchestra was tuning their instruments. It was cacophonous. Octavia wrinkled her muzzle. Surely, if they sounded this bad now, they couldn't be as good as Papa said.

Papa put his hoof at her back. “Tuning is important,” he said. “You cannot have the beautiful music to come without tuning first.”

Octavia was about to reply, but just then, the lights dimmed and the noise stopped. The audience fell into a hush as a gray-maned stallion strode out onto the stage. Without a word, he turned and raised his hoof to the orchestra.

A long, steady note filled the concert hall. Octavia looked up to see a lone cellist starting the concert with a slow, introspective solo. Piece by piece, the rest of the orchestra joined in throughout the movement until they all built into a breathtaking crescendo, but the rich tone of the cello never faded from Octavia's ears.

After the concert, she had dozens of excited questions for her Papa. Did he used to play for an orchestra like this one back in the old land? If she was a very extra good filly, could she take cello lessons? How did they do the one thing, where all of the violins sounded like they were one instrument?

And, of course, how long before they could come back to Fillydelphia for another concert?

The Prompt: Write a story set in one of the following Equestrian cities:
-Baltimare
-Fillydelphia
-Las Pegasus
-Vanhoover

This is a thirty minute writing prompt, meaning that you have thirty minutes to finish your story from the time that you start writing. You may take as much time as you like beforehand to think, plan, or outline, but once the first word is on the page, the timer begins. When you're done, post your story to this thread, and in the style of the TMP mods of yore, I will read and give it a comment when I can.

Usually, TMP prompts would have a six to eight hour window for submission, but for these Legacy Prompts, there is no submission deadline. Go ahead and post something a year from now if you want. Bear in mind, however, that chance of getting feedback drops off dramatically after about a week. Good luck!

Geeeez I don't know anything about any of these cities! Meaning the real-world analogues. Boo!

4833934 Well, to get you started... the Rocky movies are set in Philadelphia, Vancouver is basically Seattle but more Canadian, Las Vegas is Las Vegas, enough said, and Baltimore... actually, I don't know the first thing about Baltimore, either, so I can't help you there.

4834140
I though Las Pegasus was a Las Angelos analog. Well either way, I'm sure there's stories to work out.

4833807

I hope you're happy.

Untitled by KwirkyJ

The office door shuddered open on its hinges, and the tangerine mare stepped through.

HACK, COUGH.

The slate-coated stallion at the desk looked up. "Huh? What's that?"

"Sorry sir," she said, before giving another heave. "Courier Sunshine, as—" COUGH "—as requested."

He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "New to Vanhoover?"

She shifted on her hooves, a silly grin threatening on her lips. "Yup. Just last week, actually!"

"Figured." He pointed to a pile of slabs at the corner of the desk and gave a heavy exhale. "Need those documents to Cloudsdale, asap. Need the clouds for Hearth Warming week, busybody layabouts they are."

She moved forward to collect them and paused. COUGH.

"Problem?"

"They're, uh. Well, they're clay."

"Of course they're clay!" He stood up from the chair with a squelch, his wings splaying slightly. "Had them fired yesterday! What, you think we write up our documents on paper?"

COUGH. "Well, that's how most other cities do it. I'm, uh, guessing?" Her ears and wings drooped. There was a soft drip-drip as moisture fell from her primaries.

He stared at her. "Is there a problem?"

"Uh, nope! Just strange!" Her ears perked. COUGH.

"Just strange." He sat down again, his lips screwed up as he thought. "Then get going."

"Yes, sir." She picked them up, moved to place them into her sodden saddlebags, paused. HEAVE. "Uh, mister…"

"Yes?"

"Mister Drizzle?"

He set down his stylus and stared at her again. "Yes?"

"This is a lot of clouds, isn't it?"

"I bet you grew up in Las Pegasus or Cloudsdale or something like that, right?"

"Ponyville, actually," she said, like a filly eager to tell a guilty secret.

He snorted "Miss, uh, what was it?"

"Sunshine," she offered with a smile.

"Sunshine," he repeated, accusing, "look here. This here on the wall is the Vanhoover Climate Directive." He took a thick breath, in and out. "See what is says for Hearth Warming? Rain. Fog. That's what it says, that's what it gets."

She frowned for a moment. HACK. "Seems pretty miserable."

Dreary Drizzle rolled his eyes again and snorted. "Here's a history lesson, lady: when they set up the weather system, they said they wanted a white Hearth Warming. Welcome to Vanhoover, the one city where you imagine the snow 'cause you can't see two hooves ahead of your face." He shook his body, a fine mist spraying from his wings. "You get used to it."

"Uh, right you are. Have a nice…" She paused. COUGH. "Which way to the door, again?"

Because it's so foggy an humid all the time; also, they're pegasi, so the air is thick enough to them that breathing is difficult.

4833807
Legacy Prompt 60: Traveller

“So, what’s going to be first on the agenda, Bonnie?” Lyra turned from the train window, looking over at her roommate. “I mean, Baltimare’s your hometown, so you ought to know all the good stuff, right?”
“Most of it,” Bon Bon replied. “As to your question, I’m probably going to run you through the traditional ‘touristy’ stuff on this trip; we can do other things next time.” Bon Bon herself turned towards the window, thinking for a moment before continuing. “How about this? We’ll start with a trip to the Equestrian National Aquarium, then take in lunch somewhere along the harbor itself. After that, your pick of either the Maritime Museum or birdwatching in Oriole Park.”
“Sounds fine to me,” Lyra said.
Whatever she was going to say next was drowned out by the whistle of the train as it rolled into the station, followed by the conductor’s yell. “Princess Street Station!”
As the two stepped toward the train doorway, Lyra nodded towards the engine. “I’ll go grab the bag from the baggage car, all right?”
“That’s fine by me.”

Five minutes later, the crowd around the baggage car had finally dropped enough that Lyra could claim her bag and get started back toward where she’d left Bon Bon. After she covered about half the distance, Bon Bon saw her and started forward. This left Lyra with a perfect view as Bon Bon suddenly collapsed to her knees in the middle of the station floor.
Lyra’s pace hit a gallop as she made her way through the crowd. She managed to arrive just as Bon Bon was getting to her feet. “Hey, are you okay?”
Bon Bon looked up at Lyra, her eyes wide, then smiled. “I’m fine, miss,” she said, “I just stumbled. But I thank you for your concern.” She finished standing up, then nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be on my way.” With that, Bon Bon began to walk off, not even bothering to look back at Lyra’s stunned gaze.
Eventually, Lyra found her voice again. “Bonnie? Bonnie, what’s wrong? Where are you going? Bonnie!” There was no reply from the retreating Bon Bon, and it almost seemed to Lyra that the crowd of travellers conspired to prevent her from reaching her friend. By the time Lyra broke free of them, Bon Bon was nowhere in sight.
With nothing else to do, Lyra leaned back against the wall and tried to think. What just happened? Bonnie fell, and when she got up, it was like she didn’t recognize me. So what could… Her eyes went wide as one more piece of information clicked into place, and she groaned. “Bonnie’s home town,” she muttered. “Where her family lives. They’ve bug brainwashed her somehow.” She groaned again. “How am I supposed to find out where they-”
Lyra broke off as she remembered something else, something from shortly after she’d first learned about Bon Bon, and she hastily made her way toward the ticket counter. “Hey, excuse me!” she called when she got close enough, “Is there a business directory around here somewhere?”

“19 Fodderal Hill,” Lyra said, looking up at the sign. “This should be the place.” She went around the doors of the office complex until she found the one she was looking for, labeled ‘Marsh & Associates Legal’, then stepped up to the counter inside. “Is Miss Cypress in?”
The pegasus secretary behind the counter looked over at her. “Miss Cypress is currently in a meeting with Mr. Marsh. May I leave a message for her?”
“Please,” Lyra said, trying to paint a smile on her face. “My name is Lyra Heartstrings, and I need to speak with her about a mutual friend of ours.”
“I see,” the secretary said, jotting down a note. “I’ll let her know as soon as she’s available.”
“Thanks,” Lyra said. “Is there somewhere I can sit while I wait?” In response, the secretary pointed a wing toward a door off to the side, and Lyra stepped through it.

About half an hour later, Lyra looked up as the door creaked open again. A blonde-maned white unicorn mare in a charcoal business jacket had just started to come through; she nodded as she stepped inside the room and let the door shut, then flared her horn to seal it. “You said you needed to talk about a mutual friend; we’ve only got two, and there’s a distinct lack of endless conga and confetti explosions, so it’s not Pinkie Pie. Given that, I guess I need to ask what’s happened to Sweetie.”
It took Lyra a few seconds to process Bon Bon’s real name, but she nodded in return when she managed it. “We were going to spend a few days here, just going through some of the local attractions. Almost as soon as we got to the station, though, she started acting like she didn’t recognize me, and she left me there.” Lyra stared deeply into Cypress’s eyes as she continued. “I suspect her family did something to her, and I need some way to contact them. You’re the only method I have. I’m sorry I have to put you to the trouble.”
Cypress raised a hoof to her forehead, covering her face. “It’s my own fault for agreeing to meet with you,” she said. “Give me a moment and we’ll head out for somewhere I can contact the nest from.”
Lyra looked up, startled. “You can’t just do that from here?”
Cypress shook her head. “I’m not a farspeaker like Sweetie is, Lyra. My own telepathic range isn’t much better than what I could reach by shouting out loud.” She lifted her head in thought for a moment, then nodded it. “There’s a cafe about a block and a half away that’s one of our outposts. Let me tell my boss I’m taking an early lunch, and I’ll walk down there with you.”

“Any luck?”
Cypress snorted as Lyra asked the question. “We just sat down a few minutes ago, Lyra. Could you please give me a little time?”
Lyra cringed. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m just nervous about Bonnie.”
“I understand. Just please be a bit more patie...op. There we go.” Cypress closed her eyes, muttering as she did so. “Good, need to relay…” For several moments, Cypress was silent, finally muttering something as her forehead crinkled. “Okay, keep me connected.” She opened her eyes, turning toward Lyra. “Good news is, I know where Sweetie is. Bad news is, it’s at Johns Hoofkins Hospital. Just for some studies!” Cypress said, holding up a hoof to silence Lyra. “Her family thinks one of the doctors in the hidden wing has a new technique that might help her injured wing.”
“Great.” Lyra attempted to wipe the fear off of her face, with little success. “Any clue when I can see her again?”
“I’m afraid it… wait, wha-” That was as far as Cypress got before her eyes snapped shut again. When they opened a second later, Lyra had to shove a hoof in her mouth to keep from screaming. Cypress’s once-purple eyes were now black pools with flecks of many colors in them, and those unsettling eyes turned toward Lyra, crinkling up in the edges of a smile. “Hello, Miss Heartstrings.”
“Dangit, not again!” Lyra just barely stopped herself from reaching over to punch Cypress’s body. “Can’t I speak to one pony for more than five minutes at a stretch?”
“I apologize for the intrusion, Miss Heartstrings, but I would prefer to discuss this with you in person. I am She Who Rules over Baltimare Nest, and I am called Majesty.” The smile in Majesty’s eyes slipped downward to her lips. “I’m afraid Sweetie needs to remain with us for another day or so, but if you’re willing to compromise, I believe I can make you an offer.”
Lyra blinked. “I think I totally don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Simple words for the simple pony, please.”

Time Limit

“Sweetie is right,” Majesty replied, a light giggle on her lips. “You do slip sarcastic when you’re annoyed.” Those strange eyes stared into Lyra’s for longer than Lyra liked before Majesty spoke again. “Sweetie’s body has to stay in the hospital, Miss Heartstrings. However, I can shepherd her mind through another, as I am doing for myself now. If that compromise is acceptable to you, then I can probably arrange for the two of you to meet up again within the hour. Is that agreeable?”
Lyra stopped, then used her hoof to lift her jaw back into place. “Changelings can do that? And it’ll actually be Bonnie?”
“Most can’t,” said Majesty. “I can. And mentally at least, yes, Sweetie will still be herself. So, is it a deal?”
Lyra held out her hoof. “Oh, yeah.”
Majesty took the proffered hoof and shook it. “I believe Cypress needs to get back to work, so I will make this as quick as possible. Here’s where you need to go…”

Forty-five minutes later, Lyra was pulling her luggage off of the edge of a harbor water taxi, a short distance away from the Maritime Museum. She’d just managed to get completely onto dry land when a very familiar voice called out from behind her. “There you are! I was starting to get a little worried!”
Lyra turned,her eyes and smile both growing wide at the familiar sight. “Sorry, Bonnie,” she said, a sheepish grin on her face, “it took me a while to find the water taxi station.”
“You did find it, at least.” Bon Bon stepped over, slipping the hauling collar for the luggage onto herself. “I’m sorry about all of this, Lyra. I promise, this is not how I wanted to introduce you to Baltimare.”
“Hey,” Lyra said, “no big deal. It’s just like those old Manehattan travel posters: ‘See the city most ponies don’t.’”
“And hopefully won’t,” Bon Bon said, making a face. “I know most of our plans got negated, but would you still like to tour the museum before we head for our hotel?”
“Yeah,” Lyra said, smiling softly as she slipped one foreleg around her friend in a hug. “Be nice to do something normal today.” She pulled the foreleg away, sweeping it toward the building. “After you?”

4833807

This story doesn't quite go anywhere, but what the hay. I wanted to write something for this week!

Now to actually write my prompt for other folks.

Las Pegasus, or as it was known to many, just 'Pegas', was known far and wide as a very nice, fancy, glitzy place to go and lose all your bits in one cider-fueled night.

The Cloud Nine, a pegasus-themed casino right there on the strip, was much less widely known than the city at large, and tended to cater to ponies who had acquired a reputation for sweeping up bits in all the lesser casinos already. As more practiced ponies gravitated to the place, fewer and fewer amateurs came in to lose all their money.

Though occasionally some random donkey off the street did manage to wander in, as was the case tonight.

"Ante up." Cranky spoke without any kind of excitement, despite being in the presence of quite a lot of glamour and flashy decor. He casually tossed the sizable ante of bits onto the table, despite coming in with a bedraggled toupee that was fooling nopony, and not even having the class to wear clothing for a night out in the casinos.

The other ponies around the table tossed in their bits after their own fashion. They had all been in Pegas for a while now, and they knew their competition. As the cards were dealt, the ponies at the table all glanced to one another, trying to size up the expressions on everypony's face. The slightest twitch of the lips, wince of the eyes, or flick of the ears could tell everypony around quite a bit about the cards a pony was getting.

Cranky Doodle Donkey just sat and scowled, barely changing expression at all as each new card was added to his hoof. He even fumbled a bit holding the cards splayed out, a feat not always made easy with hooves. By the donkey's expression any pony in the world would have thought he must have the worst deal in the world. 'Easy money' was certainly the thought around the table.

The pegasus on the donkey's left started the betting. He tossed a few more bits into the pile, and play proceeded on. Each pony in turn considered their options, and eventually decided to go ahead and at least check into the bets. When it got back around to Cranky, he saw the current bet, to everypony's surprise, and then raised a modest sum as well. Still the displeased scowl never left his face.

Another round of the table left the pot the same, until it got back to Cranky. He glared at his cards, and tossed another few bits in.

None of these ponies would chatter during the game, but they certainly looked to one another. It had to be a poker face. He must be scowling to hide his elation at having a winning hand.

Another round of checks, followed by another modest raise by Cranky. A few nervous glances went around the table, though most of these ponies knew the game well enough to keep their doubt hidden. Two checks later, a pegasus across the table from Cranky shook his head and folded, pre-flop. He sat back a little, crossing his forelegs and frowning at the donkey, who hardly even seemed to notice.

Third time around, Cranky shook his head and simply called the bet.

The game was on again, and careful eyes watched for responses from the flop. Cranky's scowl only deepened, he must have been overcompensating to hide a smile. A common rookie mistake, and all the ponies felt a bit more relaxed again. Sure, he might have a good hand, but that lack of confidence was going to lead to a fold.

Another round of bets saw a few modest raises, until it got to Cranky. He paused, and then slid over twice the bits required. The flash of avarice in the experienced player's eyes was only slightly tinged with the wonder of what kind of hand this newcomer must be holding, to bet so aggressively. Still, the other raised to the challenge, and the pot grew with each new bet.

It was another two rounds of raises before somepony else folded, unable to take the increasing cost of staying in.

Finally Cranky just called the bet, and another card was dealt to the center of the table. If anything, Cranky only frowned further. What in Equestria was he holding?

Another fold before even the first round of betting was done, and only three players were left. They were each so invested in this hand already that they could hardly stand to fold now.

The final card was flipped, and the game was nearly over.

Cranky raised, and the others matched the bet. Cranky raised again, and the others matched the bet. Not once did the frown leave the donkey's features.

The pot grew, but finally became too much for a pair of the ponies at the table, the two suspiciously folding in the same round.

Cranky just shook his head, glaring at the cards as though it might change them.

He raised, and his opponent checked. He raised again, and his opponent met the bet. The pot grew and grew with each raise, until finally Cranky frowned a bit more, and set his bag of bits on the table. "All in."

The pony looked at the bag, and to his own. He could match the amount, but it was... not a small amount. The pot was huge, but the way that newcomer was looking, he must have something great to hide. The silence settled over the table as the pony debated, thought, rethought, overthought, and then cleared his head and started over.

It couldn't' wait forever, though, and a not-overly-subtle cough from one of the folded players brought the timing to attention.

"I... uh... darnit." The pony glanced to the pot, then to the sack of bits waiting to be added to it. "... fold."

Cranky shook his head, his floppy ears swishing a bit. He reached out and swept the sizable pot into his saddlebag, before flipping his cards over to reveal his hand. "High card, princess of apples. See you ponies later."

He trudged away from the table with his saddlebags weighing him down, leaving several stunned high rollers behind him.

It was enough for another few years of looking for Matilda, even after he factored in bailing Steven Magnet out of the griffon kingdom's jail. Cranky hitched himself up to his wagon again, and started off toward Griffonstone.

4835200 I suppose all that fog would give pegasi a hard time, wouldn't it? Years and years of it have certainly made Dreary Drizzle an unhappy camper. Good job on the contrasting names, by the way.

I do wonder about the clay tablets, though. Is it because paper wouldn't do well in the humidity?

4848338 I think I'm a little lost here. If this 'Majesty's purpose was just to take Bon Bon to the hospital to fix her wing, why resort to full-on possession? Wouldn't it have been easier and far less intrusive to just drop her a line to say, 'hey, stop by the hospital while you're here, okay?'

I do like the specialization seen in the changelings here. Some of them are better at some things than others; they can't all do all of the things Bon Bon has shown Lyra she can do.

4848908 Ah, good ol' Cranky. I like how this little story casts his surliness as an advantage in card games. No one can read his expression because it's just grumpy, all the time.

The ending seems to imply that he may be well aware of this advantage, too. Stop me if I've got this wrong, but it looks like this has been his usual method for funding his search for Matilda, just dropping by Las Pegasus every few years and cleaning out some unsuspecting poker table.