• Published 9th Jul 2013
  • 1,913 Views, 67 Comments

Lyra and Bon Bon Screw Up - bahatumay



Take picture. Make wedding announcement. Send to everypony. Sounds simple enough, right?

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Chapter 2

Lyra is a bit of a strange pony. Like many musicians, she seems to excel in some areas of her life, while others are lacking. For example, she happens to have perfect pitch. She tends to use this to compose music in her head while walking or running errands, rendering her somewhat inattentive to the world around her. Sometimes, her friends would have to physically throw something at her to get her attention.

Today, however, it was clear to see that other ponies were acting strangely. Cloudchaser and Flitter met her eyes... and turned to each other and giggled behind their hooves. Stallions chuckled as she walked by, and some even whistled. Cloud Kicker made the gesture of a celebratory air high wing and a slightly perverted smile, while Blossomforth just facehoofed. (1)

Seeing a familiar face, Lyra waved at the mailmare... who blushed slightly and looked down, didn't watch where she was going, and ended up slamming into the side of a house. Luckily, her bag stayed closed and there was no explosion of letters; just an explosion of feathers and a jumbled mess of gray.

Lyra ran up to her side. “Hey, are you ok?” she asked, reaching out a hoof to help her up.

To her surprise, the mailmare averted her eyes and mumbled something about staying on her route before lifting herself up and flying off rapidly.

Lyra chewed on her lower lip in confusion. Very strange, this was. This was a lot of attention, and she hadn't even gotten to the market yet.

And when she did, it was all the same. Ponies looked at her and either blushed and looked away, or giggled, or snorted, and one outright laughed.

But no one complimented her on her upcoming wedding. (2) This was slightly saddening.

She pulled out her list. For caramel apples, she needed apples, and there was only one pony who grew the kind Bon Bon needed.

As usual, Applejack was standing beside her stall, having a conversation with her younger sister. She seemed unaware of Lyra's approach.

“For the last time, Ah am not donatin' t' the 'Cutie Mark Crusaders Around Equestria in Eighty Days' fund!”

“But what if this is our special talent?” Apple Bloom pleaded. “Pleeeease?”

Applejack pretended to think. “Hmm... Knock off a digit and I'll donate.”

“So, ten bits?” Apple Bloom asked excitedly.

“Ah meant knock off th' one. Now go find somethin' cheaper to get a cutie mark in.”

“Aw...” Apple Bloom scuffed a hoof as she turned away.

Applejack shook her head, and froze when she saw Lyra. “H- Howdy,” she stammered, a faint blush appearing in her cheeks..

“Hi,” Lyra said, confused again. Where did this awkwardness come from? Her mind raced. She had brushed her mane, had brushed her teeth, she wasn't covered in mud, she wasn't wearing pants... (3)

“So... Guessin' yer here fer apples?” Applejack said lamely.

“Yeah,” Lyra said.

Their awkward conversation was cut short by the reappearance of a smaller yellow filly. “Hi, Lyra!” Apple Bloom shouted.

“Hi!” Finally. Somepony who was treating her norma- why was Apple Bloom wandering around her hindquarters? Lyra was certain that she had already shared her cutie mark story—for the fourth time, if she had counted correctly.

But as it turns out, Apple Bloom wasn't looking at the lyre. “Wow, yer flank heals fast!” she said brightly.

Apple Bloom!” Applejack turned redder than the apples she was selling.

Apple Bloom looked up innocently. “What?”

“Changed my mind. Here,” and Applejack slid over a few coins. “Now git.”

Never one to question free money, Apple Bloom took it and ran.

“Just what I usually get,” Lyra said, trying to bring back some semblance of order to her day. “Plus a dozen Jonagolds and three of the little green ones.”

Applejack didn't seem to make eye contact as she slid over her wares. Lyra paid and left, shaking her head in confusion.

The strange looks and giggles didn't stop. One of the flower ponies even fainted at the sight of Lyra.

That was her tipping point. Lyra straightened herself up and steeled herself. She needed a voice of reason. The voice of somepony who knew too much. The voice of somepony who had her muzzle poked in all the deep gossip.

* * *

“Hey, Rarity,” Lyra said as she entered the boutique. “Hey, quick question. Is it just me, or is everypony acting strange today?”

Rarity looked up from her drawing area and peeked over the top of her red-rimmed glasses. “Strange?” she queried, setting down the quill.

“Yeah,” Lyra nodded. “Ponies keep laughing at me and giggling behind their hooves.”

Rarity tried to keep a smile on her face, but her eyes betrayed the fact that she didn't really want to be having this conversation. “Oh, I wouldn't look too much into that, dearie. It was probably just the invitations you passed out.”

“Really?” Lyra exhaled, relieved. “Well, if it's just everypony happy about our big day, then that isn't much of a problem.”

“Well...” Rarity's eyes seemed to find many interesting things to look at that certainly weren't Lyra. “I don't think it's just the wedding, but perhaps the invitations themselves.”

Lyra cocked her head. “I thought they were sweet,” she said. Just a nice, tender moment between the two. Lyra leaned against Bon Bon, both looking out against a beautiful sunset. It had even appeased the caustic Bon Bon. She had never before, nor since, heard such a “d'aww".

“That's not a term I would have used," Rarity said slowly. "'Daring', maybe. Perhaps 'risqué'.” Rarity looked up at Lyra. “I know you said you would happily use the outfits I made, and often; but I didn't think you meant like that!”

Lyra blinked, confused. They hadn't been wearing anything in the picture. And besides, she hadn't ordered any dresses from... oh.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no no no.

“Where is the invitation?” Lyra hissed. Rarity scampered (gracefully, of course) over to one of her many desks and found the paper. It glowed blue, and she hesitantly levitated it over. Lyra took it in her own magic, and groaned audibly in horror and awful realization.

See, as one of Ponyville's only seamstresses, Rarity took custom orders. This included special orders. Private orders. Orders that were only to be worn in intimate settings. Tight pieces, seeming more like restraints than clothing.

And that was exactly what the two mares were wearing in the picture, which effect was only accentuated by what polite company would call “accessories”. Metal chains held Lyra's forehooves down, while an iron bar kept her rear legs spread in a position that could only be called “compromising”. Bon Bon rested on top of Lyra's hindquarters, perpendicular to Lyra's body, and the earth pony held a crop in her mouth while a smiling Lyra happily wore its effects. At least, it looked like she was smiling, but it was a bit difficult to tell around whatever that red thing was that was in her mouth. Topping it all off, the headline text screamed, “Theme wedding! Dress in costume or no entry!” in large, block letters.

Lyra's mind flicked back to that particular night and groaned in defeat, facehoofing hard. Bon Bon was going to kill her.

Author's Note:

Ya dun goof'd, Lyra; ya dun goof'd.
In Lyra's defense, Bon Bon is not entirely blameless in this. Next chapter's flashback should explain it better.

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