Ostinato

by bobthedalek

Close Encounters of the Mixed Media Kind

Throughout the night thick, dark clouds descended over Colton-on-Sea, bringing with them an endless rainfall that started in the early morning. It was now, as a new rumble of thunder signalled the downpour was getting heavier, that a single black box like carriage pulled into the square in front of the Colton-on-Sea opera house. Being pulled by a single unicorn, the carriage body itself was incredibly tall and thin, which amusingly was a description that also fitted two of the three ponies travelling inside it. The two ponies themselves would have scowled at such a remark.

From inside the carriage, Lord Spyglass stared straight ahead, a stoic expression on his blue face. He used his unicorn magic to remove a small cylindrical object from inside his suit jacket pocket, extending it in a telescopic manner to become his walking stick, an object with which he’d become well known for. Beside him sat his wife, Lady Jewel, a pale brown earth pony with curly greying hair. Her love for rare stones wasn’t just noticeable from the green gemstone cutie mark that adorned her flank, but also from the large sapphire that was set in the gold necklace she wore. The two of them stared ahead at the pony sat opposite them in the carriage. She was a smaller, but stockier, pony with a light grey coat and charcoal black hair that curled on top at the ends closest to her ears, her mane flowing down her back, ending near her flank, which had yet to gain its cutie mark. A burgundy coloured bow was tied into her mane, tucked just behind her left ear. Her name was Mixed Media.

Mixed Media, or Mixy as she preferred to known when her parents weren’t around, was a quiet pony. This was mainly due to the strict upbringing she’d had throughout her life so far. She silently suffered over the years as her parents had laid down rule after rule, curfew after curfew, limiting her freedom to almost nothing. Given how much of a reputation the family held in Colton-on-Sea they’d seen it fit for her not to mix with the local residents unless absolutely necessary, and even then, she was never allowed to talk to anyone unless she spoken to. The result was that she felt an almost endless loneliness as she spent her days walking round the cavernous rooms of her parent’s house on the outskirts of the town, as if she was trapped in a bubble. Yet in all of this isolation she had found one stroke of happiness. She had taken a keen interest in art, defying her parent’s wishes numerous times for the sake of being creative. It was due to this career path she had chosen that they were now in the carriage in the Opera House square. Her art studies had lead Mixy to take an Art course at the local university, and with it came many trips to art galleries and exhibitions, all of which her parents had stopped her from attending due to their concerns about the lower classes. Today however was different as the arranged trip was to the Opera House, a building which her parents had visited numerous times, so they felt that the environment would be suitable for their daughter.

Lord Spyglass spoke first “Now remember Mixed Media, there are most likely going to be many members of the lower classes around you whilst inside the Opera House. But they should only be confined to the backstage areas I imagine”

The rain pelted down on to the carriage roof, rising to such a crescendo he had to almost shout to make himself heard.

Spyglass continued “Just remember, no matter how nice and charming they may come across, you’re far better off than they could ever be. Mixing with them would only corrupt you”

Mixy remained silent in her seat. She actually wanted to punch her father for such a remark. She daren’t tell him, but she actually envied those of a less prestigious background than hers. At least they had more freedom. She had heard much of this prejudice over the years, and it annoyed her greatly, mainly from how the outside world had been shut out her, seeming more like a land of fantasy than a land of misery.

The sound of the carriage door to her right clicking open brought her out of her thoughts, though she knew better from previous experiences than to simply rush out of the door. All three of them sat briefly in silence before Spyglass lifted his stick and tapped the carriage floor with it. Mixy had been taught that this was a clear signal that she could leave their sight. But it didn’t stop one final remark escaping her Mother’s mouth.

“Behave yourself today Mixed Media. The family’s reputation depends on it” Jewel’s lower lip seemed to stick out slightly when it returned to it natural state.

Mixy was trying with all her might to stop herself from bursting out into a rage at her parents. She gave herself a few seconds before responding in order to bottle up her emotions “Goodbye Mother, Goodbye Father” with a final flick of her flowing hair she headed out the carriage door.

Jewel stared out of one of the tiny carriage windows as she watched her daughter walk off “I never really like that name. Mixed Media” She almost spat her name this time.
“Personally, I never did either dear. Alas, in order to keep our prestigious family image up to date in this dreary seaside town we had to adopt this awful new naming fashion that seems to have cropped up over the past thirty years”

---

Parker, Lord Spyglass’ personal butler and chauffer, was a faded brown unicorn with a light grey mane. As young as he looked, sounded and acted, small silver strands of hair were already becoming prominent in his mane and tail, hinting at his true age. He was stood immediately outside the carriage door holding up an umbrella for Mixy to shelter her from the rain. A thick black cloak covered his body, sheltering his purplish grey uniform from the rain whilst a chauffer’s cap was perched on his head, covering what little of his mane that it could in vain.

He outstretched one of his forehooves towards Mixy “A helping hoof, M’ lady?”
Mixy thankfully accepted “Thank you Parker”

Helping her down the carriage step and shutting the door behind her, Parker continued to carry the umbrella with his magic above her as they both walked through the rain towards the glass canopy at the front of the opera house. The two conversed as they walked.

“Parker, do you believe the colour of a ponies coat can affect their mood and outlook on life?”
Parker was stunned, he’d never considered such a prospect “And what would make you think that, M’ lady?”
“It’s just…” Mixy paused as she looked skywards, obviously trying to think of how best to put her thoughts into words “…I look out of the carriage window every time I take a ride, and I always see lots of happy ponies going about their daily lives, and they’re always such a varied hue of colours, red, yellow, purple. I sort of envy the ones who seem to have inherited some of their parent’s colours, unlike me”
“I wouldn’t say that M’ Lady. Personally, I think you should be thankful that you don’t have any colours that could link you to your mother and father” He winked at her.
Mixy managed a small chuckle “All the same. I sometimes think the reason why I have these dreary colours for my coat and mane is due to the restrictive upbringing I’ve had”
“M’ lady” Parker took down the umbrella and shook off the droplets of rain that clung to the canvas as they both stood under the glass canopy at the front of the opera house “There are plenty of grey ponies out there who live happy lives. I myself know of two ponies who are regular drinkers at the Fishmonger’s Arms whose coats and manes make them look like they’ve just been washed up on the beach. But it’s never affected who they are on the inside. I’m sure someday you’ll come across a pony with colours similar to yours and you’ll realise how mistaken you’ve been”
“I’d hardly think so Parker. The only ones I’ve encountered so far just want to marry into the family for the profit”
There was a brief moment of silence, with only the constant sound of rain providing any noise.
“Chin up, M’Lady” Parker broke the silence “You never know, the key to rest of your life could be just on the other side of those doors” He gestured with a hoof to the oak doors of the Foyer, where Mixy could just make out a small group of art students from her class had already gathered beyond the frosted glass set in the door frames “I’ll be back to pick you up this evening madam”
“Will you be alone?” Mixy asked far too quickly for Parker’s liking.
Parker sighed, smiling “Yes, I’ll be alone. And I’ll even take a couple of diversions to give you some more time alone from your parents”
“You always did treat me well Parker” Mixy smiled as Parker used his magic to slot the umbrella into the holder on Mixy’s saddlebag.
“You’d best be going M’Lady” Parker checked his pocket watch “They’ll be starting your tour soon”
“Goodbye Parker”
“Goodbye M’Lady”

Mixy walked up the stairs to the Foyer, heaving the heavy door open with of the gigantic brass handles as Parker ventured back out into the rain. With a faint clink of metal hardly audible over the rain, he reattached himself to the front of the carriage. Two loud thumps hammered against the front wall of the carriage from the inside. Parker had grown accustomed to this. Two thumps from his lordship on his cane meant only one thing, to head for home. With a heavy sigh he gave a great heave on the drawbars, thinking of eating hot buttered toast by the fireside in his small room in the servant’s quarters back at the house.

---

Ostin was in the office of the music director in the backstage area of the Opera House, wrapped in a thick towel as he sat in front of the glowing hot fire place, his white shirt and a green tank top were hanging from a shelf above the fireplace, still dripping with small amounts of rain water. Of all the mornings on which the trams could choose not to run, it had to be this one! Truthfully though, it wasn’t entirely the fault of the trams that he was soaking wet. Due to a mixture of Sandy and Tonnage leaving early that morning to do their shopping and Ostin forgetting to set his alarm clock and oversleeping, he’d rushed to get ready for the day and almost sprinted from the house to the Opera House through the rain, forgetting to take an umbrella in the process.

The office itself was contained deep in the underbelly of the Opera House. Whilst this resulted in there being no windows, this had the advantage that there was hardly anywhere for the heat from the fire to escape the room. The room was extremely low down, only just big enough for a full sized pony to stand up in, with exposed oak beams running across its width. The dark green paint that adorned the walls helped to create a warm cosy feeling in the glow of the fireplace and the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, which was covered in a lampshade of a scale model of the chandelier that hung in the Opera House’s Auditorium.

Quaver, the music director, was sat beside him on the stone slab in front of the fireplace with his back to the warmth. He was a Pegasus pony of average build with a creamy yellow coat and an untidy mane of golden hair. A set of glasses with thick top rims rested on his nuzzle and a black tie and white shirt colour was tied loosely around his neck.

“So, I see you haven’t gotten used to the Colton weather yet, young Ostinato?” Quaver chuckled.
“N-N-No” Ostin sneezed, still shivering slightly in the aftermath.
“Ah, you’ll soon get used to it” Quaver continued “Scorching heat in the summer and almost continuous storms in the winter”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Quaver shouted from where he was sat, outstretching one of his wings to pick up another log for the fire and throw it into the flames.

Ostin was quite surprised at how loud Quaver could bellow, but given that he would have to shout over an orchestra at times, he soon realised it made more sense than he first though. A plump, slightly overweight, peach coloured unicorn with chestnut colour hair walked through the door, a seamstress’ apron tied around her waist. In her magic aura she was carrying what looked like a bundle of dark red silk.

“Well Quaver, I’ve worked through most of the night to make the alterations to this gown for tonight” She seemed to be in a world of her own, her eyes closed as she trotted towards Quaver’s ornately carved wooden desk and rested the bundle down “I personally don’t see what the problem was with the gown being slightly to tight. Surely if I’d made it tighter the lead singer might have actually been able to hit all those high notes he misses so badly…”

It was only then that she noticed Quaver sat on the edge of the fireplace with Ostin sat beside him with wide eyes. The mares eyes seemed to go even wider in delight as a big smile spread across her face.

“Quaver, you never told me that your little intern arrived today!” she bolted over to them both, rustling Ostin’s damp mane with one of her forehooves, much to Ostin’s annoyance.
“And this Ostin…” Quaver gave a small sigh “…is Madame Tailor, the head costume organiser and seamstress here at the Opera House”
Tailor was too busy pinching Ostin's cheeks to notice Quaver's annoyance “And will the young Ostinato here be eventually singing in any of the productions?”
“And what makes you think Tailor?”
“Well, he looks about the same size as the current lead singer” She narrowed her eyes slightly and raised a forehoof to her chin, she was clearly thinking about something “I wonder…”

Before Ostin could object he found himself being dressed in a thick, silk dressing gown by Madame Tailor. The gown itself was a rich dark red, with thick black felt round the ends of the sleeves and the neck. A finely embroidered golden dragon adorned the back, which swept down over his back and hind legs; the gown was clearly far too big for him. Despite all of this, he had to admit that it did make him feel warmer.

Tailor pulled him forward from where he was sat, squeezing him in a hug that had a vice like grip “Oh, you look like such a handsome young stallion now. And it’s almost a perfect fit if I do say so myself” Tailor pondered for a few moments as she released her grip slightly “Would it be possible for me to borrow him…”
“No” was Quaver’s blunt reply, cutting her off.
“Not even for a few costumes…”
“No”
“But he’d look so adorable in…”
“My, my, just look at the time Ostin. We should have been in the orchestra pit almost ten minutes ago!”
Ostin was taken by surprise “Should we?”
Quaver snatched Ostin back with one of his wings, picking him up with it and carrying him along as he made his way towards the door “Yes, I was going to show you…you know, the stuff that’s in there. Music, I think it's called...”

He darted out the door to his office, leaving Tailor to slowly shake her head in disapproving manner, realising only a few minutes later that she’d let Quaver run off with Ostin whilst he was still wearing the dressing gown for tonight’s opera.

“QUAVER!!!”

---

“Now, Fillies and Gentlecolts, if you will look up to the ceiling you will notice the intricate plasterwork that was put in to it to create the sweeping curves by hoof”

From her seat in the auditorium amongst the other students Mixy cast her eyes upwards, almost rolling them in annoyance. She’d seen the plaster work inside the opera house several times when she’d been forced to sit through several performances by her parents. None of the plotlines of which had particularly captured her imagination, though the musical scores for a few of them still resonated in her ears.

“Now” continued her lecturer, a pony who was far to excited by her job for her students’ liking “The plaster work may seem symmetrical, but due to every curve being made by hoof, when they restored the plasterwork a few years ago the workers had to create individual casts for single every piece of sculpture work!”

Mixy went back to scribbling little doodles in her sketchpad. As much as was happy to be out of the house and amongst normal ponies, she couldn’t help but realise that this was going to be a long day.

---

Quaver and Ostin had successfully given Tailor the slip, and were now large in the Orchestra pit below the stage. To Ostin’s surprise, the pit itself was completely empty, save for one instrument in the area underneath the front of the stage.

“And this Ostin” Quaver outstretched a hoof “Is my pride and joy”

Ostin gazed in wonder at the organ console unit before him. It was made from solid ivory, ornately carved with small cherub like figures of pegasus, unicorns and earth ponies on its sides and frames, highlighted in places with accents of gold leaf. The console itself was highly imposing, being roughly the size of a small tomb from a churchyard. In front of the small, yet well carved organist’s stool were five sets of keyboards, one on top of the other, swarmed by a sea of nobs, buttons, levers and switches to adjust and distort the sounds of the instrument. On the upright section of the built in music stand, large letters were emblemized in a striking, large gold font: Wurlitzer.

Quaver took his place up on the stool “As you can see Ostin, it’s quite an intricate bit of kit. But it’s far simpler than most ponies think” he patted the space on the stool next to him, indicating for Ostin to take a seat, which he promptly accepted “I shan’t bore you with the details of its workings though. Judging from you initial application to work here you seem to already have researched this instrument quite a lot” Quaver flicked one of the switches on the console, resulting in a series of lights built into the console illuminating the keys from behind.
Ostin was impressed, but still puzzled “There’s one thing I could never work out though in all the research I made about this organ though. It’s true that it’s one of the loudest in Equestria, yet there seems to be no photographic evidence of anywhere I looked of the actual organ pipes. They'd have to be out in the open in order to make as much noise as they’re reputed to, yet I can’t even see them in sight here. Where are they?”
“Ah, that’s simple. Have you ever seen any of the publicity photographs from the production of ‘The Pony of the Opera’ that was staged a few years back?”
“No, I haven’t”
“I’ll show you them when we get back to my office. During the opening scene in the Auction you’ll notice the back wall of the set is covered with pipes dripping with cobwebs and rags. They’re the organ pipes themselves, they’re built into the back wall of the stage! It created a beautiful effect of all the dust blowing away when that overture rang out, even if half of the cast member’s did get lost in the subsequent dust smog!”
Ostin chuckled at the thought “But there’s still one thing I don’t understand though”
“And what would that be Ostin?”
“Well, in some photographs I’ve seen of this organ the console unit appears to be actually on the stage. How do you get it up there? The door to this room is far to small, and it would require a unicorn with some seriously powerful magic to get it up there that way”
“Ah, that’s one of the simple secrets Ostin. If you feel under the bottom keyboard you’ll notice a small round button at about knee height, with a simple gentle kick the two trap doors in the roof above us will swing downwards, and the section of floor that we and the organ console are sat on will rise up gently on hydraulics to fill the gap. It’s quite simple really”

Ostin was seriously impressed as he turned back to look at the carvings on the console.

Quaver flicked through a folder of sheet music that was sat on top the console “Hmm, it would appear the music I need isn’t here. I’ve probably left it back in the office, I’ll be back in a minute” Quaver hopped down from the organ stool “Oh, feel free to have a play of the Organ if you wish, it’ll warm it up by the time I get back”

Ostin simply stared at the great console as Quaver left the orchestra pit. Only a week ago he’d still been a simple delivery pony for his uncle, cycling about the steeply graded cobbled streets with the customer’s orders crammed into the wicker basket fastened to the front of his bike. And now here he was, a simple ordinary pony being offered the chance of playing one of the most famous instruments in Equestrian theatre history for fun!

He may not have gotten his cutie mark yet, which was rather off for a stallion of his age, but Ostin had already taken a keen interest in music and knew it was his destiny. He’d quickly learnt how to read music, and decided to leaf through the sheet music on the music stand to see if there was any piece that took his fancy, eventually settling on a tune that from his first glance seemed to have lots of short but powerful notes, perfect for warming the organ pipes. From the amount of hoof scribbled notes on the paper, Ostin gathered that this was one of Quaver’s personal compositions, though he could clearly see that it was based on an earlier piece: 'Toccata in Equestria'.

Putting his hooves together and rubbing them against each other, Ostin prepared to see how he could handle the great organ.

---

Mixy was now sat on the far left hand side of the stage of the opera house. Looking around, it seemed that most of the other students from her class had lost interest in the artworks and carvings that decorated the auditorium. A few minutes previously her lecturer had pointed out the sculpt of Celestia defeating Nightmare Moon that adorned the top of the stage arch, and was now too busy giving a rather detailed account of how Celestia had banished her sister too the moon to notice that her obviously rehearsed speech was all in vain.

Mixy thought back to her conversation with Parker that morning. She was trying to convince herself that she should enjoy being away from her parents, even if it wasn’t in the most exciting manner, because she knew she’d soon find herself back in the carriage being taken to their house on the outskirts of Colton-on-Sea.

A massive punch of noise interrupted her thoughts and startled her, along with everyone else, many of the ponies clutching their ears at how loud the noise was. It then seemed to change pitch, gradually getting higher and higher before turning into a full melodic tune. The music was coming from the back of the stage, hidden behind a red velvet curtain that seemed to blow outwards slightly with every note.

One of the students tried to edge forward to see what it was exactly that was producing the music, but as he approached the music gradually became louder, forcing him to make a hasty retreat to his friends and pray that the torture would end soon.

---

Down below in the orchestra pit, Ostin was totally lost in the music he was playing. He closed his eyes, imagining being on the stage during a packed performance at the opera house, all the spotlight focusing on him alone. He knew the piece that Quaver had clearly being trying to put a notation copy together of, so the notes flowed naturally from his hooves. He didn’t even need to look at the keys.

Unfortunately, Ostin was far to wrapped up in himself to realised he’d accidently kicked the switch that controlled the position of the organ console. Slowly, gently, the trap doors above opened and the floor started to rise…

---

Thankfully, none of the students were on top of the trapdoor when it began to open. All of them had their forehooves pressed tightly over their ears, Mixy included. Being so close to the pipes of the organ as it was being played was having a deafening affect on her ears. She looked around. Her lecturer was trying to shout several things to the students, but the music being played totally drowned out her voice.

And then, Ostin slowly rose up from out of the hole in the stage, his eyes still closed as he was lost in his daydreaming.

Mixy clapped eyes on him almost instantly, she was at a loss for words as she felt her heart seem to skip a beat. Suddenly the noise from the organ didn’t seem so deafening. She slowly took her forehooves down from covering her ears, never taking her eyes off of Ostin. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, a grey pony, being perfectly happy with who they were, with no hint of depression at all. As Ostin flicked his head backwards as he played, Mixy seemed to see his mane swish backwards, almost in slow motion. The silk dressing gown he was wearing suggested to her that he was from a rather well to do family in the area of Colton-on-Sea, though she couldn’t think of a reason why her parents would never have mentioned him before. After all, he did look awfully young, probably about the same age as her.

Rising to a great crescendo, Ostin finished the piece of music. The silence was tremendous. Nopony dared to make a move.

Nervously, slowly, Mixy crept up on tiptoes behind him, gently tapping Ostin with her hoof “Excuse me?”

Ostin snapped back into reality, screaming as he suddenly felt an unknown hoof touching him. Flailing his hooves around as he suddenly realised where he was and what must have happened he stumbled off the stool and tried to run off, slightly embarrassed at how he appeared to be the centre of attention. Luck however, was not on Ostin’s side at this moment in time. He’d almost made it to the stage wings when one of his hind hooves slipped on the red silk dressing gown as it drooped down onto the floor underneath his legs. He stumbled forward.

Everything went black as he face planted the stage in a spectacular fashion.

---

Slowly, the darkness began to fade away.

Voices began to register in Ostin’s ears. There was one voice very close to him that he recognised as Sandy’s, but the other one was alien to him. It was clearly the voice of a stallion, but it was of a low grumbling tone that he didn’t recognise, though whoever it was left the room with an audible click of the door. He was trying to think as to whom it could be, but then the feeling of pins and needles told him his sense of touch was begining to creep back into his forehooves. Although his bones ached, he moved them ever so slightly, trying to work out where he was. The soft plushness and the fact he was on his back suggested to him that he was in bed. He slowly opened his eyes, above him he could see thick fluffy white clouds passing by. At this point he did wonder whether he’d died and gone to heaven…

“Ostin…Ostin…”

…then Sandy brought him back down to Equestria as he rolled his head sideways to notice she was sat on a chair beside his bed, and that the clouds he’d seen were through the open skylight. He was indeed in bed as he’d first thought, his own bed to be precise.

“There’s my brave little soldier!” Sandy gently used her magic to pull Ostin up into a sitting position, repositioning his pillows to suit and then letting him lean back on them to sit up in bed “How’s that cute little nose of yours doing?” Sandy touched the end of his muzzle lightly, it was only now as Ostin tried to look at it whilst trying to not go cross eyed that he realised it was wrapped in a thick bandage, suddenly reminding him that he had indeed fallen face first onto the stage floor of the opera house.

“My nose…” Speaking two words led Ostin to realise that having the bandage on his nose made his voice sounds rather nasally “…it isn’t broken, is it?”
“No” Sandy ruffled his mane “You had a very lucky escape there Ostin, one of the medic ponies who works at the opera house was able to determine that you haven’t broken a single bone, though she said you may feel a little sore. I decided to bandage it up just in case. It’s not too tight is it?”

Ostin shook his head. As much of a lie as this was, he’d never had this sort of care when he’d lived with his uncle.

With a click of the door handle, Tonnage walked into the room, pulling back the covers at the bottom of the bed and placing a hot water bottle near Ostin’s hind hooves before pulling back the bed covers and tucking them in. The heat radiating from the bottle gradually brought the feeling back in to Ostin’s hind hooves, and he sank back further into his pillows as he relaxed in its warmth.

“You’re under orders to just rest yourself” Sandy smiled “I’ve already arranged for you to have a few days off from the Opera House”
“But-” Ostin leaned forward.
“No buts Ostin” Sandy gave him a gentle push back towards the pillows “It’s all been sorted. Just relax and try to get some sleep. If there’s anything you need just shout for me or Tonnage”

Leaning over to give Ostin a final kiss on the forehead, Sandy left the room, Tonnage following afterwards, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in a patronising manner at the sight of Ostin being practically swamped in a series of blankets and pillows.

Alone, Ostin sank back into the pillows and stared out into several thoughts about his current situation began to cross Ostin’s mind, but there was one that kept recurring. He couldn’t get the mental image of a grey earth pony with a charcoal black mane out of his mind…

---

Later that afternoon Parker was alone in the Butler's Pantry. It was nothing really compared to an ordinary room in the upstairs part of the grand house in which the family lived in. The walls were thickly painted with a faded, thick yellow paint bordered with brown and the floor was made up of worn down floorboards, save for the Persian rug that was laid out in the centre of the room which he had rescued fro the rubbish tip when it no longer suited his lordship’s tastes. Three pointed arch style windows with lattice style ironwork offered him a view of the front lawn down towards the lake. Having just returned from collecting Mixy from the opera house, he made himself a large pot of tea and was settling down have a well deserved rest before he was due to help with the dinner service.

Setting the tea tray down on a coffee table and sinking back into his favourite well loved armchair Parker let out a sigh of relief as he rested his aching hooves, lifting his hind legs up to rest on a tatty pouffe. Letting his forehooves droop over the arms of the chair, Parker’s eyelids began to feel heavy, combined with the heat coming from the small black stove he started to slowly but surely drift into a drowsy state.

A knock at the door instantly snapped him out of this state.

“Come in!” Parker shouted from his chair. In the servant’s quarters of the house nopony minded if everyone wasn’t always strictly formal.

Slowly, the door handle clicked as it was turned by hoof and the door itself slowly creaked open, allowing Mixy to walk nervously into the room.

“M’Lady?” Parker was quite surprised “I didn’t expect you to come down here”

It was true that Mixy had indeed visited Parker’s room in the servant’s quarters before, mainly for advice from somepony that wasn’t going to end in a dispute about the social classes. Parker had always been a great source of information and insight to Mixy.

“Parker” Mixy seemed quite nervous, as if she was having trouble getting the words out of her throat “I need your advice on something”
“M’Lady?” He levitated another tea cup from his kitchen counter over to the tea tray, resting it besides his own and then using his magic to prepare to cups of tea.
“Parker, please, you can stop calling me ‘M’Lady’. You know I don’t like it”
“Beg Pardon…Mixy…now, what was this advice you seek?”
“Well” Mixy felt rather nervous “Being totally hypothetical…”
“…of course…” Parker smiled a knowing smile. He was well aware every time Mixy had asked him a hypothetical question it was usually something she was actually having problems with, mostly trivial things.
“…well, say that you happened to have a chance encounter with a stallion…or a mare in your case…” Mixy seemed quite panicked about what she’d just said “What would you do if just from seeing them you felt that you…”
“….you?”
“…you know” Mixy seemed almost unable to get the words from her mouth “Like them”

Parker was about to talk, when the speaking tube beside his plush armchair started to emit a whistling sound. The system itself was very much like one that would have been seen in a lighthouse somewhere down by the seafront. Instantly Mixy knew it was her father on the other end of the line, the tube was a direct link between his gallery and Parker’s room so he could contact him quickly if need be.

Parker took hold of the speaking tube with one hoof and removed the whistle cap with the other “Yes, M’Lord?”

Lifting the tube up to his ear to listen, the low grumbling tones of Mixy’s father’s voice were quite audible.

“No M’Lord, I haven’t seen your daughter for a good couple of hours, though it may have been more” He winked at Mixy “I do recall earlier though she said she may take a walk to the prospect tower”

More grumbling was heard.

“Yes M’Lord, I’m aware it’s as far away from the house as you can get on the estate. I believe the young mare wanted some time alone to think”

The grumbling was less erratic this time, punctuated every now and then with large pauses.

“Goodbye M’Lord” He replaced the cap on the speaking tube and slotted it back into its wall mounted socket “Now then, since your father and mother will now be looking for you at the ruined mill I think that gives us a good couple of hours to talk” Parker took an incredibly unrefined slurp of his tea “So, tell me about this pony you so admire…”

Mixy’s cheeks instantly turned bright red.

Comments

[Scyphi]

This actually explains SOOOO much. Have to admit though, I wasn't expecting the tale to take this direction, but so much the better. This is actually more interesting than what I had been expecting, so it's all good.

[bobthedalek]

4447183 Thanks chap. Part of me was actually worried that this was the chapter where I was going to mess everything up!