The master and the windigo

by stupidswampdragon

19 - Tenacity

"Of all the places to celebrate our success..." Snowy balked. Her disapproval was momentary at best; she stuck her head out, over the bucket of hot water. She then breathed in long and deep, rapidly cooling everything around her. The suddenly chilly air collided with the hot water and steam erupted, rising in a pillar until it dissipated in the hotter air above.

"Oh hush! Hot baths are one of the highest achievements of civilization," Lyra giggled and arched her back, pushing her head down. She was floating in her bathtub, among all the petal-shaped bathing salts she had managed to dig up in her haste. Her arrival at home was quite chaotic; she arrived in full spirits, only to realize that Bon was still out. That put a curb on her plans; a party of one was not a good party. She had to settle for something she could enjoy on her own.

She couldn't think of anything more enjoyable than relaxing in the warm, steaming water.

"I have no objections to our victory laps ending in hot baths," Snowy shrugged. "Though this habit will not do if we are to resume with Master's plan. Always returning here post-haste won't be a feasible solution if we increase the scope of our operation."

"I know," Lyra nodded, sending small waves all around the tube. They crashed against the ceramic walls and returned to the pony, splashing around her head.

She understood how she would need to act more mature in the future. Even so, this one bath she deserved; her nerves really could have used some soothing.

She had been quite anxious over how the whole erasing-memories thing would turn out. There was a pretty thin margin for failure, close to none; she was messing with the life of another pony, after all. Then there was the sudden headache, right after Snowy had used her ability... she was really worried that something had gone off the rails at that point. Then there was AJ - it was impossible to predict how the farmmare would react to the sudden change. That worry had also proved unfounded, Celestia be thanked.

And last but not least, there was the Source as well, along with its ominous - almost theatrically overblown - warnings. Closing her eyes and pushing her head under the water, Lyra could still hear the words echo in her head.

All cheats have their price, blah blah.

Lyra resurfaced with a loud splash. She breathed out, sending droplets of hot water into the air, sprinkling them all over the small room.

Well, meh. In the end, everything went as smoothly as possible, she giggled uncontrollably and leaned backward, resting her head against the cold backside of the tub. So much ado for nothing... it's almost anticlimactic.

She had no idea where that thought came from, though she had her suspicions.

Goes to show I hang out too much around the Opera... I'm starting to think in terms of drama all the time!

That made her little smile turn into a full-blown toothy grin. She couldn't help it; she opened her mouth and burst into a hollering laughter. Her rocking belly sent larger and larger waves around the tub, finally making her shut up once the water started getting into her mouth.

"Master is oddly scary sometimes," Snowy commented on the scene. She looked a little dejected; she was still sitting next to her bowl, but there wasn't any steam rising from the water any more.

"And you're a glutton," Lyra shot a random insult back. Most of her interest had gone into the way she was scratching her side.

Snowy accepted the remark with remarkable stoicism. She dug her nose into the water-filled bowl; only by the flash of her outlines did her master know what the windigo was doing.

"Don't just stuff your face when I insult you," Lyra sighed and closed her eyes, trying to give the ghost a lecture and to enjoy her bath at the same time. "Stand firm! Shout back at me! Contend! Argue!"

Snowy remained silent. Her muzzle was fully submerged in the bowlful of water; that would have rendered her emotions difficult to read, had her ears not dropped to a new low.

Lyra noted that with a triumphant smirk; she could tell the scolding had an effect. She remained silent and waited for a reply, letting the windigo chew on the criticism.

An odd period of silence set out between the two. Only the splashing of water echoed in the bathroom.

"But I can't really do any of that," Snowy finally sighed. She didn't bother to lift her head from the bowl before talking, but that didn't seem to impede her ability to vocalize. "I can't argue with the very Master whom my sole purpose is to serve. It would be contradictory."

"As if being contradictory was unusual!" Lyra laughed, her tone bristling with sarcasm and self-deprecation. She shifted around, sending a large wave crashing at the side of the tub, spraying her own face with droplets of water. "Look at me, you doof. Look at all the things I wish and want to do... then at how lazy I am and how I'll never achieve even a quarter of those. Don't you suppose I'm a little weird myself? Or illogical? ...or whatever like those."

"Lieges can afford to indulge in hobbies," Snowy narrowed her eyes and dug deeper into the bowl, her nose scraping at the very bottom. "Subjects, however, may not. That has always been the rule; and no matter how much the world has changed, I doubt it would have gone away."

"It will forever stay that way if you keep thinking like that," Lyra cracked her right eye open. Her left eyelid felt as if it was covered with water, so she just gave that one a rub instead. "Ever thought of trying to change that thing as well? Isn't changing things what you're here for?"

The latter was an almost direct quote from the Source, and Lyra wondered if she should pour a new batch of water just to feel clean from the taint.

"I am... but the world is vast. One alone can only achieve so much," Snowy muttered. She sounded unsure, but there was some curiosity in her voice. She raised her head into the open, staring at her master intently.

Oi, oi... are you baiting me? Lyra mused at the contradictory signs. Fine! I'll bite.

"Defeatist," she shrugged and turned a little, looking the windigo directly in the eyes. "You can't know that! I bet you never even dared to try."

"To try... like how Master is trying to help everypony?" Snowy cocked her head to the side. "That also sounded like an impossible goal from the start. It was Master's plan though, so I followed like I should have - hoping Master had some cunning plan I couldn't possibly perceive."

"Plan... pffft! Snowy, I would really like to think that we get to help everypony," Lyra raised her eyebrows, grinning mischievously. "I do owe you an admission, I guess. I don't think we'll ever get around to finishing. I'll try of course, but every pony... that's quite a lot."

She took on a more serious face after the laughter and eyed the ghost intently. She had omitted something important - that she was hoping that Snowy would gain acceptance and freedom along the way, and continue even without a pony master.

Such a reasonable goal would have detracted from the point she was trying to make.

"Snowy, don't tell me you would give up on this? That you only went along with me because you had no other choice?"

Snowy glanced around the small bathroom rather nervously. She rubbed her chin at first, then her neck, then the back of her head; all while looking in the most random directions, the gears in her head grinding away at full force.

"It never sounded very feasible I suppose," she finally admitted. "I follow Master, of course - all the way to the end of the world, if it comes to that! But it just... seems like a waste, embarking on such a grandeur plan without any end or returns in sight. It makes me feel like Master would get short-changed, no matter the outcome."

Lyra chuckled at the response.

"When I was a small musician, I used to dream about being the best in the world. I kept dreaming that one day, I would play everything in a way nopony else could. That I would achieve perfection," she recounted. The hot water made it easy for her to get lost in those fond memories, her gaze growing as hazy as her voice. "But you know, over the years, I have learnt there is no such thing as perfection."

Snowy fiddled in place. She looked torn; she was unsure if she was to refute those words, but was clearly wishing that she could prove them wrong.

"Those music sheets, those papers... they are just the bare bone details. No, not even that; they are just some ideas somepony once wrote. That's not what music's about. That's why there can't be perfection - every musician simply adds a little of their heart to those sheets. Every musician brings them to life a little differently," Lyra explained. She was more relaxed than ever, and her words came with an irrefutable sense of certitude. She wasn't simply sure about what she had said; she was convinced, with her whole being. "It's that simple. That's how music is born. Every time some pony grabs an instrument, something different is born. Not better, nor worse than the others... just different. So I couldn't be better than the rest, no matter how hard I'd try. I could be more popular, yes... but better? Nah."

Snowy nodded. Her head moved hesitantly, her struggle evident. She leaned over the bucket of cold water, stared at the wobbling reflection... then turned her gaze upwards, her crimson eyes stuck on her master.

She didn't go as far as to say anything, however.

"Silent? Why? I know you want to ask me something," Lyra giggled softly. She plunged her head below the water once again; she enjoyed the hot water warming her face. She wanted to give her speech a pause anyway... see if Snowy would opt to speak up.

She didn't.

"C'me on. Aren't you thinking, 'whoa, isn't my master crazy or what'?"

"A... little. That speech was contradictory," Snowy laughed out of sheer awkwardness and looked away, her hoof scratching the back of her head. "If Master believes she will never be better than the other musicians, that there is no perfection... why does Master bother, then? Are Master's past works not already good enough? What's the point?"

"Simple! Just because I can't best others, I can still be better than my own past self," Lyra raised her eyebrows, squeezing a small stream of water from her facial fur.

"Even so, Master can't reach perfection if perfection is an unattainable goal," Snowy kept on protesting. She was either getting more curious or more confident, but she dared to ask the question while staring at her master this time.

"So I should give up because my goal is unattainable? Ugh, how could I explain this to you... Snowy, has anypony won this game before? It's still going on, so I think not," Lyra flashed a toothy grin; she knew she had found the Golden Grail of analogies. "Doesn't that make you servants a little pointless? I mean, you've been around for quite a while... but none of you could attain the ultimate goal so far. So who knows - maybe your goal is just as illusory as my perfection. Doesn't that make you feel like giving up?"

"Of course not! Our purpose is to help our Masters! No matter how difficult a task they make us bear, we must strive towards success!" Snowy broke into a loud and agitated shout. Her conviction was so sudden that it wasn't clear whether she had feelings regarding the matter or if she was programmed to think that way. Whichever was the case, however, she must have began seeing Lyra's point - for she trailed off soon afterwards. "Even if it seems impossible, we... should..."

"Just because something is not attainable, it may still be worth striving forwards to," Lyra sighed loudly and rose from the warm water. Water dripped from her coat, and flowed freely from her mane, the long hairs acting as one oversized sponge. "I may never reach perfection... but I sure want to be as good as I can get. Just to prove to myself that I could still improve, if nothing else."

"Master may never make the world perfect... but Master would still make the world as good as Master possibly can," Snowy muttered numbly as her master crawled out of the bathtub. Water sprinkled all over the tiled floor, mixed with a few loose strands of cyan fur. The ghost wasn't giving the image much thought; she had a hoof pushed against the bottom of her muzzle as she hummed. "Well, it's a little circular... but I can understand that logic, I guess. Looking back now, I suppose I may have been a defeatist-"

"Don't you freaking dare apologize," Lyra growled and reached for a towel. The pink fabric lunged at her from the rack, aided by her unicorn magic. The trick involved her undivided focus though; and looking that way, her right shoulder entered view. Her right shoulder, complete with the damp, dripping bandages.

Oh, right... forgot about this tidbit, Lyra frowned as the blanked flew over her head. Out of her view and with no magic suspending it, the dry textile dropped out from the air and landed right on her back.

Ugh... I don't think I was supposed to bathe that thing.

Glancing at her back to grab the towel, Lyra mused if she should take the bandages off herself. They couldn't have served any purpose now, all dirty and wet. With that being said, she had a lot of plans to finish that day; she wanted to mark the success down in her diary, perhaps help another pony or two...

Fiddling around with bandages was kind of low on her priorities - and was nothing she couldn't do later, in the evening.

---

Lyra took a final, passing glance at the recently added lines. She rubbed the ink a little, made sure it had already dried; then she shut the diary and tucked it under her bed.

Snowy observed in silence; she had already grown familiar with that ritual. She then followed her master out of the room, into the corridor, where she watched Lyra stick a note to the wall-hanger. That paper piqued her interest; she inched closer, all innocent-like, and began spelling out the letters one by one.

"Oh - so you actually practice on your own!" Lyra giggled. She only noticed the sneaky ghost because she had turned back to double-check that she wasn't leaving anything important at home.

"But of course! I would be so much more useful to Master if I could read written instructions," Snowy interrupted her reading of the paper to make a small bow. "Master's notes are not as easy to read as printed letters though... so I think Master will have to stick to vocalization and body language for a while. My most sincere apologies on that."

"Don't sweat it," Lyra chuckled. It had been many years ago, but she could remember how long it had taken her to learn the alphabet; she had spent a year in school just learning the shapes. It was unrealistic to expect the windigo learning it much faster. She didn't want to demoralize Snowy before they had even began though, so she was careful to never mention that fact.

"It seems we are going to some... car something boo-teek, though?" Snowy returned her attention to the note, her voice half-wondering, half-curious. "Did I get that one right, Master?"

The question was enough to make Lyra's hooves freeze to the ground.

"Carousel Boutique," she whispered and glanced back at the windigo. "How did you...?"

"It was in Master's note to Miss Bon," Snowy motioned at the small paper. "Along with asking her to do the shopping, as Master will be unable take care of that."

"R- right," Lyra nodded. It was more of an automated reaction than something wilful; her mind was busy just coming to terms with what she had witnessed.

Snowy... did you seriously learn how to read in a few days?

Her amber eyes resting on the ghost - who was, in turn, staring back at her with shameless curiosity - Lyra gulped and lowered her ears. It was odd to realize just how frighteningly powerful Snowy was, once she put her full potential to something.

"Is there something wrong?" Snowy finally broke the awkward silence. "I mean-"

"No. It's nothing," Lyra stuttered and yanked her head away. She pushed the door open and moved out, closely followed by the blue creature only she could see.

---

"Pretty!"

A dry chuckle rising from the depths of her throat, Lyra squinted at the fancy, full-glass store front. A veritable masterpiece beckoned her; a mannequin dressed in a pearly white gown. Indeed, the dress looked like an artefact from a different world. Its lines were so well designed they felt wholly organic; a work of nature that couldn't have been designed any better - or in any other way, period. There was just the right amount of diamonds sprinkled around too, their sly glittering captivating the eye without becoming a self-interested show of glamour.

Lyra toyed with the idea of taking the dress, of walking around in it... of entering her greatest concert while parading as a pony of higher stature. Then she dipped her gaze to the ground, closed her eyes and
shook her head.

"Not just pretty," she sighed and turned away, lest she became depressed over such baseless desires. "Too bad I won't be able to afford it. Like, ever."

"We could take it," Snowy pushed her face against the glass. "As long as Master can get the receipt without paying at the very same time, I could repeat our performance from the bank."

Lyra stopped and threw an angered glare at the windigo.

"I'll just pretend I didn't hear that," she snarled.

Did you really forget why we're doing all this in the first place?

"I don't really see the issue to be honest," Snowy shrugged. She was still completely hung up on the dress, so she couldn't have seen the utter disapproval her master displayed. "Master is going out of her way to help everypony, all without asking anything in return. Surely a little recompense would be fair game?"

"Haha, want a bet? Even the smallest misstep would cast doubts on my motives... on us," Lyra grinned wryly, putting her head into another, slow shake. "So don't even think about it, m'kay? We're heroes, and heroes don't do that kind of thing."

The words had an effect. Snowy pushed herself away from the glass and looked up, right at the cloudless, deep blue sky.

"Heroes..."

She furrowed her forehead and grimaced.

"Will Master be accepting donations, at least?"

No wonder you were at home in the bank, Lyra rolled her eyes. You're like, completely financial-minded!

"Nope," she kept shaking her head, putting a little more vigour into the move to make her intention obvious. "That's the same as blackmailing ponies for a better life. Ain't really what I had in mind, huh?"

"Makes sense," Snowy nodded and rolled her crimson eyes downward, onto her master. "Then will Master be giving up on her old life?"

"Whah!" Lyra balked and almost tripped on her leg. "Where'd that come from? Why would I even do that?! I like my life! I enjoy music, I like Bon, I-"

"Because unless Master was serious on never sleeping again... I can't see Master being a hero and staying a renowned musician. One can't live two lives just by trying to do so," Snowy continued lowering her gaze, moving from Lyra onto the dusty cobblestones beneath them. "I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I would rather have Master come to terms with reality before we reach the point of no return."

Lyra bit on her lip. She hated to admit it, but the windigo had another pretty good point. The vacation made it easy for her to forget, but she wouldn't have had that much time during her regular days. She would need to prepare for performances, hone her skills, talk to managers and, well, manage all the fiddly bits of her life.

I could be helping others for what, a few hours a day? she gnawed on thin air, her mouth moving in chewing motions as her brain distracted itself. I wouldn't achieve anything like that... the effect would be too small. Nopony would realize that I'm working my rear off in the background.

She looked back at the ghostly servant and sighed.

"I'll find a way to be a hero and be Lyra Heartstrings at the same time," she announced and yanked her head hard, motioning that they should have moved on. "So don't you worry about me. I'll manage!"

It's not like I had any other choice. It's the only way to set you free, she grimaced once her back was turned to the windigo. It's not like I could bear to look at you... watch you act as my personal slave for all the rest of my days. I would go mad.

Though the more she thought about it as she circled around the Carousel Boutique, she couldn't help but find the concept of being a hero more and more difficult.

Great! Just what I needed - another thing to keep me awake at night.

---

The tiny bells spoke up in their high-pitched voices, ringing rhythmically as the opening door pulled on their string.

Fancy, she paid the contraption an amused nod. The four bells were hard to take seriously; they looked like a misplaced toy, a practical joke done by a filly. Lyra enjoyed the tone to their ringing, however; she found the idea of some music playing - no matter how basic or short - whenever somepony entered her house quite appealing.

I bet this isn't such a rare thing either, she finally tore her gaze away. I really should get out more, huh?

"AS IF YOU'D LISTEN! YOU HAD NEVER CARED FOR WHAT I WANTED!"

The yell caught Lyra by surprise. It was quite high-pitched; it couldn't have belonged to anypony of old age. It lacked the charming tingling though; it was hoarse and crude. Whoever was doing the screaming had been at it for a while already.

Sure not missing not having seen THIS show, Lyra snickered. She paused and glimpsed over her back; she had to keep the door open until Snowy scurried in.

"Sweetie Bell, I've already told you - I can't be in two places at the same time! And I've already told you how important this work is!"

Oh! I know that one - that's Rarity, Lyra's ears jumped at the familiar the voice. She didn't wait any more; she slammed the door and moved deeper inside.

Snowy gave the moving door a surprised blink; then grunted hard as the piece of painted wood ploughed into her side. She turned into a fine blue mist in the blink of an eye, returning to her regular shape a few steps away. She couldn't help but stare accusingly at the door however. There was no reason to be rude just because she was a ghost.

Lyra noted little of all that. She was walking at a steady pace, prowling across the shop interior, following the voices. She was making her way among mannequins; blocks of gypsum and wood, crafted into ponies of various shapes and poses. Lyra didn't care much for them, apart from circling around them; in fact, she tried to ignore them as fully as she could. All of those statues wore fancy dresses... dresses of which she could never afford even the cheapest. She had only seen such garments among the guests of her performances in Canterlot.

That had always struck her as little unjust. A lot of those ponies were only born into their positions, their status only based on the merits of their lineage. She would have loved to be part of that clique, even only for a short while. Even if in appearance only...

Stop thinking like that, she chided herself. Her mouth felt sour and a dull pain crept into her head; she wanted none of those. It was stupid, getting herself worked up over such nonsense. She may have lacked in flashy outfits, but she was happy where it counted. She did what she loved - music - and had a great friend whenever she was down or in need.

The mere existence of her do-gooder-crusade was the proof. Unhappy ponies worked on their issues! She, on the other hoof, had gone out of her way to get involved in issues that had nothing to do with her.

"Master, is this wise?" Snowy appeared on her left. The ghost bounced from mannequin to mannequin, leaping and gliding at almost every step; the whole scene closer to a nicely choreographed dance than a form practical locomotion. "Based on the sounds, it doesn't seem like a good time to approach..."

Lyra flashed her eyes at the windigo, though the warning definitely had merit. She could-

She never got to finishing that line of thought. Moving without looking forward, she bumped into a mannequin dressed in an elaborate red dress. The hollow figure offered little resistance and fell on its side with a clang; diamonds and needles scattering on the floor, from the dress no doubt. Lyra had a great view of the whole disaster - she was lying on the top of the overturned figure, frowning mightily at her clumsiness.

Way to make a good first impression, she hissed and bounced back up, dragging the mannequin along with her magic.

"Hear that? I already have another customer waiting for me!" came Rarity's voice from above, from the second floor. Loud hoofsteps accompanied her words; she started moving to the actual shop area. "I understand your frustration, but you must also understand I can't be with you every-"

"Pfff! Is that supposed to be placating? Well, you can say that you care as much as you want - but we both know what the truth is!" whined the same filly whom Lyra had already heard before. "Go and have fun with your... dolls, or whatever! They are clearly more interesting to you than I am! So just go! I SAID GO! HAVE! FUN!"

Whoa, Lyra cringed as she distanced herself from the mannequin in the - slightly ruffled - red dress. This sounds like no ordinary argument.

"Sounds like they know each other," Snowy took the words straight from her master's head. "This might complicate matters..."

"No kidding," Lyra gulped. Her original plan was simply asking Rarity about those clients she had complained about, back at the market. A fairly safe undertaking, barring possible accidents with unfortunately placed mannequins. That plan had gone bust with the argument upstairs, however; she couldn't imagine Rarity being in the mood for a chat.

Lyra needed a plan B.

She found one almost right away. The new idea wasn't really different from the original - the sole addition was making Rarity and the other pony forget about their argument, letting her freely ask whatever she wanted.

Even just running the new plan through her head raised some serious issues, however.

Not sure if mind-wiping Rarity and somepony close to her is the best idea ever, she rubbed the side of her head. Oh sweet Celestia, this is getting so complicated. Actually, you know what? Let's just come back later! It's not like I'm on a schedule or anything.

"Advice taken," she whispered to her windigo and turned around. She moved so hastily that she could barely see what she was doing - she bumped into another mannequin, almost turning that one over as well. "Let's come back when the coast is clear!"

"Hurrah! Nothing quite like to seeing my advice being valuable!" Snowy struck a victorious pose, a hoof of hers sailing high in the air.

"Not sure if this is worth celebrating," Lyra growled. She dodged the wobbling mannequin and kicked into high gear, bolting towards the door - or would have, had a familiar voice not stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Oh, it's you! Do come in!" Rarity greeted her from behind. "The Carousel Boutique is always open!"

Shoot, Lyra skid to a halt. The fastest way out now is in, huh?

She turned around, deliberately slowly. She wanted to appear in the best light possible - and she also needed those few seconds to recompose herself and put a warm smile onto her face.

"I'm... am I glad to hear that..."

---

"Three dozen dresses," Lyra raised an eyebrow. She wanted to sound curious, but the disbelief remained more prominent on her voice. "All due in a few days?"

"Not just any dresses either!" Rarity winked and reared her head back, her chest bulging with thinly veiled pride. "These are for the most important ponies in Equestria!"

"Nice," Lyra whistled shortly, just long enough to realize how below class her reaction was. "Explains all the mannequins you've got down there. You're really something else, you know that? Working on so many things at the same time..."

"Try not to sound so surprised," Rarity smirked and giggled softly. She took her gaze off her guest and glanced at the cup in front of her. "Sugar?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Lyra rejected politely.

On cue, the two unicorns grabbed the two painted cups and took shallow sips of the yellowish tea inside.

They were both next to a small table, surrounded by finely-cut dolls in fine garments. They were almost right at the entrance; but for the sake of giving some illusion of privacy, Rarity had a purple folding screen put behind them. Staring at the cup in front of her, Lyra had no idea where the couturier could have gotten hot tea from on such short notice; it was either a strange coincidence or some crazy level of preparedness.

It was too bad she couldn't enjoy much of it. Snowy had decided on not waiting for approval this once; she nommed on her master's drink as soon as it was on the table.

Burdened by the presence of another pony, Lyra couldn't really protest; she could only watch as her cup of tea stopped steaming... then turned frosty.

Well... I am trying to make her more self-sufficient, Lyra tried to keep her optimist outlook as she chugged down the ice-cold refreshment. This is progress... I guess...

"It's rather strange though," Snowy held a hoof to her chin and ran her gaze across the many mannequins surrounding them. "All these dresses around us, they aren't just for a few ponies. This is almost a veritable crowd! Why would all these nobles desire new outfits at the same time?"

Good point, Lyra thought to herself. She wanted to nod, but she could only shudder as the ice-cold liquid made its way down her throat. I don't care how good Rarity is, this is clearly more work than what a single pony can handle. It's obvious, right? Surely even the last few customers must have realized that. So why would they still order their clothes here...? Why this crazy haste, this pressure?

"Seems like your customers put a lot of faith in you," she smiled as her cup floated back to the table. "I mean, if I were the last customer ordering a dress from here? I might be a teensy little bit worried about having another thirty-five in the queue ahead of me."

"Oh dear! That almost sounds as if you were belittling me," Rarity pulled a hoof in front of her mouth and giggled softly. "All my customers know that Rarity always delivers - and always delivers on time, too. Anypony who doubts my skills wouldn't be ordering from me in the first place."

"Sounds like a crazy level of trust," Lyra whistled. She smacked herself in the face immediately afterwards; those weren't the words she had been meaning to use.

"It would certainly be unusual in any other field," Rarity smirked, her expression positively beaming with pride. "But that's how it works when it comes to nobility. They like holding themselves to different standards, you see. Demanding written contracts and assurances might be the modus operandi for everypony else, but when it comes to nobles, it's akin to telling them you don't trust their word. That's a grave offence, dear. A gentlecolt's word always weighs more than those stupid papers."

Ain't this great? Lyra gawked, stopping a little short from slapping herself silly. Sounds like the leadership of my country is especially vulnerable to ghosts like Snowy. Willingly so!

She felt utterly conflicted on the issue. While it made her break out in cold sweat, the news did feed her optimism as well.

"So you gave them your word you would finish," she returned to the other issue, shoving the issues of national security to the very back of her mind.

"And so I will do," Rarity nodded curtly, then lifted her cup to her mouth and took a sip. She moved slowly and elegantly - in stark contrast to Lyra, who had downed the whole thing in one go.

"What if you can't?" Lyra leaned forward and cocked her head to the side. She looked as she felt - curious and excited. She had never spoken freely to anypony in close connection to the higher strata before; and depending on the answers, she had the chance to do this pony a huge favour, too. It was only natural for her mind and heart to be racing. "I understand you want to finish everything on time, but... thirty-six dresses sound like a lot of work!"

"Haha, well! I've given my word that I would finish on time. I've also accepted the down payments; bowing out would be the worst thing I could do," Rarity smirked from the cover of the steaming cup. "Make no mistake; it certainly won't be an easy feat, not even for one of my brilliance. But you know, dear? These opportunities don't come very often. I will simply have to outdo myself and rise to the occasion."

"Opportunity?" Lyra pulled her head back and rubbed her chin.

True enough, the way Rarity's acting, it's clear this isn't her usual workload, she glanced at the ceiling as she flipped the pages of her memories. So it's a special occasion...hmm, is anything big scheduled for the next few days?

Nothing came to her mind. Pretty literally.

Dammit, this happens every time I go on vacation. I'm so relaxed I can't even remember which day of the week it is, let alone the calendar entries!

"Oh dear. Don't tell me this is the first time you've heard of it!" Rarity went wide-eyed. She placed her cup back onto the table with haste - so hastily that the tea spilled out, drawing an amoeba-like pattern before dripping onto the floor. "It's the wedding!"

"Oh... ooh?" Lyra gave a hesitant nod, using even that little time to scramble for answers - futilely. She had no choice but to ask. "Somepony's getting married?"

"Errr... yes?" Rarity balked at the shocking level of carelessness she was facing. "Shining Armour and Princess Cadence are going to get married! Seriously, it's all over the news!"

"Ohhh, that thing!" Lyra giggled and slapped herself on the forehead.

As she was never invited to the whole event, she had tried hard - and ultimately, successfully - to forget about the thing. It would have been nice to be in the band providing music to the wedding, or at least for the related events; she had been quite dismayed to find out she hadn't been picked.

"I know neither of those two... but I can't say I approve of such an arrangement," Snowy huffed, shaking her head in disapproval. "Princesses ought to marry one of equal standing! What has become of this world, ponies of highest standing stooping down to mere commoners like that?"

Oi! I'm one of those commoners myself! Lyra choked at the out-dated social commentary. Seriously, get going with the times already, you stupid ghost! We aren't living in the middle ages anymore!

"Yes, that thing," Rarity rolled her eyes with a sigh.

"Isn't that in, like, two weeks or so?" Lyra refocused her attention, forcibly ignoring the windigo. "That's more than two dresses a day!"

"Make that four," Rarity winked. "Just finishing a dress is not enough. I need to finish in time so the customers can come over and pick them up... and make the last-second adjustments, too. You would think that flawless works are enough, but it's often my clientele isn't satisfied until they had a few changes of their own incorporated. Just so they can say they had a hoof in the making, I suppose. Ah, the lengths I go to..."

Lyra and Snowy exchanged a brief stare; then both of them looked around, at the myriad of mannequins and the unfinished dresses. They stared silently, both of them completely bamboozled by what they had heard.

Rarity took the utter silence as the chance to pour herself and her guest some more tea.

"Four," Lyra scratched her head, finding her voice after a few seconds. "That's like, six hours each."

"Provided I don't sleep," Rarity giggled renewed; despite what Lyra had expected of a pony under such stress, she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. "But no, my outlooks aren't so bleak. As you can see, most of the dresses are close to completion now. It's going to be a little tight, but I'm quite positive I can finish everything on schedule."

Raising her eyebrows high and humming to herself, Lyra gave the mannequins another look. The argument she had heard earlier now started making sense.

'You only care for your stupid dolls', huh...

"Sounds like you've been busy," she gave the couturier a questioning stare.

"Busy? Busy, she says! Dear, I've been working myself ragged!" Rarity chuckled, scoffing at the belittling statement. "I've been doing nothing for the last half year but work on these things!"

"That so," Lyra muttered. She was briefly interrupted by a flash of blue; she fell silent as she watched Snowy strip her tea from any shred of warmth again. She wrinkled her eyebrows in anger, shook her head disapprovingly, then reached for the cup with a disillusioned expression. She had to let the issue slide. It wasn't the time to teach her servant basic table etiquette; she had to keep focused on the issue she had come to deal with. "Half a year, you say. At the risk of being a little crass... Rarity, how's your personal life faring? I mean, I'm an artist myself, and I know what's it like to lose yourself in a project... and girl, are those always difficult times! Heck, Bon threatened to kick me out once."

She was bending the truth a little, of course.

Bon did kick her out for a week that time.

She had been careful ever since not to get that lost in her pursuit of musical interests.

As far as Rarity's reaction went, the question seemed to touch on something sensitive indeed. The white unicorn fell silent and shut down. She was completely frozen, even holding the porcelain teapot two inches above the table - exactly in the same spot it had been when the question left Lyra's mouth.

"Direct," Snowy hissed at the distressingly long pause. "I think Master may have been a little too direct."

Way too direct, Lyra gulped dryly, completely in agreement with the windigo's assessment. I really need to work on my subtlety skills.

The teapot landed back on the table. It wasn't gently placed, but dropped outright; it made a loud clang, its top dancing around at the impact.

Oh crud, Lyra felt a huge knot swell in her throat. I've just screwed up, didn't I?

"Master, should we erase the last few sentences?" Snowy recoiled and made a hasty offer. "Before things go too much out of control!"

Squinting at the windigo, Lyra seriously weighed that option. She opened her mouth, the command on the tip of her trembling lips... but something held her back. Something reminded her how she wasn't meant to use Snowy for her own benefit, to undo her own mistakes; that a hero wouldn't act so selfishly, wouldn't stoop so low.

In the conflict of her desire to get out of a tight spot and to keep true to her ideal at the same time, all she had done was to hesitate.

"Dear... oh dear, you know... you know, you're the first one to ask me about this," Rarity finally broke into a long sigh. It was almost as if the question had broken her; she was staring to the side with a sombre, weary face.

Whoa, Lyra recoiled at the effect she had achieved. What's this now?

"Weren't you talking to AJ about these things, the other day?" she asked, being extra careful to approach the issue with the proper care this time.

"Of course not. It's not a matter she would bring up on her own. I don't think she would ever realize my true situation, to be honest," Rarity hung her head low, her head disappearing behind the curls of her mane. "She may be similar to me, but she's so different at the same time. The Apples do everything together. They're always together. I, on the other hoof... I can't do this in a team. Only the brilliance of Rarity can breathe life into these fabrics. If I let anypony else touch them... I'm afraid they would lose that special touch. And that would be bad. I can't afford to give my name to anything but the best!"

Lyra relaxed at the outburst; she was happy she hadn't done anything wrong. Her reprieve was short-lived, however. She was back to feeling wretched soon afterwards; partly because she had rendered a pony into such depression, and partly because she could easily associate with those woes herself.

There was no 'team' in 'orchestra'. She and the other musicians may have played together, but in truth, all of them were out on their own. Every single one of them had to play perfect, as their combined effort was only as good as their weakest member's. There was no way to help each other; any mistake rendered the whole effort worthless.

She had always dreaded being the one who dragged the others down. She had spent countless nights up, practising on her own, working the strings of the lyre until she simply collapsed, falling asleep next to the instrument. Then she woke up only to resume. Sometimes for days... sometimes for weeks. Usually as long as Bon would tolerate her obsession.

"I see what you mean," Lyra muttered. "Do you have a Bon yourself?"

"Bon...?" Rarity raised an eyebrow, perplexed by the question.

"Ah... sorry. I meant, somepony who stops you from losing yourself too deeply," Lyra hid her embarrassment under the guise of a nervous laughter. "You know, someone who argues with you, shouts at you... gets you to stop. Talks to you. Gets your mind off the impending deadline."

"Talks to me? Gets my mind off the matter? Haha... no, I don't think so," Rarity shook her head. Her half-hearted laughter was the most she could squeeze out, and it did nothing to offset the sour look on her face. "Most ponies I know wouldn't really understand me. They would tell me to take a step back, to 'act reasonably'... but they wouldn't try to come around and see things from my point. They wouldn't get the dream behind my obsession. I thought Sweetie Bell might... but she refuses to. I used to try and talk to her about it, but she's young and doesn't even try to understand me. She just wants and wants and wants."

"She thinks you're neglecting her," Lyra pieced the puzzle together. She could remember going through the same argument with Bon. Several times, in fact. It had never helped either of them, either.

"That she does," Rarity furrowed her forehead. "Now that I think about it, we've always ended up shouting at each other every time we've talked for a while now."

"You're being overloaded," Lyra glanced at the mannequins again. "I understand living for a dream... but dreams-"

Loud banging interrupted the melancholic tea party. All three at the table turned to the cause: a young filly was making her way among the mannequins, angrily shoving them to the side whenever she got near them.

"What-!" Rarity came to first, and turned to the newcomer with a mixture of shock and anger. "Sweetie Bell, what is the meaning of this?"

THAT is Sweetie Bell? Lyra felt her jaw drop. Isn't she, like, really young? Doesn't look like a usual friendship at all!

She then planted a hoof straight into her forehead and dragged it down, the horseshoe scraping against fur and skin.

They're not just friends! They're family... ugh, and I really thought I've been there! she groaned internally. That's a million ways worse than my story with Bon!

"I'm leaving! I'm sick of living in a cloth-factory!" Sweetie Bell yelled and pushed another mannequin away. The statue flipped over and crashed onto the floor; its head broke off and rolled in circles. "I'm going to live at Bloom's place! Where ponies, you know, care about each other!"

"You can't do that!" Rarity sprang into action, moving to intercept the little runaway.

"Watch me," Sweetie Bell hissed through clenched teeth. She proceeded to dart towards the door, only to be lifted into the air by a raspberry magic aura. She didn't enjoy the intervention; her legs kept moving back and forth even mid-air, and her screaming transcended to a whole new level of volume and irritation. "LET GO! YOU CAN'T STOP ME! THIS IS FOALNAPPING! HELP! MY SISTER'S FOALNAPPING ME!"

"I don't think that word means what she thinks it means," Snowy cocked her head to the side.

"You know, I totally envy your ability to misunderstand the obvious," Lyra moved her hoof to the side of her head. She had been divided on her options before; but after that scene, she felt rather certain in her decision. "Anyway, hop to it, Snowy. We're solving this."

"Oh? How?" Snowy perked her ears. It was a largely cosmetic movie; despite the loud screaming right next to them, master and servant had no issues understanding the words of each other.

"Let's start out by making this couturier a little less obsessed," Lyra made a wry frown. She lifted her hooves to cover her ears; the argument unfolding next to her having reached ear-splitting levels. "Those nobles have wardrobes larger than my house anyway - surely they have other outfits they can wear. So let's just make everypony forget Rarity had to work on these, m'kay?"

"Every pony?" Snowy flinched at the request. She clearly had misgivings, but had no objection worthy of speaking out loud. "I... suppose that's well-defined. In a way..."

"Thought so," Lyra muttered. She closed her eyes and turned away; she had just watched Sweetie Bell take a saddlebag off and slam it over Rarity's head. It didn't look like something that hurt - not physically, anyway. Feelings were always more fragile, however. "And, uh... could you work on the animosity between these two? Like, make them forget about their arguments?"

"Maybe... but is that wise, Master?" Snowy gulped; the increasingly daring requests made her anxious. "All the arguments might also involve ones that are important to them for reasons."

"Then just this one," Lyra shrugged.

Snowy kept eyeing her master for a second longer, but daren't speak out any further. She focused, the blue outlines of her body twisting as if she had muscles flexing underneath the transparent skin... then her magic kicked in.

Lyra couldn't see any of that. The world disappeared from around her; every light became intense, so intense that she couldn't see anything but the extreme whiteness. The voices - even the loud argument next to her - became a buzz, monotone and distant. She couldn't feel directions either; she lost the innate sense that told her which way was up. All accompanied by a sharp, head-splitting pain that came from nowhere and now sat in the front of her skull, just a little behind her eyes.

Then the sensation left, just as abruptly as it had come. Her senses returned and she found herself drooling onto the floor, lying flat on her side with her mouth open.

Wha- what on Equestria was that!

"Lyra? Hey, Lyra? Dearie, are you all right?"

A pony appeared in the corner of her vision. She dragged her eyes to the figure, and the head gained distinguishing features; it was Rarity looking down at her.

C'me on girl, get up, Lyra pushed herself to gather her strength. You definitely don't wanna' make a scene here.

"I'm... fine," she groaned and pulled her hooves back under her, all ready to get up. Her balance was returning fast; only the odd sense of nausea proved lasting. "I'm just... I had a light breakfast, haha."

"I did warn Master about eating all those things," Snowy grumbled in the background, wholly ignored by everypony in the room.

"I'm sorry to say dear, but it serves you right... walking around with that injury," Rarity frowned, then used her magic to help Lyra back up. "You're really ought to be more careful, all right?"

"Ah, well, I-" Lyra grimaced and rubbed her temple with a hoof. Even she had no idea what had just happened - though she was sure it had nothing to do with the stitches in her shoulder.

"Hey, sis?"

Both unicorns turned to the filly standing a few steps behind them, right next to the doorway.

"I'm going to AJ's," Sweetie Bell announced without much fanfare.

"Ah... right. That's right... you've told me you might..." Rarity squinted. She turned around and paused, scratching the back of her head. She was clearly confused by the lots of mannequins in the dresses she had no reason to do... and by the countless arguments with her sister, all which she had no reason to enter. "I'm sorry dear, I think I had a glitch just now... I... sure, we can go to Sweet Acres if that's what you want."

"Okay, I'll-" Sweetie Bell pushed the door open, then flinched back instead of walking out. "-wait, we?"

"But of course! Unless you mind me accompanying you, that is. I mean, we haven't done much together lately... so now seems like a good time to start catching up," Rarity paced towards her sister, though her warm smile was tempered by the utter confusion still lurking beneath her words. "I only wonder what I've been doing so far... what's with all these dresses?"

"Who cares about those dresses!" Sweetie Bell bounced back from the door. She darted to Rarity and grabbed onto the curly mane, dragging the larger unicorn along with her. "If you want to come- if you really want to come- then come! Ah, I was so hoping you'd understand me!"

"Yeah, I understand," Rarity muttered. She looked numb as she walked past the mannequins, clearly wrecking her mind over their purpose. The lingering doubts didn't stop her from following Sweetie Bell though, and the two of them disappeared through the doorway soon enough.

"They simply left us here," Snowy cocked her head to the side. "So... are we the ones selling dresses to customers now? Does that make us the owners of this store? Or employees, at least?"

"It makes us put the tea set away and lock the door," Lyra shambled forward. There was no sense of accomplishment over the heartfelt resolution to the family feud; her utter headache sapped her dry. And that was without touching on the larger issues at hoof, like how Snowy's magic had actually hurt her all of a sudden.

I need to ask that librarian on this, Lyra decided as she collected the cups from the table.