That Play

by Owlor

Act 3.

Act 3.
“Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!”

---

“... And so the paradise that the ponies had found was soon lost, buried beneath a thick blanket of snow, and hard feelings. Everypony was forced to seek shelter. They searched high and low, but the only shelter for miles was a cold and desolate cave.”

The temperature in the barn had suddenly dropped significantly, tough only a hoof-full of ponies in the audience seemed to notice. Most of them where focused on the spectacle on stage, eager to see which disastrous turn it would take next. The snow had been shuffled off the stage, nopony seemed to question it, they just assumed that the snow was one of the cutie mark crusaders’ bright ideas.

“And, of course, the three tribes had to share it, and nopony was too happy about that, least of all the director, who looked at the production with regret in her heart and an inexplicable thirst for strong liquor... or maybe more of Zecora’s liniment. That thing had some kick to it...”

The six ponies were crammed into a large box roughly the size of half the stage. The floor of the box had been sprinkled with sand to act as the dirt floor and it’s sides where lined with a paper-mache structure dozed in several layers of blue and gray paint. Vinyl Scratch studied the wall of the cave with delight, but the other five characters didn’t look nearly as amused.

“Aww yeah, Mu5ville has badass caves! Look at this, do you know how many awesome parties I could throw in here? We'll be raving trough the night!” she said, beaming with happiness.

Cloudchaser looked over to Vinyl Scratch with despair in her eyes.

“If I’m gonna be stuck here, I’ll get stark raving MAD!” she lamented.

Derpy seemed lost on her own train of logic, chanting something to herself.

“Xyzzy! Xyzzy! X-y-z-z-y! It's not working! I guess this cave just isn't colossal enough!”

Vinyl Scratch turned to her, perceiving it as an insult to what she considered to be 'her' cave.

“Hey, if you don't like it, Featherduster, you can go somewhere else!”

“No, we can't! We're stuck here,” Cloudchaser remarked. Vinyl Scratch snapped and jerked up from the floor. She trotted up to the center of the cave, the shuffling of her hooves echoing trough the barn.

“FINE!” she yelled, a little more loudly than she intended in order to break the awkward silence. “See this line over here?” With her hoof she pointed at an invisible line.

“No?”

“This line separates the party animals from the lamers, if you wanna be all wallflowery, you do it on this side!”

At this, Derpy also got up and pointed towards the same patch of ground.

“Oh yeah? See this line! This is the official border of the Muffin Kingdom, set one foot over this line and you'll be executed!”

“Executed?” Cloudchaser said with a raised eyebrow.

“Or forced to listen to Berry sing, whichever is deemed more humane.”

“Execution it is, then,” Cloudchaser concluded.

“Now throw all non-pegasus out from the glorious fiefdom of Muffinarnia!”

“Oh, no you don't!” Mrs Cake shouted. “Berry, sing at these intruders!”

“NOOO!” each of the ponies screamed in unison.

“See this line?” Mrs. Cake asked, pointing at the ground. “This is the sovereign territory of Pukesville, nopony is allowed to cross this line!”

The tree leaders each ordered their underlings to draw the borders between the kingdoms. The notion of drawing a straight line was a bit too complicated for Berry Punch, forcing Mrs. Cake to take over the line-drawing duty herself.

While she was drawing, Cloudchaser found one of Vinyl’s turntables that had fallen out of her saddle-bag and, not wanting to face the unicorns wrath about other ponies touching her equipment, she simply drew the line around it, giving away some territory.

“What are you doing Cloudchaser? That rock is ours!” Derpy scolded her, prompting Cloudchaser to look at her with questioning eyes.

“Neither of us knows how to use that thing, it has no value to us whatsoever.”

“But it is our turntable!”

Vinyl Scratch noticed the commotion and trotted to the site. She looked at the device and smiled

“Oh thanks dudettes, you found my turntable!”

“Your turntable?” Derpy said with a combative frown.

“This isn’t a pegasus toy, it has Un1kornland written all over it!”

“How do you even spell that?” Derpy protested.

“With a numeral and a “k”... look, you're just not leet enough to understand.” Derpy looked at the DJ as tough she was crazy.

“If I need to be an onion to understand, I'd rather not understand it at all,” she announced.

As the two ponies argued, Mrs. Cake trotted over and promptly took the turntable away.

“Oh you found my rock... turntable, thank you very much!” she said, ‘I guess those young mares decided to change the script again,’ she thought.

“Hey, that's ours!” Vinyl Scratch yelled.

“Finders keepers!”

“Gimme my rocktable!” Derpy demanded.

---

Outside, a blizzard was raging, the sky had turned from its usual pleasant blue to a steely gray curtain that seemed to slowly get darker. The gloomy sky contrasted with the bright frisbee-sized snowflakes that were tumbling violently in the harsh wind. The ground was an almost perfect white blanket, interrupted only by three pair of hoof-prints forming a staggered path out of the barn.

The cutie mark crusaders looked up towards the sky, squinting to protect their eyes from the snow. Above them circled a trio of what resembled large horses, only ghostly and pale, like the winter itself had taken form as a group of beasts.

For a moment, the three fillies stood paralyzed on the ground, until Applebloom managed to get a grip on herself. She jerked out of her trance and turned around to run back at the barn. One of the gray horse-spirits noticed this, however and intercepted her path. The young mare nearly fell backwards as the cold wind knocked her back.

As she was struggling to regain balance, she felt something encapsulating her hooves. Before she could regain her composure enough to struggle, the windigo had managed to cover her hind legs with a thick layer of ice.

The other two ponies galloped up to her and tried to pry her legs away from the ice. Applebloom yelped in pain as her two friends pulled hard on her front legs. The ice was spreading from her hind legs trough the ground, and soon the other two ponies found themselves trapped in a similar manner. The windigo apparently lost interest in them and joined the other two spirits as they circled around the barn.

“This... this was not what I meant when I said I wanted lifelike special effects,” Applebloom said with a broken voice, a single tear ran down her cheek and froze before it hit the ground.

“Cheer up!” Scootaloo said, trying to comfort herself more than anypony else. “The windigos are attracted by hatred, right? And we don’t hate each other!”

“Yes,” Sweetie Belle said with a hopeless look in her eyes. “But we’re only three ponies, that’s not going to be enough to stop them!”

Applebloom shone up ever so slightly as something dawned on her.

“Three!” she said. “That is exactly the number of mares it took to keep the windigos away in the Hearth’s Warming Eve play.”

“But that’s just a story!” Sweetie Belle protested.

“It has to be true,” Applebloom said with conviction. “Ponies wouldn’t lie about this sort of thing. Now, please help me!”

The three friends butted their heads together and tried to focus all the good feelings they could muster into the center. One of the windigos looked around, looking almost worried, if that emotion was even possible for a windigo. In the corner of its eye, one could see a bright white aura starting to form.

---

Inside of the barn, the play was continuing undeterred, and it was hard to tell if the argument between the six actors was real or acted-out. They nearly came to blows but were interrupted by Lyra, who pointed towards the entrance.

“What is it Ly- Clover the Clever?”, Vinyl Scratch wondered.

“The entrance,” she said, pointing at the neat Styrofoam blocks Twist and the other stage-hooves had put up on the side of the big box. “Looks like we're stuck here.”

“Oh noes, I'm stuck in this cave with a bunch of lame losers!” Vinyl Scratch lamented.

“Who are you calling lame losers?” Clodchaser growled.

“Oh come on, you've done nothing but argue and fight like a bunch of schoolchildren,” Vinyl Scratch replied.

“And you haven't?

“When I do, it is an intellectual debate,” Vinyl Scratch responded smugly.

This was the last straw for Cloudchaser. She inched uncomfortably close to Vinyl Scratch and stared into her mirrored shades with eyes that shot daggers.

“Oh look missy, you may think you're so cool and provocative, but that's not an excuse to be rude!” Cloud chaser ranted. “Ever thought that ponies may not be stunned by your awesomeness but avoid you because you're being a jerk? You’re just so immature. It’s time for you to grow up!”

Vinyl Scratch's jaw hit the floor. She raised a hoof to comment on her hypocrisy, or come up with a smartass remark, or anything. But words failed her and she lowered it again with a forlorn demeanour.

It would be impossible to know whether it was because of the good cheer being broadcasted from the three nearly-frozen young ponies outside or if the air had gone out of the ponies by completely natural means, but the feeling on stage was instantly a little less chilly.

“I... know,” she admitted, swallowing her words like bitter medicine. “I’m sorry. My life is just a mess right now. I can’t afford to pay the rent on my apartment. Again. And the last time, my landlord told me he’d kick me out the next time I was late... So not looking forward to beg my friends for a couch or sleep under my wagon. Again.”

Her ears flopped down on the side of her head and she studied the ground intently, glad that the shades obscured her eyes.

“I thought being a DJ would be the dream-life, but I gotta hustle like crazy just to get a gig in this miserable town. And when I do, I gotta appear happy and carefree even if it feels like the world is falling around me, and its like I’ve just gotten stuck that way.”

Vinyl sighed deeply, trying to hold back her sobs before and falling silent. Derpy forgot her character and sat down next to her.

“I know how you feel,” she said reassuringly. “I mean, wherever I go, I get this reputation of being a klutz. That's all anyone ever knows about me. So no matter what I do, they expect me to fail at any moment and I just can’t concentrate.” Unlike Vinyl, she utterly failed to hide her moist eyes.

“I didn’t really care when I was on my own, but then Dinky was born and I don't know what to do with myself anymore. She keeps asking about her father and I don’t want to tell her that it was some random stallion I don’t know the name of... I... I don't want her to feel like one of my mistakes.”

Derpy was having a hard time holding back her tears, something that prompted Mrs. Cake to hug her when she recognized the anxiety in her eyes.

“If it’s any consolation,” she said with a sweet, calming voice. “It's normal to doubt yourself when you become a mother.” Vinyl Scratch just smiled at the scene from the sideline.

“I gotta say Mrs. Cake, I’m jelly. Here we are a bunch of young fuck-ups and you got a successful business and a loving husband. You got it made, Cake!”

“Yeah right,” she said, but it sounded unconvincing. Something dark came up in Mrs. Cake eyes and she looked away.

Octavia had completely forgotten to conduct during this last unscripted part and the music from the orchestra pit just kinda petered out, leaving a very long and awkward silence. A young filly pulled her tail, urging her attention.

“Miss ‘Tavia? Aren’t we supposed to play something?” The classically trained mare smiled gently back at the young pony.

“No, Little Hoof,” she said, thankful that she even remembered the filly’s name; the introductions had been very hasty and rushed. “I don’t think we can make this any more disastrously entertaining than it already is.”

---

As the three main actors huddled in a corner, the secondary characters were talking with each others.

“Okay, it seems that the leads have formed some sort of support group and left me with the weirdo and the drunk,” Cloudchaser complained.

“Who are you calling weird?” Berry Punch said, placing herself in a wobbly fighting-stance.

“I don't drink!” Lyra protested, sounding very hurt. “I can’t stand the taste of alcohol.”

“No, you are the weirdo and you are the drunk,” Cloudchaser corrected. “Gah, I can’t believe it, I was supposed to have the main role in this!” She groaned angrily but gave up. “Nevermind, how about we actually get in character and end this wretched play?”

Berry Punch perked up as some sort of notion entered into her mind.

“End? Waitaminute! Chaotic plot, lots of fourth-wall leaning, yodeling fairies in the distance...”

“Those are windigos,” Lyra corrected, oblivious to the events outside.

“This is a production of a Midsummer Nights Scream!” she concluded. “Ha, and you told me this was a Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant!” she said to Lyra with a satisfied, smug grin.

“This is a Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant!” Lyra shouted, but Berry Punch wouldn't listen, she was still stuck on her own strange train of logic.

“Don’t worry, I performed this back in pony high school, I think I still remember the ending soliloquy:

”Let not a weak conclusion to a story splendid
Leave the audience confused and offended
Let it not be what their cruel heart desires
to burn the whole theater down in a fire
Instead let these merry gaps in story seem
as nothing but mere figments of a dream.”

Somehow, Berry recited these lines perfectly. The two mares looked wide eyed at her until she got a green look in her face, hunched over, hurled dryly and promptly collapsed. Lyra observed the scene with a quizzical grimace, unable to even begin comprehending the situation that just unfurled.

“Ivory, our co-star passed out in her own vomit,” she informed the mayor. “Is that supposed to happen?”

Ivory gave out an annoyed yell from beside the box and galloped into it. She took the drunk in her arms and began to shake her violently.

“Wake up you drunken slob! Could you at least try to sober up enough so we can get your sorry butt off the stage? How is it even possible for a mare to vomit three times during one play when it’s not even supposed to be physically possible for ponies?!”

Berry Punch regained something faintly resembling a consciousness.

“Just five minutes more, mummy,” she said, turned around and promptly fell back to sleep. The mayor let go of the sleepy actor to nurse her own budding headache. Ivory scrunched her eyes shut, trying to gather what little strength she had left. Cloudchaser trotted up to her and gave her an accusatory look.

“You really should have directed this show better, you know that?”

That proved to be the final straw for the mayor. You could practically pinpoint the moment where her strength ran out and something snapped inside of her.

“I should have directed the show better? You should have acted better! YOU SHOULD HAVE ACTED AT ALL! ” she roared, making Cloudchaser take a step back. “What am I supposed to do?! The music is performed entirely by a bunch of amateurs who wouldn’t know a tuba from the back end of a cow if you drew them a labelled diagram! And if there was any sort of effort put into the special effects at all, then Celestia help the bumbling bunch of baboons that created them.”

A young filly from the orchestra pit started to sob uncontrollably. Tears and snot ran down her face, forcing Octavia to try and calm her down. She held the foal at hoofs-length, desperately attempting to avoid the slimy stream of snot.

“There, there. Take it easy, you weren't that bad, for an amateur...”

At this point, the three crusaders entered the barn, somewhat battered but still okay after their encounter with the hateful weather-spirits, just in time to hear Ivory’s hurtful comment ring out.

“But... we worked real hard!” Applebloom lamented to nopony in particular. Scootaloo nuzzled her hair to get her attention, then looked at her friend with a gaze weary beyond her years.

“We nearly got frozen solid,” she reminded her. “And we pulled trough together, saved everypony’s skin without them even noticing. It doesn’t matter if the mayor thought our set-design was a little shoddy, she can go stuff it.”

Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement but Applebloom let out a deep sigh.

“You don’t suppose we could tell anypony what happened?”

“Who would believe us?” Sweetie Belle asked and shrugged it off.

“Hey!” Appleboom perked up. “At least we...” she turned around to look at her flank.

“Aww chucks! Neither a windigo warrior cutie mark nor a stage effect cutie mark!” she announced, bitterly disappointed.

On stage, the mayor still glowered frightfully, having rolled herself into what resembled a ball of anger and rage. Cloudchaser started at the beige mare with uncharacteristically kind eyes. She placed one hoof on Ivory’s shoulder, but the mayor just slapped it away.

“Ivory, maybe you should calm down-”

“Calm down?” the mayor snarled back. “Did you see your performances up there?! I don’t think there is a word in the pony language strong enough to describe this horrendous assault on the senses,” the mayor jolted up, trotting around the stage as she continued ranting.

“Somehow we managed to, in one night, make a mockery out of thousands of years of theatrical tradition. We have failed as entertainers, and our entire civilization has failed for allowing this disaster of a play to take place!” Her words was accompanied by a faint, but still bone-chilling howl. Outside of the window, Sweetie Belle noticed — with cold sweat in her brow — that the three windigos were still in the distance, hovering indecisively.

Ivory was about to storm off the stage, but when she turned around, she was met with Derpy's cross-eyed look, each eye as wide as dish-plate and each brimming with tears. Ivory's anger came to a screeching halt and she ran over to the mare, hugging her like you would a little child.

“Please don't cry Derpy,” she whispered. “I... didn't mean it, I'm just stressed. Please, I'm sorry!”

In the orchestra pit, Little Hoof kept tugging Octavia’s tail, getting no reaction from the elegant mare.

“‘Tavi? You okay? You just froze up like you where playing freeze tag. Is something wrong?” she asked innocently, but all the filly could get from her was an incoherent sputtering sound.

Octavia had suspected that the mayor had a special somepony even before Cloudchaser hinted at it, but she had never expected to get first-hoof confirmation like this. It was only after several minutes of the increasingly distressed filly trying to get her attention that she finally snapped out of it.

“Aunt ‘Tavi?” she pleaded.

“Ah... uhm... oh... yes dear?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on the stage in disbelief.

“You’re acting strange, is something wrong?”

“No, nothing is wrong,” Octavia said, mindful that their conversation could be heard from onstage, even though the two hugging ponies weren't paying attention to anypony but themselves at the moment. “I just realized that something wasn’t the way I wanted it to be, nothing more.”

The gray musician fell silent and the young filly wisely decided not to probe any further.

On stage, the other actors had gotten over their initial shock at the rant and the ensuing display of affection and they soaked in Ivory’s harsh, but not entirely undeserved criticisms. Vinyl Scratch trotted up to the two ponies with a new, more humble, look on her face.

“Hey, I'm sorry, miss Boss-mare,” she said to Ivory. “I should’ve taken my part more seriously.”

“And I should've been more assertive,” Mrs. Cake offered.

Derpy had finally calmed down and looked up from the mayor’s warm embrace.

“And I shouldn’t have made you switch my role with Cloudchaser’s,” she said, still choking on her tears.

“Ha! I knew it!” Cloudchaser remarked.

“Group hug!” Lyra announced as she jumped towards the pile of ponies. After the chaotic hug, Ivory's spirit was a little higher, suddenly the barn seemed much warmer than it did just a few minutes ago. When the audience stomped in applause, she couldn't hold back a faint smile.

Outside, the windigos neighed, sounding not threatening, but dissapointed. The three ghosts dissolved like the memories of a bad dream, leaving only a thin blanket of powder-snow.

“Think about it this way,” Mrs. Cake whispered to the mayor. “At least nopony will ever forget this performance.

“Somehow, I don't find that notion very comforting,” Ivory replied with a sigh.

THE END

Mad props to Lucefudu for editing, proofreading and helpful suggesitons.

And to Tytyvm for proofreading and editing.

Comments

[Lucefudu]

On act 3:

“But it is our[/b ]turntable!”

I actually caught that detail on the second revision, but apparently I wasn't fast enough with it.
Oh well, it's still in the GDocs. Just transfer it here.

Still- as the pre-reader/editor of this fanfic, I can tell that the revision is minimal and affects little of the story, quality and plot-wise, so read away!

And, as always, criticism is appreciated.

[Bandy]

I knew this was an Owler story just by looking at the picture.

[HopeFox]

Brilliant! I love all of your casting choices, especially the irony that Mrs Cake is actually too sensible to play Chancellor Puddinghead well. The real windigoes were quite a surprise, but of course they were defeated by the power of friendship and a happy ending, as always. Loved it!

[Owlor]

1089374
I got a recognizeable art style, don't I? I think I got two covers not made by me, one gift art and the other a photomanip.

1089475
A lot of the casting choices where Luce's idea actually. , the initial idea was born during a skype convo, so it's a little hard to remember who thought up who, but I think Luce suggested Berry and Cloudchaser, I suggested Mrs. Cake, Derpy and Lyra. We both suggested Vinyl Scratch at pretty much the same time.

1090421
Well... no. Ivory Scrolls is a somewhat old placeholder name for her, the closest thing she has to an official name is Mayor Mare, but I liked Ivory better.

[Owlor]

1089110
Yeah, that issue is fixed now.

[Themaskedferret]

*grins* Very cute, some major typos though namely trough instead of through and tough instead of though. Put it this way. trough is what you use to feed pigs and tough means you're strong like the steroid pegasus.