Kukures

by Commissar Rarity

Overture for the Modern Lyra

She sat alone except for the lyre. She plucked it, more out of habit and idleness than anything. Her large, lovely golden eyes stared down at her distorted reflection in the polished surface of the lyre. A tear slipped from her eye and splashed on the golden shimmer, tarnishing it as it left a wet trail down the surface.

“Ly?” A soft, husky voice drifted to her ears from behind.

Lyra shifted, adjusting her rump. She was sitting on a bench overlooking the seapony fountain in the park, in the upright position preferred by lyrists. Her two-tone tail flicked as she glanced irritably at the pony sitting down next to her.

The newcomer was a light blue unicorn very similar in appearance to Lyra. They were, in fact, sisters. Colgate smiled at Lyra, flipping her dark blue and white mane as she did so.

“You ran out of there pretty quick, Ly.”

She only grunted in response, turning her head as not to look at her sister.

“I don’t blame you,” Colgate said, voice still soft. She reached out to stroke her sister’s mane, smoothing the ruffles that had developed. “It’s hard for all of us.”

Lyra still said nothing, her plucking at the lyre the only answer. Colgate noticed the tune for the first time. It seemed rather simple, a charming little thing. Then – plunk – a sour note. Lyra grimaced and repeated the phrase. A different note, still jarring and wrong finished the phrase.

“That’s a nice song. Is it something you’re writing?”

Lyra paused and looked at her sister, gold eyes clouded with a mixture of emotions. “You don’t recognise that?”

Colgate sat there a moment, combing her mind. Nothing was coming up; she had never heard such a song before. She shook her head with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, doesn’t sound familiar at all.” She glanced away briefly, and continued unsteadily. “Look, we need to talk about –”

“Mom,” said Lyra. “This was the song she sang to us every night before we went to bed. How can you not recognise it?” Her voice had a manic edge to it. “I remember it – not all of it, but enough. I just can’t get this last phrase right. I start thinking and then it gets green and I can’t remember and it slithers away and it keeps being green.” She cradled her head with both hooves, the lyre dropping from her grip and landing in a cloud of dust.

Colgate drew her into a hug. “It’s okay, Ly. I still have nightmares about the caves too. It’s as hard on me as it is on you,” she whispered into her sister’s ear.

Lyra did not reply. She shrugged her way out of the embrace and picked her lyre back up. She began to play the song again, the simple chords flowing from her hooves. “It’s tearing me apart.”

Plunk.

“Me too.” Colgate looked away, at a robin in the fountain preening itself. “Wish I’d been here longer. Never wanted to go with dad.”

Plunk.

“I’m a terrible person.”

Plunk.

“No you’re not. Why are you even saying that?”

Plunk.

“I moved out. Couldn’t take it.” Lyra lowered her head, a tear running down her cheek. “It just – I couldn’t. Hated that house.”

Plunk.

“Nopony’s blaming you.” Colgate looked back at her sister. She was still plucking away at that lyre, trying desperately to find that last perfect note. “Will you come back with me? Maybe play a bit for her? The doctor says it won’t be long. I know she would’ve loved to hear you play one last time. You’re the only one who really deserved the name Heartstrings in this family…”

The lyre’s string snapped in twain, both ends waving in the slight breeze. Lyra sighed heavily. “No. I don’t want to remember her this way. Happy memories…”

Her sister nodded, and hopped down from the bench. “I get that. Drop by the house. Tootsie and Twisty need to get their minds off things.”

She trotted away, heading back towards town. Back towards the hospital. That horrible, white, sterile place where nothing but pain existed. Lyra looked out at the fountain again, at the birds playing in the water.

Lyra sat like that for a while. The sun passed the trees and was on its way down when she finally moved. It was not by choice, however.

The sound of rolling wheels came from behind her, and in no time at all, the bench shook with an impact. An orange pegasus filly flew over the bench, bouncing on her head and into the fountain. Lyra jumped off the bench, lyre clattering to the ground. She ran over to the fountain.

“Goddesses above! Are you alright?” she asked, breathless.

The pegasus popped out of the fountain. She was soaking wet, and Lyra noticed she was wearing a helmet. “I’m fine! I’ve had worse spills than that.” She hopped out of the fountain, shaking herself off. “Ugh, wet feathers. I don’t suppose you know a spell that’ll dry me off?”

The unicorn shook her head, mane bouncing. “All I can do is levitation. Everypony in my family’s that way. Anything else just…” She made a raspberry with her lips.

The filly giggled. Her face fell as the giggles subsided. “Ohhh… It’s getting late. I need to get home.” She scampered back to the bench, and set her scooter upright. The collision with the bench had cracked the front lip, but it seemed to be fine otherwise. She hopped up on the scooter and began kicking the ground to build momentum as she rolled away.

Lyra watched for a moment as the filly skated off onto the dirt road heading back into Ponyville proper. Should probably be heading home too, she thought. A shimmering aura of seafoam green enveloped her broken lyre and brought it closer to her. Cradling it to her chest, she trotted off, following the filly. She hummed the tune in her head, an odd off-kilter time.

She soon began to catch up with the filly, despite her being on wheels. Lyra smiled as she began to trot alongside the pegasus. Tootsie’s been asking for a scooter like that for quite some time. Maybe she’d would know where to–

Lyra’s ear pricked up. Over the sound of the scooter’s wheels and her own humming, she could hear grinding behind her. She cocked her head over her shoulder and almost froze in fright. A great steel wagon was rushing at them.

Heart pounding, she reacted on pure instinct and dropped her lyre, tackling the filly and rolling onto the soft grass. The wagon roared by, kicking up dust. The scooter made a horrible cracking, grinding noise as the wheels of the chariot pulverised it. Lyra’s instrument did not escape unscathed either – all that was left of it after the wagon had passed was a twisted gold frame, barely recognisable at all.

The unicorn looked up at the wagon as it passed. There were no ponies pulling it, only steam pipes in the back. It reminded her of the juggernaut of a carriage those cider shucksters rode into town on. Instead of a nattily-dressed unicorn sitting atop it driving, there was a skuzzy, mangy earth pony. He looked down, eyes locking with her for one brief moment.

Time seemed to freeze. His eyes were so strange. She was lost in them, swimming in a pool of green. Green.

A word popped into her mind. She almost laughed at the bizarre timing of it all. As the wagon drove into the distance, she found she could not remember the word. Was it cookie? Kookaburra? Cares? It slithered away as quickly as it had come.

“Holy crap,” the filly said, muffled by Lyra’s chest. “We almost died.”

There was a long, silent beat.

“That was awesome.”

Lyra stood, letting the filly get a chance to recover. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” The little pegasus looked at her late scooter with a pout. “Wish the same could be said about that. My mom’s really gonna kill me.”

Lyra saw something at that moment. It was herself as a filly, coat pure and clean. No cutie mark in sight. Always dreading what would happen if she made the slightest mistake.

“That bad at home, or just expensive toy?”

“Both.” She looked away, trying to hide the shame on her face.

The bond strengthened at that moment. “Hey, uh…” Lyra coughed, her embarrassment showing in her face. “Do you know Twisty Doo or Tootsie Flute? They’re my nieces, about your age. I have an idea that might save you from a bit of trouble.”

“I know them. Hung out with them a few times, but not much. What kind of plan is this?” The filly’s voice grew suspicious, the distrust of adults all children seem to have bleeding through.

“The type of plan where everypony’s happy. What would happen, if say, my nieces invited you over for a sleepover, to get their mind off things? And what would happen if, during this sleepover, somepony just happened to leave a brand new scooter outside?”

The filly gaped at her. “You’d do that for me?” she asked, her voice betraying her absolute incredulity.

“Darn straight I would. I can’t stand to see…” Lyra’s voice quavered a bit. “I… I’m just a nice mare, I guess. I suppose we should have introductions. I’m Lyra.”

“Scootaloo,” the filly said. “What kind of catch is there? There’s always a catch, that’s what Rainbow Dash always says.”

“The catch is…” She leaned down to Scootaloo and whispered conspiratorially, “You have to help my niece learn how to ride a scooter.”

The pegasus nodded with an eager expression. “She’ll learn from the best Scootaloo in Ponyville.”

Lyra smiled again. “Great. Let’s get moving, pilgrim.”

“Pilgrim?”

“Eh, don’t ask.”

***

The clock rang out midnight as Lyra slipped her key into the door. She opened it slowly, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. It was late, and BonBon always turned in early because of her job. She shut the door and tread carefully up the stairs, avoiding the ones that would creak.

Lyra slipped into her room, setting the key down on her nightstand. She slid into bed, drawing the covers up tight.

Celestia preserve her, things were getting bad. The stress from everything was wearing on her. Not even the couture, culture, whatever that word was could help. She held her head with both hooves. What was that word? It had already usurped the place of the unfinished song, and taunted her.

Soon, however, the soft chirping of cicadas and the other sounds of summer lulled her into a sleep.

She dreamed of green and things chittering around in darkness. The song drifted in the background mixed with a husky, echoing voice that teased her. She could make out neither the words nor the notes of the song.

She willed herself to listen. The song was almost over. She had to hear those final chords, had to hear what the voice had to offer, had to –

Lyra snapped awake, heart beating fast and erratic. Her bedsheets were tangled in a heap on the floor, and her coat was slick with sweat. She put a hoof over her heart, feeling it pulse in a mad rhythm. She began to take in deep breaths, trying to calm her inner storm.

Through her curtained windows, she could make out nothing but darkness. She levitated her clock over, peering at it with the dim light her horn provided.

Five-fifteen.

She set the clock back down and pulled her covers back up.

She did not go back to sleep that night.

***

BonBon wrapped her terrycloth robe tight around her. She was prone to chills, and always had been, even as a filly. Even the warmth of a summer morning could not stop her from shivering. One thing that never failed to bring some warmth back to her was coffee.

She began her descent down the stairs, and already the smoky aroma of coffee was drifting from the shared kitchen. Either Lyra or Slipshod was up and brewing coffee.

It was Lyra, which was rather unusual. The unicorn usually slept in late, especially on weekends. To see her up before ten was a rare sight indeed.

But then again, BonBon reflected, she’s been really stressed lately.

She was in a terrycloth robe as well and held a cup of coffee in a ring of magic.

“Good morning, Lyra,” BonBon said, crossing through the dining room to the kitchen. The coffee jug was sitting on the island. It had not been out for long, and steam still rose from its spout. She grabbed a mug and began pouring the coffee. When she noticed Lyra had not yet responded, she continued. “How are things? You know… with your mum and all?”

“Same as before,” Lyra muttered. Her voice was dead, toneless. “She’s still dying.” She took a sip of coffee, staring blankly at the wall. BonBon noticed that she looked tired, like she had not slept for some time. “Is it wrong,” she asked, looking at BonBon, “to wish she would just die already? End the suffering we’re all going through?”

BonBon paused, remembering to set the jug upright when her mug began overflowing. Sipping gingerly at the mess she spoke again.

“Well that’s really between you and Celestia. But if you really want to know what I think… No, it’s not wrong.” She walked over to the table and plopped down in a chair, wriggling her legs as they hung frustratingly close to the ground. “But I’m just an actress in training. I don’t know much about this kind of thing. And I don’t really care about these things.”

Lyra grimaced. Though BonBon was probably her best friend, tact had a habit of escaping her airy head. She said nothing, just sat there and continued staring at the wall in between sips of coffee.

“Have you seen Slipshod today?” BonBon asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“He went out. Sink’s broke and he needed to get some tools.”

BonBon took another sip, trying to figure out a new tack with which to approach her friend. Her mind raced, flitting from subject to subject. Weather? Everypony loved talking about the weather. Oh, how about –

“Music! How’s the music going? Write any good songs lately?”

“Somepony ran over my lyre and broke it,” Lyra replied, voice still toneless.

“Oh.” She had officially run out of things to talk to Lyra about. Except… “Uh, how’d you sleep? You look kind of tired.”

“I woke up at five. Couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“Well I’m sure it’s just the stress.”

“Probably.” Lyra set her mug down. “I have to go. They’re probably expecting me at… y’know.” She hopped out of her chair, catching herself on all four legs. BonBon followed suit.

“Do you want me to go along? Provide a bit of support?”

“No.” Lyra’s voice was sharp and acidic, jarring compared to her previous tone – or lack thereof – and completely out of character. “I’m fine. I don’t need anypony’s support. I’m my own mare, I can do fine on my own, mom.”

Both mares froze. Lyra blinked twice, her mouth moving in an O shape like a fish gasping for air. She flushed red and backed away. “I- I have to go.” She turned and ran out the door.

***

The radio in the window crackled a soft, smooth swing rhythm. The wobbling needle was backlit by a dark green glow. There were other radios in the window, some wood, some metal. Some with red trim, some with white. But none of them had that green light.

Lyra stared at it, the green reflecting in her gold eyes making the colour of sickness there. She could hear that slimy, husky echoing voice whispering in her ear. The nonsense word she obsessed over finally formed in her head: Koo-ker-ee. Kookeree. Kukures.

The static grew until it drowned everything out. The world faded to darkness around her. The voice slithered, spoke. Kukures, kukures, it chanted. She could see a shade appear in front of her. It approached, staggering as it did so. The only thing she could make out through the shadows were two radiant green eyes, tainted emeralds in a crown of blackness.

“Don’t you remember me, Lyra?” it hissed, the chant of kukures coming to an abrupt halt. “I miss you. Come back.”

Lyra could feel a tug at, well, her heartstrings. She could feel what the shade said was true. It missed her deeply. It wanted her to come to it, it wanted her to-

-be green. Be green like she was before. Mind consumed by the green.

“No,” she said, backing away from the advancing shade. “Nononono! Not going back! I can’t be green. I can’t be green!”

She couldn’t move anymore. Oh Celestia, she was up against a wall. Nowhere to run. The shade was almost near her, she could see its long, perverse tongue reaching out towards her, dripping with some vile pus. She wrapped her hooves around herself to ward off the thing. Maybe if she couldn’t see it, it’d go away, like the boogiemare when she was a filly-

“Lassie?”

Lyra snapped her eyes open. Her chest heaved from the still-rushing adrenaline. Looking up, she saw a palomino pony dressed in an official-looking blue uniform. A truncheon hung from his hip, which struck her as useless, given he was an earth pony. He was looking at her with concern.

“Are ye alright, lassie? Gave us all quite a scare ye did, what with the screamin’ and all.”

“S-sorry,” she said quietly, her voice cracking. “I’m… not feeling well. Under a lot of stress.” She got up with a little help from the police stallion.

“Well, if ye’ll take some advice from good ol’ Uncle Paddywhacker, ye should jus go home and get some rest. Laird knows ye probably need some. I mean, take me wee bairns for an example. When me missus first had ’em, I was in such a state! I was hallucinatin’ that the Mare in th’ Moon ’erself was come down to take over all’a Equestria. I mean, what a laugh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lyra said, not paying attention to what she was agreeing with. A wave of dizziness swept over her, causing her to sway dangerously off-balance. She could feel her stomach slosh to the side as she started to tip over. Paddywhacker caught her, moving faster than his prodigious size implied.

“Careful there lass! Here, come with me and I’ll get ye somethin’ to steady those legs of yers.”

He guided her over to one of the tables at the café. She sat, head spinning. When Lyra felt well enough to look up from the ground, the police pony had returned to the table, with two foam cups in tow. He set one on the table in front of her. She took it and took a ginger sip. It was some kind of herbal tea.

“Chamomile tea,” Paddywhacker exposited. “Me mum, her mum and her mum’s mum all drank this and the habit was passed down to me. Frankly could be worse, right?” He sipped from his cup. “Now then. I don’t want you getting up until you’re ready. I’ve asked a couple of nice ponies to sit with ya till you feel better, alright? Sound reasonable enough?”

“Yeah. It does.” Lyra wished she could feel the cheer she faked in her voice. She watched the rotund pony trot off for a moment, then her gaze drifted over to a pair of ponies approaching the table.

One was a grayish pegasus mare with a light blue mane tied up with a cute bow, and the other was a dark grey earth pony stallion with a black mane. His only discerning feature aside from his colouration was the unbuttoned checkered shirt he wore. He rubbed his hoof through his mane nervously as the mare came up.

“Hey there. How’s it going?” Her voice had the accented slur of a valley filly, but there was an unexpected pleasantness in it. “I’m Flitter.”

The stallion came up, still looking somewhat nervous. His chin bore a fair amount of stubble, clearly a pony who abhorred the razor. “I’m… look, just call me Inky.” He nodded towards Flitter. “It’s what she calls me at least.”

“I’m Lyra,” she said. “I don’t really know why he sent you guys over here. I’m fine. Really.”

“In my experience most ponies who are fine don’t have screaming fits in the middle of the street,” Inky said, slipping into a chair across the table. Flitter sat down as well, scooting her chair closer to his. “Believe me. I’m a writer, and I’ve spent time in asylums and the like. Sometimes it’s even for research.”

Flitter shot a dirty look at Inky and turned warmly back to Lyra. “Look, he’s a cop. If he had just trotted off and left you here he’d be at risk for a lawsuit, by earth pony standards.” At Lyra’s perplexed stare, she added, “My dad was a lawyer. He taught me a lot because he thought I’d be one too.”

“I feel fine now,” Lyra said. She wasn’t lying, not this time. Whatever spell she had fallen under – dizziness, madness, whichever you prefer – it had passed now. She felt able enough to continue on her way. She still wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t have another episode like earlier though.

“If that’s what you think,” Flitter said, rising from her chair. “Just go to a hospital if you start feeling weird again, okay?”

The writer withdrew something from his shirt pocket and dropped it on the table. He pushed it towards Lyra with a hoof. “I’ve been through a lot of the same stuff you seem to be going through. Call me if you want to talk about it.”

Lyra just nodded as she slipped his card into her saddlebag. The couple gave a farewell wave and trotted off, hoof-in-hoof. Lyra sat there for a long while, finishing her tea and watching the ponies pass by. The tea seemed to have helped. Her once-racing mind and heart were now much calmer, soothing even.

***

She looked up at the clock tower. It was just a bit after two. She really needed to get to the hospital.

Lyra hopped down from her seat, landing neatly on all four legs, and trotted off back towards the hospital. For one frightening moment, she thought she was going to have a dizzy spell again. She propped herself against a bench and waited, but it never came.

She took in some deep breaths, feeling her body come back under control. She took a ginger step forward, then another. When Lyra was confident of herself, she continued at a steady pace. All the events of the day seemed to melt away, like they had never really happened in the first place.

“Hey, Lyra!”

Lyra paused, and turned back to face where the voice had come from. A palomino unicorn was trotting up beside her. It took a moment to place him, but she finally recognised him as Extra Edition, a reporter for the Ponyville Times. Being a reporter, he had a tendency to show up at the worst times. Like now.

“Hey, Extra Edition.” Lyra’s tone was flat. She sighed at the thought of having to put up with Extra, even if it was for a little bit.

“I heard you had a little incident in the town square…” He sounded like he was fishing for a story. Lyra felt a flash of irritation. All her pain was nothing but a potential story for a gossip rag.

“Just an anxiety attack. I’ve had them before, just not in public. It’s fine.” It was true, too. She’d had anxiety attacks before as a filly, and for a few weeks after the wedding. But for the most part, they had petered out. Until today.

Extra looked slightly disappointed, almost making a pouty face. “Well, fine. Looks like this pony’s gonna have to look elsewhere for breaking news.” He winked and scampered off, camera bouncing off his chest.

Rolling her eyes, Lyra continued to the hospital.

***

Her pace slowed as she came in sight of the hospital. It always filled her with a mix of warmth and dread. Warmth because it was a pleasant enough place – even homey; for long ago it’d been a mansion belonging to a rich noblemare, and she had donated it to public service. Dread because few things that were good came from hospitals. There were births, yes, but most of what Lyra had seen come from hospitals was pain – either physical, mental or emotional.

And she had experienced all three in recent times thanks to the hospital.

Colgate was sitting on the front steps, head buried in hooves. Lyra’s heart froze, then sank. Her pace quickened, hooves beating a frantic rhythm on the cobblestone.

Her sister looked up at her. Lyra came to a sudden stop, skidding a few inches before her momentum died. She could see, reflected in Colgate’s eyes, a fresh coat of pain.

She didn’t need to hear the words come from Colgate’s mouth.

She already knew what had happened.

Comments

[The Sentient Cloud]

An interesting idea, to say the least.

I'll refrain from a proper review until a few more chapters have gone by, but for now, I'll call it promising. Liked and Faved.

[guuguuguuguu]

The description pulled me in. The plot/writing was fantastic.
s3.amazonaws.com/kym-assets/photos/images/original/000/180/494/dat'%20plot.JPG

[me8myself]

Wow, this is a masterfully written chapter. Can't wait for the next part.

[Upinsmoke47]

"Sleep is something that all beings need"
Bitch please. You obviously haven't met anyone like me yet.

[TheNobleDragon]

o.o I am tracking and liking this now

[PhibbyRizo]

You have my interest. Great concept, can't wait to see where you take this!

[Dracuaxis]

Just wanted to let you know that you have got my attention with this fic. This first chapter is extremely tense and I'm curious to see where this goes (hopefully places). I don't have a lot of time with my busy schedule and all, but I will find time to continue. I'm always interested in stories that offer a fresh (and inherently better) perspective of Lyra's characterization than what the fandom has twisted her into (an abomination) and I'm very glad to have stumbled upon it.