Lyra and the White Mares

by publiq

2023-12-22 Arrival

“WELCOME TO AKRON,” blared the bold block letters above Vinyl and Lyra, the unicorns’ eyes slowly constricting into rectangles from the surprising brightness of the overcast sky. Vinyl glanced down at the brochure she carried through the portal. For as scary as it looked on the Equestria side, neither unicorn felt the expected tingle of magical transport. Instead, it was a smooth step through, followed by brief disorientation to the new gravity.

After their eyes finally adjusted to the light, Lyra found herself standing in a run-down train station with her occasional musical collaborator checking their itinerary by her side. The grey skies were decidedly not those pictured in the brochures. The weather must have been one of those “forty-degree days” that documentaries about the human civilization of Baltimore discussed. Absolutely not a day where she had needed to have grown out her full winter coat to enjoy. Nonetheless, she shook as if to liberate a snowpack from her back. All that travel had taken its toll, and her spine welcomed the release.

Page 1 of the schedule made their next decisions easy. The station clock read 3:00. Lyra tilted her head in confusion at the incongruence between clock and solar times until Vinyl poked her horn at a hoofnote at the bottom of the first page.

“There’s an orchestra visiting from Siberia in about four hours. The brochure says Siberia is the kind of place where its ponies wear these heavy coats year-round.”

Vinyl rubbed her horn against Lyra. “You know I find orchestra concerts to be boring as shit unless Octy first handed me an annotated score. Music’s too quiet. Strains the ears.”

“Remember, they told us to avoid using horn rubs. Can’t you feel how dry the ambient magic is?” Lyra nickered as if a mother correcting her foal.

“I-I-I know. Let’s-let’s go. Y-you-you’re an ancient of mu-mu—ancient musician,” stammered a defeated Vinyl with her physical voice.

Lyra pointed at the brochure, “Look at these lights! It’s exactly the kind of show you and Pinkie collaborate on. Do humans have party canons for their Hearthswarming traditions? We have four hours to gallop if we miss the next train north.”

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Two unicorns sat amidst the sea of humanity in the middle concourse. Human concert halls clearly pulled double duty as sporting arenas. Zero consideration of sound quality. A mare may be so inclined as to believe she was in an enclosed coliseum temporarily turned into a musical stage. What an uncivilized and unsubtle species.

“AND THEN A SOUND FILLED THE NIGHT IN THE COLD WINTER’S AIR.” Sound from the line arrays filled the hall as the audience fell into a trance from the light show borrowed straight from a gig with full Canterlot funding.

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