There's an old saying that goes "don't write checks you can't cash". There are different variations of it, but the sentiment remains the same through each version: you shouldn't make promises that you are unable to complete or make good on. It is a very simple concept, but still one people struggle with.

Lyra Heartstrings had no intention of letting her check in this matter bounce. She was a woman of her word, even if her word sometimes strayed towards the confusing and longwinded.

When she promised a panda for Fluttershy's preserve, she got one. She was subsequently tossed in jail for a few months, but that panda did make it to Fluttershy!

When she vowed to fill the local library with enough books to fill their every shelf, those shelves were stacked in a month. Granted they were stacked with unsold copies of self-published books she was able to get for pennies on the dollar, but they were still books.

So when she swore to Octavia that she would have this whole wedding on lockdown—that Octavia would have not a single thing to worry about—she intended to make good on it. Make great on it even! It was for Octavia after all; she deserved the absolute best. Vinyl too, if to a smaller extent.

"WE GOT THIS! Everything will be PERFECT! You just watch. We'll really knock your pants off." She had said with just gusto.

"We got this." She assured thrice over with not a drop of concern.

"All you'll have to worry about is focusing all your brain on just how amazing we're gonna blow this wedding up!" Was what she sold the whole idea off on to win Octavia over.

We. We. We. The collective we had it. Now Lyra just needed to let "we" know that she just wrote the check for them all without their consent. It would be just fine...

"Why couldn't you just hire a professional?" Having this meeting at a populated coffee shop was one of Lyra's better ideas. Redheart clearly wanted to belt out her frustration, but kept her tone a hissing hush so as not to disturb the other patrons.

"We are professionals!" Not professional party planners, or professional MCs, nor professional caterers, but still professionals in their own fields, "Who's gonna know them better than us? Some hired stuff-shirt'll probably suggests—like—cheese plates or... spam!"

"Pretty sure no caterer suggest spam..." Spitfire withdrew the mug of coffee she had been nursing from her lips to offer what little she could, "But, not the point, Lyra. Big events like this months to organize even for the best of them. Three weeks? Sure, a professional—"

"We are professionals!"

"—event organizer—save the semantics," The mug was with menace at Lyra, be it porcelain or hot bean-water, something was going to be thrown at her if she piped up again, "An event organizer could maybe throw it all together in that short a timespan, but just three shlubs?"

"Four shlubs actually. But, uh... The fourth doesn't know she's helping yet."

The two more sensible members at the table shared a look. Frustration and shaded indifference both sighed before looking back at the jolly, carefree woman who called them all together so early in the morning. "Lyra... Why?"

It was a simple question Spitfire asked, but it cut the conversation deep. Lyra moved to rest her arms on the table, letting them splay out and display herself entirely to her two companions. Amidst all the chatter, order bells panging in the shop, Lyra offered a sincere smirk. At an instant, both Redheart and Spitfire could feel that whatever she was thinking—whatever she was cooking up to tell them—was just going to make them feel like the heels for debating her over.

"Octi and Vi are two of the sweetest, honest, and most self-sacrificing people we know," Redheart felt a dull pang at her hip that she pressed a palm to, "Sure, it's gonna be hard, and it's gonna break our backs to see through... But they deserve a wedding that nobody but the people who love them the most can possibly put together."

Sure enough, they both felt crumby after hearing that. The nurse sunk into her seat as she just submitted to the fate she was dealt; having to juggle work at the hospital while trying to plan a whole wedding. Spitfire scratched the back of her neck anxiously before huffing a reluctant sigh. Her shades were plucked from her face so she could pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to center her thoughts. "A'right... Guilt trip us then," she bemoaned the outcome, but part of her was into the idea of showing some dear friends a good time, "I expect you at least have an idea of what we're going to be doing next? Please?"

Like the cat pleased to get her cream, Lyra's lips flipped from soft and sincere to smug and self-satisfied. "Worry not, worry not!" The harpist withdrew a few crumpled slips of paper from her jacket lapel before distributing two to the others, keeping two for herself, "I took the liberty—expecting all this boo-hoo talk of not wanting to help—"

"I feel it was pretty warranted..."

"—to write up jobs for each of us. If we each tackle one pillar of this job, we'll have this whole thing set in three weeks exactly," Lyra beamed with pride at her sheer cleverness.

"...The wedding is in exactly three weeks..." Redheart pointed out the obvious, not entirely sure why she bothered knowing exactly the laissez-faire attitude she'd get in response.

"Exactly! We'll have everything done the precise second they walk through the doors of the church!" It was exactly the response she expected from Lyra, yet she was still disappointed.

At the very least the venue for the ceremony was decided by the couple themselves along with the date, the venue for the reception, and the guest list. That much Lyra was unable to get her grubby little mitts on, even if that guest list was due for a little tweaking. But that wasn't for them to manage... That was to be left to the fourth of their party. Lyra did not need to look over her slip of paper as it was already committed to memory when she wrote it. The other two studied their part of the scheme, at least hoping it wasn't something completely inane.

Oddly enough, both Redheart and Spitfire's expressions turned more curious as they looked at their tasks. "Huh..." They both mumbled as one, only fueling Lyra's self-satisfaction.

"See? I wasn't blowing smoke, ladies! I know we've got this completely under control! I have every—" Lyra had to stop patting herself on the back when she saw both partners raise an objecting finger; it was nice when they praised her at once, but when they had issues at once it sent a chill down her poor spine.

Lyra had hoped that she could finish her speech before they both reached the bottoms of their work lists. While the first few jobs were tailored perfectly for their individual skill sets and crafted to keep their work-lives in balance with it, the last order on the sheets—even the two Lyra kept for herself—were not so agreeable.

"...I am not picking her up..." Spitfire outright refused.

"Can someone else do it?" Redheart was looking for a way out.

The team was crumbling once more, but Lyra was assured that things would come together. They had to. This was to be the greatest wedding ever. She steeled herself and pumped a fist to her chest to summon that sincerity that once won them both over. When she spoke, they would listen: "Yes you are, and no. Byeeeeee!"

Neither could retort as Lyra vaulted over the entirety of their table, kicking over a few—thankfully—empty mugs in the process before bolting out the door. Patrons across the whole shop looked on in baffled confusion as this mint-haired woman made a complete break for it. Once again, Lyra's plot to use the coffee shop as a smokescreen worked flawlessly. The two abandoned partners would look like utter clowns or worse if they tried to run her down in front of everyone here; so, they remained there, stewing away.

"Well... Guess we'd better get started..." Spitfire could think of nothing else to add to their situation as she plopped a few dollars on the table.

The rest of their work would be easy enough... But they were already cringing at the idea of dealing with their final jobs.

"Pick up Trixie from Manehattan (this will likely take a few days, so hop to it.)."

"Get the cake. (Be 100% sure it's the EXACT flavor they'll BOTH love.)."