The Sweetest Music

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tune Up

***

Los Pegasus wasn't quite what Bon-Bon had expected.

It was... in progress. While there already were a number of tall, majestic skyscrapers all about the city, starting with the very train station, which they'd left just about half an hour ago, and plain tall blocks of flats, of which there were fewer, and department stores, and recording studios - the city was probably the new Manehattan of music industry - or, was going to become one - there were still a lot of yet-to-be-erected buildings, with cranes all around, and the noise! The noise of a newborn city, developing, the builders erecting the pillars of the earth: the shouts and yells, the grinding, swishing, thumping. It would take some time to get used to, Bon-Bon mused. Though, if I recall correctly, they promise to finish the construction in a few years. Of course, with Alexandro and his... organisation guiding the construction, it could very well be possible, if not true entirely. Bon-Bon shivered in the cold wind. Or, maybe, because of such thoughts, which gained a new colour in the wake of the recent events - and the information Tom had given them. We definitely need to have a talk, Lyra and I, Bon-Bon thought, glancing at her mare, who seemed to be lost in thought.

Lyra took in the openness, the strange, plain-like site of the city as she walked side by side with her mare, in the direction of their new home. She couldn't sat that the city was pretty much what she had expected, if only because she hadn't really expected anything. Still, she could see - feel - a difference here: a new, maybe even tolerant - almost tolerant, at least to a greater extent than the rest of the country - or, the world - city, where they could both live in peace: not showing off, just living together in privacy, they could hope for lack of threats - including potential threats - if not from the law, but at least from the ponies. And the ponies themselves, here, in this city, were strangely different - if only because there were more pegasi than in other places Lyra had been to. (At least, so it seemed; not that she'd been to a whole lot of places, of course.) Or, it wasn't the ponies who were different: it was the way they walked: many of them smiling, the distance between them short, even between ponies of the same gender: maybe they weren't afraid of being viewed as gay; or, maybe, it was because of the all-around construction works that the ponies walked so close to each other. Or, maybe, she just wanted to believe in it, one way or another.

Finally, the mares stopped before a tall block of flats that Tom had directed them to. Bon-Bon took in the sight of home - their new home. From the outside, it looked the same as other buildings in town - in the city. Still, Bon-Bon's heart fluttered a little at the thought of them getting a flat in such a nice house: it wasn't as prim as the Canterlot mansion, but it didn't have the rustic charm of their Ponyville home. If anything, it was... unique.

Lyra opened the door and directed her hooves towards the lift, followed by her mare. By the lift, three stallions, one of them evidently drunk, were discussing some matters. Lyra didn't pay attention to them, only noting that there were two earth ponies and a pegasus, who was the one slurring in a drunken manner. Maybe he had just finished basic military training and was returning home after celebrating that with his friends, she thought. Maybe they were all from the marefia: the house had been built by one of Alexandro's companies, after all.

She didn't want to think further about the marefia, or Alexandro, or Tom. Or Discreet Heart. Who would probably - definitely. Definitely! - die in prison anyway. After all, what was better: the police or the marefia? Lyra wasn't sure. At least any more. Both were dealing with crime - in their own way. Both were criminals - in their own way.

With a ding, the lift doors opened. Lyra considered waiting for the next one, briefly, but Bon-Bon was already entering the lift, and Lyra followed her mare. The stallions bulged into the lift, the pegasus slightly pushing the cream-coloured mare with his wing as he took his place next to his companions, swearing loudly, "Bucking lifts."

Lyra glanced at him. The lift was really crowded.

"Hey, watch the tongue," one of the earth pony stallions warned the pegasus. "There are mares here." On one hoof, this was nice: the courtesy, but... Lyra didn't want such courtesy, this kind of courtesy. Neither did Bon-Bon.

The drunken pegasus turned a little - which proved to be a feat, given his condition and the little space in - inside - the lift. He looked at Bon-Bon, who was closer to him, with dumb, unseeing eyes. "Sorry, ma'am." He grabbed Bon-Bon's hoof, kissing it over and over. "Real sorry, you see-"

The doors opened and the pegasus's friends dragged him out of the lift wordlessly, seemingly paying no attention to his actions. Bon-Bon hid a frown beneath a soft, polite smile: she couldn't be let down because of this tiny flaw in the otherwise good city. Because it was good. And it would be good. To her and Lyra. For her mare and for her. She stepped out of the lift, followed by the minty mare.

If I had a gun, I could kill the bastard, Lyra thought idly about te pegasus. Just shoot him in the head. Or it the chest. Or just show him the barrel so he would buck off. But the law prohibited civilians from threatening other ponies with weapons. (Not to mention that, in her current emotional and mental state - and, well, her permanent emotional and mental state - she'd probably just shoot the gun.) And she didn't want to do time in prison, and not just because of the conditions - but because leaving her mare just wasn't an option. She loved Bon-Bon, and she knew Bon-Bon loved her. Mutual love, unlike mutual trust - or, maybe, like mutual trust, of a higher level - could not be broken. And must not be broken.

"Lyra, are we coming in?" Bon-Bon extracted the keys from her saddlebags, her other bags shifting on her back heavily. "Here are the keys."

Lyra replied with something between "Yeah" and "Yep". It seemed that even the accent - her own accent - seemed to be about to change in this new city - or was it changing already? The very foundation of language: the pronunciation, the grammar... Did it change as well when one moved somewhere else, with a clear intention to live there peacefully - or was it a subconscious, maybe even conscious change, brought about by mere desire - a mere desire to change - and, maybe, be changed? Live peacefully. As peacefully as such drunkards will allow us. Lyra knew - or, at least, hoped - that not the whole city was like that. Still...

Lyra snatched the keys telekinetically and brought them to open up the door. Bon-Bon frowned. We are so having a talk later.

The mares walked inside.