Persnickety and Newsworthy [PRIVATE]

[NeilWacaster]

He beamed. "Well ... thank you. And you have a good point. I'll probably take off the suit jacket once we're inside. Good idea."

The line crawled toward the entrance. The theater was a large, stone structure with enormous plate glass windows. It looked more like a temple than an auditorium. A huge banner was draped over the front, announcing the new play.

They passed in between two enormous columns and reached the door. Newsworthy pulled out their tickets, handed them to the attendant, and lead Persnickety inside.

[Twimsy]

There had always been something exhilarating about being in a theater - perhaps that was how Persnickety had known what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, from a very young age. The sound of ponies filing in and taking their seats, the excited hum of chatter before the band finally struck up, the curtain rose and one was transported to different worlds for an hour or two. She loved watching plays just as much as she loved being in them.

"I haven't been here in so long," she said to her date, smiling brightly, "it feels good to be back. I forget - is this your first time coming to Stalliongrad for your work?"

[NeilWacaster]

He was glad to see Persnickety this happy. She had seemed very withdrawn when they had first met, but he felt like he was making good progress getting through to her.

"Well," he said in response to her question, as they filed to their seats in the second row from the stage, "It's not the first time I've been here, but my other visits have been much more brief. I just flew over for the day to cover that big embezzlement scandal at Stalliongrad Steel, for example. That stupid meeting with the director, which never did pan out, is why I came so early this time. Although, if she hadn't rescheduled the appointment, I would have never met you. Funny the way things work, sometimes."

The theater already seemed to be getting warm, or maybe it was just from being next to her. He took off his jacket, and eased comfortably into his seat. "Your question begs another one. How long have you lived in this fair city?"

[Twimsy]

((Some RP was done via e-mail while Canterlot was down. I'll post those remnants here, along with my next reply. c: ))

"I've been here for a few years, now. The friend I mentioned yesterday convinced me to move out here and we were roommates with a couple of other ponies for a while. They were quite an eccentric bunch, but they were good company. Taught me all about the city life here - all the little places to go and things to see." She almost contemplated offering to show him around, but...he'd probably not be there for much longer. With how much she'd enjoyed his being around, the thought made her just a little sad.

_______________________

He grinned. "Well, then. You must know the best place around here to get a good book. I'm always looking for new things to read, and bestsellers aren't my taste. No. The best feeling in the world is going into a little, tiny shop that has cobwebs across the door, and finding an obscure, marvelous tome." He sighed with contentment. "Once, I discovered a first edition copy of the journal of Starswirl the Bearded. It was in the bargain bin of a dark, musty cave of a shop in Manehattan. A buried treasure, if there ever was one."

__________________________

"A first edition copy? Buried treasure, indeed! That's quite remarkable - it must be very valuable to you," she said with a smile. "I know a few small book shops, I think they'd be right up your alley. I'd be happy to show you where they are...if you're going to be in the city for a little while longer. O-Or, if you ever do decide to pay Stalliongrad a visit again. Whichever..." Words were feeling clumsy once more. She was thankful when the orchestra began playing, and the curtain rose.

The play itself had been very entertaining. The cast certainly knew their stuff, and it was nice to see some younger actors that were good at what they did. Despite the melancholy ending, Persnickety had enjoyed herself, and as the audience filed from the theater, she stepped with her date back out into the chilly evening air. "It's always inspiring to me after I've just seen a play - I always feel recharged!" The mare turned to Newsworthy, "How did you like it?"

[NeilWacaster]

"I would love to ..." he said, as the music began to play. The curtain rose, and he clasped her hoof in his.

After the performance, they walked back outside. Newsworthy set their course for the nearby hotel where the after party was to be held. "It wasn't half bad. I wish they had had a better actor for Mr. Loman though. He was a little wooden. Mrs. Lowman was brilliantly played though. I simply must interview the actress at the party."

[tacobob]

As the couple exited the theater, the hotel party had already started for those who were considered 'Very Important Ponies'. One of them was famed theater critic and semi-professional Bossaball player known (and feared by actors all over Equestria) as Vainglorious. The unicorn mare was standing by a unicorn stallion named Pocket Change. He was a minor Canterlot celebrity as he was given not one, but two metals of bravery by the Princess herself over the the last few months. Vainglorious was holding an martini glass in one hoof while discussing the play they had just seen. The stallion looked bored out of his mind. Both were well dressed.

"I've seen 'Death' performed all over Equestria, and this by far was probably the weakest I've seen yet. My niece played a better Linda and this was for her elementary school production! Still, little Fuss Budget was only an adequate actress, and adequate is all she will ever be. Just like her father.", she chuckled to herself as she remembered the scathing review she wrote shortly after watching the 4th grade production of 'Death Of A Salespony'.

Pocket Change was struggling to even appear interested in the play or his date's discussion of said production, but he didn't want to ditch this party. While snooty, snarky, condescending, and somewhat of a smarty-pants, Vainglorious was an incredibly gorgeous creature. Mentally she was a train wreck, physically, she was a goddess and she generally got him into some interesting parties.

"Well, I did like Bit Player's performance as 'Happy' and the scenes where the wagon crashed were kind of....", The mare rolled her eyes as the stallion spoke. She found him to be a rather attractive pony, and he got her into some of the better parties in Canterlot, but at times he could not shut up. Just yappity yappity!

"Of course you liked 'Happy', he's basically you! The actor they got to play him even looked like you. If I hadn't already met your brother I would have assumed Bit was him. The only thing he was missing was that silly fake eye of yours. How did you get that anyhow?", she took a sip from her glass as she studied to strange prosthetic eye that rested in the unicorn's right eye socket.

Pocket Change was not at all keen to hear his great and powerful orb insulted, but he did not want to anger the mare, so he just replied, "I thought I told you about this. The wedding? Canterlot? Changelings? Really?", he sighed, "I got caught up in that mess that happened during the whole wedding fiasco, mind you I wasn't the type of pony who ran away from those changelings, not me! I stood by the Royal Equestrian Army and I fought along with them. Did rather well, until I got a faceful of stone. The doctors at the Canterlot hospital are truly gifted, but they were not able to save my eye, so I had a fake one put it. It's supposed to be magical. Haven't figured it out yet. Was told it allowed me to see through clothing and fur.", he grinned rather evilly as Vainglorious could only gasp.

"Kidding! Geez! Let me pour you another drink.", he snatched the mare's glass and cantered over to the bar while chuckling to himself.

(Hey Hey! I'm here! Let's get this party started!)

[Twimsy]

((I hope it's okay that I post again and rez this thread because I've been wanting to get back into it and at least...try to keep it active. Because ilu guise~))

"I'm inclined to agree - she was a fantastic actress, she brought so much life to her lines - it actually made you believe that she was Mrs. Lowman, you know? The interactions between Biff and Happy were quite good, as well."

There was a distinct skip in the mare's step as they headed to the hotel. Even if it was an actual after party, and even if the only after parties she'd ever gone to were for school plays and little bohemian joints. Even if she'd only really ever been around actors and actresses who were on her "level," and there would no doubt be at least a handful of ponies who were professionals at this party. She wouldn't...let that...make her timid to the whole thing...too terribly much. They were all just someponies and she was...just Persnickety. With her mussy mane in a bun and her thrifty pashmina scarf. Wait. No! That's no way to think - you helped to stop Discord from pulling an attack on the city! You're not just a nopony...

She'd hardly realized that they'd arrived, her brow furrowed in dizzying thought with her eyes trained on the ground in front of her.

[NeilWacaster]

When they approached the hotel door, a butler in a crisp red suit with gold trim took a glance at their tickets stubs and waved them inside. The place was well furnished, with chandeliers and ancient carved furniture.

"The program said it was just up ahead, in ballroom B." Newsworthy stopped for a moment to get out his camera and put back on his suit jacket. Let's see, I need to talk to Vainglorious and any other ponies who would have interesting opinions. I heard that Sydphony is one of the special guests tonight ... maybe he would even agree to an interview! He noticed that Persnickety was looking nervously at the floor.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, concerned.

[tacobob]

(OOC: And for the record, I'm still floating about..So when it's my time to post..I shall post!)

[Twimsy]

Persnickety quickly glanced up at the blue stallion, giving him a quick nod and a shake of her head, "No! No, I'm fine. My apologies, just, erh...musing to myself." She cleared her throat, taking a look around as he prepped for heading into the fray, whereupon she'd follow him into the ballroom, the sounds of chatter and merrymaking already taking place. She took a moment to scan the room for potential ponies that she was already acquainted with, spotting a particularly familiar white unicorn.

She gently tapped her date's shoulder with a hoof, nodding towards the bar, "Newsworthy, isn't that Mister Pocket Change? From the cafe?"

[NeilWacaster]

The blue pegasus peered in the direction she indicated. "Looks like him ..." With the new clothes, it was difficult to tell from this distance. However, upon closer inspection, he appeared to be taking his sweet time to place a drink order with a rather bored-looking bartender. Newsworthy had little doubt it was him. "We should get some drinks for ourselves, anyway. Let's see if it is our fellow café-goer." He ran a hoof through his mane, and replaced his hat.

It was always a little nerve wracking for him to be in a place with so many important ponies. However, being a member of the press gave him a significant advantage. He noticed that most ponies, especially ones with little to moderate fame, flocked to him and practically begged him for interviews. Actors, in particular, knew how much a good review from a syndicated columnist like himself could mean for their careers. Often, they made him feel like he was the celebrity, which was very odd at first.

Newsworthy led Persnickety into the ballroom towards the bar. A dozen or so ponies looked their way as they entered. A few whispered as they passed, "Isn't that the one who stopped Discord?" "Who's that pony with her?" "Must be her bodyguard or something." "Wow, I can't believe somepony like her stopped somepony like Discord."

Newsworthy was frustrated at this. He knew how reserved Persnickety was, and was certain she did not wish for personal attention, as much as she enjoyed appreciation. In fact, he felt strangely protective, as if he wanted to just wrap his wings around her and hide her from the prying eyes.

As they approached, he saw that the pony standing at the bar was indeed Pocket Change, the eloquent and rather eccentric pony they had met just two days before.

"Hello, sir," Newsworthy said, cordially. "I see you have a taste for the theater?"

[Partheus]

Clef Scribbles had come to see 'Death of a Salespony' after hearing high praise from his colleagues. They were the worst kind of sceptics, those with palettes so jaded that they could feed a family of dragons for two months. They stubbornly turned their noses up at 'A View From the Bridle' and 'All My Foals', both of which were written by the same author as this very play. Yet, despite their best efforts to dislike 'Death of a Salespony', there came back from them an unexpected and much welcomed positive review all around. Clef felt almost obliged to travel all the way from Ponyville to Stalliongrad to see it for himself, despite drama not being one of his strong suits. He was a composer of music first, and a part-time writer second. If it weren't for the company he kept, he would have possessed the literacy of a griffon.

After viewing the play for himself, he followed the member of the audience who just so happened to be in front of him, having heard of some sort of after party being held in a nearby hotel. His mind was abuzz with two distinct trains of thought as he left the building; one was forming an opinion of what he had just seen, and the other was roughly three quarters of a new composition he had been formulating during the quieter periods of the play. As the audience made their pilgrimage to the hotel shrine on the other side of the street, the few fragments of information finally fused, and he at last had a proper opinion. I liked the premise, he mused to himself, but the story had this... overwhelming and uncomfortable sense of depression and sadness which wasn't fun to experience. Hmph, it figures that the only play those fools back in Ponyville like is a depressing one. Still, the themes of father and son bonding created some interesting da-deedum-dum... DARNIT!

Clef's two trains of thought had collided, and the resulting wreck had ensnared his sense of orientation completely. When he took a step back, cleared his mind, and focused on what was in front of him, he was still staring into the back of the stallion in front of him, except now they were inside a well-lit and extravagant hall, with small cliques of sharply dressed ponies in good standing chattering amongst themselves, and a crowded bar with more dressed ponies demanding a well-deserved drink from the proactive bartender. The auditorium was mildly humid, and it doesn't take a stretch of the imagination to suppose that a careless attendee would neglect to drink something before going in to sit down in a partially comfortable chair for a few hours, surrounded by people in the exact same predicament. But, Clef thought ahead, and snagged a quick fix of cider before going in to see the play.

He came to the seemingly obvious realisation that he was one of the only guests who wasn't formally dressed. While he came dressed in his usual attire, a green jacket with white frills and brown straps dangling from the collar, and had not bothered to comb his wild, grey unkempt mane, everyone else had gone to the trouble of picking the best suit or dress, combing and cleaning their mane thoroughly, and wore the latest perfume from Prance. Dressing up to go and see a play was a bizarrely decadent concept to Clef, though outside of his small circle of cynics-come-acquaintances, he wasn't a terribly social creature, and his knowledge of the droll pastime people dubbed 'partying' came primarily from books too old to be even considered remotely relevant. It seemed that everywhere he looked, there were finely outfitted ponies... all apart from two pegasi headed towards a white unicorn perched beside the bar.

He wanted to approach them, but felt as though he would be intruding on them. After all, for all he knew, they could be high class ponies who simply forgot to wear fine clothes to the play, a forgiveable mistake for people as seemingly intelligent as they were. He chose to keep his distance, maintaining a distant and watchful eye on the two of them, using the nattering trios and quartets of attendees as convenient hiding spots to disappear from their gaze at a moment's notice.

[tacobob]

Pocket Change instantly recognized the blue pony, "Not really. I do on the other hoof have a taste in that fine lady over there.", he nodded towards a well dressed unicorn mare of bewitching beauty who was busy filling out a small notepad with the help of her telekinesis. "She is a pony of a most pulchritudinous beauty, but she also writes in some newspaper or magazine or whatever, I tend to tune her out when she starts to ramble on about her profession and instead I focus on her eyes and then the rest of her...er bits. I see you came along with Miss Persnickety.", he noticed the Pegasus, but did not stare. "Lady Vainglorious managed to talk me into seeing this performance, which I guess wasn't too bad. My good mare however had this rather wicked look on her face during most of the play, almost reminded me of a kid burning ants with his magnify glass."

He turned his attention back to Newsworthy, "So what brings you two here this rather magnificent evening?"

[Twimsy]

Had she not been learned in the ways of acting, the techniques so deeply carved into her mind, it might've been hard to pinpoint exactly what was on Persnickety's mind, for she seemed to do very little talking as was her usual way when she felt intimidated into shyness. However, the fact that she knew the ways of body language so well was probably as much a curse as it was a blessing, for it would be easy for anyone to see by the way her wings were so closely folded to herself, the way that her neck was craned downwards and that unintentional folding back of her ears, that she was most certainly made more timid from all of the whispers. She drew just an inch or so closer to Newsworthy as they walked, thankful for his company and even Pocket's, when it turned out that the pale unicorn was indeed he. (Even if he was a shallow blockhead mildly unlikeable stallion.)

Some extroverted light did grace her expression, though, at the mention of Vainglorious. She'd most certainly have to talk with the mare about the play - or plays in general, if she didn't find herself terribly busy during the evening there. Instead of telling Pocket Change to be careful not to choke when he used such large words like "pulchritudinous," she figured most of the conversation had been set to be between he and Newsworthy, so she stepped beside them and up to the bar, ordering herself an appletini. She turned to survey the crowd once more as the tender prepared her drink, giving pause when she thought she saw someone peering over at the trio. She tilted her head to try and get a better view, but a pair of ponies strolled by and obscured the way.

[Partheus]

Clef quickly sidestepped behind a portly stallion and his trophy wife, avoiding detection from the one in the scarf. His heart was pounding, and he experienced a tiny euphoric sensation throughout his body, as if his every point was being simultaneously caressed by silky hooves. Being a musical soul, Clef possessed a fine ear, and managed to gather some fragmented phrases from the two of them before narrowly avoiding being caught. Hmm, he thought, these two are clearly not like the the others. The way they carry themselves is one obvious detail I should have picked up on almost immediately. They do not stand as though they have a broom rammed up their backsides, and the one in the scarf is especially crooked in her stance. It's almost as if she's... somewhat timid, not possessing the confidence to stand as tall as her friend. Interesting...

On a mental count of three, Clef peered his head out from behind the portly stallion and resumed his observations. The one with the hat is the dead opposite, he noted. Just look at how relaxed he is! He has no fear talking to ponies of such high regard. It's almost as if he is one, but he cannot possibly be of their ilk. What kind of pony could develop such familiarity with high society, yet be a mere working class citizen? Clef brainstormed all possible professions until only one very likely candidate remained. Of course, he thought, that's it! He's a journalist! The hat, the goatee, the casual talk with VIPs as if he was on first name terms with them, it all makes sense! And if he's a journalist, then what could our friend in the scarf be? They travel together, so they obviously know each other, but she has yet to say anything revealing yet. Come on, scarf girl, be more confide- "Excuse me, good sir, but are you lost? The Reneighsance Fair is two blocks down the road, you know."

There came hearty and insincere laughter from all directions. Clef wheeled around and realised that, to his dismay, some of the guests had noticed his presence, and more damningly, his clothes. Not only did this leave him out in the open and without a place or pony to hide behind, but the sound of a group of ponies laughing the way they were was bound to turn a few heads, namely, Scarf Girl and Journalist Guy. With his options severely limited and his time short, Clef stared at the ceiling meaningfully and slowly paced around the room, pulling the old 'If I Ignore You, You'll Ignore Me' routine that guilty or secretive people do when they want to hide themselves in plain sight, but secretly want others to see them.

[NeilWacaster]

Newsworthy couldn't help but grin. "I'm sure you overheard when I asked Miss Persnickety to go to Sydphony's concert. After our enjoyable evening yesterday, I asked her if she wanted to attend the play with me tonight. We had a great ti --"

He looked where he thought Persnickety was standing, only to realize that she had already stepped up to the bar. He turned to her. "Ah, we had a great time at the performance." He smiled, and looked at the busy bartender. "A cider for me and my friends, here, if you would be so kind."

Hearing rather cruel laughter behind him, Newsworthy glanced back to see a pony in old-fashioned clothes surrounded by jeering, richly-dressed aristocrats. His heart went out to him, and he tried to think of a way to help. "Ahem, bartender? Another cider for my ... colleague over there," he waved for the unicorn to come join them at the bar.

[tacobob]

Vainglorious glanced away from her notebook and scanned the room for her missing date. The mare caught sight of the unicorn who was now talking to two rather scruffy looking ponies. She rolled her eyes as she got up from her chair, while her quill and notebook quickly found their way back into her purse. As she cantered towards the bar, most ponies knew to stop and let her pass, and those who did not, were quickly glared at by both her and by security.

Once she made it to the bar, the unicorn started to growl at the stallion, "Pocket, where is my drink? It's unwise to make a lady wait.". She was quickly greeted by a floating appletini, "Ho-Boy!", it spoke with an squeaky and somewhat obnoxious voice, "I'm sure glad you're going to put me in your...", it was quickly silenced as the impatient mare quickly snatched the glass and consumed its contents, "A ventriloquist cantrip? Really? At least I know you finished magic kindergarten!", she gave him a snug smile before turning to the bartender and ordering an Manehattan. "So, who are your friends?"

"Oh, guys, this is Lady Vainglorious and this.", he turned to the two,"Is Newsworthy, he does..er..", he had already forgotten what the two ponies did for a living, but he could always guess, "News, and this is Persnickety...She..", he stammered as he tried to figure out what her name meant. "Oh yes.", he thought to himself, "It meant to be overly fussy or finicky. But how does that work in a job?", he decided to just ask,"What is it that you do, my dear?"

The two unicorns stared directly at the Pegasus and awaited for her answer. Vainglorious' glare was so direct, it almost looked like she could stare into the young mare's very soul.

[Partheus]

Clef's heart almost leapt out of its casing. The journalist's calling me over, he thought. But why? He's got dozens of other, more important ponies to talk to, and I would imagine that they'd give him better stories to write about in whatever newspaper this guy works for than I ever could. Clef noticed the jeering ponies from a moment ago falling back to their usual prattle, pretending to be well-versed in the finer points of drama when in actual fact, they knew next to nothing about the subject, and were only under the false pretence of knowledge to look more competent than they actually were. As someone who has to deal with the higher classes at concerts on a regular basis, Clef couldn't help but draw parallels between those near him waffling on about 'the vital essence of the period being captured perfectly in this play', and those at his concerts banging on about 'the subtle nuances and musical details in Clef's latest suite'. As far as Clef was concerned, both were different shades of the same fool.

Clef ceased to muse on the pretentious and focus his attention back on the journalist and the girl with the scarf. Hold on, he thought, is he showing me... sympathy? No, that's ridiculous, journalists aren't that kind. All they care about is... what do they call it, 'the catastrophe'? Something like that? Yes, when tragedy strikes, they make truckloads more money for their 'bravery' and 'courage'. They earn a living from others' misery, so how could someone so heartless show me, a total stranger, even the tiniest fraction of pity? Clef spied an extra cider by the journalist; evidently, he wasn't just humouring him. If you can't find a story, make one, he thought, as he shrewdly trotted over to the journalist sat at the bar, perching himself beside the girl in the scarf, reluctantly picking up his tankard of cider and taking a dry sip.

"T-thanks for the drink, sir." Clef looked over his shoulder to make sure no on else was eavesdropping. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you two aren't like the others in here. You know, like..." His mouth was almost clamped shut as he tried to whisper, "Pompous." He guiltily shifted around quickly, monitoring his shoulders thrice, as if he were trying to sell them both illegal substances. "So, what brings a couple of 'normal' ponies to a place like this?"

[Twimsy]

It was certainly a good thing that Newsworthy handled the situation gracefully, because Persnickety had been mulling over wether or not to go over and verbally chew out the lot who had made the oddly dressed stallion a laughing stock. No matter - it was better that they wrangle the poor fellow in with their little rag-tag clique. Persnickety knew it was an afterparty, and she knew that important people would be there, but she hadn't expected it to be so...upper-crust.

"When you sleep on a box spring and eat a steady diet of hay ramen nearly every day, you don't get the luxury of being pompous," she replied to Clef with a grin, taking a sip of her own drink. "I was invited to come along by Sir Newsworthy, he is a reporter you see," she gestured to the blue pegasus, "and we've coincidentally met another acquaintence of ours here, Sir Pocket Change." Likewise, she gestured to the white unicorn. "And for the record, I like your outfit. Very vintage. All these dreary stuck-ups with their sparkles and thousand-bit ensembles..."

Persnickety nearly choked on her cider as the extravagant Vainglorious trotted over to join her "date," the brown pegasus straightened her posture and reshuffled her wings. The older mare certainly seemed...moody. But then again, perhaps the stress of the atmosphere was getting to her, too. Did it even work like that? Vainglorious was a professional, and...no. Don't travel that road of thought again, Persnickety.

"I-I'm a, uhm...a playwright. And I do a little bit of acting." She winced. That sounded much less stupid in her head. Then again, it didn't help that Vainglorious's leer was very nearly burning a hole through the middle of her dang face. "...I must say, it is an honor to see you visiting Stalliongrad, Madam."

[NeilWacaster]

"Yes, indeed, a great honor," Newsworthy said, glancing at Persnickety. She looked like a frightened puppy. He had heard that Vainglorious was high class, but could already tell she was one of those types. He knew them well. Ponies with some social standing who thought more highly of themselves than they should. The haughty, disdainful way she was looking at Persnickety made him want to sock the pretentious mare in the nose. Much as he already despised this pony, she was the one whom his readers would be most interested in hearing from, so he swallowed his anger.

Forcing a smile, he retrieved his notepad and pencil from his bag. "Newsworthy, madam, from the Ponyville Express. What are your thoughts on the play?"

[Partheus]

Clef was taking brief mental notes of everything the girl in the scarf was saying. So, he thought, if she was invited to come along by this Sir Newsworthy, that means... wait, I know that name... He looked again at Newsworthy's face, taking notice of his grey mane and blue skin. Of course! Why didn't I recognise him before? He's that journalist working for the Ponyville Express! If memory serves, he sometimes attends my concerts, though sparingly. And that leaves us with Scarf Girl... He stared into his cider cup, pretending to be trapped deep in thought, listening attentively to what the girl in the scarf was saying. Now that IS interesting, he thought. A playwright invited by a journalist to come and see a play. What irony! Wait, is that even irony? Bah, I'll have to ask Siscolt and Ebuck when I get back, as moody and tiresome as they are to talk to...

Although it took a moment to travel through the twisted wreckage of his latest composition and his opinions on the play he had just seen, a single peculiar thought had suddenly struck him with the force of a freight train. Did she... just compliment my clothes? Clef drew a curious and embarrassed smirk with a fittingly raised eyebrow. That's a first, he remarked. Most people give my eclectic fashion tastes the same welcome as one would give a manticore entering their house. So, she's definitely not of the same mindset as the others here, though if she really does live such a minimalist life, that really should have been predicted beforehand. Actually, her lifestyle is probably no different to mine if she is affiliated with the arts. Get up, eat the same market-brand feed as I always do, sit down at the piano, wrack my brain trying to compose something, go meet up with my 'friends' in the local cafe, talk about things I don't care about, only to come home, resume my work, and drift off to sleep in a rickety antique bed. It's almost a running gag in the music world for aspiring artists like me to be so da-dada-dee CURSES! Inspiration can hit an artist at any given moment, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's a good thing.

Clef tried to clear his mind of everything, moving the wrangled mess from earlier out of the way and being still, not even allowing himself to move a single part of his body, for that would constitute as a thought. But like a recurring dream, the melody returned to him. It was a waltz in D# Minor, with lashings of rubato to keep things nice and expressive, and a melody with smatterings of modulation to help the listener follow the melody along. The sort of thing he might play to himself on a rainy day if creativity is at an all-time low and he was crushingly bored. The more pressing matter for Clef, and the cancerous problem it presented, was why this particular tune chose to will itself into existence within his mind when he began conversing with these specific people. What was fuelling his creative fire? The answer was exceedingly simple, and came to Clef with only a moment's more thought.

Contrary to everything he has ever known from the harsh mistress of experience, talking to ordinary people without a hint of malice in their bones helps him become more creative. Wishing to test this hypothesis further, Clef made light conversation with the girl in the scarf. "Thanks for the compliment. I'm sure you can probably guess already, but not many people care for vintage things in general nowadays, so my clothing isn't exactly popular among snooty types." Clef paused for a moment and focused back on his piece. Sure enough, a few more bars of music had materialised of their own accord. He grinned to himself, ecstatic that he had found a less stressful means to tease the muse inside his head into giving him a new piece. "I don't believe I caught your name. Not to sound judgemental, but does it have anything to do with scarves?"

[tacobob]

Vainglorious's leer quickly softened the longer she studied the young mare, "Mmmm.", she murmured, "I could see that. Yes. You do remind me a little of a much younger 'Rouge Doux' before all the partying and drinking turned her into a complete disaster.", her haughty glare had now quickly transformed into a friendly smile, "Unless you wish to be type-casted into trivial and secondary roles, you should do something about your eyes. Not that there is anything unattractive about eye-wear, not at all!', she quickly added, "A actor or actress should see their faces as a canvas so the makeup artist could transform you into whatever is needed for the role and nopony wants to see a blind actor stagger off the stage! If you live in this area, I recommend a unicorn named Safe Heart. Her family has been known for their excellent healing magics and if you feel more comfortable with your glasses on while off stage, you could always get a pair with clear glass lenses!"

"So.", she quickly waved Newsworthy off with her right hoof as she kept her attention on the Pegasus mare for the moment, "Where did you study? I heard a lot of good things about the school in Canterlot, and my niece was just accepted into 'Hours'e Florent' in Prance!", she added with an overly proud tone in her voice.

While the mare spoke with Persnickety, the stallion, Pocket Change tried his best not to look bored out of his mind, "So..er.", he glanced over at Clef, "What brings you here? Missy over there thought you were a homeless pony who somehow managed to get through security and she was about to have you tossed out by your tail, but I sort of reminded her you might be some famous writer or musician and generally those ponies tend to be more of the eccentric type and generally don't give a darn how they dress, if they do that at all. This all doesn't mean much to me, as I'm just here for her.", he glanced over at the unicorn with a smile and sighed. "Still the dinner is for a good cause. Both Vainy and I put a few bits behind the school they're tying to fix up here in Stalliongrad."

[Partheus]

As the white unicorn spoke, Clef was once again taken by surprise. Well, he thought, that makes four of us. I believe Newsworthy mentioned something about this guy being a friend of his. What was his name again, Loose Change? Pocket Monster? Ah, that's it! Pocket Change. He listened attentively to what Pocket Change had to say, nodding his head occasionally to show that he was paying attention. He's in real deep with the stars, he mused, but still acts and talks like a normal pony. An achievement in of itself, I'd say! A shame I can't say the same of his accomplice... He glanced at Vainglorious, his lips instinctively curling at the sight of someone who would have him thrown out without a second thought.

But, he continued, I suppose that's part of the celebrity lifestyle. You're not paid to be kind, you're paid to be famous for something. It doesn't matter what that thing is, as long as you have an obscene amount of bits in the bank, you don't even have to be good at what you do. Like those sickeningly vapid musicians that parade around the place with their vinyl records and their flashy light shows. Who was that one who nearly blew up Canterlot Castle with that horrid 'dubstep' thing that they all like dancing to? DJ Pon-3, or something like that. Octavia couldn't stop trembling for weeks afterwards, poor girl... He snapped out of thought to respond to Pocket Change's question. "I'm here because I heard very good reviews of the play from picky friends, so I had to go and see what the whole fuss was about. Oh, and thank you for recognising that I am not some tramp. You have no idea how many restaurants I have been kicked out of because the usher assumed I was too poor to even afford the water. It's not like I have bad manners or anything." Clef took a hearty swig of cider, wiping his mouth clean with his sleeve.

[Twimsy]

The mare shook her head at Clef, "Don't worry about it. I have a penpal in Phillydelphia who actually runs a vintage shop. She fawns to me about old clothes and antiques all the time - I've gotten sort of fond of them, vicariously." She couldn't help but snicker, "No, I'm afraid it's just a scarf. My name's Persnickety, I'm a playwright."

As far as the conversation with Vainglorious went, it was...awkward. She'd seemed so terribly bitter just a moment ago, but now she was smiling and prattling on to the pegasus, a small bit of color rushing to her nose and cheeks, "Aheh...y-yes, I have thought about getting my eyes fixed - the glasses are actually a terrible bother, sometimes." And contacts weren't usually in such easy supply.

"Oh, goodness, Hours'e Florent? I've heard that's an exquisite school for younger actors. You must be very proud of her," she said with a smile, though the expression wavered as she looked over at Newsworthy. Well, that was rude of her. If Vainglorious was to talk to anyone, she should've been talking to him. "I'm afraid I didn't go anywhere nearly as renowned. Just Cloudsdale public school. My parent's didn't have too much money - oh, but my father did let me go to some summer acting classes." Because that really sounded professional. Persnickety adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat, giving pause for a moment.

"Say, erm...speaking of acting, what did you think of tonight's performance? I'd love to hear your opinion on it." Somehow she was beginning to think that an apple hurled full-force at her cranium would probably be more pleasant, but she would most definitely try to help Newsworthy get his story, wether or not Miss Vainglorious cooperated with him directly.

[NeilWacaster]

Newsworthy was positively miffed. First this pompous windbag was looking rudely at Persnickety. Then, she brushed him off like an annoying insect. Then, she had the nerve to act all syrupy sweet. What the heck is she doing. I don't trust this pony any farther than I could throw her. And that wouldn't be very far. I think she's trying to manipulate Persnickety for some reason. But why .... ? He was beginning to sweat from being so frustrated.

There was some small hope that Vainglorious would actually respond to Persnickety's inquiry. He made a mental note to thank her later for helping him.