The Fruit, the Boot, and the Lute Pursuit

In the corner of a nearby pub, a filly was sitting upright on a chair, performing. Misfit strummed her lute quickly, using a mixture of her own hooves and magic to play it properly. Playing the lute was one of the things her magic would actually do, but even then, she had to partly use her hooves. If she relied completely on her magic, her instrument would probably go up in flames.

She had forgotten her own pot, but luckily the pub owners gave her a small boot to collect bits instead. They were rather kind. At least, compared to other managers. Some ponies didn't even let her in, much less give her a chair to sit on and play. Now, the chair may be rickety and a tad splintery, but it's the thought that counts, right?

It didn't seem to matter, though. None of the ponies seemed to be listening to her, and her boot lay empty. She wasn't that bad. In fact, she played her ol' lute better than a tons of ponies in her situation. But nopony seemed to care. They were too busy drinking and talking. She thought about leaving, but it was terribly cold tonight. As long as she kept playing, the owners would let her stay in the tavern, and it was much more warm in here than outside.

Her attention was caught by a pastry left out on the table next to her. It was a raspberry tart, with blueberry syrup. Oh dear. The pony who ordered seemed to be gone, and it would be so easy to take it. The glaze glistened in the candlelight, and she felt her mouth watering. No. She'd get kicked out if she was caught, and then she'd have even less places she'd be allowed to perform. She couldn't afford that. But she was hungry, and it looked so delicious... She decided that if she didn't get any bits by the end of tonight, she'd take the tart and run.

Misfit sighed. Tonight, she was feeling oddly melancholy. It was probably because the anniversary was nearing...

Maybe some music with singing would get their attention. She cleared her throat, beginning to strum her lute once more, this time a slow, lullaby-like melody. "I love you, my dear, Please believe me, it's true, When I say 'goodbye', I really mean 'I love you'..." She paused. Her voice was still a little childish, but it was pretty and clear, and she hit the right notes. "A candy may be a sweet, as is a song of a dove, but it could not compare to the sweetness of my love. A vine can bind, and sands can whether, but it will never compare to when we are together."

"A single water drop can crack stone, a single cry can unravel you, but how can that compare to us two? Mountains and oceans can be put between us, and you can stop the beating of my heart, but nothing is enough to keep us truly apart. I love you, my dear, Please believe me, it's true, When I say 'goodbye', I really mean 'I love you'..."

The song suddenly got quieter, and the notes came out slower.

"Ice can freeze my veins and storms can roll through, but it can't compare to the feeling of losing you."

"Seas can break ships and blades can break bones ...but that can never compare to the pain of being alone..."

"I love you, my dear... Please believe me, it's true. When I say 'goodbye', I really mean 'I love you'..."

"...I love you..."

Her voice grew quieter and quieter, until she stopped playing altogether. Her eyes were wet, and she felt something roll down her cheek. She hadn't realized that nearly the entire tavern had gone silent, and were now staring at her. She wiped her eyes, and turned around, shielding herself from the odd gazes, hoping they'd go back to talking and drinking, for once. She was being stupid. Stupid ponies. Stupid pub. Stupid anniversary.

(Please realize that this post is just ridiculously long just because it's a starter post and has a song in it. Don't think you have an obligation to write one nearly as long, okay? Sorry.)

Switchblade walked out of the wash room after he had cleaned off the liquid which the bar maid spilled on his armour, he walked back to his table and heard the sound of a lute being strummed, suddenly the lutist burst into song, the two things that hit him hardest were the young age of the filly and the lute's base rhythm was the same as a lutist he had heard in his military days, he remembered it most because his squad failed to save the townspeople from the disaster, it was their greatest failure, and here it was again.

The filly stopped playing and the whole pub went silent, breaking out of his trance, Switchblade walked up to the filly and spoke with a warm tone in his voice, "Well, that was an amazing piece of music there, where did you learn to play like that?" he asked, he was genuinely interested but also used it as a distraction for him to put a gift for her in the boot in front of her, he didn't have any bits with him so he slipped his wrapped up raspberry tart into the boot and returned to his table.

Misfit almost flinched as the stallion began talking to her. She didn't expect somepony to actually confront her, much less speak to her. His voice was calm and welcoming. If this stallion had come up to her a few years ago, she'd probably immediately trust him just because of this, but nowadays she had to be more careful. It was a survival instinct.

She blushed at his comment, rubbing her neck with one of her hooves. She took a moment to decide an answer. "O-oh, it was really nothing. I just have a lot of f-free time. I had some relatives that like music, is all, nothin' special." She replied. But the stallion was already turning away. She sighed, but then looked down into her boot. It wasn't even a bit inside. It was a raspberry tart, the exact kind she had been eyeing earlier. She wanted to almost just grab it right here and now and gobble it down. But... these were kinda expensive... it was one of the best food they made in this tavern. The filly gingerly picked it up.

After a few seconds of quiet consideration, Misfit hobbled over to the stallion's table. "S-sir..." She said hesitantly. "T-this.... sweet, it's rather spendy. Did you really mean to give it t-to me?"

"If so... I'd like to thank you. So, ey, thank you, sir."

Switchblade smiled at the filly's reaction "Of course I meant to give that to you, your music was just so good that I felt obliged to, also it reminded of a time long ago where I took a different personality, and if somepony can make you remember something with song, then they are worthy of a reward." he said, he didn't say that the song reminded him of a failure; he did not think that would be taken correctly. He glanced around the tavern to check the ponies around him were not getting angry at his presence, not all ponies liked guards.

Misfit blushed a little at his comments. She was curious to how and why her song reminded the stallion of different times, but she felt she'd be imposing if she asked. That was her, alright. Always stifling her own curiosity. You sometimes had to just to survive.

She watched as the stallion's eyes wandered around the room. He seemed wary of something. It was only then did she recognize him and his adornments. He was a guard! Oh, dear, a guard in a Manehattan shop district? And at night, in a tavern, no less? Everypony around here right now would either love him or hate him. The shop-owners, managers, and risque nobles quite liked the feeling of extra safety, but street-dwellers, criminals, and other poor ponies felt oppressed in a guard's, perhaps even fearful if it was a well-known thief or dealer. She herself had odd thoughts on the guard. While some guards protected ponies and were valiant, others hit around anyone who was smaller than themselves and made fun of those in poverty. But this stallion seemed perfectly nice. This was a good guard.

"A-aye! Well then, again, thank you sir!"

Misfit nodded. So the treat was hers. She carefully brought it back to her stool. The filly was trying to be indiscreet, but she began eating the moment she got back to her seat. It was rich and moist and syrupy and sweet, and it was one of the best things she had eaten in awhile. She tried to nibble it slowly, but it was to no use. Soon, nearly all of it was gone, and the taste of berries stayed on her tongue.

Switchblade took his guard permit out and lay it on the table, he opened it and inside was his badge and an old picture of a teenage stallion wearing golden armour standing next to a young mare with a lute in front of her, he closed his eyes and muttered "As long as the corrupt roam the streets, praying on the peace of the weak, I shall be there to shine a light for the innocent and offer justice to the corrupt, for this is the promise of the renegade, forged in a promise that could not be kept." he smiled, with his promise renewed he could keep an eye on the safety of the tavern, he just hoped he wouldn't get into any fights here.

((Is this thread still open?))

((I think so.))

(Oh, yes, go ahead! I have nothing against it. Feel free to jump in!)

The filly glanced back at the stallion. She was almost shocked to see his guard permit laid out in his table in front of him. That...could end up being kinda dangerous. It was a common gesture, but some thieves and brokers found it as a challenge, like a guard was undermining them, or taunting them. She just hoped there were no ponies like that here tonight. That kind of trouble could end really badly, and if a fight broke out in the tavern, she'd most likely be slammed against a wall or table in the commotion, maybe even hit, if a certain criminal didn't have anyone else to throw a punch at.

But the stallion seemed so sincere. He looked rather peaceful too, actually. He seemed to be softly mumbling something, and even with her sharp ears, she could only pick up a few words, such as 'corrupt', 'peace', 'justice', 'renegade', and 'promise'. What was he doing? Was he... Reciting an oath?

Misfit gazed at him curiously. What an odd guard. But not just odd, he seemed very....good, too. Trusting. How guards should be.

The filly put down of the small remainder of her pastry. She then grabbed her lute, and, concentrating, began to play once more. She didn't sing, however. Old songs like this needed no words. It was an aged ballad of war, something she hoped the guard would recognize. It has been awhile since she had played it, but this was a better time than any to start to again. It was a beautiful piece of music, anyway.

Fonzemi finished his drink and leaned back in his chair, positioned next to Misfit's stool.

The zebra had brilliant blue almond eyes, and a short cropped mane of dark grey, and wore

"At, ya wou'n hap'n t'know some Blues on that thang, wouldja?"

He looked behind himself at the filly, and grinned. "Diggin the music your playin, but I got a hankerin for some Skip James, Knowhutahmsayin?"

Switchblade looked over at the zebra sat near him, he put his photo back in his armor pouch and spoke to him "Evening, sir" he said, still figuring out danger levels.
He reached down to his weapon sheath to check that he had his scimitar locked in place, assured of it's safety he got back to observing.

Instead of a reaction from the stallion, a zebra became talking to her. She was so wrapped up on her music, she had barely noticed he was there.

"B-blues?" She stuttered, then quickly composed herself. Somepony was actually requesting something! That rarely ever happened! This was her chance! "Oh, yes, I know some blues! Not too good at singin' 'em, but I can play some, i-if ya'd like."

She held her lute firmly. Her instrument wasn't made to play music like the blues, but she'd work with it. Taking a deep breath, she began playing. At first, it sounded a little twangy, but soon it evened out. Before long, she was grinning, tapping her hoof loudly to the beat. The music was slow at first, then quickened, all the whole being smooth and almost sassy sounding.


The filly finished, bowing her head slightly. It would've sounded better and more natural on the rig instrument, but she felt pretty dang good about it.

((Song is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=easSRNI9qoQ))
"Evening, sir"

The zebra looked the guard and narrowed his eyes slightly and sniffed. After a solid second, he looked back to his drink, as it was being refilled by a waitress "Ev'nin." he remarked curtly. He sat up in his seat as the Filly responded:

"Oh, yes, I know some blues! Not too good at singin' 'em, but I can play some, i-if ya'd like."

"Ain' no thang, kiddo. Go f' it."

As the filly played, the zebra closed his eyes and bobbed his head along with the music, letting his hoof tap along with the beat. As the filly started to ramp up, He opened his mouth, letting out a rich baritone that filled the room.

"Don't write me no lettah/ Don' even telephone
I wan you, Person to Person/ Bring your old foxy self on home.

Don send me no message/ You know I'm all alone
I needs you, Person to Person/ Bring your fine foxy self on home.

Aint no use in telephone me/ I can't love no telephone.
All that time you telephon'in/ you could be commin home.

Aint no use in sendin no lettah/ I can't hug no paper tight.
aint no use to send no message/ it can't talk to me at night.

Aint no use to send yo motha/ You just got to  come yourself.

Little girl, I have suffered/ Each day since you been gone.
I love you Person to Person/ Bring yo fine old foxy self on home."

He let the final note on the lute hang in the air for a while, then errupted into wooping laugh, and gave her a standing ovation.

The patrons continued their conversations despite his disturbance however.

"Now thas what am talkin 'bout! Thas gotta be th' best damn Blues Lute I ever heard! Noa, mind I aint nevah heard no Blues on a lute, but never you mahnd, it was some prime string work!"

The zebra got up and shifted through a backpack on the ground for a coinpurse. Grinning ear to ear, he walked over to the shoe and opened it.

Four bits. The Zebra's smile softened a little as he realized he had yet to pay his tab. He picked out two bits and put them in the shoe.

Switchblade sighed at the callous response the zebra had to his presense, but decided to ignore it, not wanting to cause a fight. Why did everypony in this place have a hatred of guards, he wondered. He listened to the filly playing the blues and was relieved, he did not want to remember any more of that day. He clapped the filly when she ended the song, but didn't stand like the zebra, in case anypony took it as an act of aggression, knowing that, if given half a chance, most ponies here would fight him.

Even though the zebra's singing had surprised her while she was playing, she had pressed on, pretending like she couldn't hear it. She couldn't get too unfocused. Still, he sung rather nicely, and the lyrics just sprang to life like a frog leaping from a stream. They were actually kinda beautiful, in some way.

The filly grinned from ear to ear when she finished. She also blushed furiously at the zebra's reaction. "You really liked it? You really thought it was that good? Ah, s-surely it wasn't as good as you make it, but thank ya muchly!" Misfit propped the lute against her stool, talking her requester.

She watched as he shifted through his things. Her heart beated quickly. Was she actually going to get paid? Was her vigorous practice finally going to pay off? However, she saw how his excitement fell slightly, and she knew exactly what it meant. He didn't have many bits to pay in the first place.

The money fell into her boot, clinking with each other. She picked the boot up. "Ah, M-mister, if you need these bits to pay for livin' yourself, don't f-feel like you need to give me anything. Your words were well enough, really." She admitted, looking at the zebra.

Her attention was then stolen away by the guard stallion again. He seemed almost perturbed. He had clapped for her as well when she had ended her song, but he seemed almost held back. It seemed like he just didn't want to start any unneeded violence. And she respected that. Still, if a guard can't even have a little self-enjoyment in a pub, then this place was worse than she thought.

”You really liked it? you really thought it was good? Ah, s-surely it wasn’t as good as you make it, but thank ya muchly!”

“Oh no, you nevah pay me no mind, you heyah? I jus wish ah could prapurly re-mun-erate yaself. Always wan’ed tah be a patron o’ the Arts.” Fonz laughed uneasily as he stowed his coin purse. “Ah thinks I saw ya round the slums, you a… you live on the streets? S’okay if ya do, Ah gots a friend who lives th’same way. Times is hard, ya know.”

"Ah, M-mister, if you need these bits to pay for livin' yourself, don't f-feel like you need to give me anything. Your words were well enough, really."

"Ain' no thang. 'Sides, Times like this, I'd bee doin th' exact same thing ya doin right now. Speakin of which..." He returned to his table, and reaching under it, produced a old, beaten up acoustic guitar. The thing must have been twice the age of the youthful zebra, the wood had mostly lost its varnish, half the fret bars were missing, and as he brought it up, something rattled inside of it.

“Iz been a whale since ah played, but I s’pect ah could keep a beat. Mand if ah joins ya? Twos a party, some'ud say." F perched himself on a table near Misfit.

He turned to the solemn and serious ponies gathered at the inn and shouted at them. "Damn shame we're palyin to an empty house." A stallion in the back flashed the Bird at him and shouted back. "Eh, buck you, Fonz." Fonzemi chuckled as he tuned his instrument, going from a horriblely twangy sound to something slightly more palatable. He looked up to the foal.

"'At is, if ya have no objection."