Post by virgadesoleil on Jun 25, 2014 6:20:36 GMT -5
Location: Canterlot Business District.
Cast: Bardigan, Virga.
-----
Evening. The patrons of the Celebration had gone about their way after a day of parties and well-being. Canterlot died down, the streets cleared. Most had gone home for the day in the business district, with few stragglers on the streets for last-moment delicacies that wouldn't be available for another year. Another also returned to the streets, a certain black pegasus who had little to do with the Sun anymore. Virga's hooves touched down in silence, and he eyed the lit windows of all the buildings. Last night, in this place, a runaway cart snagged a pony he sought. Sadly, he wasn't here. What a pity.
Bardigan wanders the streets in a stupor, his eyes bloodshot and limbs feeling like noodles. He barely got any sleep last night and declined the train back to Ponyville - he'll take the next one in a few hours. Right now he's hunting around for any last minute deals. Yes, he's *still* shopping. He seems to be stuck in some kind of purchasing autopilot. Or maybe he just doesn't want to go back to an empty house now that Diamond is off on her little journey.
Virga's heart thundered within his own ears. Being away from Canterlot didn't make the pain any less. In ways, it made it so much worse. The Pegasus hoofed from the streets and kept to the fountain at the plaza's center. He waited. He watched. He knew the bard would likely not vacate until the day was truly done, seeking stories for his works. Rather, it was a hunch that he did so more than definite knowing. And that hunch paid extremely well. He tightened his wings, narrowed his eyes. Not yet...it was too soon. A little closer, dear bard.
Some ponies just know Bardigan all too well. He wanders in and out of many streets, eventually coming back to the main plaza. Coincidences aside, it's a circuit he's been taking all morning long. He does not see Virga - no reason to be looking for him - and instead just wanders into a coffee shop the moment he sees the sign switch to 'open.' Then, he orders some coffee, sits down, and plonks his head down on the table next to the coffee cup. Light snoring is heard soon after.
A nightly coffee shop. Oh what luck he had for this, a chance at some authentically intellectual conversation over a cup of bean-roasted juice. It wasn't how he wished this encounter go, but he'd deal with it as he dealt with everything else. Into the store he went, with his own order, and a solid hoof on pegasus's table as he sat. "Hello, Bardigan," he said. The writer might recognize his voice, even if he didn't recognize him by sight. He was a different pony now, but of the same heart nonetheless.
Bardigan's eyes slip open with the oily smoothness of a frog when he hears his name. "Ugh," he says, raising his head. "If you want an autograph, I'm afraid I'm out of par-OH MY GOODNESS!" He flails his hooves, knocking over coffee and table and flopping to the ground. The coffee splashes all over everything, making him yelp and screech and roll around before he grabs a glass of ice water from another table and then splashes *that* on himself, whereupon he comes to a full stop, panting and gasping. "... Hello," he says to the unfamiliar pegasus, and now fully awake.
Virga quietly watched this panic. Dear Bard panicked so easily, it was a bit...sad as it was entertaining at this moment. The coffee was searing, he ignored it. Virga ignored the burn for this spectacle, this meeting that had been coming. "Fame must be delightful to assume every pony wishes an autograph," he said. A waitress set down his own cup of coffee, which he pushed over to Bard's side of the table although he no longer occupied his seat. "Another, please," he said to her. "The question I've for you this day is how much fame costs."
Bardigan blinks and his jaw drops. "Virga? Is that you?" He gets to his hooves and dusts himself off, righting the table he flipped in his furor. He sits down again, his jaw still hanging open at Virga's question. "... What."
"Clearly," Virga said, lifting his wing so that he saw the Mark. Nopony else had that mark, and a limited few had any idea as to what he through to to obtain it. "Don't want to sit on your coffee, do you?" he asked, a subtle ear-point to the chair.
"Oh... uh. No." Bardigan quickly wipes down the chair and plops his plot down onto it. "What... what did you mean by that? The price of fame? I'm hardly famous enough to ask *that*, I... at least I think so." And he says this as Twilight's coltfriend and well known almost-destroyer of Equestria and/or large amounts of ponies. Twice. In a row.
"What do I mean, Bard?" Virga replied with a light shift of his wings. "For me, the price of fame in the Crystal Empire cost me my flight team in a war none of us wanted, magically bound and cursed by Sombra's charter written with such devastating effects as your recent opera."
Bardigan seems surprised. A little confused. He clearly has no idea what Virga's talking about. All he gets is that it's serious. "Well. I can say that fame has cost me a lot of time," he says with a vague hoof flick. 'And almost a few friends. Did you come to find me just to ask me that?"
Did he? Virga leaned over the table just enough for discomfort. A certain mare had told him to blame her, direct any anger or hate towards her, but he could not. He cared too much to do so. "Did any of those friends die?" he whispered.
"Uh, no," Bardigan says, leaning back and away from Virga. "No, they didn't. They might have. They almost did. A few of them still haven't forgiven me." He blinks a few times. "But I still don't see why you're asking me about all this or what it has to do with anything."
"No..." Virga echoed. He held his breath for an unnecessarily long moment. Bard was a commoner, unaware of the complexities he tampered with writing that opera...but still he put Equestria in danger, and still there was a life he had to answer for. "I'm sure you were rewarded for a performance well done..." The pegases leaned back, mixed a small amount of creamer in his coffee, and drank it in one sitting. Such a boring drink, coffee. "The Oath I've taken prevents many things, Bardigan...my rationale more so. I implore you to not write an opera like that again...do not stop writing, just do not write something of that magnitude again...lest there be more deaths."
Bardigan stares at Virga for a good long while. He takes a deep breath and clenches his jaw tight, so tight he feels his teeth might break. His cheek twitches and he looks away, then down at his hoof. Something there that he looks at for at least a full minute in silence. "I was rewarded, yes." he says bluntly, looking back up at Virga. "More handsomely than in any amount of bits. Do you know why? Because it was the best thing I've ever written." And with that he stands up and begins to trot away.
What logic rewarded one who nearly destroyed the kingdom? Virga quietly set down his empty coffee cup upon hearing the 'best thing'. Bard didn't know, he couldn't have known what would happen when he wrote it. It was still his opera that caused it. As much as Virga longed to strike him, to drive terror into his heart for what happened, the Oath to the Crown prevented him from doing so. This was his best option--not the most serving one either. "When everything settled, my reward for being unable to correct the mess your opera caused was my wife in a sarcophagus," Virga said. "She and I were the last of the Storm Pegasi. Your work...has made what I am functionally extinct."
Bardigan stops in his tracks and flicks his tail. For another long minute there is silence. "If you think I am that uninformed as to the consequences of my own play, you are sadly mistaken," he says over his shoulder, his voice suddenly bereft of emotion. "I have heard this sad tale before and I have dealt with it in my own way. I cannot apologize because no apology is enough, nor *can* I apologize for a story written well before our times. I cannot fix it because the power of life and death is not granted to me. And I cannot comfort you because I do not truly know your pain. If you seek revenge or reparation from me, Virga, I'm afraid it will leave you distinctly unsatisfied."
"I'm aware of this, Bardigan," Virga answered. He didn't look at the writer then, only the table and the empty cup. "I seek nothing from you except that you are more careful in the future. Nothing will resurrect Firefly, just like nothing will resurrect my first wife and son after they were killed by Sombra's minions," he said. "I do not wish to hate you...but you should be aware that I've changed departments, and now fill the position my wife once did. If anything harms Princess Luna, any pony or creature at all, in any way...it won't be Celestia they answer to."
Bardigan turns around, his eyes like glass. "Yes, I know," he says. "But you should also know that what harms Princess Luna is, perhaps, something completely different than what you might think." With another irritated flick of his tail, he trots away before he can say something he'll regret.
As if he knew what would harm Princess Luna...Virga watched him trot away without a word. He would protect Princess Luna from anything unbecoming if it showed itself. His duty to Equestria, in particular Luna, was to serve and protect as much as it was to punish and enslave if need be. A waitress brought him a second coffee, which he paid for along with Bardigan's own. The pegasus folded his wings around himself and scissored two sharp pinions apart, together, and apart again. Pink lightning coursed the two ends and he smiled.
Cast: Bardigan, Virga.
-----
Evening. The patrons of the Celebration had gone about their way after a day of parties and well-being. Canterlot died down, the streets cleared. Most had gone home for the day in the business district, with few stragglers on the streets for last-moment delicacies that wouldn't be available for another year. Another also returned to the streets, a certain black pegasus who had little to do with the Sun anymore. Virga's hooves touched down in silence, and he eyed the lit windows of all the buildings. Last night, in this place, a runaway cart snagged a pony he sought. Sadly, he wasn't here. What a pity.
Bardigan wanders the streets in a stupor, his eyes bloodshot and limbs feeling like noodles. He barely got any sleep last night and declined the train back to Ponyville - he'll take the next one in a few hours. Right now he's hunting around for any last minute deals. Yes, he's *still* shopping. He seems to be stuck in some kind of purchasing autopilot. Or maybe he just doesn't want to go back to an empty house now that Diamond is off on her little journey.
Virga's heart thundered within his own ears. Being away from Canterlot didn't make the pain any less. In ways, it made it so much worse. The Pegasus hoofed from the streets and kept to the fountain at the plaza's center. He waited. He watched. He knew the bard would likely not vacate until the day was truly done, seeking stories for his works. Rather, it was a hunch that he did so more than definite knowing. And that hunch paid extremely well. He tightened his wings, narrowed his eyes. Not yet...it was too soon. A little closer, dear bard.
Some ponies just know Bardigan all too well. He wanders in and out of many streets, eventually coming back to the main plaza. Coincidences aside, it's a circuit he's been taking all morning long. He does not see Virga - no reason to be looking for him - and instead just wanders into a coffee shop the moment he sees the sign switch to 'open.' Then, he orders some coffee, sits down, and plonks his head down on the table next to the coffee cup. Light snoring is heard soon after.
A nightly coffee shop. Oh what luck he had for this, a chance at some authentically intellectual conversation over a cup of bean-roasted juice. It wasn't how he wished this encounter go, but he'd deal with it as he dealt with everything else. Into the store he went, with his own order, and a solid hoof on pegasus's table as he sat. "Hello, Bardigan," he said. The writer might recognize his voice, even if he didn't recognize him by sight. He was a different pony now, but of the same heart nonetheless.
Bardigan's eyes slip open with the oily smoothness of a frog when he hears his name. "Ugh," he says, raising his head. "If you want an autograph, I'm afraid I'm out of par-OH MY GOODNESS!" He flails his hooves, knocking over coffee and table and flopping to the ground. The coffee splashes all over everything, making him yelp and screech and roll around before he grabs a glass of ice water from another table and then splashes *that* on himself, whereupon he comes to a full stop, panting and gasping. "... Hello," he says to the unfamiliar pegasus, and now fully awake.
Virga quietly watched this panic. Dear Bard panicked so easily, it was a bit...sad as it was entertaining at this moment. The coffee was searing, he ignored it. Virga ignored the burn for this spectacle, this meeting that had been coming. "Fame must be delightful to assume every pony wishes an autograph," he said. A waitress set down his own cup of coffee, which he pushed over to Bard's side of the table although he no longer occupied his seat. "Another, please," he said to her. "The question I've for you this day is how much fame costs."
Bardigan blinks and his jaw drops. "Virga? Is that you?" He gets to his hooves and dusts himself off, righting the table he flipped in his furor. He sits down again, his jaw still hanging open at Virga's question. "... What."
"Clearly," Virga said, lifting his wing so that he saw the Mark. Nopony else had that mark, and a limited few had any idea as to what he through to to obtain it. "Don't want to sit on your coffee, do you?" he asked, a subtle ear-point to the chair.
"Oh... uh. No." Bardigan quickly wipes down the chair and plops his plot down onto it. "What... what did you mean by that? The price of fame? I'm hardly famous enough to ask *that*, I... at least I think so." And he says this as Twilight's coltfriend and well known almost-destroyer of Equestria and/or large amounts of ponies. Twice. In a row.
"What do I mean, Bard?" Virga replied with a light shift of his wings. "For me, the price of fame in the Crystal Empire cost me my flight team in a war none of us wanted, magically bound and cursed by Sombra's charter written with such devastating effects as your recent opera."
Bardigan seems surprised. A little confused. He clearly has no idea what Virga's talking about. All he gets is that it's serious. "Well. I can say that fame has cost me a lot of time," he says with a vague hoof flick. 'And almost a few friends. Did you come to find me just to ask me that?"
Did he? Virga leaned over the table just enough for discomfort. A certain mare had told him to blame her, direct any anger or hate towards her, but he could not. He cared too much to do so. "Did any of those friends die?" he whispered.
"Uh, no," Bardigan says, leaning back and away from Virga. "No, they didn't. They might have. They almost did. A few of them still haven't forgiven me." He blinks a few times. "But I still don't see why you're asking me about all this or what it has to do with anything."
"No..." Virga echoed. He held his breath for an unnecessarily long moment. Bard was a commoner, unaware of the complexities he tampered with writing that opera...but still he put Equestria in danger, and still there was a life he had to answer for. "I'm sure you were rewarded for a performance well done..." The pegases leaned back, mixed a small amount of creamer in his coffee, and drank it in one sitting. Such a boring drink, coffee. "The Oath I've taken prevents many things, Bardigan...my rationale more so. I implore you to not write an opera like that again...do not stop writing, just do not write something of that magnitude again...lest there be more deaths."
Bardigan stares at Virga for a good long while. He takes a deep breath and clenches his jaw tight, so tight he feels his teeth might break. His cheek twitches and he looks away, then down at his hoof. Something there that he looks at for at least a full minute in silence. "I was rewarded, yes." he says bluntly, looking back up at Virga. "More handsomely than in any amount of bits. Do you know why? Because it was the best thing I've ever written." And with that he stands up and begins to trot away.
What logic rewarded one who nearly destroyed the kingdom? Virga quietly set down his empty coffee cup upon hearing the 'best thing'. Bard didn't know, he couldn't have known what would happen when he wrote it. It was still his opera that caused it. As much as Virga longed to strike him, to drive terror into his heart for what happened, the Oath to the Crown prevented him from doing so. This was his best option--not the most serving one either. "When everything settled, my reward for being unable to correct the mess your opera caused was my wife in a sarcophagus," Virga said. "She and I were the last of the Storm Pegasi. Your work...has made what I am functionally extinct."
Bardigan stops in his tracks and flicks his tail. For another long minute there is silence. "If you think I am that uninformed as to the consequences of my own play, you are sadly mistaken," he says over his shoulder, his voice suddenly bereft of emotion. "I have heard this sad tale before and I have dealt with it in my own way. I cannot apologize because no apology is enough, nor *can* I apologize for a story written well before our times. I cannot fix it because the power of life and death is not granted to me. And I cannot comfort you because I do not truly know your pain. If you seek revenge or reparation from me, Virga, I'm afraid it will leave you distinctly unsatisfied."
"I'm aware of this, Bardigan," Virga answered. He didn't look at the writer then, only the table and the empty cup. "I seek nothing from you except that you are more careful in the future. Nothing will resurrect Firefly, just like nothing will resurrect my first wife and son after they were killed by Sombra's minions," he said. "I do not wish to hate you...but you should be aware that I've changed departments, and now fill the position my wife once did. If anything harms Princess Luna, any pony or creature at all, in any way...it won't be Celestia they answer to."
Bardigan turns around, his eyes like glass. "Yes, I know," he says. "But you should also know that what harms Princess Luna is, perhaps, something completely different than what you might think." With another irritated flick of his tail, he trots away before he can say something he'll regret.
As if he knew what would harm Princess Luna...Virga watched him trot away without a word. He would protect Princess Luna from anything unbecoming if it showed itself. His duty to Equestria, in particular Luna, was to serve and protect as much as it was to punish and enslave if need be. A waitress brought him a second coffee, which he paid for along with Bardigan's own. The pegasus folded his wings around himself and scissored two sharp pinions apart, together, and apart again. Pink lightning coursed the two ends and he smiled.