mylittlejamjar | Prelude in C Minor

[There's a minotaur all up in your collective grills, Equestria. One that has his face mostly obscured by a trenchcoat and fedora, both in a dusty light brown.]

Alright. Clearly, I musta fallen asleep in front of one of Peacock's shows or something. Because this is one hell of a dream.

[His voice is smooth, rich, and deep, almost as if he's a natural born singer.]

... well, either that, or some Skullgirl made the world's worst wish. Seriously, why's this place gotta be so bright...

Moping aside, might as well introduce myself. The name's Ben Birdland, but you can call me Big Band. It's what I'm used to.

Now, anybody wanna give me directions to the nearest bar? Because if I'm gonna wait this thing out, I'm gonna wait it out with some gin.

[If anybody so chooses, they can find the hulk of a bull stomping (lightly) around the Town Square, trying to get his bearings. Seems like there's a similarly massive saxophone strapped to his back, and he's having no trouble carrying it around.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Shut up Flare, he just got here!]

Heh. If you think this is obvious, you shoulda seen my other set of pipes. Didn't come around with me, though.

Oh? Somethin' tells me you aren't talkin' about an organ.

[... heh. That's funny for a bunch of reasons.]

You ain't wrong. Ain't right, either, but ain't wrong. Used to have to get around in a two-and-a-half-ton mechanized iron lung. Wasn't pretty.

[He looks down at himself, his chest, his arms...] This? This is practically an upgrade in all respects.

[She meant like a pipe organ, not that. Jesus christ.]

Cripes. Usually when I say it brings folks that're broken here, I meant more emotionally.

[Now she's gonna feel awful for him when everything's over, too. On top of her relationship woes.]

Everybody's got their problems, Flare. I consider myself lucky that I came out the way I did.

But hey. Land of second chances, right?

...True enough.

[It was just humbling, is all. Especially with the thoughts she's had in mind recently.]

So, uh. Anyone tell you about that repetition in minor on the way here?

Nah, nothing specific. Just little hints that this candy-coated burg isn't exactly what it seems to be.

You got something you want to share?

Mn. Yes and no. S'gonna come out eventually anyway, since it's the hotbutton topic. Apparently the one keepin' us here is some twisted, corrupt mockery of life and death that's usin' us as one giant social experiment before she devours this universe.

Our best bet on actually stoppin' her is probably friendship, as dumb as it sounds. S'the one thing she doesn't comprehend.

So, uh.

[... um. Well. Okay. So that's a thing. Apparently, Ben's not all that fazed about this news.]

Ain't all that worse than your average Skullgirl... though those are usually defeated more through the liberal application of high-velocity impacts rather than... friendship.

And I'll let you know now, I'm pretty good at the former. [He's... okay at the latter. For now.]

Yeah, that's one thing we ain't got a shortage on, is muscle.

[Flare shakes her head. Too much of it, she'd argue. But that was a rant for another time, and certainly not to a new arrival.]

Lackin' in harmony, though. Got a whole bunch of players all with their own idea on what song t'play.

[If nothing else, she figures someone like Big Band can parse the musical analogies she's been thinking in, lately.]

Too many soloists, not enough bandleaders. I hear ya. [Music puns. He has met his people.]

As strong as everybody might be, all that improvisin' eventually runs all over itself and just makes a big damn mess of everything, right?

We're on mess number... [She holds up a hoof, counting to herself despite not having actual... y'know... fingers to do it with.] Four, now, I think?

First one was entirely my fault, I admit. Tried to smoke out a suspect in a really bad way, got the whole town up in arms just before one of the Pale Pony's little "tests". Second was an international incident caused by someone stealin' a priceless artifact from griffon lands. Third and fourth...

[Flare sighs.]

Let's just say that th'government makes its share of mistakes and leave it at that. T'go into detail would just be another big mess.

[Flare sighs and leans against the wall of the Decanter.]

So, yeah. At the moment we're just noise.

[Damn. There really is a seedy underbelly to this place. Just like New Meridian. A little like home. If he's smiling, it's really faintly.]

First off... you don't have fingers. Is that just reflex? [Because seriously, that's weird.]

Anyway. I'm not expectin' the whole overture right now, Flare. If I need more detail, I'll ask. Probably over gin... or cider... or whatever it is you guys've got here. But just know that wrangling noise?

Yeah, that was my specialty back home.

I had no idea how damn useful fingers were until I got a set, let me just say. Hooves are easier to work than most humans think, but nothin' quite like actually bein' able to write halfway competently.

[Despite herself, that reassurance brings a smile to her face.]

Cider's the town specialty, what with the apple farms right on the outskirts. Most other stuff's gotta be imported, or is mixed drinks.

Afraid I can't exactly drink on the job, but if y'tell Minty inside that you're here on my blessin' she'll know it's safe t'bring down the top-shelf stuff. Y'know, the "I just ended up in a pastel pony world and nothin' makes sense" special.

... okay, that one, you're gonna need to elaborate on. When did you manage to get fingers?

And besides, you can't be working all the time. Maybe I can catch you off the job.

[... he can't help himself, he has to ask.] And uh... your bartender, is her last name "Fresh"?

I alternate days. If you see another pony here that's like me, but shorter and less "looks like a dead fish", then I'm off duty.

Also, apparently I got turned int'somethin' called a "blaze chicken" or somethin'. Fingers, claws, whatever you call 'em, I got t'experience the joy of gripping things.

And as far as the name? Julep. Mint Julep. Minty for short.

A "blaze chicken." [... nope. He's got nothing but a shrug. But on hearing Mint's name, he lets out a loud laugh.]

Heh... ha! Man, name like that, I'd be expecting top shelf bourbon in there. Appropriate for a 'tender, too.

You'll find that's a theme with us native ponies. We've either got names like mine that are general purpose, or ones like hers that are way too accurate t'be coincidence. S'part of the reason I said you'd fit in just fine with your nickname.

[He's quiet for a few moments, trying to wrap his head around this.] ... you guys get your names before or after you get jobs? Or are they like... wide-use nicknames? 'cause I'd hate to be called "Big Band" and go into accounting.

Weirdly? Seems to always work out in the end, if it has actual relevance. I don't know if it's creepy or unsettling, when y'think about it.

I guess it makes sense if it's a family business, though.

... y'know, I'm just gonna chalk it up to "weird pony-land shenanigans" and leave it at that. Kinda seems like the thing that's just gonna hurt my head the more I dig into it.

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