Compersion

by Etolia

3. Three Strikes

"Honey, I'm home!" Buffy called out as she barged in through the front door of her apartment.

"Honey?" Viola asked, a brow raised, turning her eyes from her task to see her.

Buffy stalked closer, clearly looking to give her a hug. "Yeah, because you're just so sweet and fun and—kniiife!" Until she saw the tool in Viola's upstage hoof and recoiled, squealed, and fell over backwards, crashing onto the floor.

Viola glanced at the knife in her hoof and shook her head, smiling to herself at Buffy's shenanigans. She put it flat on her chopping board before helping Buffy back up. "I'm dicing beets, Buffy; I'm not conspiring to stab you."

And just like that, Buffy was on her hindlegs and right beside Viola, her hooves on the countertop. "Are you cooking?"

Viola picked up her knife and resumed chopping. "Yes, dinner for the two of us. It's been long enough since you've had a home-cooked meal, hasn't it?"

An excited gasp. "Awww, that's so nice of you, Vi!" She gave Viola a kiss on her cheek, enough to cause her to blush. But then came a much more despondent "Awww . . ."

Viola looked to Buffy. She was looking down with a depressed pout on her face and traced circles on the countertop with her hooves. She stopped chopping again. "Something the matter?" she asked.

"Well, I thought the three of us could go out for dinner today."

"Three?"

"Yeah: you, me, and Azzy."

Azzy? Azura, she must have been referring to.

"I promised that I'd go get her and we'd get something to eat today." Suddenly, she brightened. "Oh, oh!" Buffy interjected. "Do you think you could make enough for all of us? That way, we can still have dinner at home and Azzy can too and all of us can be together!"

Viola paused. She glanced at the food cooking in the oven. She had only planned for two, and she really only wanted it to be two. A quiet, romantic dinner out on the patio as they watched the sun set and cast its long, warm rays across the city. Contrary to what she first thought, Buffy was entirely capable of being tender and romantic; she just needed the right atmosphere, one free of distractions. One like she was planning tonight. Inviting Azura was a sure way to obliterate that atmosphere and replace it with one of . . . talking, if past interactions were anything to go by.

Still, Buffy had asked, and it'd be rude to shoo Azura away at this point. And there was always the possibility that Azura's company could be pleasant.

Viola turned her eyes back to her cutting board and picked her knife up again. "I'll need another half-hour."

Another excited gasp as she moved in for another hug. "Oh, Vi, thanks so—kniiife!" And another slam as she staggered back and crashed into the ground behind her again. Despite the new and unfavorable development in dinner guests, Viola giggled. Even when she wasn't trying, she managed to take a laugh or two from her. At the very least, she was consistent.

This time, Buffy helped herself off the floor and made her way to the front door, but not before helping herself to a kiss on Viola's lips. "You're the best, Vi! I'll go get her!" she said.

Viola blushed again, and she brought her knife away from the beets to shake it at Buffy instead in a tongue-in-cheek threat. "See you soon."

"Oooh, that smells delicious, Vi!"

"Yeah, Buffy wasn't lying when she said you were a good cook. What're you making?"

Viola was stooping on all fours, scrutinizing the items in the oven. "Stuffed eggplant," she said, not taking her eyes away. A few portions and sides were already out of the oven and sitting under a hot lamp, but it wasn't the size of the oven or poor timing that forced her to cook the food in rounds. Rather, it was the unexpected guest.

Buffy and Azura were sitting at the table, three settings laid down, one unoccupied. They were munching on a plate of kale chips she had prepared and put there earlier.

"Sounds cool," Azura talked. "Never had it myself, but it sure smells nice. You ever had it, Buffy?"

"Not yet, I haven't. But Vi is so nice to make it for us, isn't she? I just don't know why she says I don't know how to cook."

"It's because you can't, Buffy," Viola said while turning off the oven and retrieving a pair of oven mitts. "At least not without me supervising and making sure you don't burn your place down." The smell of roasted eggplant and various spices grew stronger as she opened the oven and retrieved the baking tray.

"Can too-ooooh!" Buffy's exclamation turned into a different one as Viola brought all of the freshly-prepared food into view. Hollowed-out eggplant halves served as the vessels for mushrooms, zucchini, tomatoes, cheese, and of course, some half sour pickles. On the side, she brought diced beets dressed in a vinaigrette and garnished with candied orange peel. Along too came a salad of lettuce, eggplant, beet, tomato, and any other leftover vegetables she had (because she'd be dreaming if she expected Buffy to use any of the leftovers productively). Not the most extravagant meal she could have made, but certainly a respectable one.

Buffy wasted no time in scooping one of the stuffed eggplants off the baking tray with her hooves and depositing it on her plate. "Oh, it's sooo good!" she said as she took a large bite out of the side of the vessel as one would a hayburger. Naturally, she also spoke with her mouth full.

Viola was considerably more restrained in her dining, gripping her utensils with a wingtip. She used a knife to cut her food into more manageable pieces. (And as for why she was suppressing a smile while doing it, she could still hear Buffy squealing "kniiife!" in her ears.)

Azura decided to eat as earth ponies normally did and replicated Buffy in her eschewment of utensils. When she took her first bite, she rolled it around in her mouth for a moment before swallowing and saying, "Yeah, it's pretty good. Maybe it could use a little pepper, though." She reached for the pepper pot and ground a few motes on the top.

Viola's ear twitched, but she otherwise didn't respond. There was always at least one critic, wasn't there?

"So, Azzy," Buffy said between bites and occasionally during bites. "Do you cook at all?"

Azura twirled her hoof around in a circle. "Ehh, here and there. Shows can go late, and when that happens, I just eat out. I can make mean grilled pesto tomato and asparagus, though."

"Oh, I love grilled stuff! It's just too bad that I don't have any room for one. And I, well, don't know how to use one."

About time that you admitted that you can't cook, Viola thought to herself.

"Really! Well, you should come over to my place some time, and I'll see if I can whip something up. Oh, and show you my sound system, 'cause gosh, you have never seen a sound system 'till you've seen mine."

"That sounds cool, and of course I'd like to visit sometime! Why do you need a sound system, though?"

"Are you crazy? With all the stuff I do with music and radio and level balancing, of course I need a good sound system. It means I can make good mixes without blowing anyone's ears off. And it means I can throw house parties that'd rock the block."

And off they went about somesuch or other. It was happening all too often at this point. As expected, they were talking. Viola couldn't pay much attention to matters of house parties or sound systems, but Buffy seemed to be interested in it. Naturally, of course she was free to talk to whomever she chose. But if it was up to her, she would have spent their time enjoying the simple pleasure of company, not talking at all.

She was never particularly keen on having Azura over for dinner, but here was the point Viola was particularly regretting her decision to have her over.

"Oh yeah, and the recording studio. Got an even bigger system. Not that you ever would, but you could probably host a rave with it."

"Oh, that sounds like a fun time!"

"Sure does, right? Here, I'll give you a guest ID, and you can use it to card in to the place I work," Azura said as she slid a card over the dining table. "You can visit me anytime you want, so long as you don't barge into my office when I'm live."

"Oh, you will? That's so nice of you, Azzy!" And as if to punctuate the point, Buffy turned Azura's head and delivered a quick kiss right to her lips.

Viola almost spit out her food.

"Ah, yeah, don't mention it," Azura said, touching her lips where Buffy kissed her and blushing at the same time. The ruddy pink on her cheek stood out in sharp relief against the blue of her coat.

Viola managed to swallow her food and mitigate her response to a mere cough, but that didn't mitigate the shock she felt inside. Of course, it was nothing Buffy was not allowed to do, given their situation and relationship arrangement, but . . . it was a kiss. On the lips. She put a hoof to her own. Even among the suitors Buffy had had before, perhaps she'd give them a chaste peck on the cheek or two, but never to the lips. It was a gesture she'd long seen as something special Buffy reserved for her.

And now, Azura had it too.

"Excuse me," Viola said quickly, standing from the table. "I need some air."

"Um, you okay, Vi?" Buffy asked, pausing in her ravenous food-chewing.

"I'm fine," she said as she went to Buffy and gave her an unsolicited kiss on the lips, as if to steal back what Azura just took from her. She strode quickly to the front door and pushed her way through. And finally distanced from the two, she had the space to think.

She knew that Buffy would tell her that there was no kiss to steal back, that there was nothing that could be stolen from her. That was what polyamory was, as Buffy impressed on her and others so many times. But in her heart, she could only feel that emotional connection she had with her Buffy for so long, now fraying and shared with somepony else. Where else was her time going if not to Azura instead of her?

And she never asked Azura to come in. Despite everything Buffy would say, here she was, musing about all those things a mare would wonder about if she were just rejected by her beloved.

Viola watched the sun set and cast its long, warm rays across the city in front of her.

Alone.

---

It was a request she had received many times before: to play for some high-class social gathering to provide some "ambiance," as they put it. But it was a bit less common for that social gathering to be a chess tournament—it wouldn't have been the first event she would have thought of that necessitated any music. But she wasn't one to question the will (or the wallet) of her patrons, so she played her set as she always did. So long as they honored their agreement and she wasn't disturbed during her playing, that was all that mattered.

Viola walked back to Buffy's apartment, her violin case thumping on her back. When she made it to her marefriend's door, she knocked twice, waited a moment, and opened the door without further fanfare.

"Good morning, Buffy," she said as she entered, knowing full well that it was the afternoon and the sun was already beginning its descending arc. She had left to attend the tournament at dawn, and at that time, Buffy was not even close to waking up. As far as she was concerned, it was morning.

Viola dropped her case on the floor to silence. She rolled her eyes. It wouldn't have been the first time Buffy decided to sleep in this late. She never understood her marefriend's sleep schedule, but she decided to go to her room and check on her.

Upon ascending the stairs and opening the door to Buffy's bedroom, she found sheets tossed about and a jumble of stuffed animals, as expected, but no Buffy. Instead, she was in the adjoining bathroom, very much awake, and leaning in to the wall mirror.

"Good morning, Buffy," Viola said again.

Buffy's ears perked up, and she turned around. "Oh, morning, Vi! When'd you get there?" She stepped out of the bathroom. Face to face with Buffy, Viola noted that, contrary to her assumption, she must have been awake for quite a while. How else would she had had the time to dress up as she had?

Buffy was clad in a smart periwinkle cocktail dress, complete with plenty of frills and lacy accents. Two short sleeves went down her forelegs, but going only so far as her shoulders and ending in a puff. It was a dress she had seen hanging in her wardrobe since she had arrived, and Viola always imagined it looked hideous. But somehow, Buffy managed to wear it well, and she looked all the cuter because of it.

Four baby blue and gold slippers were on her end of her hooves. They were, again, the kind of insubstantial and almost childish slippers that nopony could wear and look good in. Except Buffy, it seemed.

Viola rarely saw Buffy in a dress, but especially given this moment, she wouldn’t have minded seeing it more often. She turned to the side and put a hoof to her cheek, trying to disguise her blush. "Um . . . Dress?" was all she managed to say. She was normally composed and found neutrality easy and safe, but the sight of Buffy in front of her threw her off-balance. She stole the rest of the words from her mouth.

"Oooh!" Buffy spun around in a circle and let her mane fly out. In contrast to her normal unrestrained puffy jumble of a mane she wore most of the time, it was now swept into two (puffy) pigtails. As if she wasn't already cute enough. "What do you think?"

A number of words came to Viola's mind all at once: 'cute,' 'precious,' 'pretty,' 'adorable,' and 'squishy' were just a hoof-ful of the words she was thinking of.

"I'm going out to dinner with Azura tonight, and I wanna show her my new dress," Buffy continued. "I don't know, too much? Should I add the necklace? What do you think?" Buffy turned around, poking at a necklace on her bedside table.

And with Buffy's words, all of the words Viola was thinking of came to a crashing halt. She was going on a dinner date with Azura? That in of itself wasn't that shocking—dinners were a half-bit a dozen with her previous dalliances—but this was their very first one. And Buffy was dressing up for it? She didn't dress up for the first dinner date with any of her other suitors. She hadn't even dressed up this much for theirs.

Buffy had since put on the necklace and turned back around. Her necklace was adorned with a small amethyst attached to a gold chain. The gem scintillated with the same vibrancy and life that her eyes did. One more word came to mind: 'beautiful.'

Everything in front of her was beautiful. And none of it was for her.

First a kiss, and now this.

Azura . . . Viola didn't realize how ugly a name that was when she rolled it around in her mouth.

She didn't say any of the words she was thinking of or wanted to say. "It's . . . nice," she mumbled instead in a low drone.

"That's great!" Buffy said, though whether she heard her at all, Viola didn't know. She was certainly still the bubbly obnoxious thing she always was. She drummed her four hooves on the ground. "Oooh, I'm so excited! You know that place down the street, Magnolia?"

"Yes," Viola said, only half listening. It was rude to ask to tag along on a date, but she was considering it for a brief moment. And once again, she wasn't even the one who was supposed to do the tagging along.

"Yeah, we're going there! I hear the food is great and I'll be with Azura and there's just so much that we haven't talked about yet and there's so much more that we could talk about and—" an alarm clock interrupted her torrent of syllables "—I'm gonna be late! I'll see you 'round, Vi!" Buffy turned off the alarm clock and zipped out her bedroom door, swiftly followed by the creak and slam of her front door.

Viola was left standing in the room, eyes trained on Buffy's door where she saw her last.

"Bye," she said lamely to the door. She was quite a few seconds late. Given how excited and hyper Buffy was, she was probably already at the Magnolia with Azura.

Azura . . .

Goodness, what was I drinking when I wrote this? Sfortzando during a pizzicato section? How does one even do that?

Viola grabbed a pencil by the shaft in her mouth and scribbled out a few notes. She moved back to plucking her violin with the tips of her coverts. It really was a revolution in technique since she had invented it—plucking the strings with her coverts while fingering with her primaries. It let her execute far more complex pizzicato sections than others could, just as this one was. A double time double stopped section was no mean feat. Viola could feel her feathers burning.

Simultaneous arco and pizzicato? I wonder how that would sound.

Viola retrieved her bow with a hoof. While continuing the same blistering plucking section she had been playing, she simultaneously bowed improvised harmonious notes on a free string, calling her other wing to finger for it. What a perk it was to have two additional appendages.

Won't that be an interesting section.

She finished her improvisation with a flourish from her bow and stepped back from the music. And she paused.

Viola could see in her mind's eye an image of a certain pony, applauding, wanting to come and give her a hug. And she could hear herself reprimand her, reminding her that hugs were strictly off-limits when she was holding an instrument. She could imagine herself propping her violin against a wall and bracing for the inevitable tackle the moment she took her hoof off it.

She blinked. Her violin was against the wall, and she had a foreleg in front of her face by way of instinctual defense. But there was no cheer, and there was no hug.

She was the only one in Buffy's apartment.

She brought her hoof back down and bit her lip. Rarely did she play such a furious and technical section, rarely did she play it so loudly, and rarely did she forget to close the window while she practiced, projecting the sounds of her music up and down the streets. Given all these coincidences, wouldn't her public disturbance have gathered some attention?

She sighed and growled at the same time. The only way to battle noise was with noise, but if Buffy wasn't here, that could only mean that she was losing. Losing to—

Viola caught herself. No use in getting frustrated over . . . music.

She swept past the open window, brushing it with a wing. It swung closed, but its broken latch failed to engage with its mate on the sill. Slowly, the window started to drift back open.

Viola retrieved her violin and returned to her music stand. Even as the sun dipped below the horizon and cooled the light coming in, she continued to practice.

From the top.

---

Viola didn't know why she herself would have any reason to visit a woodcarver's, if not because Buffy really wanted to visit one. It wasn't the first time she had visited, either, though it was the first time Viola had come along to see what Buffy was so excited about. And after they left, she only half-understood why.

Buffy kept pace with Viola, but her eyes were not on the road. Rather, they were trained on the small item of carved wood in her hoof. It was a tiny pony figurine, stained grey with tiny yellow eye accents and adorned with a pair of even tinier bat wings. It was a marvel of woodwork and detail. And it was apparently not her only one.

"Oh my gosh, it's so tiny! I'm gonna keep him in a shoebox under my bed!" Buffy squealed *. "You're going to be . . . Batty! And you'll have so much fun with my deer friends and Trobbie and Darkie and everyone!"

Viola had snuck a look in said shoebox, and she did indeed collect wood-carved figurines, though of whom, she knew not. (The time she asked, Buffy's answer of "moderators" only confused her more.) All she knew was that Buffy would trip and crush the figurine in her hoof if she wasn't supervising her.

So Buffy continued to titter on about all the fun "Batty" would have with his new "friends," and Viola put a wing on Buffy's back and guided her back home without letting her trip on anything. As her apartment came into view, she saw a familiar sight. Unfortunately, "familiar" did not necessarily mean "welcome."

Buffy lifted her eyes from her new trinket for just long enough to notice who was at the door. "Azzy!" she cried out before escaping from under Viola's wing and skittering up to her. "It's so nice to see you!"

It was only too bad that she couldn't echo the sentiment. These unscheduled visits of Azura's were happening all too often. Viola folded her wing back in and continued walking at a saner pace.

"You too, Buffy! I was gonna ask you whether you wanted to go out later tonight, but it looks like you were a step ahead of me."

"I'm always down to go out with one of my favorite ponies! What do you have in mind?"

"Well, you've seen my day job already, but I don't think you've seen what happens at night, have you? Let's just say I host parties on a regular basis. The place is just down the street from here." Azura took her eyes off Buffy to glance at the pony behind her. "Oh, and you're invited too, Viola, if you want."

"That sounds like fun! What do you think, Vi?"

If she truly wanted to know what she thought, she thought she was, again and again, being treated like the third wheel when it was supposed to be the other way around. By Azura, no less. Viola didn't need to guess how she'd feel on such a "date," and it was nothing she felt particularly eager or excited about.

"I'm afraid I have a prior engagement with some bandmates today," she said. It wasn't a lie, really; there was a weekly music jam her roommate, Octavia, had made her aware of in Baltimare, and she had been meaning to audit it. Of course, between a date with Buffy and a simple music jam, she wouldn't have anticipated that this would have been her choice a few days ago.

"Alright, then," Azura said. "Have fun, Viola. You ready for a rave, Buffy?"

"Am I ever!"

By all measures, the music jam could only be described as "interesting." Viola was expecting a troupe of keyboard artists, string players, and brass virtuosos playing together in an unscripted jazz number. She was no jazz artist, but that was still something she would have liked to spectate and try her hoof at.

What she found instead was something more akin to a poetry slam, a single pony on a bar piano and another on bongos . . . and a horde of young colts looking to try spitting their terrible rap songs. It was a cacophony, to put it lightly.

It wasn't all bad, though. Once those colts left, the only pony left behind was the one at the piano, playing a swing cadence with a simple chord progression. Viola took out her violin and complemented the chords with a melody of her own. Little did she know she'd find the jazz session she was looking for as well as a surprise in the form of a guest.

"Hey, you're pretty good, miss. What's your name, cutie?" the stallion at the keyboard asked, a smile on his face.

"Viola. And my compliments to your playing ability as well," she responded prudently.

"Eh, I've been playing blues and jazz piano my whole life, so I know m' way around. Boogie Woogie's the name." He extended his hoof from the piano in invitation for a hoofshake, all the while continuing to play a swung chord progression with his other.

Viola took the hoof and shook it duly. But just as she was about to return the greeting in kind, a new pony entered the shop. She was a grey mare with a bowtie and a large cello case strapped to her back. She was also a mare Viola could recognize across a crowded room.

"Octavia!" Viola exclaimed, a rare note of excited surprise entering her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Octavia only smiled. "Good to know you took my suggestion seriously, Viola!" She unloaded her instrument and retrieved it from the case. She took her bow and ran it across each string while adjusting the pegs at the head to tune it. "When I recommended this place to you, I was speaking from experience. Boogie's a good and very skilled jazz pianist, and we've been playing together for years."

"You two know each other?" Boogie Woogie asked.

"Viola is my roommate back in Canterlot," Octavia replied, "and also a very good friend. When she told be she'd be visiting Baltimare, I thought you two should get acquainted."

"Well, .thank you. for informing me that you'd be making an unscheduled visit as well," Viola responded sarcastically.

"Would you like me to leave?" Octavia asked, a smile on her face that said she already knew the answer.

Viola made a show of huffing and acting annoyed but gave her friend a hug anyways. "No. It's good to see you, Octavia. It wasn't too taxing for you to haul your cello all the way here, was it?"

Octavia returned the hug in kind. "Not at all, especially if it promises some time with you."

"Hey!" Boogie Woogie interjected. "Enough talking, more playing! It's nice to hear about both of you's life stories, but I haven't got all day!" He played a glissando down the piano before launching into an upbeat and much faster number.

Octavia stood up on two legs and used her cello's endpin as a third. She used one hoof to finger her strings and the other to pluck them, complimenting the piano with bass tones. "He's right, you know."

So Viola walked back to Buffy's after a long jam session, violin on her back, the sun already set hours ago. The only light that lit the road in front of her was that of the bright crescent moon in the cloudless sky. Humble abodes, naked trees, and hanging streetlights were the only things marking its sides. The scene synesthesiastically suggested silence.

Thus, the incessant thump she felt in her chest and the rumble in her ears was rather out of place.

Viola ventured closer to its source, and as she did, the music grew louder. House music, with a bassline so overpowering that she could feel it blocks away. It seemed to come from a square brick building with a large proscenium arch opening to the road. And from inside came a plethora of dancing spotlights of blue, green, and red. And a loud, amplified voice:

"Oh, you lightweights, that was nothing! If that got you exhausted, you'll want to leave before this next one. Unless you want a challenge?"

Oh, no. Viola knew that voice.

"Fine, you asked for it! Deejay Azura is gonna shave your fetlocks!"

Viola wasn't keen on passing by such a nightclub on her way home, and she was even less keen on it if Azura was hosting it. But sans an unreasonable detour, this was the only way back, so she kept walking. And out of morbid curiosity, she had to turn her head and see what was going on inside as she passed.

As expected, there was Azura, lofted on a high dais, perched behind a turntable and bobbing her head to the music. Above her stretched a catwalk and a line of spotlights, moving and spinning on their own whims and illuminating the crowd beneath. A horde of ponies danced on the floor, some on their hindlegs, some wearing glowing bands on their hindlegs. But as a white spotlight swept across the back of the crowd, she saw the pink and purple jumble of a mane on the head on one pony in particular.

Viola froze and stopped to watch. She would know that mane anywhere.

Buffy was dancing like she'd never seen her before, on her hindlegs, jumping, one forehoof pumping the air. She spun and kicked and bobbed to the music. And when she turned around, Viola saw the mindless and infectious joy on her face.

"Feel the music in your hooves, your chest, your soul!" Azura cheered.

She couldn't hear Buffy say a word, but her lips read, "Yeah! I feel it!"

The longer Viola watched, the heavier and faster and more panicked her breaths came.

Viola had played music for Buffy before. Many, many times. And certainly, certainly every time she appeared happy with it and listened courteously. Maybe she even gave her a tacklehug afterwards. But this, this was music as well, this produced from Azura, and it elicited a joy from her marefriend just as great. Perhaps even greater.

The music did pierce her soul, but in a way she never wanted it to.

She was born with it. She grew up with it. She trained with it. She made a career out of it. It was no exaggeration to say that music was not a part of her life; it was her life.

But in this one, endless moment, from her Buffy whom she thought loved her so very much, the very thing that ran through Viola's blood and made her who she was . . . Azura took that, too.

Buffy still danced in front of her, smiling obscenely, oblivious of Viola's own crisis. But she couldn't bear to watch any longer. She couldn't bear to see her Buffy turn into somepony else's.

With an iron will and steeling of her heart, Viola ripped her eyes away from the nightclub. She kept walking.

How strange that the bass she felt knock in her chest knocked the moisture out of her eyes as well.