49w, 1hThe Fillyfoolers.
43w, 2dOctavia Fans
29w, 4dEquestria Daily Rejects
49w, 3dVinyl Scratch
49w, 11hF/F ships
49w, 1dEquestrian Vampirism
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6h, 23mThe Random
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29w, 1dVinyl and Octavia
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21w, 2dTHE DJ PON-3 REVOLUTION
4w, 1dMeri's Favorite Stories
I planted a soft kiss on her snout, burrowing myself into her encircling arms deeper into that comforting embrace, pressing an ear against her warm chest. The steady thump of her heart. Strong. Everlasting. It promised many things. Life. Love. It told me that she wasn't some cold-blooded monster. That we could make this work. And that she was mine forever.
Even I knew how impossibly stupid that sounded.
How did you know when you were in love? Or that what you had was even love at all? True love, what does that even mean? These were the thoughts that plagued my wandering mind.
I heard her mumble and felt her shift her legs. Heehee, she must be dreaming.
Dreaming of me. How sweet. What does a vampire dream of?
Her fangs jutted from her jaw, extended. She was snapping at the air, licking her chops.
"No, no," she murmured, her face scrunching up.
My mind flashed back to that horrifying night. I touched my neck, feeling the bandages wrapped around it. I closed my eyes, whimpering I recalled with clarity how helpless I had felt. What I had seen, what I had smelled, touched, tasted. Her looming form above me, a predatory grin spread across her face. That pinch as her canines pierced my flesh. The throbbing in my neck as warm blood oozed from the puncture wounds. The metallic, bitter taste of my own blood mixed with her saliva as I kissed her.
Her face, twisted with anguish, hot salty tears streaming down her face. Her sobs, racking through her body as I held her.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. More like a buck to the face.
Vinyl had tried to kill me. She had bitten my jugular and I almost bled out. I had tried to edit it out, pretend that things were all right. They weren't. By some stroke of luck I'd managed not to die. And the worst part was that I didn't know how to feel. Maybe it was the shock that had stopped me from thinking things through, stopped me from screaming bloody murder as she fed on my blood, let me forgive and forget all too easily.
Had we rushed into things? Was it all just a part of us being young and stupid, quick to jump into things, throwing our hearts in first before our heads? And if so, were we allowed to be young and stupid and make mistakes?
I liked to think of myself as a sensible mare, but after the past few days, I wasn't so sure anymore. I felt like a novice, inexperienced for my age. My rudimentary knowledge of how love worked was based off of trashy chick flicks and romance novels, such as the vampire one that had gotten me into this whole mess in the first place. This was my first relationship, and with another filly, no less. And I was pretty sure Vinyl Scratch had had romantic dealings with other ponies in the past, but that didn't concern me in the slightest. What bothered me was why we were attracted to each other. Why we even liked each other in the first place. Did our mutual love for our passion in life, music, bring us together? Or was there something more? To be honest, I didn't have a clue. It transcended physical appearances, clearly.
Octavia, you idiot.
Yes. I was an imbecile.
Can't you ever be satisfied with what you already have? Isn't it enough that you've won her heart?
I guessed not.
What a mess. I didn't want to have to think. It hurt to think.
"Wake up, sleepyhead."
"Get up, Vinyl. We've got a big day ahead of us."
Today was the day.
"I'm up," she mumbled, her face buried in her pillow.
We agreed to put some distance between each other as we strolled through Canterlot, the streets paved with gold, smiling and giggling every once in a while as we brushed up against each other, skipping like foals, laughing at the nobles, with their ridiculous hats and noses in the air.
"Here, here," I said, pointing to the clothing store.
I was never one for dresses, as you could tell by my bow tie. They hindered my movement and made it nearly impossible to stand up to play my cello. Anypony who was anypony, or at least those who could afford it, wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything but Carousel Boutique.
We unfortunately could not afford a custom-made dress. I preferred simplicity, and Vinyl disliked wearing dresses altogether. We agreed on a simple evening gown, mine being black and hers navy blue.
Vinyl stifled her laughter as I was fitted. However when I emerged from the changing room, I saw her jaw drop.
Vinyl's turn. I found myself having to reread outdated magazine articles detailing last year's Gala. That's Canterlot nobility for you. Never forgive. Never forget. It seemed that Vinyl intended to make the process as painful and drawn out as possible. The seamstress was having all sorts of trouble with Vinyl, who was seemingly incapable of remaining still for more than three seconds, her hooves tangled up with the measuring tape. After she had been fitted and sent to the changing room, I found myself clipping coupons from advertisements.
"Are you done?" I bristled. "How long does it take to put on a dress?"
"Why do we even have to wear them?" Vinyl moaned from inside the changing room.
"Because not wearing them would be indecent," I answered, flipping through the magazine. Even though we don't normally wear clothes anyways.
"We're always naked!"
"Vinyl, put on the dress."
The sound she made sounded like a pregnant hippo going into labor. How flattering.
There were many words to describe her. Delicate? No, not delicate. Hardly. Calling Vinyl Scratch delicate would be an insult to delicate things, like flowers and Fluttershy. Not graceful either. She was about as graceful as a cow and was liable to trip over her own hooves.
"Are you done?"
She let out a whine. "I look so stupid!" She sighed. "You better not laugh."
The door unlocked and she stepped through. My jaw dropped.
"I told you I look dumb," she pouted.
She was absolutely stunning, clad in a flowing blue evening gown, velvet and attractive. It accentuated her natural curves. Formal and classy. It was perfect. My mouth watered at the sight of her in her dress.
"Octy?" She waved a hoof in front of my face.
"You look amazing," I whispered.
Her cheeks were tinged with a faint blush. "Thanks. You too."
"Well, you look the part, now you must act it!" I cried. "You must carry yourself with a modicum of grace and sophistication!" I struck a valiant pose.
"Octy, what the hay are you doing?"
"The magicks!" I snatched her away. "We go!"
By simply walking through Canterlot, you would find that there were a multitude of cafes on every street corner. We chose a rather elegant restaurant, relaxing on our cushions outside underneath an umbrella.
"Sit straight up."
Vinyl sighed. "I don't understand why we—"
"Don't talk with your mouth full."
Even with her glasses on I could tell that she was frustrated. She swallowed. "Why do I have to pretend I'm all high class? It's not my style."
"Because if my parents disapprove of you, regardless of what I say, they are going to make my life difficult."
"And in turn, yours will become a living Tartarus. Oh, and that reminds me, please try to confine your vocabulary to traditional Equestrian for tonight."
"Don't say that."
"What did I just say?"
And in the blink of an eye, night descended upon Canterlot. The calm before the storm had passed, and now we were on rocky waters. After a rather steamy shower session, we both donned our dresses.
"I hate makeup, Octy."
"Just bear with it, Vinyl," I said, dabbing a little blush on her face.
"I look like a clown."
She looked absolutely breathtaking, clown or not. And even if she was a clown, she was my clown. I patted her mane affectionately.
"Now help me put on my tie," I told her. "Make sure you hide the bandages well. The last thing I need is my parents asking more questions."
Using her magic, she fastened it around my neck snugly. I caught her staring at the bandages, her eyes cast down. When she said nothing, I walked over to the mirror, adjusting it.
"There. Not too shabby. You'll only be able to see it if you're up close."
She nodded glumly.
I gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Now come on. And smile."
When she gave me a halfhearted grin I grabbed her cheeks, stretching them wider into a painfully fake smile. Down the stairs to the first floor of our apartment complex. I hailed for a carriage. As we boarded, I nearly slipped. Vinyl caught me and pulled me up. I blushed faintly.
"We can't have any of that during the dinner," I reminded her. "Are you ready?" I asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be." Vinyl shrugged.
"Remember not to take too long when ordering. Just long enough. And no alcohol. Or blood." I giggled.
"Shh," Vinyl grinned. "Are we going to that snooty Upper Crust place again?"
I sighed. "Yes, Vinyl."
"How are my eyes?"
She rolled her eyes.
We sat in silence for the rest of the short ride. A long line of ponies stood outside the fancy restaurant, waiting for a table. We had already been informed that reservations had been made. As we strolled in, we saw ponies murmur and mock our dresses. The interior architecture was royal, almost as elegant as the royal accommodations in the castle. Dimly lit and crowded. The color palette of the tables and chairs and cushions were gold and ivory. We walked up to the waiter.
"Reservations for Octavia and Vinyl Scratch?"
He regarded us as if we were bugs and pointed to the farthest corner of the room, not even bothering to lead us there.
"Dude, you look just like your mom," Vinyl whispered as we trotted. "And your dad."
"I what?" I harrumphed. "Are you telling me that I am old and wrinkly and have gray hair?"
Vinyl was quick to clarify. "No no, I mean you're her spitting image! She's got your mane and coat and eyes!"
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Look at her! She's even got the same smirk!"
"The I'm-so-much-better-than-you one that you put on when you play your cello," she teased.
I whacked her lightly.
As we got closer I could hear Vinyl gasp. "Octavia, your parents are both—"
I hushed her.
"Mmm hello, Octavia," a haughty voice said.
And there she was, that wretched mare.
"Hello, Mother," I said. "Hello Father."
"Octavia, so glad you could make it," he said pleasantly. His voice was always a bored drone.
"And this must be your roommate," she said.
"Hello, ma'am," Vinyl said smoothly, her voice no longer rough and masculine. "Pleased to meet you both."
Good job, Vinyl.
We took our seats next to each other. But not too close, of course. Just close enough for me to squeeze her hoof underneath the table. I gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back, a bit nervous. I could already see her sweating bullets. Why was she nervous? Oh, right. Because I was nervous.
This is going to be a long dinner.