> Scratches Across the Record > by braymounth > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > (NEW) Chapter 1 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- A steady string of sharp beeps roused Vinyl Scratch from her unconscious state. While she was waking, her eyes still closed, a soft murmur tickled her ears with a warm tone. She slowly opened her eyes to immediately clamp them shut again at the bright light that she found at first. After some gentle encouragement from the soft murmur, she opened her eyes again, this time slowly and with a hoof shielding them. Once she could see without squinting, Vinyl lifted her hoof back and was greeted by the sight of a beige unicorn against an impossibly white background. He was tall, even when seated, with soft features, emerald eyes, and a short, slightly tousled brown mane. “Hey, Mix,” Vinyl muttered sheepishly, letting her eyes drift across the scene. She observed the inside of what she regarded as a sanitary hellhole – hospitals depressed her greatly, and she’d be the first to let somepony know it. “Hey, kiddo,” Mix spoke slowly while wearing a small smile, “how ya’ feeling?” “Eh, my head aches and it feels like my ribs got hit by a train, but other than that... I’m just peachy.” “At least you’re alive, so thank Celestia for that.” “Well, I am wild and sexy – the perfect kind of pony to die young.” The beige stallion sighed and shook his head. “The saying is ‘Only the good die young.’” Vinyl scrunched up her nose in discontent and stuck out her tongue. Mix simply laughed and patted her gingerly on the shoulder. “On a more serious note, however, I’ve got to know what happened to you.” Vinyl lowered her head and put a sombre look on her face as she spoke. “I went out gambling last night.” “Vinyl.” Mix sighed in disappointment but remained silent after that. “I actually won a whole lot at first, but then I got cocky and lost it all on a single bet. The last thing I remember was getting drunk and yelling at some big lookin’ pony... it probably wasn’t one of my better nights.” Silenced reigned between the two for a minute before Mix finally spoke. “Would it be safe for me to assume you didn’t have enough to cover the bills?” The sullen DJ refused to meet her friend’s stare but nodded her head slowly. “Then why didn’t you let me know?” “What good would that’ve done?” Vinyl replied dejectedly. “I could have helped.” “I wasn’t about to go crawling to you for help.” Immediately after the words had left her mouth, Vinyl immediately regretted them. “Oh really?” Mix’s voice had taken a harsh tone and Vinyl, despite looking away from him, could tell his eyes were dead serious and locked upon her. “Maybe I’m misremembering, but I don’t ever recall you being particularly good at picking up the pieces of your messes. In fact, I quite clearly recall myself fixing your mistakes on more than one occasion. Do you-” “Okay!” The DJ interrupted him quickly, a tear forming in her eye. “You fix everything in my life... I mess everything up and you make it right. But I... I just wanted to fix things by myself for once.” Vinyl rubbed her hooves anxiously on the bed sheets, her vision blurring as she resigned her eyelids to a half-opened position. The beeping from before, which had faded from Vinyl's focus during their conversation, slowly became the focal point of the sullen mare’s attention – she wanted something to take her mind off of her own deject state. During this time, Mix had relaxed his features and let out another sigh, which may have seemed excessive by this point, had sighing not been so customary for the stallion during his conversations with Vinyl. After a minute of silence – another occurrence not uncommon between them – Mix finally spoke, this time softly once more. “Vinyl, I know you just want to feel like you can solve your own problems, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t be able to, but it doesn’t hurt to at least get a little bit of help. Now, could you at least try and let me help you? You’ve already gone broke and put yourself in the hospital, so the least you could do for yourself is to let me help.” “You’re right,” Vinyl replied quietly, turning her uneasy gaze towards him. “Can you please help me?” Mix gave a small smile. “If you promise to stop being so cliché sounding about.” “Me, cliché? Naaaaaaah.” Vinyl tried to laugh, but was stopped by a pang in her side a moment into the attempt. As Mix was giving her another pat on the shoulder, a short unicorn dressed in a doctor’s coat walked up to the end of the bed, a clipboard levitating in front of his spectacled eyes. “Ms. Scratch?” he asked casually. Being reminded that she was in a hospital, Vinyl frowned and halfheartedly replied: “Yeah, that's me.” “It looks like you’ve only got a little bruising on your left side, and nothing permanent or serious to worry about – you’re good to go assuming you feel well enough to travel.” “Thank you, doctor,” Mix chimed in gratefully, standing up and offering Vinyl his hoof. She nodded to the doctor in a show of appreciation before taking her friend’s hoof. Her hooves clicked loudly against the floor as she slid off the bed with only mild discomfort. The two quickly made their way out of the hospital, as Mix was completely aware of how much Vinyl disliked the establishments and had no intent on making the mare more uncomfortable. Once they stepped out onto the hard pavement, the DJ closed her eyes and greedily inhaled the warm air, as if it were in limited supply, and then exhaled heavily with a smile. “Do you want to walk?” Mix asked quickly. “Or would you like me to get a carriage?” Vinyl was already lost in her own world, ignoring her friend in favour of a realization. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “What happened to my shades?” “I asked, but they said they weren’t on you.” “Fuck... scumbag probably broke ‘em.” “Vinyl, you got drunk and likely agitated a much larger pony – getting only your sunglasses broken is probably on the luckier side of things. Now, are we going to walk, or do you want to get a carriage?” Still grumbling about her lost, and likely broken, sunglasses, it took her friend a few more calls of her name for Vinyl to finally pay attention to him. “Well, I can’t really afford a carriage,” she muttered discontentedly. Mix rolled his eyes and withheld another sigh. “I know that, but it’s not really expensive – I can pay for it myself.” The DJ was about to protest, but was stopped by a raised hoof and unfaltering gaze. She quickly backed down and allowed her friend to pay for a carriage that they rode to Vinyl’s apartment in silence. Just as they entered Vinyl’s apartment, Mix closed the door behind them and cleared his throat. The DJ spun around and gave her friend a puzzled look before noticing his hoof slowly gliding through the air, pointing from one end of the apartment to the other. She turned back to give the chaotic mess she called home a quick stare before letting out an embarrassed chuckle. “What are you, a teenager?” Mix asked sharply. Vinyl turned her head back and gave him a small frown. “Well, what are you: my mom?” “If I’m anything I’m more like a broth-” The DJ now took the time to turn her whole body to face Mix and donned a determined scowl. “You don’t get to just stand there and act like you’re my brother – ‘cause you’re not!” Mix pulled back a little, visibly regretting his word choice, but continued on with determination. “Then could you please just listen to me as a friend?” “What kind of friend lectures somepony just after they get out of the hospital?” The beige stallion sighed with exasperation. “Don’t play that card, Vinyl – I’m lecturing you because you got yourself into the hospital because of your bad choices.” “I’m an adult: I’m allowed to fuck up if I want, and it’s my own damn problem if I do!” “Just because you’re of age to be an adult, doesn’t mean you actually are one.” “And just because you’re older than me and have helped me out doesn’t mean you get to be my brother and lecture me like I’m a filly!” “If you didn’t act like one I wouldn’t have to!” He took a hard stamp on the floor and stared Vinyl down with intensity. Despite all of her anger and determination up to this point, the DJ lowered her head and became silent. In a rather desolate manner, she dragged herself over to a couch covered in miscellaneous objects and slumped down on it. “Why do you even care if my apartment’s a mess?” she muttered defeatedly. Mix relaxed, letting out a long breath he had been holding onto, and walked over to a chair opposite the couch. With a few quick flicks of his hoof he brushed most of the debris off the chair and sat down. “It’s not just about your apartment,” he said softly with a touch of sadness. “This is about your drinking and partying... and your complete refusal to grow up. Of course... there’s also the gambling now.” Vinyl shot her head up and pleaded in defence. “I swear I won’t do it again!” The stallion across from her looked away. “I’ve heard that before.” There was silence between the two for some time before Mix finally spoke again. “Vinyl, I'm your friend – I care about you and I’ve spent too much time with you to ever be able to just walk away from you, but... I can’t keep picking you up every time you do something stupid. You're going to have to learn how to either clean up your own messes, or to stop making them. I’m not going to pretend like I never make mistakes, or that I’ve never messed up something, but I learnt from those mistakes and moved on with my life. “I know you enjoy all the excitement and energy of partying constantly, but you’re running yourself ragged with it, whether you see it or not. You have a career to be building, and a life you could be making for yourself – don’t you want that anymore? The Vinyl I met a long time ago wanted to become the best DJ in all of Equestria. What happened to her? You got about halfway up the ladder and felt content enough just to sit there and squander everything you made. Now... now you’re actually falling down that ladder, and I’m worried you’re not going to climb back up.” The weight of his words hung heavily upon Vinyl’s heart, and she could make no adequate reply to them. She looked slowly and sadly across her dishevelled living room and realized how much a mess not only the room was, but her entire life. Part of her still wanted to deny it, to say that it was her own life and that she was free to live it as she pleased – but deep down she knew she was only hurting herself by doing indulging so much, while she did so little else. After going over this thoughts again and again, she knew Mix was right about her problems, but she still felt completely incompetent about it all. “Mix,” she began quietly, “I’m sorry for what I put you through. I know you want to help me, and I’m nothing but stubborn and stupid about it. I asked for you help back at the hospital, but then I turned around and bitched you out for trying to help me... I’m a complete idiot.” With a sigh, the stallion across from her spoke softly. “I don’t know why you’re acting the way you are, but a real idiot isn’t smart enough to see their own flaws. So, stupid as you may be sometimes, you’re not a complete idiot.” “Heh, thanks,” she replied with light sarcasm. “I’m not going to coddle you and tell you nothing’s wrong every time you get sad just to make you feel better. I admit, I’ve coddled you in the past by always picking you up without being sure you had learned your lesson – but that stops now. It’s not like I’m not going to be there for you, but you’ve got to learn how to be an adult, and you’ll never do that by relying on me constantly. I’ll help you get started, but I want to see you succeed by your own choices, not mine. My suggestion: distance yourself from DJing for a while.” “What!” Mix’s words brought back all of Vinyl's energy in an instant. “I can’t quit DJing! Besides, weren’t you just on my ass for not working on a being a better DJ – how can you just turn around and tell me to stop?” “I’m not telling you to outright stop being a DJ, but to do some other work for the time being.” Despite Vinyl thinking the idea was completely ridiculous and having no idea how her friend could suggest it, Mix continued with unfazed confidence. “While I think DJing should be an important part of your life, until you can control yourself, it’s just going to be a gateway for all your partying and drinking – distance yourself from that for the moment, and work on you.” The disgruntled mare sat up and scowled slightly. “What are you, a high school guidance counsellor?” “The ‘what are you’ quips just never get old, do they?” Vinyl scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue out at Mix in a childish display of disagreement. The stallion laughed briefly before becoming serious again. “But seriously, Vinyl, you really should do some other work for now. My studio recently signed with Octavia for her first solo album, but all of my sound-booth technicians are stupid busy, and so am I – I think this could be a good opportunity for you.” Rubbing her chin in a quasi-thoughtful manner, Vinyl spoke slowly, drawing out her words. “I dunno.” “Come on, I know you’ve got the skills for it – even if you ignored ninety percent of your work back in college, you’ve always had the talent for this kind of work.” “But I’ve never heard of this ‘Octavia’ pony.” “Trust me, she’s a talented musician and very well off because of it – you won’t be working with some second-rate hack or something.” Vinyl stopped keeping up the act of looking thoughtful and actually took a moment to think about the situation. “Uhhh... fine, I guess this isn’t exactly a bad idea.” Mix chuckled as he stood up from the chair. “Not quite the ‘Vinyl Scratch attitude’ I was hoping for, but it’s better than nothing.” “Hey!” Without hesitation, Vinyl leapt from her couch and came almost face-to-face with her friend in an instant. “I am Vinyl Scratch, and I’ve always got attitude!” His lips cracked into a small smile as he took a half-step back. “Alright, cool yourself, filly.” “Easier said then done – I can't control how hot I am,” the DJ cooed with a sly smile, but Mix simply shook his head and sighed. “You know that I meant your attitude, but you just had to go there.” “Eh, whatever you want to think, but you know it’s true.” The enigmatic mare made her way to the kitchen of her apartment, opening up her refrigerator to prod her head about inside of it. “So when do you want me to come in for work?” her muffled voice came from inside the metal box. Before Mix could reply, Vinyl pulled her head out with a half-eaten sandwich in her mouth. “Mhat soumms suh wuhhrd.” “And you wonder why I treat you like a filly.” With a few ravenous mouth movements, Vinyl finished her sandwich and gave her friend a dumb grin. After he was done with rubbing his hoof against his forehead, he turned back to continue the conversation. “Octavia’s coming in tomorrow – it was initially going to be a meeting to discuss the technician issue, but since I just got you on board, we’re going to go ahead and set things up with you two.” “Heh,” the mare giggled, “‘set us up' – you a matchmaker now, Mix? Are you even sure I swing that way?” “You have been in some ‘mixed’ crowds while DJing,” her friend said with a raised eyebrow\. “Yeah yeah, enough about my personal life, ‘mom’.” Mix smirked. “Are you implying that I'm a middle-aged mare, again?” “Maybe,” Vinyl giddily answered. The pair shared a laugh for a few moments before the DJ walked back up to her friend. She raise her hooves and draped them around his neck as she slumped her head onto his shoulder. “Thanks, Mix,” she murmured quietly. “No problem, kiddo,” he replied warmly, nuzzling her affectionately. After a few seconds Vinyl let go of Mix and slid back to all fours. As she did, she looked up at her friend with a serious stare. “But if you tell anypony about it,” she said with an unfaltering gaze, “I will end you.” “Only if you stop making fun of me for my figurine collection.” “Aw, but they’re so cute and completely stupid.” “You just don’t appreciate fine craftsmanship and quality television.” “And you’re just a little filly stuck in a stallion’s body.” “Look who’s calling who a filly? Would you feel more confident trying to insult me with some unchewed food in your mouth?” “Oh, it’s on!” * * * * * * * * * * The familiar sight of Mix’s recording studio greeted Vinyl as she trotted towards it. While she did not come here on a regular basis, the DJ had spent plenty of time with her friend in this building, and had grown to be very comfortable with it. This studio was Mix’s life work, and one of the few things Vinyl was truly jealous of – she felt as though each song recorded in this building was more impressive than anything she had ever achieved in her life. Immediately after they finished college, Mix set to work on building a network of contacts and friends throughout the music industry, becoming completely immersed within it in barely a year. With a small backing from his parents and the investing of his life’s saving, he started his own recording company, and took to it just as easily as he had to the music industry. Through all the contacts that he made, his warm smile and pleasant attitude, and, most of all, his complete openness to new musicians and artists, Mix’s studio quickly became one of the most well know among the musical world. Yeah, Vinyl thought to herself, Mix really put himself into the place. As she attempted to dispel any lingering negative thoughts from her mind, the DJ saw her friend seeing off somepony in a leather jacket and sunglasses at the front door. Mix turned, seeing Vinyl approaching, and walked forwards to meet her. “Hey there, I’m glad you actually followed through,” he greeted her happily. With a shrug she flicked her mane a little and replied: “Well, I’ve gotta prove that I won’t keep letting you down.” “That’s good to hear, but I really want you to make sure you don’t let yourself down – that’s what’s important here. Come on, Octavia’s waiting inside.” As they walked towards the building, the glass doors in front of them slid open at their presence and let them inside. “Making a big shot wait just for me?” Vinyl joked coyly. “I hope she doesn’t think you’re playing favourites.” “She’s hardly been waiting,” Mix replied as he waved to a number of ponies while they passed through the reception room. “I said hello to her as I was seeing another client off just then – if anything, she’d be waiting on you.” “Well, good thing I’m here on time then, eh?” He gave his friend a smirk. “Yes, you’re actually on time for once and it matters.” The DJ sputtered off some childish noises as they approached the studio’s head office. Managing to calm herself down despite her enjoyment, Vinyl cleaned up her posture and tried her best to don an air of maturity. “I almost forgot!” Mix chimed as he turned around and quickly left the room. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Just as promised, her friend returned within a mere ten seconds, bringing with him a sight that delighted Vinyl greatly: a brand new pair of her signature shades,still shining along every inch of it’s surface. “Holy shit, man!”she exclaimed with much excitement. “Calm down,” he replied with a chuckle as he passed the gift to the euphoric DJ. “I thought these would help put you in a good mood for the meeting, so I got them rush ordered. Now, calm yourself down and follow me.” Mix opened the doors and motioned Vinyl inside. The ecstatic mare took a deep breath, donning her shades with a great swish of her mane, and walked into the office in as nonchalant a manner as she could muster. The pair entered the off-white urban office and were immediately greeted by the sight of a grey mare with an immaculate black mane, a treble clef cutie mark, and a pink bow-tie decorating her neck. “It’s good to see you again, Octavia,” Mix announced with a warm but serious tone as he walked over to shake Octavia’s hoof. “Likewise,” she replied calmly, her accent revealing itself to Vinyl. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Mix delayed his reply until after he had taken a seat and given himself a few seconds to think. “Yes, almost five months now, I believe. Anyhow, I’m guessing you’re wondering who the mare with me is; this is Vinyl Scratch, the technician I’ve hired for your recording.” With a refined and collected air, Octavia turned to face the DJ and extended her hoof. “How do you do?” Thanks to her shades, neither of the other ponies noticed the panic set in for Vinyl. Shit shit shit! she cursed internally. How the fuck do you greet these fancy types? I know! I’ll just copy her hello – that’ll work, right? “How do you do?” she replied nervously, shaking the other mare’s hoof. Octavia eyed her carefully for a moment before turning back to Mix, who told them both to take a seat so that they may begin. “First off,” Mix began as he hovered a hoof over his intercom, “would either of you care for a coffee or tea?” Octavia requested a type of herbal tea completely unknown to Vinyl, who simply asked for a coffee – it was rather early for this mare, who was used to sleeping in after all-night parties. “Alright, as there really is not a whole lot to discuss outside of planning and scheduling, I’d like to open the discussion up for any questions or immediate concerns that either of you may have.” “I would like to know,” Octavia quickly responded, “how long Ms. Scratch has been working for you.” Trying her best not to be noticed, Vinyl shot the other mare a sharp glare. What, she doesn't trust me already? she thought bitterly. “Vinyl has been with me since college,” Mix answered calmly, in stark contrast to Vinyl’s tone of thought. “We’ve worked together since long before I started this studio. If you want to be technical, however-” Octavia cut in with a quick: “And I do.” “... then Vinyl isn’t so much employed by the studio as she does some work for me.” “So she’s a creditable freelance technician then?” The relaxed studio owner chuckled and scratched the back of his head. “See, she’s not really a freelancer either.” “What is she then?” the mare asked a tad impatiently, tired of not getting the answer she was looking for. During this exchange, the DJ remained silent, her thoughts still following the conversation. ‘What’ am I? Well, first of all, I’m a pony that could probably kick your ass. “Vinyl is a good friend, who, like I said, has been working with me – albeit, sporadically – over my entire career. She’s a talented individual whom I trust – I did not bring her here as the last resort because I had no pony else.” “May I assume that you did not have anypony else, though?” “It is true – my entire staff is currently engaged in other work.” “I then have to take your word that Ms. Scratch is a creditable technician, even though she is not employed by your or any other recording studio?” Mix became completely serious and spoke without any hesitation. “The idea that any one of my staff would ever be considered a last resort is absurd, as I do not employ subpar staff members. This includes those that are not employed by me, but that I have selected for a specific job. With all due respect, Octavia, you will have to trust my judgement, and I sincerely hope that you will be satisfied with her performance.” I feel like a new carriage or something, Vinyl mentally joked. After a few moments of consideration, Octavia seemed to accept Mix’s explanation, and made it known that she had no other concerns that did not pertain to the actual recording and scheduling. Following this, Mix turned to Vinyl. “Anything you want to know, Vinyl?” he enquired casually. “What kind of music do you play?” she asked, turning to Octavia, her curious gaze blocked from view. The air hung heavily after that sentence as the mare in question simply gazed at the DJ with shock and Mix was mentally scolding himself for not briefing Vinyl on this before. After a few seconds of neither pony answering her, Vinyl put forth a resoundingly confused: “What?” Octavia eventually spoke, regaining her composure and answering with confidence. “I am a cellist who plays primarily classical, with a focus on the later orchestral works and instrumental re-imaginings of vocal centric pieces.” “Oh... cool.” The interest Vinyl attempted to feign was so poorly executed that even she thought ill of herself for it. Before the silence could go on long enough to become uncomfortable, Mix cleared his throat and suggested that the group get to setting up the schedule. Both mares eagerly agreed, not wishing to engage more in anything vaguely similar to social interaction for the time being. With the non-verbal establishment of their desire to ‘just get it over with’, they created their recording schedule, and soon found themselves happily going their own ways. > (NEW) Chapter 2 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rain poured down upon Manehatten as Vinyl trudged along to her first day of work. She would normally enjoy the rain by getting soaked and proceeding to do as she pleased with her time, but her new job demanded her attention. With an umbrella over her head and determination on her mind, the DJ marched on to the recording studio. As the building came into view, Vinyl felt a little more at ease; even if she had to work with some pony she was not currently thrilled to be around, at the very least she would be in some place she enjoyed. The automatic doors parted to allow the mare inside, who promptly shook herself free of the few drops of water that clung to her mane and tail. She snapped her umbrella shut and made her way to the third recording room. The door was open when Vinyl got there and she found Octavia setting up while Mix talked. She walked in slowly and placed her umbrella in the corner as the other two ponies continued their conversation. After a few moments, Mix stopped to turn to Vinyl. “Good morning,” he greeted her warmly. “Mornin',” she replied nonchalantly before turning to Octavia to give her an acknowledging nod of her head – the cellist return the gesture with an air of confidence. Mix began to walk to the door as he spoke. “The equipment is all set up but I'll expect you'll do a full check yourself before the recording. As per Octavia's contract, you have this room for as long as you wish to record or edit on the days that you've booked it. Other than that, all the best with the recording and come find me if you are in dire need of something important.” With that, the stallion trotted out of the room and left the mares to themselves. Vinyl went to close the door before stepping over to the controls to do a check, as Mix had suggested. As she fiddled with all the little buttons, knobs, and sliders, a small smile crept onto her face. “I'm not sure how you scored this room,” she said without looking to the other pony, “especially with almost unlimited access too.” With a slight tilt of her head, though Vinyl could not see it, Octavia replied, “What do you mean by that?” “This is Mix's personal recording room, though you might not think it 'cause it looks just like all the others, but it's his.” The DJ rested her hooves against the console as she warmly recalled the memories made in this room. Back when Mix was starting out, it had just been a storage room, perpetually filled with boxes until the day he converted it. During that time, the storage room was the common place for the pair to spend time together, musing or simply relaxing. She drifted away from the memories, coming back to the present and Octavia, who had responded to Vinyl's remark but had been completely ignored in favour of pleasant memories. “If there are no more nostalgic history lessons,” the cellist spoke up, aware that she had been previously ignored, “I would like to get started.” Vinyl finished with checking the console and turned around. “Sounds good – everything here is good to go when you are.” Octavia entered the sound booth, the door shut behind her while the DJ situated herself in a more comfortable fashion at the console. Switches were flicked, buttons pressed, sliders slid, and the red light lit up brightly. The cellist began to play as Vinyl sat at the controls, silently listening and observing. While classical was a genre she was not very fond of, it was still possible for her to appreciate the talent of a musician – and Octavia definitely had talent. Despite having only listened to her play for mere moments, Vinyl could already say, without a doubt, that the mare she was recording for possessed impressive skill with her instrument. Inside the booth, Octavia played her music with eyes closed and her form composed. She slid the bow along the strings in fluid movements, as natural to her as breathing and as frictionless as water. The notes weaved together like silk, forming a shawl of musical warmth and comfort, with only a subtle hint of sadness. The cellist imagined the faces of hundreds of ponies, constantly amazed by the sounds she produced for them in such a pleasing fashion. In her mind, she looked out across the theatre as her music ended and their hearts melted. When she opened her eyes to the inside of the sound-booth, she found herself faced with a different sight: she saw Vinyl, relaxed and looking only vaguely interested at the console. Even if she told herself she could care less about what this mare thought of her music, she still felt her heart sink ever so slightly. “Good take,” the mare at the console said through the speaker. “You want to give 'er another or move on?” Octavia briefly considered another run at the song, but decided against it. “I would like to move on to the next piece, thank you.” Besides, her subconscious nagged, maybe a different one will capture her attention. The cellist poised herself for another masterpiece and began to play on Vinyl's queue. With the same effortless grace as before, the mare created a tapestry of sound, designed to please those with a discerning ear. This piece was full of subtle tones, meant to pull a pony in to feel the rise and fall of the emotions in her strings – it would leave them pleasantly confused, stuck between a warm joy and a cool sadness. The song faded out, ending with a weighted softness, like a slow, heavy snowfall. Octavia opened her eyes more eagerly this time, anticipation subtly dancing within them, and looked to the mare at the console once more. Again, she stared straight at the machine in front of her, no hint of the usual expression that crowds normally wear when the cellist plays. This time, however, she had her hoof raised to her chin in a thoughtful manner, and Octavia waited for her to speak. “Pretty good,” she finally remarked, rubbing her chin. “There's something a bit off, but I think it could probably be fixed with a little level adjustment.” Vinyl was trying her best to look natural, afraid that the mare in the booth might see through her guise – she had become rather impressed by the cellist, going as far as to enjoy her music, but she was in no hurry to let that fact be known. Her fear of admission stemmed from her attitude towards classical musicians, whom she viewed as stuffy and conceited ponies, who looked down their noses at ponies such as herself. The belief the DJ currently held was that Octavia would either mock her for being interested when acting as though she were not during their first meeting, or that she would insult her for being somepony that did not have the taste to ever properly appreciate her music. Neither outcome was inviting to Vinyl, so she chose to feign disinterest and act relaxed. Meanwhile, Octavia was feeling the sting of the other mare's words – 'pretty good'. Not once could she recall being told that her music was only 'pretty good', for even when she was studying under the most critical of musical professors, she had never failed to impress. What gave this mare the right to not be swept off her hooves by her music? The cellist wished to simply say that Vinyl had no taste for music, but something kept her from truly believing that. Even if she thought a pony had no taste, they were at least forced to embarrassingly attempt to avoid commenting on her music, for they could not say anything negative about it without looking a fool. While Vinyl had not said anything particularly negative, she had remarked on the music without being won over, which was as good as an insult to Octavia “An EQ tweak should do it,” Vinyl noted aloud, taking them both back to the present, “but we could always just re-recorded, if you want.” With a cool demeanour, Octavia spoke in a slightly passive-aggressive tone, made almost too subtle by her dry accent. “Well, if you-” She made sure to emphasize the 'you', “-believe that it is unnecessary to re-record, then let us continue on.” Unsurprisingly, Vinyl did not pick up on the cellist's tone and carried on with her work, preparing for the next song. With a small huff to herself, Octavia readied her instrument once more and tried to focus on her music. As she played the next piece, however, she could not help but think of how Vinyl acted towards her and, more importantly, her music. All the while the DJ listened on in silence, aware that something was different about her client's playing this time, and scrunched her nose slightly as she thought on it. The cellist made no attempt at subtly when she stared out at the mare working the console, continuing to play as she saw the discontent on the mare's face. Her bow slipped a little in her hooves and cause her to play a series of notes completely foreign to her current piece of music. Fumbling to regain control of her bow, Octavia tried her best to ignore the frown on Vinyl's lips. She finished out the song unconvincingly, aware that there was little chance that the DJ would be impressed now if she had not already been thus far. Vinyl was desperately thinking of something to say in this situation. While she wanted to simply speak her mind, she knew it would be out of line for her to do so, and she did not feel comfortable banking on her being the only available technician to keep her job safe. Squirming mentally, the DJ frantically searched for something she could do to make this whole scenario better – the cellist had been a great musician thus far, and Vinyl was unsure of what had caused this sudden drop in performance. Perhaps it had just been some very avant-garde piece of music she did not understand? I doubt it, she answered herself. Octavia doesn't seem the type for experimental music. Whatever's the case, I've got to do something, right? “I think the recording messed up,” she blurted out without another thought. “Yup, definitely screwed up. Looks like we'll have to redo that one.” While she had not consciously planned that idea, she was giving herself a mental pat on the back for the quick thinking. Octavia, for her part, was left a little shocked in the recording booth. She had been all too aware of how poor her last performance must have sounded, and was afraid she would be doomed to face a legitimate insult about her music. However, fate seemed to be on her side – even if she did not believe in such things – and it looked as though she was in the clear. The performance would still leave a sour taste in her mouth, but at least she had hope to move on with today. “Such is life,” the cellist announced confidently, trying to bolster her own morale. “I will simply play again, and hope there are fewer technical errors.” Had she not be so thankful for this mishap, there would have been more venom in her words, but she was far too relieved to be angry at the moment. Outside the booth, Vinyl was about to retort, not enjoying being accused of making mistakes with equipment, but realized how that would ruin her attempted fix. She kept mostly quiet, offering an affirming hum and nod, focusing on the console again. They set up for another recording, both of them hoping for a better performance this time around. With determination, Octavia banished the thoughts clouding her mind, breathing deeply before starting her music again. Once she did, she had regained her previous gusto and skillful handle on her craft, performing the piece as it was meant to be. The faint hint of a smile came to the cellist's face as she played on with grace and confidence. At the console, Vinyl was noting the return of Octavia's skill after the brief mishap, and continuing to enjoy herself in secret. Something about the whole thing seemed a little dirty, as if she was not meant to be enjoying herself – at least, not in this way. Never before had she needed to hide her interest in music before; the concept was alien to her, and perhaps that was why she felt as though it was wrong. Vinyl concluded that she did not know how to feel about the situation, but knew that she enjoyed Octavia's music – she could figure out how her demons worked in her free time. As the cellist played out the end of her song, the door to the studio opened slowly. Vinyl turned to see Mix enter the room and flash her a friendly smile. His attention turned to the booth as he noticed Octavia finishing the current piece just in time to open her eyes and turn to see him. “How's the recording going?” he asked the DJ casually. “Oh, pretty good,” Vinyl replied calmly, intent on not saying anything about the one ill-performed take. “Like you said: she's definitely no two-bit hack.” He laughed a little as Octavia began to exit the booth. “Good to hear. Ah, Octavia, I trust that all is well so far?” “It is,” she replied in her characteristically cool tone, choosing, like Vinyl, to keep mention of the earlier mishap to as little as possible. “What brings you back so soon?” “I got a call from a client unable to make it in today, so I figured I'd swing by to see how things were going.” As Mix spoke, his eyes were inclined towards Vinyl, a brotherly concern noticeable behind his relaxed demeanour. Octavia caught sight of this and understood that he was here to check up on the mare at the console, worried about how she would be handling her job. This reminded the cellist of her previous uneasiness about the Vinyl's employment, and she now also cast a look to the mare. Aware of the other ponies' gazes, the DJ spoke with the intent of freeing herself from them. “Well thanks, Mix,” she tried not to sound nervous with their eyes on her, “but we've only gotten a few tracks recorded, and I'm sure Octavia wants to keep working.” The other two ponies shared a quick glance before Mix nodded and excused himself while wishing the mares good luck. Octavia and Vinyl looked to each other briefly, gazes quizzical but hardly telling, before returning to their work. * * * * * * * * * * Vinyl yawned and looked up to a clock mounted upon the wall: 1:17 – she had not noticed noon come and go. A growl in her stomach helped her realized that not only would she need some more coffee, but that her body was also seeking nourishment. Octavia had just finished out the second take of the album's final song and was setting her cello upon its stand. The booth door opened effortlessly as she stepped outside and turned immediately to the mare at the console. “I was thinking of going for lunch,” Vinyl announced as she swung herself free of her chair. She looked at the other mare for a moment, silent before she continued. “Do you want to come with me?” The cellist stared back for a moment, slightly taken aback by the question. “Is that really proper procedure for a sound technician?” “Meh, maybe not.” The DJ regained her confidence, trotting by Octavia and opening the door to the hall. “But I figure that while we're on break, we don't have to be professionals.” “I believe we may have slightly different concepts of professionalism, but I see no harm in having lunch together.” Vinyl stepped out into the hallway and waited for Octavia before closing the door behind her. “So where do you want to go?” “I'm not terribly familiar with the area, but a quaint bistro with a patio would be lovely if while the weather allows it.” As they walked down the halls the DJ began to regret asking the cellist to lunch. What in Equestria was I thinking? she scolded herself. I was just going to grab a sandwich and hay fries or something at a fast food place, but there's not way Octavia would even step anywhere near there. Part of her began to question why she cared so much about what this other mare thought of her choice of eating establishments – it was no pony's matter except her own. Once again, Vinyl did not have a clear cut answer as to why these thoughts were plaguing her, so she set them aside to deal with the problem at hoof. “Well,” she began nervously, “we could swing by and see if Mix has a suggestion – he's always going out for lunch and stuff with clients.” “If he's not too engaged in any work, I would like to hear his suggestion.” The pair turned a corner and made for the studio's head office. When they reach their destination, they found the door open, looking in to see Mix sitting at his desk with a stack of paper work. Octavia tapped on the opened door gingerly as she waited to enter. Quickly, but in no rush, the beige stallion lifted his head, looking to the door to give a small smile. “What can I do for you two?” he asked casually. The two mares entered and Vinyl took the lead. “We were going to go get lunch-” Mix raised a eyebrow. “-and were wondering if you could recommend somewhere good nearby.” “Of course,” Octavia chimed in, “if you have not take lunch already, we would be more than welcome to have you as well.” Mix was silent for a few moments before answering, giving the DJ an inquisitive stare. “Thank you for the offer, but I had already had my lunch – perhaps I can take you up on the offer another time. There's an excellent cafe called Bridle Bites just a block south of here – it has a wonderful selection of lunch options and a patio that is quite lovely this time of the year.” He looked out of his window at a now clear summer sky. “Especially when the rain lets up.” “That sounds lovely indeed,” Octavia responded, the slightest hint of warmth in her voice. “We appreciate the information.” “Not a problem. Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have a fair amount of paperwork to get done, and even if that wasn't the case, I wouldn't want to keep you from lunch.” “Thanks, Mix,” Vinyl chimed in happily, relieved to no longer be stuck in that predicament. Mix nodded as the mares left his office and made their way to the exit doors. As they walked through the reception room, Vinyl noticed a few sets of eyes on her and Octavia as they left together. The DJ may have been used to being the centre of attention in clubs, but the way ponies had been looking at her today had not made her incredibly comfortable. Feels like I'm being constantly judged, she thought. What, am I in high school again? When the pair had finally left the studio, Vinyl took a breath and revelled in the warmness of the air. She turned her head south could already see the patio of the cafe down the street. They started down the street, passing by a few other restaurants and retail stores as they went. As they walked by them, Vinyl recognized most of the fast food places that she had been to, specifically noting a rundown looking redish-brown building then her and Mix had eaten more than a couple of hay fries at during late nights. “I take it you don't come here that often either?” Octavia asked, breaking Vinyl's thought. “Hm?” was the only response the DJ made. “Seeing as you immediately decided to ask Mix for suggestions, I thought that perhaps you were, like me, not too familiar with this area.” Hooves clicked on the ground as the two walked in silence, Vinyl giving her response after a few moments of though. “I guess that does make sense.” Octavia was slightly flustered by the other mare's inability to actually answer her question but let it slide as they approached the cafe. A bright-eyed young mare greeted them as they stepped onto the premises and asked them if they'd like a table inside or on the patio. The cellist asked for a patio seat and Vinyl nodded along. They were quickly shown to a table, the waitress giving them menus as they sat and asked them if they'd like a drink while the decided on their orders. The pair ordered coffee and then turned their attention to the menus as they wait for the waitress to return. When she did, both mares placed their orders and thanked the waitress as they returned the menus. “Really, Vinyl,” Octavia groaned, “do you need that much sugar?” As another cup of sugar plopped into the dark brown liquid, Vinyl looked up at the cellist with a small scowl. “What's wrong with sugar?” she grumbled, placing her shades upon the table. The cellist sighed and sipped her coffee, which remained black and sugarless. “There is nothing wrong with a bit of sugar, for ponies who cannot appreciate the flavour, but the amount you've put in is simply appalling.” “This is how my brain likes coffee, so it's how I make coffee – I have no control over what I like and how I like it. If you have some way of changing your tastes, good for you, but I'm perfectly fine with the way mine are.” With a bit of a huff, the DJ took a swig of her coffee as Octavia sat silently. She stopped to consider Vinyl's words – something she had surprised herself by doing more than once lately. When she thought about it, the mare across from her really did have a point: ponies cannot control how their brains are wired, and insulting somepony for the tastes was akin to insulting them for their eye colour – they were simply born with it. She could argue on the grounds of acquired tastes, but even that was within the brain's limit, and often only reaching tolerance – eating dirt for years is likely to make you hate it less, but it would hardly make one grow fond of it. The two mares drank their coffee in silence for a few moments before Vinyl found the will to strike up a new conversation. “So how are you feeling about the album so far?” she asked casually. “It's coming along quite well,” Octavia's collected response came. “Despite that little hiccup?” The coffee cup that had been calmly moving to the cellist's lips stopped abruptly. She looked at the dark liquid and realized that the mare across from her very likely had noticed her poor perform earlier that day. For Vinyl's part, she was not entirely sure why she had brought this up – the whole point of the initial lie of a recording error was to avoid allowing Octavia to be aware that she knew she slipped up. She had the chance to pretend that she meant the fake recording error, but she would have to act upon it now, if that was her choice. “Not everything goes perfectly,” Octavia responded, holding her cup firmly as she looked at Vinyl. “I would not be where I am if I assumed everything always worked out as plan.” She was lying to herself, blatantly: if she had truly believed that, she would have never became flustered by the DJ's seeming lack of interest in her music. A part of her still hoped that the other mare was simply referring to the recording error, and worded her response ambiguous enough to work for either option. Vinyl nodded, deciding that her demons would only continue to win if she held back. “That's true, but saying that it didn't go perfectly is underselling it a bit.” “Well, the recording-” “I lied about the recording.” There it was – Octavia knew now that, without a doubt, Vinyl was aware of how lacking her performance had been. She had not, however, even considered that the recording error was a lie, and had thought it to simply be a relieving coincidence. Both mares remained silent as they considered their next words in this conversation. Before they could get there though, the bright-eyed waitress from before returned with their food in tow, placing it on the table and wishing them a pleasant meal. They put on their happy faces, smiling and thanking her, waiting until she was long gone to return to each others' attention. Vinyl lifted her sandwich up to her lips and took a bite, chewing fully before saying a word. “I'm sorry about lying,” she said, as if offering her condolences. “I just didn't want you to feel worse about it.” “Worse?” Octavia replied curiously, not yet touching her meal. “Yeah, you obviously had something bad on your mind to be slipping up like that, and I knew you were probably beating yourself up about it afterwards.” The cellist scowled, a facial expression she was not used to making. “And how do you know all this? We've just met, and you aren't a musician like me, so what makes you think you are so entitled to be able to know my emotions?” “I'm not a classical musician, and I play in a much different setting than you, but I perform all the same. Having negative thoughts messes up anypony trying to perform their art.” 'Their art' – those words struck Octavia and made her realize that Vinyl did have some concept of how she might feel. When she remembered how the DJ asked her about what she played, but she had never returned the question – she never stopped to consider that Vinyl ways involved with music passed just recording. “I never considered...” Vinyl took another bite from her sandwich, her head hung slightly. “I didn't mention it, so you couldn't have known.” “I am terribly sorry for taking that tone with you, Vinyl – it was incredibly rude, and not at all proper of me.” “Hey, don't be down about it – I was the one acting like I knew you and talking about personal shit when we barely know each other.” The pair became silent as Octavia finally began eating her meal. For a time, they simply listened to the sounds of the city; the birds twittered in the distance, ponies trotted this way and that, and the hum of life buzzed gently in their ears. When the cellist finished her food and found herself staring into the clear blue sky, she looked back and the mare across from her. “Why did you lie about the recording?” she asked candidly, no attempt at her cool demeanour. Also looking away, Vinyl brought her gaze back to the pony questioning her. “Because I liked hearing your music when you played it well.” A small smile found its way to Octavia's lips, and the two found themselves happily relieved of the day's burdens. > (NEW) Chapter 3 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The loud buzz of an alarm clock pulled Vinyl from the world of dreams into the world of messy sheets and frazzled hair. She sat up slowly, yawning as she brushed a hoof across her mane and looked at the time: 7:31 am. “Fuck...” she grumbled aloud. For the past week Vinyl had been getting up at what she could only consider an ungodly hour, but Mix assured her that this was 'When most normal ponies get up in the morning'. With the grace of a boulder, the DJ rolled herself out of bed and walked toward the bathroom. She tossed a halfhearted glance at herself in the mirror, catching sight of the hornets' nest that was currently her mane. A noise, half chuckle half sigh, escaped her lips as she turned to the shower and began to run the water. Once it was nice and hot, Vinyl shifted aside the curtains and stepped under the streaming water, soaking her body in the soothing warmth. With the quiet thrum of her magic, the DJ grabbed a bottle of shampoo for her fur and a puffy green scrubber. She squirted the viscous liquid onto the scrubber and worked it into a lather before beginning. Once it was ready, Vinyl began to scrub at her fur in slow, circular motions. Using her magic, she worked the puffy mesh ball along her back and sides, cooing a little to herself as she scrubbed at the base of her tale. She raised her hind leg slightly to better reach along the bends and curves of her muscles, working the foamy scrubber against her fur. As she scrubbed along her inner thigh, she soon came to the sensitive region between her legs. The foamy mesh brushed against the edge of her lower lips, causing her to stop as she let out a small breath. Continuing to hold the scrubber only out of subconscious habit, Vinyl's mind switched focus as she began to slide a front hoof down along her stomach – her eyes fluttered slightly as her hoof found its way into her wet folds. She only had time to give herself a few gentle rubs before her eyes snapped open and she let out a snort of air. Ugh, I really don't have time for this, she muttered internally, reluctantly removing her hoof and placing it back on the shower floor. The disgruntled and unsatisfied DJ finished showering as quickly as possible, heading straight to the kitchen after a swift towel dry. She hovered a couple slices of bread into her toaster as she reached out a hoof to open her fridge. Her eyes scanned across the mostly barren selves, eventually catching sight of a lone bottle of beer. A frown appeared on her face as she halfheartedly shut the door, trotting over to her coffee machine. As she begun arranging the necessary components for her coffee, her mind drifted towards work, attempting to keep her thoughts from the little things nagging her about this morning. As Octavia did not record every day, Mix had Vinyl doing other work at the studio all week – and likely for the foreseeable future – to keep her income consistent, as well as an eye on her. She got stuck with a lot of minor technical issues and small tweaks all over the studio that were usually given out as small tasks across the entire staff. However, with how busy they were at this time, Vinyl was picking up the slack so that Mix could get more administrative and business work done. They could have gotten by without her, but having her made the entire operation smoother for the time being. She really did not mind the work, as it was something to keep herself busy with, and as long as she had coffee, she could even start work in the morning – she still bemoaned her fate for having to, but she always came into work ready. Today, however, was a recording day, as she just so happily remembered. Vinyl had been eagerly awaiting the next recording day, convincing herself it was because it was far more entertaining than the usual grunt work, but she would be lying to herself if she was not looking forward to hearing Octavia play again. As she thought about this, she slowly found herself becoming fixated on the brewing of her coffee – the slow drizzle of the rich, dark liquid filling the pot had her completely transfixed. The sound of toast springing up from behind her roused the DJ from her daze. She gave her head a quick shake, letting out a sigh. What's up with me today? She pushed the thoughts away and focused on getting ready for the day. Vinyl wanted to have a good day, and did not plan on letting a few questionable thoughts or events ruin that for her. * * * * * * * * * * “Good morning, Vinyl.” The DJ was not surprised to see Octavia in the studio before her – she expected as much – but she was a little stunned by the warmth in the cellist's voice. Taking this as a good sign, Vinyl put on a smile and trotted happily into the room. “Morning,” she replied casually. “What's on the schedule today?” As Vinyl situated herself at the console, Octavia opened up a second case that the DJ had not noticed and removed a violin from it. “I had been previously uncertain as to whether or not I wanted to include any non-cello pieces on this album. However, I have now decided that the variety would bring more culture and appeal to the album.” Turning around and giving her a hidden roll of her eyes, Vinyl spoke to Octavia in deadpan tone. “So, we're recording violin music today?” The cellist-also-violinist gave a small cough, clearing her throat before affirming the DJ's question with a yes and nod of her head. “I was also thinking,” the grey mare said as she entered the booth, “that since we have the room booked for today, it would be rather unnecessary of me to return to my apartment to practice while you work on anything that needs touching up here.” Vinyl thought about this, wondering if Octavia assumed there would be enough editing to allow her much time to practice. For her part, she believed that the cellist's music was in need of no real fixes, save for maybe a touch here and there, but Octavia was the client so Vinyl would do the work she was asked to. “Yeah, we can go over the tracks for you once you're done, and you can practice while I do whatever needs to get done.” Octavia seemed pleased about this and proceeded to close the booth door and prepare to play. With that, the mare at the console worked her usual magic and the red light lit up. Without the need to mask her interest, Vinyl listened eagerly, curious about Octavia's performance with a violin. Unsurprisingly to the DJ, her client's skill with a violin was nothing short of breathtaking. A slow, melancholy melody filled the booth, flooding into the recording equipment and, more importantly, into Vinyl's heart. She could not help herself from being overtaken by the music, and soon she found herself crying behind the cover of her oversized shades. These were not sobs that wracked her very soul, or the simple sniffles of a filly, but a shade between – these were warm, soft tears, cried out in slow murmurs. Mustering all her willpower, Vinyl managed to stop her crying before the song ended, wiping away the tears that would be most obvious to the mare inside the booth – she may have been okay with expressing her enjoyment of Octavia's music, but she had no intention of being a gibbering wreck in front of her. It took a moment for her to realize the cellist had stopped playing, turning her head to the booth and flashing a quick smile to cover any suspicions that may have been arising. “Definitely no worries about that one,” she announced over the speaker, “you play the violin quiet well.” “I would hardly be doing a professional recording,” she replied coolly, “for an instrument I could not play well.” There was the tiniest glimmer of joy in Vinyl when Octavia had said 'professional recording', remembering that she was recording for a very well known musicians. Earlier in the week, the DJ had done a little searching about to see just how well known the cellist was – when she realized the scale of her success she almost shrunk back at the mere thought of it. On the surface, Vinyl would always play up an uncaring attitude about the success of other ponies, but she had, quite honestly, begun to feel more than a tad inadequate next to Octavia. That, on top of her erratic moods had been making her plan of having a good day harder to realize. “Ready for the next?” the mare at the console asked, trying her best to focus on her work. After a little shuffle to readjust herself, Octavia raised her violin to its position. “Ready.” * * * * * * * * * * The pair passed the time until lunch with relative ease – between the recording of new tracks and a few additional takes on previous ones, Octavia had yet to do any of the practice she had suggested earlier. As the cellist stepped out from the booth she immediately, though not too swiftly or eagerly, turned to Vinyl. “Would you like to do lunch again, Vinyl?” “Sure, sounds good,” the other mare replied, hopping off from her seat at the console and following Octavia out the door. “Do we want to go to the same place again, or look for something different?” The cellist pondered this for a moment as they walked down the halls. “I do not recall seeing anything that particularly sparked my interested when we were out last – I quite enjoyed that café and would not mind visiting it again.” “'Kay.” Vinyl rolled her eyes behind her shades, thinking to herself that Octavia could have said that the same place was fine. They continued on, destination set as they exited the studio, promptly turning down the street. “Ah, we forgot to ask Mix if would be interested today,” the cellist announced after they walked a block. “He did say he would take us up on the offer another time.” Vinyl hummed and nodded her head. “Yeah, but we can always just invite him next time.” She had said it without much thought, and did not notice the vaguely intrigued look Octavia had given her – whether or not she consciously planned on having lunch with the cellist again, she had subconsciously taken it for granted. “Indeed we can,” Octavia replied, dropping her gaze from Vinyl and deciding to forgo looking into the meaning of the other mare's words. The two were silent for a time as they continued to walk to the café. Birds chirped over head, the sky bright and clear as the city beneath it hummed with life, busying itself with its own affairs. The gentle clip-clop of hooves against pavement resonated around them, mixing with the sound of their own steps. They soon found themselves at the café and where met by the same bright-eyed mare as before, who greeted them with a smile and tone of familiarity, despite this being only the second time they had encountered each other. After they were seated and given menus, the mare promptly left to fetch them coffee. “She's a friendly one, isn't she?” Octavia announced more than asked. Vinyl nodded as she flipped through the menu. “Yeah, maybe a little too peppy, but she's nice enough.” Once she had decided on her lunch, the DJ closed the menu and looked up to find the cellist looking at her thoughtfully. “Something on your mind?” “Well,” she replied, clearing her throat and promptly shifting her gaze, “I was curious about the recording incident last week and-” The mare across the table waved a hoof dismissively as she set her shades upon the table. She was about to respond when the waitress return with the coffee and asked to take their orders. They placed them quickly, Octavia picking the same order she had last week as she had not read the menu today. Once the young mare left, Vinyl turned back to the cellist. “Look, it's no biggy – you had a slip-up, I lied a little, but you're good now and I owned up to it.” “I understand all of that, however, I am curious as to why you lied about the recording.” A small scowl formed on the DJ's lips as she began stirring sugar into her coffee. “What, didn't you believe me before – I like your music, is that so hard to accept?” “No, it is not hard to accept that you like my music because, quite frankly, so many ponies enjoy my music it would be more unbelievable if you did not.” “So what, you're super popular and plenty of highbrow ponies like you music? Am I not supposed to because I'm a DJ?” Octavia furrowed her brow, sipping her coffee as she stared at the mare across from her who was becoming increasingly disgruntled. “Why would you even think I was insinuating that?” “Because classical musicians always look down on modern artists and DJ's.” At this point, Vinyl's expression was a mixture of anger and remorse, and Octavia was beginning to see what was bothering her. “Vinyl,” she said softly, lowering her eyes to gaze into the dark liquid in her cup, “I'm sorry if you have a poor opinion of classical musicians, and I understand that there are those among us that look down upon newer styles of music and those that promote them. However, you cannot go around holding everypony to your unfair biases just because you feel like some of them have wronged you.” The DJ relaxed her features, looking at the contemplative cellist across from her. Taking a moment to also reflect upon the surface of her coffee, she let out a sigh and looked back up at Octavia. “Yeah, you're right – it's not fair of me to be saying shit like that without even asking you about it. I've always just assumed that anypony that plays classical music would think less of me for being a DJ, like I'm not good enough for their music.” “Music is a personal affair, Vinyl, even when we treat it professionally – I doubt I need to explain that to you, if you really do care about music. You told me last week that a pony cannot control how their tastes work. Yes, you can expose yourself to new and different kinds of foods and acquire diverse tastes as you age and experience more, but your tastes will always be your tastes, no matter what happens – you were always going to enjoy current kinds of foods, and dislike others. Is music not the same way? Why is it that some ponies enjoy classical music while others do not? Is one group wrong and the other right? No, it is all about personal taste. “I won't pretend that I have not had my fair share of looking down upon new genres – in my college years I was convinced that electronic music was nothing but a fad, a flavour of the month that would eventually end up in some trash bin where it belonged. Some ponies never get over these sorts of views and biases, but most of us realize, at one point or another, that it's all just personal tastes. There's good and bad when it comes to technique, structure, and the like, but at the end of the day, none of that matters if you are not happy listening to the music.” Octavia sighed and cast a look out to the city streets and the ponies that past by. “Quite honestly, though, I am blowing a little hot air – if it were not for you being the one recording for me and what you said about taste, I would not have have spent time this past week thinking on the subject. So, as odd as it seems to me, I want to thank you for making me realize this, because certainly no pony else was going to.” As those last word left the cellists lip, the mare across from her sat stunned in silence. Vinyl had spent so much time worrying that Octavia looked down upon her for being a DJ, but her she was, thanking her for something she never even intended to do. Not since her college years with Mix had Vinyl felt like she had truly done anything worthy of anypony's thanks, but here it was, coming from the most unlikely of places. She felt the genuine appreciate the cellist expressed to her, and it made her feel quite pleasant inside. “You're welcome, I guess?” the DJ eventually muttered happily, a hint of a giggle in her words. “I hope you don't think I was trying to make you think about all that – not that it ain't great that you did, but I was never trying to make anything happen except explain my coffee habits.” Looking back to Vinyl with a small smile, Octavia nodded her head a little. “I assumed that this revelation of mine was not your intended doing, and that you would more than likely be surprised by it, but it is still your doing all the same. If you don't mind, though, I would still like a clear answer to my previous question: why did you lie about the recording?” “Well, if it isn't obvious by now, I don't have the best opinion of classical musicians, and I had always thought classical was rather boring. Now, hey, it's not like I couldn't appreciate the work and everything that went into the stuff, but it just didn't stick with me like other music did – it felt kinda lifeless. But then I heard you play, and, well, it was really good. It went against all my beliefs on classical music, and I didn't really know how to feel about it. On top of that, I kept thinking that you'd just turn your snout up at me if I bothered to say anything nice about your music, so I acted as indifferent as possible. “The lie about the recording, though, was a lot less thought out – I just blurted it out at the time. Honestly, I wanted you to go back to playing well for myself. So, yeah, I really just lied to get something for myself... big surprise.” As if the waitress had a penchant for bringing their food at the least opportune moment, the bright-eyed mare appeared again. After the pair thanked her she departed quickly, though Octavia swore she saw her take another look at them before she left. When she turned back, Vinyl had already began eating. “You're being too hard on yourself,” the cellist said, taking another sip of her coffee as she eyed her food. “You told me yesterday that you did not me to feel worse about my lack luster performance, remember?” The DJ stopped eating for a moment but did not look up. “Yeah, but I also said I lie, remember?” “If you are somepony that lies, why go and admit that? It just makes it harder to get away with lying.” “Exactly.” Unsure of how to continue approaching the subject, Octavia took the moment to begin eating her food. The dish was the same as the last time, so when she spent more time watching Vinyl than paying attention to how her food tasted it hardly mattered – she knew what to expect without giving it any mind. Between every bite she would spare a look up to the mare across from her, who was always looking down or away from the cellist. As the pair got a good way through their meal, Octavia eventually grew tired of the current state of affairs. “I'm sorry if I encroached on a personal matter,” she spoke up, dabbing her lips with a napkin. Vinyl finished the last bite of her meal, swallowing slowly before finally look back at Octavia. “No, I'm sorry about ruining a perfectly fine lunch by acting like a mopey teenager.” “I'm sure you have your reasons.” “Hah, yeah, bad ones.” The DJ gave a weak smile as she turned her stare out to the street. “They say we all have our reasons, but I wonder sometimes, do we always want to know what those reasons are?” The cellist gave a nod before finishing of her meal. “Well, how about we pay for this and make our way back to the studio?” “Sounds good to me.” Octavia ushered the waitress over, much to her delight, thanking her again and asking for the bill. In a moment she returned with a small piece of paper that was their bill and set it upon the table, taking away their dishes as the two mares fished out their money. Once they had paid, the pair got up, Octavia making sure to give the bright-eyed mare an appreciative nod before they departed. “If we come back here,” the cellist said as they made their way down the street, “I should make a point to get that mare's name.” Vinyl adjusted how her shades rested upon her face as they walked. “Didn't she say what her name was in her little spiel the first time?” “She likely did, but I will admit that I have forgotten it all but completely. Nevertheless, I would like to more formally make her acquaintance.” “Whatever floats your boat,” Vinyl muttered disinterestedly, far more keen on listening to Octavia play music rather than her talk about formal meetings. The pair continued on in silence until they reached the studio, entering and quickly making their way to their workroom. Once they were settled back in, Vinyl began the process of going over the album with Octavia – they picked out which takes were the best, decided against any whole-out retakes, and only found a bit here and there that could do with some touch-up. Evidently, the cellist had not taken into account how long reviewing the album would take, and soon realized that it was getting late – her practice would have to wait for another time. As Octavia packed up her instruments, Vinyl turned off the equipment and reflected on the day. Overall, she decided, today had been a good day, meaning that her goal for the day had be realized and she could go home happy. True, a part of her wanted to stay here, listening to Octavia play her wonderful music, but she knew that was not going to happen. She let out a small sigh and slipped off her chair at the console. As she did, the cellist finished packing and turned to her. “I have recently found myself without anypony to accompany me to a concert this Saturday,” she dove in without hesitation. “I was wondering if, perhaps, you may be interested in accompanying me.” Vinyl was surprised by the sudden invitation, and took a moment before she responded to think. “I assume it's a classical show?” “It is, but it is by a most wonderful quartet that has never failed to impress me – their music really is inspiring.” “Well, I guess I'm not really doing anything Saturday anyways-” “Excellent, it's settled then.” The DJ gave Octavia a sharp stare from behind her shades, but this was another look that would go unnoticed by the other. “The concert is a tad earlier than most – five o'clock, to be precise – so I believe we should do dinner after instead of the usual case of before.” Once again, Vinyl was taken aback. “Dinner?” “Yes, Vinyl, dinner – we can hardly go to see a splendid concert such as this and not make a night of it.” “Oh, alright.” Octavia furrowed her brow and gave the DJ a questioning gaze. “What, is something the matter with dinner?” “Nah, it's just that I never figured you to be the 'make a night of it' type of pony, even if it's not as wild as, say, when I make a night of it.” “I may not go gallivanting around, boozing and engaging in questionable activity, but I know how to have an enjoyable night out.” “Hey,” the DJ began as she trotted towards the door, “nothing wrong with a chill evenin' – that can be cool too.” Once she got to the door, Vinyl turned to see the cellist had collected her instruments and was heading to the door as well. “So, it's at five, right – when and where do you want me showing up?” The pair had now exited the recording room and were making their way down the hall as they spoke. “Do you know where the Hoofington hotel is?” “Yeah, up on Main in the old downtown.” “Indeed. I live in the apartment adjacent to the Hoofington – come to my apartment at four-thirty, if you could, so we have time to get to the concert hall and be relatively early.” “I hope 'relatively early' doesn't mean I'm going to be sitting around for too long.” Octavia shook her head as the exited the studio. “No, Vinyl, you won't have to wait long before the show. Now, I do hope you have something suitable to wear.” “Ugh, I have to be early AND get dressed up?” The cellist simply gave Vinyl a hard glare in response. “Fine, fine. Yeah, I've got a nice dress that I only ever wear when I go with Mix to big industry events – I'm sure it's good for this.” “So long as you attend in formal attire, you should be alright. Now then, we're all settled on the matter?” “Mhm, I'll dress nice, show up at your place around four-thirty, and then we'll go to the show, followed by dinner – make a night of it, right?” Octavia seemed rather satisfied with this response and bade Vinyl goodbye as she trotted off towards her home. The DJ watched silently as the cellist walked down the street with her instruments slung over her back and sides, swaying with each quick step of the gray mare's hooves. Looking up to the sky as it slowly grew darker, Vinyl agreed with herself once more: today definitely had been good. > (OLD) And So It Began > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > (OLD) Can one day truly be like all the others? > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > (OLD) Who do you really know? > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > (OLD) "Hello...?" > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > (OLD) About last night > --------------------------------------------------------------------------