> Novus Initium > by Syn3rgy > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Novus Initium > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The crystalline trees and electrical wires outside the fast moving train were left unnoticed as inside, two mares argued bitterly, throwing sharp words and broken accusations at each other in an all-out, volatile argument. Vinyl didn't know what to do, and neither did Octavia, but the fact that the train was taking them to their executions impacted their behavior greatly. Normally, they’d be sent to the National Jail via a specialized high security train. Considering the recent snowfall had snowed in most tracks, however, the Equestrian Bullet-train that drove in any and all conditions-was the one and only choice. As if they were some infectious patients, they had been given a car to themselves. Flanking each entrance guard ponies stood; their faces stoic and their stares as icy as the world outside the speeding bullet. They guarded the only exit, as jumping from a train going at this speed would only serve as a premature death. “I wish I never met you,” Octavia growled, tears carving rivers down her filthy cheeks. The water droplets of emotion fell steadily off her chin and onto her battered cello case, stained at one corner by a spray of blood. “If I hadn't,” she continued, “I’d have never done those horrible things.” “But you would have, Octavia,” Vinyl responded venomously, “because like me, you have a tendency to get into the wrong stuff with the wrong ponies.” “Yes, and by wrong ponies I mean you,” Octavia countered, slitting her eyes and furiously brushing the tears away to clear her vision. “Exactly. But c’mon, you have to admit it was liberating. We all hate Canterlot, and the damn stuck up ponies that live there,” Vinyl replied, grinning ever so slightly. “I saw the look in your eyes when you…” “Don’t. Even. Remind me.” Octavia’s voice rose to a crescendo, and she shifted her weight onto her fore hooves, preparing to buck the grin clear off of Vinyl’s blood blotted face; in the flurry of action that had ensued, a stallion had gotten a good strike on her before, before…. The banging of a nightstick on the metal wall by the entrance made her flinch and turn to stare hatefully at the guard who had interrupted her actions. Like a predatory animal, she left the scene and stalked towards the pony that had been so rude. To defend his friend from the dangerous mare, the other guard raised his Taser and slid on his protective visor. “Not another move, Octavia,” he commanded, attempting to keep a fearless face, but failing miserably as the uncertainty still emanated from his eyes. In response to his façade, Octavia smiled coldly. “Come now, guard, what do I really have up against you? Last time I checked, you were the one with the armor.” “I said step back.” The guard rephrased, his hind leg shaking a bit. Unheeding to his words, Octavia pressed on. “Why are you afraid? I’m harmless.” “Don’t kid yourself.” “Oh, I don’t kid either. If you’re referring to the little scene we just left from, that was far less wrong as it was inspirational. Did you see the masterpiece I created with my bow, or the symphony I elected from the crowd?” “I said, I—” the stallion stuttered. He was clearly disturbed. The crime scene had been gruesome… “Oh, I know what you want me to do, but you see I go by my own rules as you must have already learnt,” Octavia purred. She took another step forward, and the guard pony flared his Taser, electing a buzz from the device. In a mere second or two, the two stallions from the other side of the entrance had made their way over, outnumbering Octavia four to one. Unaffected by the sudden presence, Octavia laughed and began to back off, brushing past the flanking guards nonchalantly and moving back to her seat. “No need to get your tails in a twist, colts, I was just playing around,” she said over her shoulder as she retreated. When she sat back down, Vinyl was smiling in a most cocky manner. “And you say you’re innocent?” “Keep quiet. I have no need to talk to the likes of you anymore.” “The likes of me?” “Yes, the seedy, street scum sort,” Octavia spat. Vinyl clenched her jaw, and for the first time, she felt her poisonous zeal leave her. Her face fell. “I wish I never met you either- the temptress you were. It all means nothing now though, what we had and what we lost. In the end we all die.” “Cry all you want, it wasn’t my fault. You dragged me into it,” Octavia chided, trying desperately to hide her own tears as guilt washed over her. Shaking her head bitterly, Vinyl got up and walked to the far end of the train. Her gaze fell on the horizon line; the sun, the clouds, the passing scenery. Out there, unaffected by her impending execution, Ponykind continued on in its many daily habits and routines. Farmers shoveled snow to keep their paved driveways connected to the main roads. Lovers kissed and shared fond memories, or maybe even began to make some. New life was being born into the world, and old age was fading out of it. Foals took their first steps or their first day in school. Novelists, musicians, and painters created masterpieces, while others performed for an audience. Looking over all of this motion-this energy-as if it were a giant locomotive on a train that is life, Celestia’s sun would rise and fall and Luna’s moon would take its place and it would go on and on and on and on and on…. The world was new to Vinyl. Everything was so magnificent. The trees that passed by the window of the train, armored with a glittering layer of snow- the snow itself. Its infinite diversity casting myriad patterns across the sky. And the sky! Opal blue and white like the snow. The clouds floated lazily amidst the sea of blue, traveling at their own pace to distant horizons. Traveling like her, but to what end? It seemed to evade Vinyl’s memory. Where was she going, where had she come from? The train she was on was taking her somewhere, that she knew, but what she didn’t know was where. Then again, she wanted to be like the clouds, catching a ride on the wind, so she decided to sit back and enjoy the trip. In a subconscious manner, she began to tap her hoof against the wooden floorboards, and soon, the tapping became more insistent. As she became aware of her actions, she perked visibly and looked down at her hoof. What was she doing? She tapped again and the solid strike filled her chest. Scrunching up her muzzle in curiosity she tapped a second time, and quickly followed up with a third that hit the base of the bench she was sitting on. She was amazed to find that a new noise came from the base of the seat, a hollow noise that accommodated the floor’s sound excellently. Smiling to herself she began to kick at the floor and then at the seat. She repeated this until a clear beat formed and a pattern was created. Something ticked then in her mind, and her forehoof rose to tap the windowpane; the fourth kept beat, swinging back and forth like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. She began to make a basic song. The single delicate stroke of a cello came to Vinyl’s ear. The noise reminded her of the ice that froze the trees outside. She stopped suddenly to listen, but when only silence met her searching ears, she shrugged and prepared herself to create another beat. Just as she was about to strike the floorboards again the cello rang out. This time, it was loud enough to confirm that the initial noise she heard was not fabricated, but played by another. The idea of somepony else in the train with her drove Vinyl to cautiously turn and survey her surroundings. There was a single door at the far end of the train, and above it, an aged wooden sign read ‘Novus initium’. There were windows and other chairs, but what truly drew her attention was a mare sitting by herself in the vibrant rays of sunlight. She was ash gray in color, but not dull, no, far from dull. She practically radiated with passion, and her eyes were closed as she drew her bow against the strings of her chestnut cello, electing another precious tune. Vinyl’s roguish beating of the floorboards seemed to fade in comparison. Drawn as a moth to the fire, Vinyl got up and made her way to the ashen earth pony. The approaching hoof steps made the cellist turn and look quizzically at the pony that stood in front of her. “Hello? What’s your name?” “Vinyl Scratch, and yours?” “Octavia. I’m surprised, actually.” “Why’s that?” Vinyl questioned, smiling a bit. “No one has ever taken the time to visit my section of the car. I’ve been alone for awhile now.” “So have I,” Vinyl related, sitting down opposite from the dazzling earth pony. “I decided it was time I did a bit of adventuring, so I left my side of the car and came over. That cello of yours, you’ve mastered it.” “Hardly,” Octavia said modestly, blushing. “There are many others who can do it so much better than me. I’m still learning, but I’ve made a deal with myself to become the best in all of Equestria!” Vinyl was quickly growing to like this Octavia. “You’re ambitious,” Vinyl observed. “And you aren’t? You must be, as you decided to leave your comfortable territory and visit me. “I guess you’re right.” Vinyl had never thought about herself as the ambitious sort, so the complement was received well. “Do you know where we’re going?” Octavia asked. “I don’t. Actually, I was hoping you knew.” “Sorry to let you down then,” the cellist said bashfully. “It’s not a problem. We have each other now and I plan to keep you company till we reach our destination- wherever that may be.” Vinyl added as an afterthought. “Good to know.” A genuine laugh. “Would you like to hear me play again? I’m not going to get anywhere if I don’t practice.” “I’d love to!” “Alright then.” Taking a deep breath in, Octavia exhaled and drew the bow across the string. Again that tune flowed forth, but this time it carried a prominent undertone of compassion. Soothed by the sweet music, Vinyl lost herself in the timed strokes of the cello. Slowly her gaze drew away from the musicians hoof. She began to slowly look up, following the smooth contours of Octavia’s features; her graceful neck, her rounded chin, and then, apprehensively, her closed eyes. As if feeling the music in her very soul, Octavia’s expression went from tender gratefulness to all-out satisfaction. Lost in a daze, Vinyl didn't have time to react as Octavia finished her song and opened her eyes. “Oh, um, Vinyl?” As if awakening from a deep slumber, the unicorn blushed and averted her gaze. “I’m sorry. It’s just you are, your music, I mean is so beautiful. I fell into a sort of daze—” “Do I look like a diamond dog to you?” Octavia asked, putting on a faux-suspicious stare. “You were checking me out.” “Well—” Octavia brought her hoof from her violin and put it over top Vinyl’s muzzle. The soft touch made the breath catch in her throat, and she almost choked on the next line she had planned to say. Tensing, she waited for the ridicule. “Guess what? I was checking you out as well,” Octavia admitted with a lopsided smile. In a bold move, the cellist leaned in, and Vinyl, relieved beyond imagination by the outcome of her blunder, found her head dropping until it was a mere inch away from Octavia’s waiting lips. As soon as the reality of what was happening hit, Vinyl’s heart began to speed up. Bridging the final distance between the two of them she fell into Octavia’s kiss. For a moment, or maybe a year-time had no bearing in the car- the two, connected at that one passionate point, stood stock still. It was Vinyl’s turn to be a bit more prompt, so she raised her hoof and began to stroke at Octavia’s mane, following its silky path till it ended mid-way down her back. In response, Octavia pushed against the hoof, revelling in the calm, stroking motion that her newfound mate drew from her; as a melodic tune was drawn from a bow. Before she knew it, she was pulled off her hooves and placed beside the unicorn. It was there their kissing became more aggressive, each exploring the others body, keeping contact at all times. When the kiss finally ended, Octavia had fallen against Vinyl’s side, and was breathing slowly. Pulling her hooves through Octavia’s mane for one last time, Vinyl’s hoof came to rest protectively across the cellist’s far shoulder. Pulling her in so that both their bodies were pressed against each other, Vinyl turned to gaze out the window. The world seemed so much smaller now, she understood it and it understood her. Seasons had passed since she had met the mare, and another season, right in front of Vinyl’s eyes, was rolling past. Years blurred together on the railway into the horizon; a collage of warm caresses and late nights filled with happiness and music. When the unicorn again turned to look at Octavia, she’d grown older. Her once perfect complexion had given way to the wear and tear of life. But they were still both young, and had a long trail in front of them yet. Recently, Vinyl had been having memories of a distant time, long ago and somehow, even before she was born. She remembered blood, and chaos, and a deep despair that she couldn’t quite figure out. She remembered pain, and treachery, and an impending doom. At every time Octavia would wake up, she’d ask if Vinyl had remembered where they were heading yet, and each time, the unicorn would shake her head. It was only when Vinyl forgot about her strange past that she realized exactly where she was heading, and excitedly woke her long term mate up. “What is it?” Octavia asked, yawning and pulling herself away from Vinyl to stretch. “I remember where we were headed; I also remember where we came from. “You do? We’ve been on this train for a while.” “We actually haven’t. It’s only been a few hours. Ring a bell?” Octavia eyes opened wide and she laughed. “It does!” “We came from Manehattan, right? We’re going to one of my performances in Canterlot. Oh, I’m so excited!” “You should be, we’ve been trying to get you to the Masquerade for what, five years?” “About that.” “But all that doesn’t matter anymore. We put our time in, and now we’re reaping the rewards! What melody do you think you’re going to play?” “Yann Tiersen’s.” “Which one is that again? You know I suck with all that classical stuff.” Octavia rolled her eyes and fell back against Vinyl. “Summer 78, ring a bell?” She mimicked Vinyl’s prior comment. Vinyl laughed once before nodding. “I actually really like that one, but don’t tell anypony at the club, ok?” “Is this a blackmailing opportunity?” Octavia joked. “I’m serious, Octy! You have to promise to not tell them.” “Oh all right, you're no fun. I promise then.” “Good.” Finding that she could rest easy again, Vinyl fell back against the windowsill. Passing by on the colorful horizon line, the silhouette of the National Jail rose to remind those troubled sorts exactly what they would be getting into if they made a wrong move. A strange feeling passed through Vinyl’s chest, and she shivered at the sight. Never in a thousand years would she want to be there.