Today was the Painting, but the artist was invisible. The auburns and oranges danced over their green canvas, transforming summer into autumn in a manner less like the turning of a clock or the crashing of waves, and more like glass cracking underwater. Some ponies had wandered out to Whitetail Wood to watch the transformative moment unfold, while most went about their day with the same unperturbed air that only lifelong inhabitants of a world of magic could affect in the face of such an experience.
Vinyl Scratch, ever the aficionado of those many talents she could not grasp for herself, felt proud to count herself among the former. Today, she laid back on rapidly yellowing grass to watch the verdant canopy transform into nature's most brilliant imitation of a sunset. She had dressed as casually as a white unicorn with an electric blue mane could, donning a grey hoodie that offended the fashion-conscious eye so masterfully that it made her functionally invisible. While it certainly wasn't flattering, it afforded her the privacy she needed to enjoy the Painting.
The world was clearer than usual today. This wasn't because of any personal revelation on Vinyl's part, instead being the result of her wearing a different pair of glasses. Specifically, the ones with one lens shattered beyond repair, and enchanted against replacement by Vinyl's own horn. Any sensible pony would have thrown them out long ago, or at the very least refuse to wear them when given the choice of several hundred pristine pairs.
That is, assuming that sensibility and sentimentality were mutually exclusive. Vinyl had always assumed so, anyway.
The point was that her broken pair of glasses meant something more to Vinyl Scratch than a cautionary tale about partying too hard. They were a snapshot she could wear, an all-encompassing reminder of one of the most beautiful moments in her entire life.
It had been at a gig, of course. Much as Vinyl could appreciate the more mainstream beauties the world could offer, she always seemed to find the very best of Equestria in pulse-pounding nightclubs drenched in sweat. She had been playing one of her most intense numbers, while at the same time moshing with her fans down below the turntables, a luxury of audience participation reserved for unicorn DJs. The crowd had worked itself into a fervor that seemed devoid of thought, transformed from a herd of ponies with an appreciation for contemporary music into a collection of random impulses travelling through a network of fleshy extremities.
Vinyl hadn't been much better, only more singular. The fury of her head-thrashing reached a point, as it often did, where it caused her signature glasses to fly right off her face and skid along the floor. There was a brief moment of panic somewhere amidst the mosh, but a toss of her head and a flash of red in her eyes wiped away the last shred of sanity left in her audience. Concerns of safety or of their idol's image safely eradicated, the party was ready to really get started.
Vinyl had switched tracks, flawlessly blending the crescendo of the first number into the opening notes of the second without the audience even realizing a shift. As the drums kicked in, she had let loose with her homebrew strobe-light spell, the Scratch Special. While some of the mosh went blind, surrendering themselves fully to the music, Vinyl had found her attention drawn to one of the few ponies not already embroiled in the madness.
She was a slate-grey mare with a luscious long mane, who had spent most of Vinyl's time on the stage very passionately focused on her glass of wine. But when the Scratch Special danced over her, that had given her pause, and drawn her gaze to the wildly gyrating monument of revelry that was DJ PON-3 on a Friday night. As the strobe spell faded, the grey mare hadn't so much as blinked, her eyes remaining locked on Vinyl. Even as the beat intensified, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and the following moments had burned themselves into the DJ's mind.
Her lips had formed the shape of words that she wouldn't dare repeat in mixed company. The mare's eyes had widened, her cheeks had turned crimson, and she had all but jumped out of her seat to run toward Vinyl. The mosh had been blown onto their backs by a sudden blast of bass, and Vinyl seized the opportunity to leap over them and zero in on her mare. They had been moments away from contact, when one sound managed to make itself heard over the thunder of Hurricane's Demise; the shattering of glass underhoof.
A hoof laid wrong, too concerned with moving from A to B to actually consider the possibility of obstacles. A hoof that withdrew from the earth as quickly as it had come down, and a mare's face changing from animalistic elation to overwhelming regret in the space of an instant. To a groupie like her, stepping on Vinyl's shades must have felt tantamount to spitting in the face of a god. The tears welled up in her eyes, and a thousand stories of fans gone off the deep end had come springing into the forefront of Vinyl's memory. If she knew anything in that moment, she knew that she wasn't going to let that happen to one of hers.
Before the grey mare had a chance to even attempt an apology, she had found her lips clamped shut, then shortly after probed open. A hurried ceding of the turntables later, and the two mares were racing each other to whoever's hotel room had been closest.
It had been a good night. A reminder that it wasn't just the image that made DJ PON-3 such a powerful symbol, but the actions behind that image, and the kindness of the pony who wore that mask. And it had been nice to wake up next to somepony for once.
Sometimes, Vinyl wondered what her life might have been like if she'd ever asked for that mare's name. If the two of them had ever been anything more than the other's brief fling, she a star in the grey mare's eye and the mare a fleeting warmth pressed close against her chest. Would the mare have turned out to be a gifted musician, the perfect partner for a duet tour? Or would they have found themselves at odds with each other, struggling for creative control? Would Vinyl have settled down rather than lose the mare, or would they have split because she couldn't let go of fame?
She liked to think it would have turned out alright.