//------------------------------// // Octavia chapter 4: Post-After-Afterparty // Story: Never Miss A Beat // by TaleweaverTheUnicorn //------------------------------// Octavia had some exceptionally serious concerns about what her life was evolving into. This venture was the second time in as many weeks she found herself wandering the ‘mean streets’ of Manehattan in the aftermath of midnight. She wasn’t afraid for herself as such, in the rare event somepony tried something, she was quite confident in her own hind legs and their capacity for bucking. She was, however, afraid for her reputation, and for Vinyl, who had evidently passed out, judging from the silence on the line. Octavia was not even fully confident in where she was going. Vinyl had directed her to look for the ‘bright purple club with yellow music’ and then find the ‘extra rank alleyway somewhere to the left’, neither of which were precisely hard and fast directions. Thankfully, Parish had knowledge of various clubs, and was able to make an educated guess. Octavia could already see it around the corner, purple neon glowing against the dusting of snow on the ground. The aforementioned yellow music was absent. Octavia approached it at a gallop. Nopony was here. ‘Some alley to her left’ was her next instruction, and she dutifully followed it. Vinyl is going to get a serious talking to, this time. She fumed indignantly, her rage partially insulating her against the winter chill. She peered down several alleys. There was not so much as a strand of blue mane or a hoofprint in any of them. After five to ten fruitless minutes of this, she made her way back to the club. She didn’t want to give up, but if Vinyl’s directions were this badly mistaken, she’d be combing the city all night. Maybe Vinyl didn’t know her rights from her lefts? Her train of thought derailed slightly as she spotted somepony. A small figure, trying the door to the club. Too small to be Vinyl. “H-hello?” The pony called. A fillyish voice. Young. “Are you, um, Octy?” “Ah, yes. That is me. Who are you?” Octavia seethed, but managed to present a kind smile. Did this pony know something? Only Vinyl and Parish called her that name. “C-Crossed Wires.” The filly stammered. “That’s my name, I mean. I’m a stage tech. . . But DJ Pon-3 said Octy would be coming for her, so. . . I guessed. I was trying to see if I could get her stuff, but they locked up, and I don’t have a key. . .” She trailed off.  “Where is Scratch?” Octavia took a steadying breath. “Is she. . . unharmed?” “Oh, yeah she’s okay. She has a little shelter in the alley outside my parent’s bakery. I saw her on my way home. I’m, um, kind of a big fan. . .” Wires scuffed the back of her head with a mittened hoof, blushing. Octavia tried to smile once again. “Will you take me to her? Her directions to her location were, ahem, terrible.” “Sure! She seemed to have, umm, partied pretty hard.” Wires pointed, and then started walking, glancing repeatedly behind her to make sure Octavia was following. “I’m glad she has a good friend like you, I think at least. . .” “We’re not- Yes. She is very lucky.” Octavia considered. Were friends truly what they were? Good friends? Octavia wasn’t sure of that. She continued. “Is this often what she does at shows?” “Um, well, you would probably know better than me,” Wires shrugged. “But yes, maybe? She’s a partier, and they always say things about DJs and potions and all that. . . I don’t think it’s usually this bad, though. There was this creepy guy. . .” “Creepy guy?” Octavia repeated, prompting her. This was new information. Her mind was suddenly on full alert, rage smothered by curiosity.  “Um, yeah. She called him Silver. He was being real friendly and kept buying her drinks. They even left together. But obviously Pon-3 is in this alley and not with him, and everybody knows she’s gay anyway, soooo. . .” This stopped Octavia in her tracks. She had seen as much herself, but to hear it stated so openly surprised her.  “She is. . . Public about that, then?” Octavia asked. “Yeah, of course. She always plays those kinds of clubs, and she’s talked about it plenty of times. Not to mention-” Wires stopped, blushing. “Well, that’s just gossip. I shouldn't. . .” Octavia’s already churning mind began to ratchet up into overdrive. “Tell me. If someone is spreading rumors about my, ahem, good friend, I should know what they say.” Octavia affected an air of affrontedness. The filly glanced back at her once again. “Well, she takes mares out sometimes after her shows. . .” The filly flushed a deeper red as she spoke. Octavia’s mind attempted to digest this new piece of information, and found it to be unpleasant, as if the information was a nibble of stale food. It was not that Octavia did not believe it, per se. Vinyl was, objectively speaking, an attractive mare, and Octavia had heard similar rumors about artists in Vinyl’s genres. However, something about this fact did not fit with the image of Vinyl that had been impressed upon Octavia during their lunches, that of a sweet but bumbling filly. Which Vinyl was the act? Or were both of them equally false? “Um, here’s the bakery.” Wires interrupted her thoughts once again. “She’s right in the alley there. . . I gave her a blanket but I’m glad you’re here to take care of her. . .” She stepped into the threshold of the shop, and Octavia stepped around the corner. Vinyl was, true to Wires’ word, wrapped in a thick blanket, and curled away inside a cardboard box. She fit relatively well, though the tops of her hooves would occasionally slide forward enough to touch a patch of frozen concrete, and be yanked back. Her glasses were pushed up over her horn, and her eyes were closed, though music could be heard from the headphones on her ears. Octavia approached the sleeping pony, and bent down to listen. It was an interesting piece, piano mixed with electronic noises of some kind, and soft vocals. She found a small smile on her muzzle as she pulled the speakers off the other mare’s head.  Vinyl’s eyes snapped open, staring up at Octavia. They were a shocking pale pink, not their usual ruby red. However, they held no fear, no concern. Only a faint joy, echoed by the guileless smile on her face. Octavia stared directly back. Vinyl’s eyes were still arresting in their odd state, though perhaps for a different reason. As the song playing through the untethered headphones picked back up, Vinyl pointed at it with a hoof, then pointed to her ears and Octavia’s in turn. Octavia tilted her head, confused, but pressed the speaker to her ear. The lyrics were discussing the desire to hold on to a moment, despite the party, music, and dancing coming to an end. A fading moment, longing to be held forever. Octavia glanced back at Vinyl, who nodded and smiled again. “You’re. . . glad to be here?” Octavia guessed wildly. Vinyl nodded. “Why, Vinyl? This seems a miserable place to be.” Octavia’s nose wrinkled at the smell of the warm air from the venting system. Vinyl, again, did not speak. She put her glasses back over her eyes, and pointed a hoof at Octavia. “Because of me?” Octavia said, quietly. Vinyl nodded again, and smiled. “Can you not just talk, you nonsense pony?” Vinyl let out a light chuckle, mostly soundless, and shook her head. She fiddled with her phone for a moment, then held it up for Octavia to read. “Sry no talky. happens sometimes after shows or when im real wore out” It read. Octavia looked back at Vinyl, who was slowly and carefully moving to stand up. The smell of alcohol hit Octavia’s nose, and she winced. “You smell like a brewery, Scratch.” Octavia said, taking a couple steps away. Vinyl fiddled with her phone again, but instead of a message, a song began to play instead, warbled slightly by the tiny speakers on the device. Heavy guitars and a refrain of ‘No Regrets!’ Octavia snorted. “Now I regret coming out here to help you. I have half a mind to leave you here.” Vinyl laughed again, a slightly more full-bodied sound, and began to play the beginning of a new song. ‘I never meant to be so bad to you-’. Octavia rolled her eyes. Vinyl cut that song off, and began hunting for something else. “I will take you somewhere warm if you agree to stop that.” Octavia said, attempting to push the phone out of Vinyl’s magic cloud, but the substance held it tight. “Stop it, Scratch. You’re looking for something embarrassing.” Vinyl paused, as if considering, then nodded, smirking infuriatingly. “Come on then. Let us get a cab.” Octavia moved towards the mouth of the alley, keeping an eye on Vinyl. To her dubious credit, she managed to walk reasonably well. At least until she cleared the walls and entered the open street. Then she stumbled. Octavia rushed to support her. “Oh, goodness, my poor coat. Very well, you may- Hold on, lean this- There you go. Stay there, do not fall again. I am warning you. Stay standing.” With difficulty, Octavia managed to get a hoof around the unicorn, pulling her close to her side. Unfortunately, that seemed to set Vinyl off. She hopped away so vigorously she almost crashed into Crossed Wires, who was waiting by the door to her bakery, her hoof carefully wrapped through the handle of a steaming mug. Wires looked between the two older mares with bemusement. “Here. I made cocoa earlier. You two should have some. If you want. . .” She set the mug down by Octavia’s forehooves. “Hold on, I have another for you. . .” She scurried back inside. Vinyl was balancing herself against the wall, one hoof holding up her glasses, a look of shock on her features. What on Celestia’s Green Equestria was wrong with her? Octavia put it from her mind for the moment as she attempted to hail a taxi. Wires reemerged with the second cup of cocoa, which Vinyl unsteadily took with her magic, playing a quick sound bite of ‘Thank you-’ from her phone. She opened her mouth and emptied most of the mug in a single giant gulp. It was undoubtedly quite hot, but she did not react in pain. She nodded and smiled at Wires, playing the soundbite again. Wires didn’t seem bothered. Perhaps this was not unknown behavior for Vinyl after all. Thankfully, a taxi responded quite quickly to Octavia’s waving hoof, the skinny earth stallion squeezing into a tiny parking spot. With only a moment’s hesitation, Octavia gave him the address to her own hotel. Getting actionable information out of Vinyl would likely be a foal's errand in her current state, and Octavia’s suite provided a serviceable couch in a separate room on which to deposit her while she slept off her intoxication, whatever it was. Octavia herded Vinyl into the taxicab, thanking Crossed Wires one last time, and they set off into the night, finally. Octavia worried that Vinyl was liable to become rather ill on the ride, but she seemed well enough. She had pulled her sunglasses back down, evidently to shield her eyes from her phone. Octavia checked her own. Two in the morning! Goodness. She had not stayed up this late since she was a filly. Vinyl started flipping through songs, either forgetting or not caring that the music was still being projected through her speakers. Octavia resolved to listen without complaint, although several songs made her regret that.  Quite suddenly, something different played. Different and familiar. A cello. Her cello. The piano piece she had been adapting earlier! She rounded on Vinyl, who immediately and very satisfyingly became extremely contrite. Her magic tapped away on the phone, too small for anypony who needed to use theirs with hooves. “Sry,sry. pears sent it. Real good tho.” She held up. Octavia opened her mouth, but Vinyl’s attention was back on the device, tapping away again. This message took longer, evidently. Octavia resisted the urge to crane her neck to see. Finally, Vinyl held it up. “Your music glows even brighter against the canvas of your gray coat” it read. “It’s purple and red and lovely, like your eyes.” Heat flooded Octavia’s face immediately, and she pushed the phone away from herself. More accurately, she attempted to. Vinyl’s magic held it very steady for a count of ten, and then recoiled back to its owner. Seemingly satisfied, Vinyl set it to play again, and rested her head against the side of the cab. Octavia fanned her face the moment Vinyl turned away. What on earth was wrong with her? She must be tired. Or perhaps experiencing a contact high. The latter seemed consistent with her symptoms. She would have to research this later. Thankfully, she did not have to suffer long. The Taxi soon pulled up at the modest hotel which housed Octavia’s room. She had to shake Vinyl awake, but thankfully the trip seemed to have allowed the worst of the wobbling legs to subside. Vinyl was relatively steady, and followed dutifully along behind Octavia as they made their way up to the room. “You are going to be on the couch.” Octavia said, firmly. A hint of blush began to creep back into her face, and she fought it with every fiber of her being. “You are going to stay there, drink water, and not try to write any more pickup lines. Or anything else.” Vinyl nodded. Octavia turned the key, allowing them inside. Her own room was large, but modest. The decor was uninspired, but the carpet and mattresses were soft and clean, and a gentle smell of fresh linen held in the air. Doors opened onto a large bedroom, and besides that, a sitting room. Octavia pointed her hoof at it, and Vinyl followed it, flopping bonelessly onto the couch the instant she arrived. With a sigh, Octavia filled a glass of cool water from the small fridge, and set it by Vinyl. After a moment’s thought, she pushed over a wastebasket to the floor by Vinyl’s head. Just in case. “Drink that water, Scratch. You will regret it if you don’t.” Vinyl ignored Octavia’s words. Or didn’t hear them. Octavia brushed the long right side of the mane out of the way, and found Vinyl’s eyes closed, her breathing even. Asleep. “Idiot.” She continued, more softly. “Nonsense pony. You should take more care where you sleep. . . I hope you do so well, at least.”  Octavia stood, finding herself muzzle to muzzle with Parish, who had his hooves on either side of his muzzle, unabashed joy on his face. The burning flush returned to her cheeks, and she attempted to pat it out. “Oh, Octy.” He said, quietly as he could manage while simultaneously suppressing giggles. “That was almost. . . tender!” She bumped him half off his hooves as she made her way out of the room, closing the door quietly. “Go back to bed. I am in no mood.” Octavia groused. She felt the sudden urge for a glass of wine herself.  “It was a wonderful thing you did.” Parish said, gently bumping her in return. “I do not even truly understand why I did it.” Octavia hesitated. Her mind went over what she knew of the night, turning and twisting each bit of evidence.  “I suppose I was curious. The filly who found her mentioned, quote, ‘a creepy guy’, that she seemed to partially credit with Scratch’s state. You are a longtime fan. What do you know about this?” “This is all Zebra to me, I am afraid.” Parish shrugged. “Pon-3 has never spoken much about her personal life to anypony. Well, except for her, ahem, proclivities. It is odd to hear she was bothered by a colt in such a way.” “Were her proclivities what drew you to her?” Octavia asked. “No, no.” Parish smiled, as sincere as a foal. “She was the one who helped me realize mine. Her song ‘Mystical Mare?’ Oh! It was life changing. She hasn’t had many vocals in her songs since then, but I- ahem. Sorry.” “Do not apologize, dear Parish.” Octavia wrapped her hooves about him. “I never knew she had such an effect on you. Perhaps I was. . . harsh, in my judgments. Of the both of you.” “You know, Octy, if you are so curious about her. . .” Parish bumped her once again. “You should just listen to her music. As you may have noticed, she is not much of a speaker, but her music says a great deal.” “I- “Octavia hesitated. “Really, you would run out in the middle of night to snoop, but you would not listen to an album?”