//------------------------------// // Part III ~ Toasting Goodwill // Story: On The Rocks // by 8_Bit //------------------------------// Well that could have gone better. As Allegra had promised, once I’d been escorted up to my room (yeah, they gave me and Octy separate rooms, what was this, high school?) and I’d gotten all my stuff from Octy’s trunk, she'd arranged for a bucket of ice to be sent up to me with bundle of kitchen towels. Butler dude had really done a number on my head, I could already feel a lump forming. And my glasses… ugh. Luckily I always travel with some spare pairs and a few replacement lenses, just in case of emergencies, but I was still royally ticked off. It only took me a couple of minutes to brush out all the glass shards into the trash, and replace the broken lens with a new one. By the time I’d clicked it into place in the frame, I heard the door open behind me. Turning around, I saw Octavia step in, looking sheepish. “Not exactly the first impression I’d hoped for,” I said, pushing my glasses back into place on the bridge of my muzzle. The new lens, straight out of its packet, was much cleaner than the weather worn one that I hadn’t needed to change. Everything looked… lopsided, so I took my glasses back off to give the old lens a clean with a wet wipe. “I’m so sorry, Vinyl,” Octavia said, stepping towards the ice bucket. She scooped out a generous bundle of clear cubes, which she wrapped up in one of the kitchen towels. Then she stepped over and held the bundle to the side of my head, immediately causing me to let out a sigh of relief. Ohh sweet Luna, that felt good… “You got nothing to apologise for, Octy,” I said, holding my glasses up to make sure I’d gotten the worst of the smudges out of the old lens. Nope, just made it worse. “It ain’t your fault your parents reanimated a brainless corpse to order around as a servant.” She giggled scandalously. “I assure you he was far more attentive and polite when I was younger, but he certainly seems to have declined since then. I do hope Mother and Father aren’t working him too hard. He must be in his eighties by now, I was rather astonished to find him still here and in uniform.” “You reckon your old man didn’t want to let him go?” ”Entirely plausible. Father does seem to struggle to let go of those close to him.” ”Except you.” Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed, and I cursed myself for letting the words slip out without filtering my thoughts first. That was way too blunt, and Octy took half a step back as she processed what I’d said. Great, good going Vinyl. Real smooth, you dolt. My turn for an apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. My head began to throb again, with Octy no longer holding the ice pack against it. I put my now clean-ish glasses back on. “I just meant… umm…err…” ”No no, you’re right,” she conceded, but there was no hiding her crestfallen expression as her eyes scanned the room, unable to look at me. “Before the therapist recommended that I transition, Father kept me close-by. But it was only afterwards that he seemed to start keeping me at a distance.” ”You mean, sending you away to boarding school.” ”Yes. There are several schools in Trottingham that cater only to fillies. And in the brief span where he put me in an all-colts school, that was also one only across town.” “So why would he send you so far away?” She bit her lip, and her wandering eyes locked onto a spot on the floor right in front of me. Now, I know it was a long-ass time ago, but see if you can remember when I told you about that night after Club Zero. I said that Octavia can’t tell a convincing lie, not even if the fate of all of Equestria depends on it. One of the ways I can elaborate on that, she was demonstrating. When she’s in a situation that makes her uncomfortable, she’ll scan her surroundings. But when she’s about to lie… yeah, she bites her lip and finds a single point to focus on. Nine times out of ten, she’ll focus on a point on the floor in front of whoever she’s about to lie to. Now, I dunno if she knows about this tell, but it’s probably why she never wins when we have card game nights with Lyra and Bon-Bon. “I don’t know.” I raised an eyebrow and examined her face carefully. We were on shaky ground here, and I knew coming into this I was gonna have to tread carefully. Her discomfort was not only obvious, it’s like it was being amplified to twist the knife in my gut that I get every time I see her hurting. So at this point, I figured I had two options. First possibility: I push her for an honest answer, at the risk of upsetting her for the sake of satisfying my curiosity. Or the second possibility: deflect, be an adorable loving marefriend, and diffuse the situation. I figured option numero dos sounded muy bien in this particular scenario. What? My mom was born in Mexicolt, when I was growing up I used to spend every summer at my bisabuela's hacienda just outside Gallop Juárez. I can be multi-cultural as well as being an awesome DJ, y’know. Fillies, colts, and everypony in-between; it's cool to respect your heritage. So, what did I do? Put on the widest, evilest grin I could muster. There was a flash of recognition in her eyes, as her mind processed what was about to happen. And the exact moment I spotted this, I pounced. Tackling her, I sent us both sprawling backwards, right onto the bed that was pretty conveniently positioned right behind her. She squealed, knowing exactly what I was planning, but there was nothing she could do. No power in Equestria could save her now. Not from the indomitable might of the one and only Vinyl Scratch… I lined my mouth up right in the middle of her belly, spread my lips wide, and then pressed down and blew as hard as I could. All four of her hooves flailed wildly around as the loud razzing noise echoed through the spacious room, and her squeals doubled in volume as I carried on with my assault. It didn’t take very long for her to give me exactly what I wanted. Just as I started to feel myself running out of breath, her squealing gave way to fits of giggles, as she breathlessly started begging me to stop. Okay, I ain’t that cruel, so as soon as she asked me to, I let go of her. She gasped desperately for air as I scooted up along the bed to lie down next to her, my head flomping loudly on the pillow. Damn, yeah the side of my head was still hurting, but holy Celestia were those pillows comfy… With her chest heaving, she turned her head to face mine, and I figured fuck it, I could put up with a smidge more pain to have a nice little moment with my marefriend. So I ignited my horn, and levitated my glasses over to the bedside table. I had to blink a few times as my eyes adjusted to the light in the room. But as everything drifted back into focus, I turned them to face Octy. Her muzzle was inches from mine, and I could see her nostrils flaring as she was still trying to get her breathing under control. Hey, what can I say? I’m a fierce opponent sometimes. And… we just looked into each others eyes. She’s so beautiful. You know, in a lot of ways I’m grateful for that night where she dropped the bombshell on me. The introspection it gave me afterwards really made me stop and think about what’s important. Her. She’s the most important thing to me. And as we lay there, not saying a word and just gazing at each other, I looked for my favourite detail about her eyes. These tiny little diamond shapes on the border of her purple irises. Like… like microscopic stars I could watch all night long. I feel like wherever I go, they could lead me home. Meaning that as long as I’ve got Octy by my side, even in tough times, I’ll always find my way back to safety. I’m actually working on a song about her and her eyes, but it’s still in the pretty early stages. Octy’s a pretty damn good muse, y’know? One with a whole damn galaxy in her eyes. I might even try singing it to her. I could have just lived in that moment forever. Even with my head pounding. She tenderly brought her front hooves up towards our faces, and I did the same. We locked hooves, and just held each other there. And for just one sweet moment, nothing else mattered. Unfortunately, as was becoming pretty standard for me, the universe decided we were enjoying a bit too much of a good thing. There was a quick series of loud knocks on the door, knocks which reverberated agonisingly around my aching head, and one of the ponies who worked here as a maid pushed the door open and stuck her head in. “Beggin’ yer pardon, misses,” she said, in a very strange accent I swear I’ve heard from one of the young colts around Ponyville. Pipsqueak, I think his name is? “But Mister ‘n Missus Melody are ready ta receive yer in the garden fer tea ‘n crumpets. They’ve requested that I h’escort the both of youse there.” ”Thank you, Poppy,” Octavia giggled, winking at me. “Wait outside and we’ll be with you in two ticks.” “Very good, miss,” Poppy replied, disappearing out of sight as the door clicked shut again. “Oh sweeeeeeeeet Luna,” I groaned as I hauled myself up into a sitting position, grabbing my glasses off the bedside table. “Does everypony here have to talk in a way that’s so fricking hard to understand?” “An unfortunate remnant of centuries of class divide,” Octavia explained, rolling off the bed and straightening her bow tie. “Whadda ya mean remnant? There’s still a class divide.” She sighed. “With everything going on here right now, do you really want to dwell on the inequalities of a capitalism based social hierarchy?” “I do if it buys us another five minutes before we have to go face to face with your old man.” “...an entirely fair position to take.” I shuffled off the bed towards her, pausing only to go back for the ice pack wrapped up in the towel, and walked over to stand next to her at the door. She turned to me, looking uneasy. In return, I gave her a long, reassuring kiss, which seemed to steady her. ”Right,” I said, levitating the ice pack to the side of my head. “We’ve talked about this plenty of times, we’re here now. You’ve given me all the warnings you needed to. Let’s do this. You ready?” There was a short pause. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and then gave me a nod. “Alrighty then Pansy,” I declared loudly, pulling the door open. “Lead on!” “Poppy,” Octavia corrected. ”Alrighty then Poppy. Lead on!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Octavia suppressing a laugh. Yep, sometimes all you need in a scary situation is somepony keeping the mood light. The maid, Poppy, led us down sweeping staircases and ornate corridors out into the sprawling grounds of the estate. Even with the cloud cover, I still found myself sweating as we walked past gardens and fountains. How big was the damn place? The mare’s stuffy black uniform must have been torture in the humid weather, but she seemed to brush it off with all the grace and decorum that you tend to see with anypony whose job it is to wait upon the well-to-do. “You know, I don’t think that was the full hour we were promised,” I whispered to Octy as we passed by the entrance to a hedge maze that arched ten feet above us. “Probably not,” she agreed. “I’m guessing Father had her tactfully wait nearby in case she heard anything untoward going on. Such as, oh I don’t know, a loud but justified reaction to having my marefriend blow raspberries on my tummy.” And this time, it was Octy who made me snort with laughter. Well played. She gave me a playful bump with her flank as we walked along behind Poppy, who looked back at us quizzically. But if she wanted to say anything, it seemed like she thought better of it. Just at the moment I started to think this gazebo might actually be in the next neighbourhood over from the one the main house is in, we rounded a corner and boom, there it was right in front of us. And honestly? Gazebo wasn’t the word for it. This wasn’t some rinky dink collapsible lump of plastic and tarp, this was a goddamn bandstand raised above the middle of a freaking lake. Given how they seem to love understatements here, I’m guessing they just refer to this huge body of water as a pond. Underneath the ‘gazebo’ were four ornate chairs set around a table, one piled high with plates and dishes of so many different cakes, sandwiches, and other snacks that I couldn’t help but wonder if the table was strong enough to hold it all up. Jeez, I’ve been to gigs in Canterlot that didn’t cater this well. Even to a ballroom full of snobs. There was no way all four of us could eat that much. Again, understatements. ‘Tea and crumpets’, my plot. A ring of about a dozen ponies, all dressed in serving clothes, surrounded the outermost edge of the gazebo. As we stepped up onto the platform, Poppy took her place at a vacant spot in the ring. Octavia’s parents were already sat at the table. The butler dude who’d thumped me upside the head stood just behind the two of them, forward from the ring of other waiting staff but still stood to attention. Staccato was flipping through a huge newspaper, his face looking as dull and emotionless as it had earlier, and Allegra was sipping at a steaming mug she was levitating up to her face. She beamed as she noticed us. ”Ahh, my darlings, please take a seat,” she exclaimed. “I do hope your room is to your liking, Miss Scratch. And Octavia sweetheart, I trust you had no difficulty in remembering your way around?” ”Not at all mother,” Octavia replied as we sat down, with her sat opposite her mom and me opposite her dad. Each seat had its own place setting with the fanciest silverware and plates I’d ever seen. “And I’m most pleased to see my room hasn’t changed at all since I was last here.” “Well, it is your room, darling. The staff are under strict instruction, keep it tidy but not to alter it. We want you to feel like you may return to it whenever you wish. Don’t we Staccato?” Octy’s dad glanced up at his wife from the newspaper. His expression didn’t change, and not a single word came out of his mouth. He stared coldly at Allegra for a few seconds, then continued to look back down at his paper again. Huh. “Anyway,” Allegra continued. “We both hope that two of you shall find yourself right at home here. Now Vinyl dear... oh good, you fixed your glasses! Well, first and foremost then, how is your head feeling?” “Oh, uh…” I stumbled. Somehow I’d forgotten about the ice pack I was still holding against my head. Putting it down, warmth rushed back to the lump I’d been pressing it against, but what not long ago had been a splitting pain was now a barely noticeable feeling of tightness. The swelling must’ve gone down a lot. ”Feeling better?” she pressed. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mrs Melody.” “Oh please, you’re involved with our daughter, I think we can skip the formalities somewhat. Allegra, please.” Phew. Okay, her mom seemed cool enough at least. And after that, I felt a bit of weight lift off my shoulders as I let out a relieved chuckle. ”Okay, Allegra. Yeah my head feels a lot better than it did earlier, thank you.” “What can we get you both then? Tea? Coffee? Octavia, we have your favourite too.” “Ooh,” Octy gasped. “Do you mean Miss Ruby still brews her own cocoa?” “Of course darling,” Allegra said, tapping one hoof loudly on the table. Almost immediately, one of the waiting staff was by Octavia’s side with a huge porcelain flask. He tipped a reddish-brown looking drink into her cup. I don’t know how they kept it hot when the nearest kitchen must be miles away… it definitely felt like we walked for miles to get there. But the liquid was steaming away, so it must have been hot. Octy held the mug up to her face, and took a deep inhale through her nose. She sighed in relief and started taking little sips. I guess it must've been a really good cocoa. ”And Vinyl?” Allegra asked. “A coffee for me please. Milk, two sugars.” There was a lot of effort on my part to stop me jumping out of my chair in fright as a pony dressed in black materialised at my side. Luna damnit, how do these guys move so quickly without making a sound? But true to my request, the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans flooded my nose as he filled my cup. He added some milk from a small jug and dropped in two cubes of sugar, then stepped backwards with a bow. Octavia was still sipping dreamily at her cocoa as I levitated my spoon to stir my drink. Whatever blend they used for their coffee, it smelled so fucking good. I couldn’t help but grin, sure this place was a bit… to borrow something Octy would say, a bit ‘ostentatious’. But honestly, if you like coffee like I do, and you’d smelled this stuff? You’d probably be happy to overlook the obvious peacocking going on. ”Chin chin,” Allegra said, levitating her own cup up in a toast. “To the happy couple!” ”Cheers,” I replied, as both me and Octy mimicked her movement with our own cups, hers in both her hooves and mine in my magic. Then I went to raise my cup to my mouth. ”You don’t take it black, then?” I froze, the cup less than an inch from my lips. Looking up to who had asked the question, my eyes locked onto Staccato. The dude was still looking at that newspaper. I don’t think he’d even looked away from it while asking the question. Octavia and Allegra both seemed to shuffle uncomfortably in the silence that hung in the air, and I couldn’t help but notice as Octy’s ears drooped. Oh. I’ve dealt with snobs before. I knew how to handle this. Shrugging, I brought the cup to my face, and slurped as I drank. Loudly. The coffee was a bit too hot, but honestly I didn’t care. I gulped and gulped it down, even letting a few drops dribble down my muzzle for good measure. Did I mention how fucking good the coffee smelt? Because it tasted even better. Oh mare, if I could drink only one thing for the rest of my life, it would be this. When my cup was drained, I let it clink loudly back down on its saucer. ”Nah, I prefer it sweet and milky,” I said, waving a hoof dismissively and suppressing a burp. “I don’t like it when things taste too… bitter, y’know?” Staccato’s eyes left his newspaper and fixed on me. Just as before, his expression never wavered or changed. Just cold, emotionless, almost bored? It was one thing when he was doing it to Allegra, but when I was in the crosshairs? I felt a chill run down my spine, and had to adjust my stance in the chair as my tail quivered. This dude… I’m not gonna lie, something about him was super intimidating. I was starting to understand Octy’s nervousness. But, never one to back down, I held his stare. Only problem was, then I noticed Octavia out of the corner of my eye. Glaring at me. And I glanced over to her, where our eyes met, and within a few seconds, some almost unnoticeable facial expressions seemed to illustrate a silent conversation that passed between us. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘What? Just showing this dude I ain’t gonna march to his bassline.’ ‘Please, you made me a promise not to agitate the situation.’ ‘Well yeah, but I…’ ‘Please Vinyl, you promised.’ ‘Ugh, fine.’ I coughed quietly as I wiped the drops of coffee off my muzzle. “But, the only reason I don’t like things bitter is because I’ve got a mean sweet tooth. Maybe that’s why I’m in love with your daughter.” Hehehe. Nice save, Scratch. Damn I’m good. “Well, if that’s the case, don’t just sit there with a grumbling tummy,” Allegra piped in as Octavia gave me the tiniest little smile. “We’ve got some of the finest pastries in Trottingham here. Everypony, shall we dig in? I’m famished.” “Yes, absolutely!” Octavia said, her ears slowly rising back up. For a few minutes, everypony at the table fell silent as we all piled food onto our plates. Staccato, life of the party he is, silently folded up his newspaper and held it up above his head. The butler dude, whose name I am formally giving up trying to remember, took the paper and then stepped backwards. There were so many different foods on show here, I barely knew where to start. But Allegra’s suggestion of pastries sounded good, so I decided I’d go with a cinnamon roll, a raspberry turnover, and a slice of apple pie. With a big spoonful of whipped cream, mmm. Octavia was eagerly smearing butter on a something that looked a bit like a biscuit, while Allegra was quietly sipping her tea, looking back and forth between me and Octy like she was eagerly taking in the sight of the two of us just being there. And then there was Staccato, who chewed a sandwich but didn’t really seem interested in anything else. “Mmmmffff,” Octavia exclaimed, as she bit into her food. She paused to swallow, leaning back in her chair as she savoured the taste. “Proper crumpets. You can’t find these in Ponyville, or even in Canterlot. Oh how I’ve missed these… only Trottingham seems to have them.” “Comforts of home, my dear,” Allegra said. “Now, Vinyl darling, how did the two of you come to be? Octavia did say in letters that the two of you attended university together, but I’d rather like to hear things from your side.” I swallowed my bite of (incredible) cinnamon roll. “Yeah, university. Damn, that was so long ago now. Remember our dolt of a professor, Octy?” ”Oh, yes,” Octavia giggled. “So Vinyl and I met in our first psychology lecture, and…” She fell silent as Staccato cleared his throat. Almost completly in sync, her and her mom’s heads turned to face him. Which was… yeah, super creepy. “I’m curious,” he said, putting his sandwich back down on his plate. “What exactly is it that would give a ‘DJ’ cause to consider participation in a psychology course?” Wow. Just wow. I mean, first of all, I really didn’t like the way he said DJ. Like pronouncing the two syllables was painful for him. Secondly, what a weird fucking question to interrupt with. He was looking at me again now, but the empty stare was gone. Now it was like he was trying to get a read on me. I could swear I saw his eyes narrow just a tiny bit as he looked me up and down, assessing me. ”Well,” I replied, cursing inwardly as my tone of voice gave away how caught off-guard I was. “When I release albums, I design all the record sleeves myself. I like to think I’ve got a good eye for graphic design, colour choices, that kind of stuff, y’know?” Was that an eye-roll? You stuck-up asshole… Okay Scratch, deep breath, keep the peace and do it for her. “But I already knew the kind of stuff I like. So while I was doing modern music as my major, I took the psych course as my minor, cause I wanted to understand why things are eye-catching. What colours can make ponies feel a certain emotion. How to make the album covers give a better idea of what kinda vibe the music has without, y’know, actually saying what the vibe is. Don’t tell the audience what they should be feeling, show them instead.” “Oh how delightful,” Allegra gushed. “What a fascinating thing to consider. You’re an insightful one, aren’t you? I can normally tell, you know.” “Vinyl’s very good at reading a crowd, especially during her performances,” Octavia added, grinning at me. “I do think it’s a crucial part of what makes her so good at what she does. She’ll take the ebbs and flows of mood in a room, and she’ll ride on them to create a stellar performance that is breathtaking, every single time.” “Being good at pushing records and making computer noises hardly qualifies as an admirable trait, child,” Staccato chided, looking at Octavia with one eyebrow raised. “And I shudder for any respected educational institution that would offer ‘modern music’ as a course.” Octavia’s eyes shot over to me. We were thinking the same thing, I could tell. But neither of us said it. That I dropped out. If this is how he was treating me already, I’d be damned if I was gonna let him know that I was a college dropout too. Though as luck would have it, the universe threw us a lifeline. Another member of staff, standing out from everypony else with his blue uniform, walked into the gazebo. He carried a silver tray on which lay an envelope, which he delivered to Staccato. Seems like Octy’s dad is important enough to get business telegrams in the middle of lunch. Staccato opened the envelope and read the note. After he’d finished, he gave a much more obvious eye-roll, and rose to his hooves. And as he did so, something happened. Exactly in sync as they had earlier, both Octavia and Allegra seemed to flinch away from him. But if any of the waiting staff noticed, or even cared, none of them said anything. ”I have some matters to attend to,” Staccato said stiffly. “I’ll see you all at dinner. Bleathman, with me.” After he left with... um, the butler... the mood lightened a lot. Me and Octavia sat with her mom, still awkwardly surrounded by dozens of staff, but the conversation flowed a lot more smoothly. It was actually kinda nice. The two of us told story after story of all kinds of different shit we got up to during college, though we apparently had both gotten the same memo about toning down the crazier stuff to make it more palatable for her mom. But it turns out, Allegra had some pretty cool stuff to say as well. She's a bit of a history buff, but instead of any of the usual boring lectures I'd come to expect from anypony who could be branded an egghead, she told us a whole bunch of crazy stories about their family tree. On Staccato's side of things, things were more what I expected, but with some surprises. Biggest of those surprises? It was Octy's great-great-great-etcetera-granddad who had actually been the pony who'd developed the first musical instrument that, by today's musical standards, we would call a cello. No wonder she was so good at playing it. Every generation of the Melodies had produced somepony that was very respected in the field of music. Even the road back in Ponyville that has some of my main performance venues on it, Melody Boulevard, was named for the family. I did always wonder if that was a coincidence. The side of things on Allegra's branch of the family tree was much more interesting though, apparently they weren't all stuffed shirts and snobby know-it-all's. Allegra's great-great-uncle on her father's side had been a moonshine runner in the days of prohibition, a business most of the immediate family were in on. Yeah, seriously. In fact, they had to flee their hometown of Edinbray when they were found out, which is how they ended up living in the boondocks way on the outskirts of Trottingham. And apparently, a strong tolerance to alcohol had been a common trait in their bloodline ever since. Go figure. Even as the grey clouds drifted above us and made way for black ones, and though at one point I could swear I heard thunder way off in the distance, we had a real nice time talking over the food and hot drinks. Best of all, Octavia was smiling again. The whole time. I think she missed her mom more than she’ll admit. A couple of times she looked over at me, and I definitely saw the little diamonds in her eyes shining brightly. But something weighed on my mind. Well, two something’s, actually. The first, was what Staccato had called her. ‘Child’. Not by her name, and not as any kind of pet name a parent would normally give. For example, my mom calls me ‘Jelly Bean’, or sometimes just 'Mija' depending on her mood, a fact that only Octavia knows about. It better stay that way, okay? No, he simply called her ‘Child’. Cold. Distant. Emotionless. Which kind of struck me as being on-brand for how he’d carried himself so far today. But you know the other thing about that kind of wording? It’s gender neutral. Like he couldn’t bring himself to call her his daughter. And try as I might, I just couldn't shake the other thing from my mind. When Staccato had stood up to leave, the way Octy and her mom had flinched away from him... that just left my gut feeling like ice.