//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: The Prodigal Pies Return // by Bronetheus //------------------------------//         Harnessed to a small but sturdy traveling cart, Octavia Pie and Vinyl Scratch trotted down the highway to the Pie Rock Plantation. The gray earth pony and the white unicorn moved their legs in perfect one-two time with each other, despite both of them being distracted. Octavia quietly sang snippets of an aria she had been working on, while Vinyl, with her trademark lavender-tinted goggles hanging around her neck currently, marveled at the scenery, or lack thereof. She saw maybe five trees, and that was being generous. Some of them may have been bushes. It was hard to tell with most of the greenery missing from them. The rest of the landscape was hills, but the sharp, barren kind, not the lush, rolling kind.         “Hey sweet,” she said, “how come there's nothing here?”         “What are you talking about?” Octavia asked. “We're right in the middle of the the Birch family's plantation.”         “It's totally desolate,” Vinyl retorted. “This is getting really depressing.”         “It is not desolate! Look, there's a tree right over there.”         “Yeah, and half of its leaves are gone because everything's so shitty.”         “Mia dolce,” Octavia said sweetly and patiently, “they're growing on this field currently, and the rocks are using the nutrients in the soil. The new season is starting, so they'll probably start rotating the rocks to a new field soon. Then they'll fertilize this one and let all the plants grow back.”         “I don't know,” said Vinyl, shaking her head. “Seems like a lot of trouble just for some gems. Aren't plants more important?”         “Listen, you're welcome to debate that with my father or sister, if you'd like. They have much more to say on the subject of economics than I do.”         “No,” Vinyl responded quickly, “that's okay. Sorry.”         “Don't be sorry,” Octavia said with an affectionate smile. “I like that you care about things like that. It's not that I don't care at all, I simply don't have much of a stake in the matter anymore.”         “That's cool.” The unicorn was silent for a moment, chewing on her lip. “Speaking of cool, do you really think your family is going to like me?”         “Why wouldn't they?” Octavia frowned, searching Vinyl's face, which was framed this month by a short, spiky cut of mane alternating between dark and light streaks of green dye. “They're not bigots about "fillyfooling", if that's what you're worried about. I know I haven't been back there in so long, and certainly not with another pony, but they're aware I've been seeing you for some time...”         “That isn't what I meant,” Vinyl said, scrutinizing the road underneath them. “I've only had to deal with that once before, and I'm totally over it. What I'm talking about is that I'm kind of... you know. Edgy.”         “'Edgy'?” Octavia couldn't help giggling a little. “I know your music is pretty avaunt-garde, but I think they'll manage to see past that. Need I remind you that we're talking about a family that hasn't disowned Pinkamena?”         “You know what I meant.” Vinyl's tail started flicking back and forth. “I'm just not as... traditional as they might like.”         “Give them a chance, and they'll give you a chance. No matter what, I love you, and that's going to have to be enough for them.”         “Hey, it's all good. I'll be alright. But thanks.”                  The two paused in their walk to nuzzle each other's necks, then they continued on much as before. This time though, instead of focusing on her surroundings, Vinyl focused on the progress her lovely black-maned composer was making with her song, and even offered a couple suggestions for lyrics and notes. Alighting the bare branches of a nearby tree, a tiny, sunny-bellied robin tweeted the notes back at the pair as they passed.                  Much like the rest of the homestead, the family dining room was quite different from the way Octavia remembered it as a filly. Most notably, there was a carpet now. It was patternless and featureless, just a thick brown rug really, but it was very, very comfortable. Not having to sit on the creaky, splinter-ridden wooden floor made taking note of all the other changes much more pleasant. The family had apparently not sprung for an updated table—this one required balances to stay level, and two of its legs were actually scavenged from even older furniture—but the silver plates and eating utensils were new. There were actual decorations now as well. At each corner, and in a few other rooms in the house, there were small, manicured ferns and shrubs planted in muted vases. Vinyl, seated next to her, was practically mesmerized by them. They were the most flora she had seen in days.         Octavia, meanwhile, was admiring the painting that had been put up on the wall. She recognized the signature immediately from a small but noteworthy collection of letters she had received over the years—Blinkie Pie.         “This is your work, Blinkadette?” she asked, smiling across the table at her sister, who sat by herself, with mom and dad at opposite ends.         “It is.” Blinkie turned to look at the piece. It was a watercolor she had spent months on, depicting a moonrise cresting over a range of low, rocky hills. The dirt, clay, and stone paint fused and swirled with the purity of the full moon's light, making it difficult to tell where the glow truly began. The more one looked at it, the more difficult it became to discern that it was even a moonrise over hills at all, and not a formation of irregular shapes bound together by a soft, white luminescence. “I took up painting a few years ago. It's very relaxing. And such a fun challenge too, trying to use a brush with your teeth. Especially for those really delicate strokes that truly make a piece shine.”         “I quite like it,” Octavia remarked as she bit into her hay-and-lettuce sandwich. “Have you considered selling it? I have several friends who would love to have something like that in their drawing rooms. It could generate some vigorous philosophical debate.”         “No,” the younger sister said flatly. “These are for me and my family.” She directed a significant glance at Vinyl, but the unicorn was the only pony at the table who didn't notice. “They wouldn't go for that much anyway. I know how business works.”         “Don't be so modest, dear,” their father, Clyde Pie, spoke up after finishing his mug of cider. He replaced his customary bit of straw too chew on. “You've got a great head for business, it's true. That's why you got your promotion to help with the finances. But you don't know how those nobleponies up in Canterlot work. They've got too much time and too much money if you ask me. I remember one time--”         “I know we all have a lot of catching up to do,” Rose, his wife, interrupted as she sensed an oncoming rant, “but I think the most important bit is the young lady who's come home with our daughter. Did you say you were from Canterlot, Miss Scratch?”         “Huh?” The DJ in question, her horn shining faintly, levitated her mug away from her mouth. She nearly wiped the foam away with her hoof, but saw one of the Pies' fancy embroidered napkins at the last second. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I'm not a noblepony though. I mean, I've done a few formal events, but I'm not rich or landed. I have a bit of money, but--”         “'A few events'?” Octavia said as she playfully nudged her partner. “You were the artist at Princess Cadence's wedding reception!”         Clyde leaned closer and Rose adjusted her large spectacles, while Blinkie withdrew, letting the part in her light, peppery mane obscure half of her face in shadow.         “I am pretty proud of that, yeah,” Vinyl said, avoiding eye contact by feigning great interest in what item of food she was going to eat next. “It was mostly luck though. Happened to know Pinkie Pie through Octie--Octavia, happened to know Rarity through Pinkie, and they happened to know Twilight Sparkle. So really, it's all thanks to Octavia. Meeting her was luckier than playing at any wedding. Maybe the luckiest thing that's ever happened to me.”         Octavia smiled in the grimacing way only one who's trying not to cry can smile, her parents nodded at each other, and Blinkie Pie withdrew further, frowning in nearly equal proportion to all the smiling passing around.         “So can I ask a question?” Vinyl inquired with a sheepish look at everypony else around the dinner table. Blinkadette's glare nearly stopped her, but the encouraging words and expressions from the rest of the family won out. “What kinds of music are you guys—good ponies--in to?”         Clyde Pie's normally-grim visage twisted into an out-of-practice smile. “I take a particular shine to classical music. It's a shame most of the good work is produced in Canterlot these days, and not just because it keeps Octavia so busy. Did you know that's why I named her that?” Vinyl shook her head, and Octavia kept her eye-rolling subtle. He went on. “Yep. Beautiful name to go with a beautiful child.”         “Clyde, darling,” said Rose, watching with repressed amusement as Octavia blushed furiously and Vinyl Scratch agreed with his assessment whole-heartedly. “If you wanted to embarrass our daughter, you should have just brought out some foal pictures.”         “You know, that might be a good idea after dinner...”         “Hey,” Blinkadette said from behind her iron curtain of hair. “I've got a question too.” Everypony turned to stare at her. “Mom, just this morning, were you not giving me grief about not having found a special somepony yet?”         “Giving you grief?” Rose Pie answered with a raised eyebrow. “I was just asking, Blinkadette.”         “And dad, were you not just yesterday loudly wishing you had little grandfoals running under hoof?”         “'Loudly'? I don't even--”         “Well you were,” Blinkie said, putting her fore-hooves on the table with force just shy of a slam, “just like you have been for almost a year. Now here you are fawning over Octavia and this weird-looking unicorn like they're the best thing ever. Have you considered that maybe I'm not ready for a relationship, unlike my perfect older sister? How come you never say anything to Pinkie about it? I'm sure we all know she's not ready for a relationship, but still. And in case you didn't notice, Octavia's friend here is a mare, so barring any freaky unicorn magic, they're not going to have any little foals for you!”         While the rest of her family was stunned, Blinkie turned her scowl toward Vinyl. “Well?”         “Well what?” she whispered, scooting closer to Octavia, who was putting a foreleg around her shoulders.                  “Do you have any freaky unicorn magic to let one of you start popping out babies?”         “Um...”         “Blinkadette Rosalyn Pie,” came dad's softly thunderous voice from the end of the table. “Go to your room.”         After a very long second of staring and panting, Blinkie grabbed the rest of her sandwich in her mouth and ran upstairs. The sound of a door slamming followed, right in the middle of Clyde's warning not to slam the door.         “Miss Scratch,” he said, turning to look at her stricken face. “You're still welcome to stay under our roof, but I understand if you don't want to after that. It's up to you.”         “It's no big deal,” she said with a weak half-grin. “I really appreciate the hospitality. Beds beat fields any day.”         “It is not 'no big deal', mia dolce,” Octavia finally said as she squeezed her sweet close. She looked at her parents. “Blinkadette was completely out of line. What the hay has gotten into her?”         “Maybe the merger,” Rose said as she rubbed some non-existent dirt off of her glasses. “We just acquired the Peach plantation, so she's been under a lot of pressure trying to organize their books. Plus we've got the big rock move coming up, which is going to be very stressful, because the size of our fields has doubled since you were fillies. And you know her birthday is next week, right?”         “Yes, that's half the reason I came!” Octavia exclaimed. “Those are terrible excuses, mom. She hasn't been like this in her letters.”         “Maybe not, but it has been years since your last visit. Why don't you talk to her?”         “After that? No. I'm going to bed. Vinyl, do you want to sleep, or would you rather stay up for a while with my parents? They're not going to blow up at you like my sister did, I promise.”         “I think I'll go to bed too,” said Vinyl. “Um, if that's okay, of course...”         “Of course,” Rose replied. “Just remember, we wake up early around here, so we might be making a lot of noise when you're used to sleeping in.”         “No, Octavia is still an early riser, and I make a lot of noise in the mornings too, so...” She was about to grin, but stopped herself just in time to turn it into an awkward cough and a mumble about being exhausted from the trip instead. “Thanks for dinner! Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Pie.”         “Goodnight,” the parents said tenderly as Vinyl followed Octavia to her old room upstairs.         “So what did I do wrong?” Vinyl asked as she pulled the fabulously-warm hoof-stitched quilt the couple was lying under closer.         “Vinyl,” Octavia said, “you were wonderful. My parents loved you. Couldn't you tell?”         “Was it my hair? I can dye it something more normal. I knew I should have taken out my tinted contacts too. My aura not being the same color as my eyes must have freaked her right out.”         “Please stop,” Octavia softly whispered as she slowly brushed her nose through Vinyl's leafy, minty mane. “Don't change anything about yourself just because of my sister.” She closed her eyes and drew her mouth toward Vinyl's.         “Wait wait wait,” Vinyl said, pulling back right before their lips met. “I forgot to brush my teeth.”         “Are you serious?” Octavia groaned with a dumbfounded expression. “You know I don't care about that.”         “I do. Sorry. I'll be right back!”         Vinyl grabbed her supplies in an azure nimbus of magic, then hurried into the bathroom down the hall.         “Smooth...” she said to herself. While she used her telekinesis to move the brush along her teeth, she checked up on the rest of her appearance in the cracked piece of glass that served as the upstairs bathroom's mirror. The gel in her mane had long since lost its potency, so now her locks hung from her head like a ball of moss. Her pupils were no longer red now that her contacts were out, but it seemed like their color had seeped out to the whites of her eyes, which were bloodshot from a long day—and from a fit of tears she had tried desperately to hide from Octavia. Thankfully, her sweet hadn't said anything if she did notice. “At least my teeth look good now.”         Vinyl Scratch's eye caught something weird in the mirror's image. It was a painting. This one showed, in a dark mix of oils, a cloudy midnight sky in which it was a struggle even for starlight to be seen. Nearly half of the canvas was covered up by the jagged crack in the mirror, however, so Vinyl turned around to get a better look. She started. Seemingly traced along the exact edges where the fissure in the glass would be, a crimson lightning bolt split the darkness in the actual, physical image. The bolt was so vivid that it seemed as if the artist had taken the exact opposite of each color in the palette used for the rest of the painting in order to make it. Looking back at the mirror, the flash of electricity was no longer visible at all from this angle. Vinyl could just barely make out the hints of furious red light behind the crack by craning her neck to the sides.         “Whoa,” she said. “Cool.” She leaned down to spit out her toothpaste.         “Do you like it?” a voice asked in a volume barely above a whisper.         Vinyl's head bolted up, and when she saw the reflection of Octavia's sister standing in the shadow of the hallway, so did the rest of her body. “Yikes!” she yelped. “Uh, hey Blinkster! I mean, Blinkie. I mean, Blinkadette...”         “Just Blinkie is fine,” the middle Pie child said somberly. She didn't move an inch, even after some nervous laughter from Vinyl. “So do you like it, or not?”         “Yeah, I do...” Vinyl glanced around. This room didn't even have windows. It was just a wash basin and a toilet that looked like it had been recently connected to a sewer or septic tank, lit by a small, dim lamp that hung from the ceiling. No escape routes.         “It's okay if you don't. I won't get mad.” Vinyl was about to animatedly reassure the mare to avert any potential wrath, but Blinkie continued speaking in a calm monotone. “And I'm sorry I did before.”         “Sorry for what?”         “For saying all those nasty things about you,” Blinkie said, lowering her head. “I don't even know you, and it would have been incredibly rude even if I did. I'm sorry.”         “Oh,” said Vinyl. “Don't sweat it. It sounded like you have a lot going on.”         “I do and I don't.” Blinkie Pie glanced back and forth between the two halves of her work of art in the room. “I'll leave it at that.         “Look, I do love my sister, and her discerning eye is one of the things I appreciate most about her. If she sees something in you, then there must be something in you, even if I don't see it yet, and wow. This apology just went off the rails in a big way. Forget I said that. Again, I'm sorry for everything. I don't think you're a freak.”         “Thanks, I guess,” Vinyl responded with a semi-forced smile.         “Okay.” Blinkie turned to walk back to her room, which allowed Vinyl to finally get a good look at her cutie mark. It was... a lumpy rock? She couldn't say for sure. It just looked like a gray blob had been smeared on her mauve flank. “Goodnight.”         “Goodnight,” Vinyl called out after the pony who was retreating into the shadows. “Hey, wait. I really do like your paintings, by the way. They're sweet.”         “Don't push it.” Blinkadette turned back, showing the barest hint of a smile, but it was a genuine one. “You're lucky you got an apology out of me.” Then she was gone.                  When Vinyl crept back into the blissfully-soft bed with Octavia, her mare glared at her. In a loving way, at least.         “If you're uncomfortable being intimate with me here,” she said, “you should simply say so.”         “No, I really did need to brush my teeth,” Vinyl explained. “I want you to have the best I can offer, and that includes even the little things, like kisses.”         Octavia's glower sprang into a grin and a twinkling laugh. “I love you so much.” Wrapping all four of her legs around Vinyl's body to playfully prevent the unicorn's escape, she leaned in to attempt to plant another kiss on her love's lips. Said love pulled away again at the last second.         “The best I can offer...” she remarked thoughtfully, looking off into the middle distance at nothing. “Sweet, I have an idea!”         Octavia Pie buried her face into a pillow so she could let out a louder frustrated moan than the one before.         “It's going to take me all night, but I know exactly what I can do to make your sister happy. I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, okay? I've been practicing the spark spell for you.” She winked.         “But you've been pulling our luggage for half the day,” Octavia objected. “Why don't you just relax here with me?” She looked earnestly at her partner, whose musical heart missed a rare beat at the sight of those glistening, lilac eyes.         “I'm really tempted.” Vinyl gulped, then shook her head, dislodged herself from Octavia's grip, and crawled out from under the covers. “But no. I'll be back in the morning. You've been pulling just as much as I have, so why don't you take your own advice and rest, okay?” She laid a tender kiss on Octavia's forehead.         “Just don't do anything too crazy,” the earth pony said. “Please.”         Vinyl grinned and trotted out of the bedroom.                  Octavia awoke with the rooster's call. She was momentarily disappointed that she was still alone in bed, but then she caught the smell of pancakes being prepared downstairs. With a child-like giggle, she bounded out of bed and hurried toward the aroma. With an exuberance that only the sudden recollection of simple but cherished memories can provide, she perkily greeted her mom, who was deftly working the skillet, and her dad, who was reading The Farmer's Almanac.         “Where's Miss Scratch?” her dad asked, glancing up from the list of scheduled “atmospheric events."         “You haven't seen her?”         “No, we just woke up,” Rose Pie said, “and we wanted to make sure you got something good when you got down here. We haven't seen your sister either, though...”         “That's probably for the best,” said Octavia. “Listen, about Blinkadette...”         A loud thud from the direction of the front door stopped her in mid-sentence. She and her dad rushed there, while her mom tried to keep from fumbling with the cooking.         Sprawled up the stone steps that led to the Pies' newly-renovated porch was Vinyl Scratch. The unicorn DJ was breathing hard and sweating profusely, and her horn was scorched nearly black from overuse. Octavia rushed to her side and roused her. Vinyl slowly opened her eyes with tired blinks, then beamed with a dazzling smile at the face that greeted her. “I'm okay.”         “What happened? Oh gosh, you're covered in dirt and dust. Are you injured? Dad, help me carry her inside!”         Clyde's stick of chewing-hay had fallen out of his mouth, and he did not even appear to hear his daughter's words. Octavia followed his gaze and saw why: nearly every single one of their rocks was gone.         “Dad?” Blinkie yawned and squinted as she stepped out into the light of dawn to join them. “What was that noise? It--” Her voice caught in her throat when she saw Vinyl, then her entire body froze when she saw the field. “Where are all the rocks!?”         “I rotated them for you,” Vinyl said proudly. “I'm surprised you don't have any unicorns around. Seems like they'd be really helpful for this sort of work. I have to admit, it's a bit much for just one, but I'm sure you could find plenty that aren't too snooty to get down in the dirt. I missed some of the crop, but... uh, why is everypony looking at me like that?”         “You.” Blinkadette's voice dripped with venom. “Get. Out.”         “Blinkie, I don't--” Octavia began.         “No! I want her out of here now!”         “Dad?” Octavia asked quietly, holding her companion's hooves in hers reassuringly. It was doing little good, however. Vinyl was on the verge of hyperventilating.         “I--” he said with a broken voice. “I think it's best that your special friend leaves, at least for the time being.”         “I'm so confused,” Vinyl gasped, trying to get to her hooves with Octavia's help. “What did I do?”         Clyde and Blinkie were silent, so she turned to Octavia.         “Unicorn magic destroys gem crops,” she said very slowly, in order to keep her voice steady and her eyes dry. “You just turned this season's whole harvest back into worthless rocks. Here, I'll find some blankets we can lie on out here. It'll be okay.”         Supporting her mute and unresisting mate with her shoulders, Octavia led the way to their cart, where some supplies remained unpacked, and where they could be alone.         “At least Pinkamena will be here in a couple days,” Clyde Pie remarked, trying to banish the resigned sadness from his voice. “Seeing her will cheer us up.”         “Pinkie?” Unseen by her father, Blinkie's pupils shrank with pure terror. “Oh no...”