//------------------------------// // 16) World Keep On Turning // Story: Music Makes The Heart // by TheVulpineHero1 //------------------------------// -The World Keep On Turning- (Fleetwood Mac) The last note of Octavia's performance whispered to a close; the judges, silhouetted in the gallery above, clopped their hooves with the generic politeness required of the impartial. Octavia took a deep breath, released it; she distantly wished she'd had a pair of glasses to hide behind. Then, she bowed, packed her instrument with professional efficiency, and left the stage. Outside, Vinyl greeted her. Her dress was still closer to an impressionist painting than an article of clothing, but she seemed to have moulded to it, somewhat. There was an aura of 'mad artiste' about her, hidden behind her shades. "Pretty good," the unicorn said smokily. "You're better solo." "Oh, I forgot that you're DJ Pon3 when you've got the glasses on. I suppose that means we're back down to three word sentences and inconclusive statements?" Octavia asked, rolling her eyes. "A persona's a persona," the DJ shrugged. "It helps me work." "Oh, yes. I can imagine why you'd need it, what with all this DJ equipment around," Octavia replied, motioning to the near-empty waiting lounge. "My turntable's in my head," the unicorn said, faux philosophically. After a second, she pulled down her glasses. "Yeah, right. It's been too long since I've worn these. I feel way less cool than I used to." "Lukewarm, at best," Octavia agreed. "Is the 'cool' factor important, then?" "Mm. A persona's a persona," Vinyl replied, and moved her glasses back up to cover her eyes. "You saying you don't like it?" "Well, a little mystery is fine. You're a better conversationalist without the glasses, though." "I kiss better with them on," the DJ responded. Octavia snorted. "Unless you're going to drag me up on stage to make out with you, I should hardly think it would be an issue." "Don't give me ideas," the unicorn said, smirking. "Here come the judges." They filed out of the hallway to the balconies in single file, before scattering into a nondescript bunch. The spokespony, a rather large earth pony with a stodgy perm, greeted them with a motherly smile. "Our apologies for the wait, Miss Octavia. We were conferring," she said, and shifted her gaze slightly. "Hello to you too, Miss P0N3. How goes the DJ business? Are the beats still, ahem, kickin'?" "They never stop. How goes Esmerelda? Still looking to get kicked?" One of the ponies in the back of the cluster scowled. "Careful. You might ruin that marvellous dress of yours," she spat. "Takes your breath away, doesn't it?" the unicorn retorted smoothly. "Ahem! Esme, Miss Scratch, please settle this on your own time," the spokespony said, suddenly stern and matronly. "We have a judging to deliver." Octavia raised her chin slightly, and met eyes with the judges. For a moment, her gaze was so steady and serene that she might have been a marble statue. "Your technical skill is very refined. However, we have concerns over how progressive your style is. The Fillydelphia Philharmonic Orchestra is not a large establishment, and we cannot afford to take the risks a more profitable group like the Canterlot Harmonics could. However," the spokespony said, her motherly smile returning, "we feel that, with a little effort on both our parts, we could happily include you as one of our number." "I'm very pleased you think so," Octavia replied, fighting the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. "Cool," Vinyl cut in, lowering her glasses and flashing a look around the room. A stallion in the back of the group flinched as she met his eyes, and looked visibly shaken when she finally moved her gaze to somepony else. "We have several other auditions scheduled for the near future, but we'll be awaiting your offer with interest." "Other auditions?" the spokespony asked sweetly, although her tone betrayed a businesslike edge. "Yeah. Obviously, I can't tell you any of the finer details," Vinyl said, with an unconvincing approximation of regret, "but some pretty big players have expressed interest in Octavia here." "Is that so? If you don't mind my asking, Miss Scratch, what kind of players are we speaking about?" "Well," Vinyl replied conspiratorially, "Think about it. I'm the manager, and she's the talent. That ought to say everything." Octavia looked from unicorn to the earth pony, and felt distinctly that she was excluded from something. "I see. Well, we'll certainly take that into consideration. You'll receive our offer through the usual channels," the spokespony said, any maternal warmth long dried up. "Good to hear. Well, hate to be impolite, but we're going to have to cut this short. There's a train to Manehatten that we ought to be catching, and neither of us have packed yet. Nice to see you again," she nodded. "Good riddance," Esmerelda muttered as Vinyl turned. "Go suck a salt lick, Esme," the DJ called casually, heading towards the exit at a deliberately easy pace. Octavia said a few rushed goodbyes before following in her wake. "What was that all about?" she whispered, feeling the judge's eyes follow them as they left. "Politics. Just going through the motions," Vinyl said, smoke in her voice. "Sorry for speaking for you. They wanted to play hardball." "Hardball?" "Yeah. They were trying to sweat you out. No way did they take that long 'conferring'. They've been hurting for a good cellist for three months now. Their last one went deaf after thirty years in the industry, so they've been getting by with novices and temps," the unicorn explained. "I'd bet my best decks that they were planning to psych you out, get you to join them there and then for a lower salary." Octavia frowned. "Really? The head judge seemed polite." "Seemed is right," Vinyl replied, and pulled her glasses back down. "We have packing to do." Octavia looked at the train they were meant to be boarding, looked at Vinyl, then back at the train. It was a massive thing, a behemoth of polished steel and smoke and noise. It had more wheels than a unicycle factory, many of them almost as tall as a standing pony and the smallest only half that; the ground itself seemed to tremble beneath its weight. The nose was rounded in a way unlike any of the smaller trains Octavia had seen before. Decorating the whole thing was a coat of sterling silver paint, embellished by patterns of gold that curled around the train like wild flowers. "It's a little...ostentatious, don't you think?" Octavia whispered. "All I did was book the tickets. How was I meant to know that the express was being pulled by the disco glitter train?" Vinyl hissed back. "I must say, dear, you've got an excellent taste in transportation. I love the bold design," Octavia's mother cooed. "...In other words, yeah, it's ostentatious," Vinyl grumbled. "The HRH Princess Celestia. Tch. It smells like a coal mine and weighs more than a house. Wonder what they were trying to say by naming it after her?" "Mere mortal ponies shall never know. Regardless, we'd better board. I don't think they'll wait around for us to continue criticising the aesthetic," Octavia shrugged, and began dragging the suitcases on board. Her mother blew her nose in a hankie the size of a flag. "You know, I almost envy you two. It's been a while since I had occasion to travel in style." "...it's a style, all right," Vinyl muttered, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Vinyl, leave the train alone. You'll hurt its feelings. Speaking of, can you give me a hoof before I hurt my back?" Octavia called. "The train's big enough and ugly enough to take care of itself," the unicorn shrugged. Octavia glowered at her. She sighed, and the cases lit up with a pale magical glow. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." Octavia dodged the cases which were now flying towards the luggage department (a little erratically, she noticed), and hopped down onto the platform. Wordlessly, she hugged her mother. "You know you can always come home if you need to. I've never seen your face quite so troubled as it has been recently, dear," the older mare whispered. "I know, mother. I know. There's been...complications with my job status, and I didn't take it too well. Vinyl and I are trying to salvage the situation. I don't know if it's going to work. Vinyl's brilliant, but the more we do, the more I realise that the industry is bigger than we might be able to deal with," Octavia said, burying her face in her mother's mane. "I think you've really impressed her, but don't tell her I told you that." Octavia's mother sniffed. "You know I'm biased, dear, but I think you're talented enough to have the whole industry wrapped around your hind hoof if you wanted to. But there'll always be a place for you here if it doesn't work out." "Mm. Thank you. I'll try and visit more often, if I can. I've missed you," Octavia said, finally pulling away. "You're always welcome to. That goes for Vinyl, too. Oh, and I expect letters. From both of you," the mare said, looking pointedly at the unicorn, who had been watching in respectful silence. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Can do. Been nice meeting you, ma'am." The train whistled and a tinny voice filled the station, warning passengers on the Manehattan Express line to board immediately. "I'll get a hug out of you next time," Octavia's mother told Vinyl, before looking back at her daughter. "Dear, you'd better get going." Five minutes later, Vinyl and Octavia were sitting in the plushest seats ever installed on a train, watching as the station moved out of view. The unicorn gave a small sigh, and brought out a pair of magazines. She tossed one to Octavia. "Cosmarepolitan? Really?" the earth pony chided. "I know ponies who wouldn't use Cosmare for hamster bedding. Well, a pony. She's a little crazy, though. Jumps at her own shadow a lot." "I wouldn't use it for hamster bedding, either. Too glossy. The quizzes are interesting, though," the unicorn murmured. "Oh, I bet," Octavia replied wryly. "What are you reading?" There was a brief rustle as Vinyl turned her magazine to check. "Uh...Horticulturist Horse Quarterly." "That's a gardening magazine, Vinyl." "I know that." "I didn't realise you were into that kind of thing." "I'm not. I'm just looking into it," Vinyl said, pointedly not looking at the blue glow that was twiddling with Octavia's mane. "Takes interest in hobbies, three points. Next issue, I get to find out what kind of date you like," Octavia replied with a smirk. Vinyl went silent for a little while, although her hair-twiddling didn't cease. "Tavi?" "Yes?" "Does your mom really expect me to write her letters?" the unicorn asked seriously. "Yes. And I don't think she was joking about that hug, either." "That's gonna be a problem," Vinyl sighed. "Why?" Vinyl pulled her glasses down to cover her eyes. "Because, honestly, I have no idea what your mom's name is." A/N: Oh man, I'm so unbelievably rusty right now. This feels nowhere near as good, to me, as previous chapters, but hey. Gotta get my eye in somehow. (Also, I feel like 'salt lick' should be cockney rhyming slang, especially the way Vinyl uses it in this chapter).