5. Sour Notes
According to the clock at the station, the train was only twenty minutes late. However, time was very relative in this kind of weather. For some, twenty minutes easily stretched into eternity in the midst of the winter climate. A cold breeze chilled the skin, forcing ponies to pull on their scarves and jackets as they tried to maximize every small degree of warmth their inner temperature provided. The clouds were gray and endless in stark contrast to the hay roof overhead, a depressing gloom befalling the land. For these ponies, the minutes ticked slowly because every second that passed by was a second keeping them away from the warmth and shelter. Rose was not one of these ponies.
Winter was Rose’s favorite season for a variety of reasons. The most practical of these was that she did not feel like she stuck out as much as she did the rest of the year. Being the only pony that always wore clothes tended to bring a lot of unwanted attention but, during this season, she was not alone. As she looked around she noted that everypony around her was wearing a jacket, earmuffs, and/or a scarf. She was indistinguishable in her black jacket from anypony else, and she loved it. The second reason was far less practical.
Rose found that there was a certain magic to found in winter if one knew where to look. The cold, though a nuisance to some, forced ponies together in their efforts to stay warm, coloring their cheeks with the softest of blushes in the hue of young love. She let out a warm breath into the icy atmosphere, watching with glee as it turned to a misty vapor. For Rose, the twenty minutes shortened into seconds. There was too much beauty to see and not nearly enough time.
Rose looked to her right, eyeing her companion. The white unicorn shivered in a poufy jacket that was the same color as her natural coat. The hood of said jacket covered most of her mane, but a few stray blue strands managed to sneak through. At this moment she was trying to defog her purple shades.
Ponyville had really calmed down in the recent month. Maybe it was because of the cold weather keeping ponies inside, or maybe it was just because of the time of year itself which kept ponies busy with their projects and preparations, but it seemed like less and less ponies walked around each day. The market, for example, was completely deserted when Rose had walked through it earlier that day. She had just finished work and was about to reach her home when she noticed Vinyl locking the door to her own house.
“Hey Vinyl!” Rose shouted. “Heading out?”
Vinyl looked around, unsure of whether or not she had actually heard somepony calling her, before she noticed the purple-maned pegasus.
“Oh hey Rose, yeah I have to go to the train station,” Vinyl said. “A good friend of mine is coming to Ponyville today. She said she’d stop by my place once she got in town, but I kind of want to go meet her at the train station instead.”
Rose noticed the slight blush on the dj for which the weather was not responsible, and, after giving her a knowing look, decided to not press the issue.
“Well I won’t keep you then,” said Rose. “Maybe I can meet your friend later?”
She began to turn towards her home when Vinyl stopped her.
“Hey! Do you want to come wait with me?” asked Vinyl.
Rose thought for a second, deciding she did not have anything better to do, and agreed, following the cheerful unicorn all the way to the train station.
“There we go!” said Vinyl, snapping Rose from her thoughts. “Sorry about that, but it was getting to where I could not see anything. Now, what were you saying?”
“It’s quite alright,” said Rose. “I was just saying that then when I went to work the next day, the pink pegasus was nothing but nice to me.”
“Yeah, I bet. Airheart can come off as a mean pony at first, but she’s very kind underneath it all,” said Vinyl. “I’m glad you’re liking the new job.”
“Me too. Aside from that awkward first day, it’s been wonderful.”
Rose then looked down the track and saw an approaching train. “Hey Vinyl, the train is here.”
Vinyl looked down the track and allowed herself a small smile. Rose studied her. Although Vinyl did not show much emotion, Rose could tell how excited she was from the way her muscles tensed, the way her breath was hurried, and from the slight tremor in her voice when she said, “About time.”
Rose looked back at the train, wondering what kind of pony could fill Vinyl with such glee. However, as the train stopped at the station, Rose realized that she knew nothing about the pony she was meeting. She had made such a point to not embarrass Vinyl and to drop the subject, that Rose had never even learnt the visiting pony’s name.
“Well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough,” thought Rose. “But still, I could ask a few questions.”
“Hey Vinyl,” Rose began. “So where’s your friend coming from again?”
“Oh, she’s a famous cellist from Canterlot,” said Vinyl. “But Ponyville is like her second home. She’s been really busy with her concerts this year; otherwise she would’ve visited sooner.”
Rose, however, was no longer listening. She was weighing her options.
“I could run,” she thought. “I could fly away. Vinyl would be confused and maybe a bit hurt, but I could explain later and it won’t be a big deal as long as I leave before…”
She never finished her sentence.
Rose had turned around to check if the coast was clear when she noticed that the doors of the train had been opened, and in the middle of the exiting crowd, Rose saw her. The mare had a dark grey mane, a light grey coat, and a purple scarf that matched her treble clef cutie mark. She was pulling a blue suitcase.
“Octavia, over here!” yelled Vinyl waving her arms.
Octavia recognized the sound of someone calling her. She then noticed the purple shades, her face breaking into a grin. She began to walk towards her friend when the crowd parted, revealing the pony to Vinyl’s right.
Octavia stopped.
Both Octavia and Rose stared at the other with confusion in their eyes. Still, there were slight differences in their expressions. Rose showcased anxiety and fear. Octavia displayed anger and something else Rose could not put her hoof on.
Rose wanted many things at that moment. She wanted to run away. She wanted to say something. She wanted to cry. However, she did none of these things. Instead, she stood rooted in place, rendered completely mute.
Time showcased how relative it could be by stretching seconds into years. Neither mare moved. Neither mare blinked.
Vinyl, unaware of the tension growing on that train station platform, continued to wave at her friend while calling her name.
“Octavia, I’m right here!”
This broke Octavia out of her stupor; she quickly corrected her features, erasing any trace of the rage and discomfort that had previously occupied her face. She walked towards Vinyl with a serene smile on her face.
“Vinyl, it is soo good to see you! Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe I told you I would be stopping by your domicile as soon as I got to Ponyville.”
It was very slight, but Octavia stopped in a way that put Rose outside of her peripherals, shutting her out of the conversation. Rose noticed, but was in no position to say anything about it.
“Nope, nothing to correct,” said Vinyl with a smile. “I just got tired of waiting for you. I’m not at your beck and call, you know?”
“Really now? Sorry, I do forget that sometimes, seeing no evidence as such,” said Octavia. “Now, should we get going? I’m afraid my little scarf is not going to be enough for this weather and my jackets are all in my suitcase.”
“Sure thing,” said Vinyl. “But first you have to meet my friend, Evening Rose. Rose, this is my old friend, Octavia.”
Octavia turned to look at Rose as if just noticing she was there while Vinyl stood behind her. Octavia’s violet eyes gazed with such malice that Rose had to struggle against the instinct to step back. Octavia’s voice, on the other hoof, betrayed no such sentiments.
“... Evening Rose, is it? Charmed.” said Octavia.
Rose was slow to react.
“…Yes, a pleasure to meet you.”
Rose saw that same look flash through Octavia’s face again. It had only been for a second, but it was there. It seemed familiar, but she still could not quite place it.
“Well, let’s head back then!" Vinyl said as she started marching away from the station, once again oblivious of the sentiments of the two ponies she left behind. After a second, Octavia turned and began walking after Vinyl, glancing back once at Rose before speeding up to catch her friend. Rose took a deep breath before following.
Once she caught up to the two mares, she walked next to them in silence. Vinyl was filling in Octavia on the changes in her music career since her last visit when they arrived in front of Rose’s home.
“Hey Vinyl,” said Rose. “I’m going to go ahead and head in.”
Vinyl turned to look at her.
“Oh ok, sorry if we were ignoring you for a bit there,” said Vinyl apologetically. “Tons to catch up on.”
“No no, it’s ok, I completely understand. I’m just tired is all,” responded Rose.
She chanced a glance at Octavia and saw nothing on her features. No anger, no hatred, and no trace of that indiscernible emotion from earlier. Rose gave her a quick nod, which Octavia politely returned. She then turned to Vinyl again, saying goodbye before letting herself indoors.
Despite her best efforts, Rose could not sleep. Her room was dark due to the closed curtains, but a few stray streaks of orange light from the setting sun managed to seep through the small gaps where the curtains failed to cover the window. Rose wanted to blame her inability to sleep on her circadian rhythm failing to be fooled by her attempts to recreate the darkness of night but, if she was honest with herself, she knew there was a much more likely explanation.
“I saw Octavia today,” she thought to herself.
Next to the bed was a scattered collection of notebooks, traveling notebooks from her years growing up in Canterlot. She had pulled them out to revisit the few good times she had chronicled, but she found that the notebooks were not needed. The specter of bygone days that had greeted her today had brought those memories to the forefront of Rose’s mind, and it was those memories that drove away sleep. Well, those, and the look Octavia gave Rose at the station. A look of anger, of hatred, and of something else. She turned on her side, determined to find a way to sleep, when she heard a knocking at the door.
Rose turned to face the doorway of her room but made no move to get up. No one knew she was home; whomever it was would just assume she was elsewhere and go away. She noiselessly sat up, gripping her covers for comfort as she waited.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Besides,” thought Rose, “the only ponies that know for sure that I’m home are Vinyl and Octavia, and I told them both that I was tired and therefore would be obviously asleep. They couldn’t blame me for not answering the door if I were asleep.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It was louder this time.
Rose held her breath, and did not allow herself to move. Her heartbeat was deafening, but she did nothing to correct it. All she could do was act like she did not exist.
“I know you’re in there and that you’re awake, coward,” yelled a voice from outside. “Now open up.”
Rose sighed; she could not ignore her any longer. Rose walked down the stairs and opened the door.
Octavia, wearing a light grey jacket and her purple scarf, looked up as the door opened. Her posture was detached and her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were intense as she stared down the black pegasus.
Rose simply stared at Octavia with a look of concern and worry. She was not surprised to see the cellist there, but that did not mean she was not intimidated. This reminded her of the last time she had had that thought and she hoped that this conversation would end with similar results. However, looking at Octavia, she doubted it.
The two mares stared at the other in silence until Octavia came inside the house, stepping by Rose without having been invited and not speaking a word. Rose noiselessly followed her into the house, closing the door behind her.
Octavia walked around the bottom floor, examining the living room and kitchen. She took special notice of the pictures on the wall, the keepsakes on the shelves, and the mirror by the stairs. She seemed confused by the mirror’s presence. Finally, Octavia made her way to the furniture in the living room and took a seat by the table. Rose sat on the opposite side.
“So,” began Octavia, “this is where you ended up, is it? Slant?”
Rose winced at the name, but Octavia did not seem the least bit concerned.
“Oh, you don’t like ponies using your name? Slant Rhyme is your name right?”
Rose looked up. There was anger in Octavia’s eyes, but that other emotion was there again.
“Or how about I call you Script? Do you remember that one? You came up with it, asked me to call you that!? Or are you not that pony either?!”
Octavia’s voice was trembling; with what Rose could not be sure.
“But no, I suppose now you’re this Evening Rose, a stray from nowhere in particular trying to live as a MARE no less.”
Octavia broke her stare, instead looking at the table.
“What happened to you, Script?” Octavia said in a very soft voice.
Rose opened her mouth but no sound came out. She wanted to explain what happened, to justify herself in some way, but she could not. Rose took another look at Octavia’s eyes and lost all will to talk.
“No,” said Octavia. “You don’t have to explain. I think I can piece things together from this. It actually explains a lot of things.”
Rose found herself recovering her voice.
“Like what?”” she asked.
Octavia turned to glare at her.
“Did you know everypony in Canterlot is still talking about you? Even now? Your disappearance has all of Canterlot guessing as to what happened to you.”
Octavia closed her eyes.
“Your parents say you’re very sick. That’s why no one has seen you. They say that you are in critical care and would be staying indoors until further notice. No one was allowed to go see you, not even me.” Octavia said that last part with unrestrained bitterness in her voice. “Something didn’t add up though. Why wouldn’t I be allowed to be there when you were fighting for your life? Why did your father seem more angry than upset? Why did your brother seem so distant and detached? Something was wrong. Then I thought to our last conversation.”
Rose thought back as well; she could remember it clearly.
“All the pieces told a story different than the official one and I put them together. I figured out that things probably got too bad at home. You couldn’t take it anymore and you ran away. And yet, there was one piece I could not figure out. What did you have going on that was so secret that you couldn’t tell me? What secret was so bad that it would make you run away? And what was so important and immediate that you left without talking to me, without warning? Why would you leave me behind?”
Octavia looked at Rose with that emotion on her face, except this time Rose knew what it was. It was hurt.
“Now I know,” said Octavia. Tears flowed freely from her eyes.
Rose went up to her side and held her tight and spoke.
“Please know that if I could’ve told you I would’ve. I’m very sorry, Muse.”
Octavia was startled by the use of her old nickname, but it was not long before the tears started again, with each pony weeping into the mane of the other. After a few moments, Octavia pulled her head back from Rose’s shoulder, staring at Rose’s eyes. She then moved forward until their lips met.
There was a familiar warm and softness there that Rose permitted herself to enjoy. However, Octavia broke the kiss, allowing confusion to take hold.
“Octavia…” Rose said. “Do you still…?”
“No,” Octavia cut her off. “I haven’t since we went to school together and besides, that was not meant for you,” she said with steel in her voice, “that was meant for Script.”
Tears formed in Octavia’s eyes again as a painful memory resurfaced in her mind, but she fought them back. Instead, she talked.
“I thought I’d never see you again. Most of me thought you had run away, but part of me thought you might have died. You might as well have been dead…” Octavia closed her eyes again, as if doing so would spare her the memory. “You were gone, I thought I lost you… and I’m not dumb enough to allow myself to have the same regret twice.”
“However, I did lose you, didn’t I?” Octavia turned to look at Rose. “Script really is dead.”
Rose did not answer. She did not know how. There was much she wanted to say or correct, but now was not the time. The silence allowed Octavia to gather herself.
“And do not think this changes anything;” said Octavia. “I’m still mad at you for leaving. And even if you really couldn’t tell me before you left, you’ve had plenty of time to write to me since then. You really hurt me, and I’m not sure I can forgive you.”
She then scoffed as a thought occurred to her.
“You know, for a very long time I’ve felt nothing for you but anger and contempt,” she said. “But honestly, all I feel for you right now is pity. I pity you for what you’ve lost, and what you’ve left behind. You’ve picked a hard life for yourself.”
Octavia gave a sad smile and spoke with the softest voice she could muster. “I hope all the sacrifice was worth it to that stallion I grew up with.”
“Mare,” said Rose, finding her voice.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Mare. You said ‘that stallion you grew up with’; it should be ‘that mare’ instead.”
Octavia looked at Rose for a long while before responding.
“I guess it should.”
An awkward silence befell the household as the two mares tried to make sense of the situation. There was too much uncertainty to think properly. The lines that separate friends, acquaintances, and strangers blurred into one smudged blur as both of them struggled to find the next appropriate word to say. Octavia was the first to do so.
“Well, I guess I should go back to Vinyl’s,” Octavia said, turning to leave.
“Please stay?”
Octavia turned with confusion in her eyes at the purple-maned pegasus with the downward glance.
“Just a bit longer? I’ll make hot chocolate, and we can sit and talk. Really talk, like we used to.”
Octavia gave a sad smile in spite of herself.
“I’m not sure it’s that simple to patch things up,” Octavia said. “But I’m willing to try.”
Rose went and made hot chocolate while Octavia went and found two chairs, placing them next to each other. The two mares then sat, enjoyed their drinks, and talked for hours until it was really time for Octavia to head back to Vinyl’s for some sleep.
A great storm had severely damaged the bridge that connected them, and despite whatever they did, the bridge would never be quite the same. Regardless of this, they gave it an honest effort. It would be tough to rebuild over the damage, but the two had history behind them to pave the way. They had been best friends once before; they figured they could do it again.