Overture
Not since the first Grand Galloping Gala, many hundred years ago, had the ball been surrounded by so much controversy. It all started with the announcement that Princess Celestia would not be hosting. Instead, Princess Luna would be serving as the master of ceremonies. At that, all of Canterlot was in a fury. The fact that non-ponies would be invited in great numbers was just salt in the wound.
Despite the storm of dispute, the Gala’s date remained fixed firmly on the calendar. Eventually the anger died away; as such petty emotions tended to do. Tickets went out to those deserving, arrangements were made for the banquet, and decorations began to appear all throughout Canterlot, until the entire city had transformed into a stunning wonderland of regal affairs. On the night of the Gala, Princess Luna prepared a stunning display in her night sky: a meteor shower described as a “once in a millennium” show. Such a beautiful display of the lunar princess’ power brought wonder and awe to even the most stubborn of holdouts.
That was not to say that everypony at the Gala was happy. In fact, there was one pegasus who seemed intent on lowering the mood of the entire ball. This pegasus was of average size for a stallion, perhaps a bit stocky, closer in dimensions to an earth pony than a fellow flyer. His coat was charcoal gray, though a mane of cyan kept him from being too boring in appearance. He wore a dour expression and was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Soarin’ of the Wonderbolts, who wore an annoyed expression of his own. Seated towards the back of the main ballroom, they did not draw attention to themselves, and so the partygoers paid them no mind.
“Would you stop brooding, Lane. Being a Wonderbolt isn’t only about flying high and fast. Sometimes it’s about keeping up appearances. When it does become official, you’ll have to attend galas, openings, charity balls. All sorts of stuff like that.”
Thunderlane, the charcoal pony, sighed and shrugged. “It feels like we have been mingling all night!”
“It’s only been an hour,” Soarin’ interrupted.
“Regardless, no pegasi should be cooped up for this long. What if Rumble needs something? What if he gets into trouble and I’m not there?”
“For the third time, Spitfire is looking after him. This afternoon, she took him to the Wonderbolt Museum. He’s probably tucked into bed right now, dreaming of one day flying alongside his big brother.”
Thunderlane sighed and rolled his eyes. “Why doesn’t Spitfire have to be here, anyway?”
“Oh, she hates coming to these,” Soarin’ chuckled. “She’s the highest-ranking Wonderbolt though. She’s allowed to do that. You aren’t. So buck up.”
Thunderlane sighed. “I can’t believe I finally get a day off, and I have to spend it here with a bunch of haughty horn heads.”
Soarin’ shifted his weight and gave Thunderlane a gentle ram with his side. “Not all unicorns are haughty, you know. You should try actually talking to one.”
Thunderlane looked out at the sea of ponies and the few non-ponies, such as griffons and the odd dog. Soarin’ gave him another shoulder shove. “I’m going to go find Rainbow Dash, Lane. Please don’t just sit here brooding. Remember, you are representing the Wonderbolts.”
Thunderlane groaned as he watched the only pony he really knew trot off and disappear into crowd. He tried remaining where he was, standing towards the back of the ballroom, but quickly grew bored of that. His hooves were aching, his suit jacket was uncomfortable, his wings were stiff, and his belly was rumbling angrily. The little sandwiches he had been served were not nearly enough to satiate him. Soarin’ was right, though. He was here representing the Wonderbolts, and it would look bad if he spent the rest of the Gala hiding. With a grumble, he straightened a few ruffles out of his jacket, lifted his head high, and trotted forward. His first step without Soarin’ by his side was rather hesitant, but he doubted any of the partygoers noticed. All any of them seemed concerned with was acting like stereotypical snobs: snouts high in the air, monocles somehow held in place over their eye, magic occupied holding crumpets or glasses of wine.
It wasn’t that Thunderlane disliked unicorns or earth ponies; he just wasn’t sure how to act around them. He had lived most of his life in Cloudsdale, and so had rarely interacted with earthbound cousins. Even when he worked on weather detail in Ponyville, he had been surrounded by his fellow pegasi. He did not dislike unicorns or earth ponies, but they were different, and that made them a little bit scary.
Thunderlane’s ears twitched. He lifted his head and looked about. His ears focused on a rather haunting melody that was swelling through the ballroom. Looking to where the band was playing, he began to push and shove his way through the many ponies. It would have been easier to fly over the crowds (the ceiling was high enough) but Soarin’ had given him very strict orders not to use his wings. Apparently, the unicorns found it rude or some such absurdity. The fact that they were free to use their horns was just one more reason Thunderlane disliked being here.
At last, he came to stand before the elevated stage where he could easier hear the haunting melody. There were four ponies in the band: a pianist, a harpist, a trombonist, and a violinist. Each contributed to the melancholy tune that was resonating, but it was the earth pony violinist that Thunderlane focused on. She was a grey mare, standing on her rear legs and gently stroking the strings of a violin almost twice her size. She must have just begun playing, because it was the addition of her dark tune that had seized Thunderlane’s attention. Or perhaps without the distraction of Soarin’, his ears were better able to tune to it.
She was pretty. Not beautiful like a unicorn, of course. When a beautiful unicorn walked into a room, all eyes shifted to her. She was pretty though, in a subtle sort of way. Her face and body were rugged, but well defined, and her face was strong, but also cute. Her mane and tail were both black and well groomed. Her smoky grey coat glowed from the affection of a kind brush. The Gala was filled with pretty mares though, many of whom surpassed the violinist’s beauty. It was the music she could produce, that kissed his ears and touched his heart, that held Thunderlane’s attention. He focused on the bow, gently dragged across the giant violin’s strings, and listened with sharp ears at the sounds that emerged, just to be sure it was her music specifically he was hearing. He was so transfixed that when the mare opened her eyes and met his gaze, he realized he had been staring. He suddenly felt quite embarrassed about that.
Thunderlane decided he was thirsty. The bar was on the other side of the ballroom, and he didn’t feel up to pushing his way through the crowd. Closer to him, he noticed a large bowl of punch that would sate his thirst. Even better, he saw a familiar face.
“Fluttershy, right?” he asked approaching the yellow pegasus, who was standing beside the punch bowl. “You are one of Rainbow Dash’s friends, are you not? I think we served on the Ponyville Weather Team together, once.”
The yellow pegasus blushed at the innocent greeting. Thunderlane would have found this odd had it not been Fluttershy he was dealing with.
“Are you as bored of this as I am?” Thunderlane asked. He poured himself a glass of the cherry flavored punch, but rather than drink it, offered it to Fluttershy. The shy mare took it, sipped it, and started to relax.
“Uhm… yeah, just a bit.”
“Are you here as a Bearer of Harmony, or as a civilian?”
“Civilian, actually. With all the controversy surrounding the Gala, Princess Luna has augmented the Royal Guard with conscripts. My friend Big Macintosh is working security. I said I would come along to keep him company during the down time. The last time I was here, it wasn’t such fun, but I didn’t want Mac to be here all alone.”
“That’s very sweet of you,” he said.
The yellow mare flapped her wings and carefully took to the air. Skimming through the party, she must have spied who she was looking for because she waved her arm, trying to signal some pony in particular. Thunderlane wondered why she was allowed to fly and he was not.
Pushing through the crowd of unicorns, a large draft horse came trotting along. He was absolutely massive, and his impressive dimensions were only augmented by the shining golden armor that adorned his form. His coat was white, and he looked almost exactly like every other royal guard at the ball save he was larger than the pegasi or unicorns. The yellow pegasus fluttered close to his face and tilted her head slightly to the side to better examine him.
“Macintosh? Is that you? I can’t tell.”
The guard’s chuckle seemed to quake through Thunderlane’s bones. “Ayup. Princess Luna’s glamour spells really do dah trick, huh? Can’t even recognize mahself in dah mirror.”
The guard grumbled, and looked to Thunderlane. “Ahm Macintosh,” he said. “Ye Thunderlane, right? Rainbow Dash talks bout ya a lot.”
Thunderlane blushed beneath his charcoal cheeks, but tried not to show it. To obscure the sight of his face, he poured himself a glass of punch and drank it. The soft, somber music stared up. The song was again slow and methodical, and sent an odd shiver down Thunderlane’s spine. “If I can ask, do you know the mare with the giant fiddle?”
Big Macintosh looked to the stage. His expression changed from stoic to somber as the music touched his ears. His lips tugged to a sad frown. “Her name is Octavia. Nice kid. She helps me with mah singin’ a lot. Been tutorin’ me extra just tah stay outa the house. Poor kid.” He shook his head sadly.
“What do you mean?” Thunderlane asked.
“She’s in ah bit of ah bad relationship, ye might say. ‘er songs used tah be sweet and sharp and full of energy. Now dey just make me shiver.” Macintosh sighed sadly. It seemed he would continue, but his ears twitched and he turned his head to the sound of a ruckus not too far away. “Unicorns,” he muttered. “Just can’t hold their liquor.”
Before he left, he leaned down and touched his massive snout to the yellow pegasus’ nose. She took it a step further and slipped out her tongue to lick up his face. Now wearing a smile, Macintosh turned and sifted into the crowd, heading towards the sounds of the ruckus.
Thunderlane was feeling better as he walked back into the crowd. Maybe the punch had been spiked with something, but he guessed the affection between Fluttershy and the draft horse had put him at ease. Love was contagious, as some ponies said.
He slipped back towards the stage, curious how the grey mare’s somber songs would sound to his happy ears. To his disappointment, Octavia was no longer playing. He caught sight of her casually trotting down the stage’s steps and onto the main floor. Sifting through the crowds, Thunderlane managed to catch the occasional glimpse of her, eventually coming to stand beside her at the bar. He noticed she had already ordered two drinks, a stem glass filled with wine and a highball glass filled with strong-smelling rum. Gripping the stem glass delicately with her hoof, Octavia brought it to her lips and took a long sip.
“Hello,” Thunderlane said softly.
The mare looked to Thunderlane. Contemplating him for a moment or two, she turned back to her drink and took another sip.
“You are Octavia, right? My name is Thunderlane.”
“Can I help you with something, Thunderlane?” She wore a scowl somewhere between bored and annoyed. So close, he noticed tired bags under her eyes and a certain weariness on her lips. He had grown quite fatigued simply mingling in the party. He couldn’t imagine her exhaustion from playing who knew how long. Annoyed at an itch her collar must have been causing, she pulled it off and set it down on the bar.
“I just wanted to say I liked your songs. I got dragged here by my CO, but getting to hear you play really saved my night.”
Octavia smiled slightly, though only for a heartbeat. In fact, Thunderlane was quite happy he didn’t blink in that instance, or he would have missed the gesture completely. “W-well, thank you… Thunderlane, was it?”
“You can call me ‘Lane’ if you want. It is a bit easier on the tongue. That was really something you were playing up there. I could really feel it in my soul.”
Octavia blushed slightly. “That is… quite flattering to hear. It was a song of my own composure, actually.”
Glancing to the second drink, Thunderlane frowned. “I’m sorry, are you here with somepony? I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to say how I enjoyed hearing you play.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Octavia said quickly. With a hoof tip, she pushed the glass of rum away. “Somepony said she would be here by now. I guess I was just being overly optimistic I would turn around and see her.” Thinking better of pushing the rum too far, Octavia instead slid it over the bar so it was before Thunderlane. “It is already on my tab. Please, indulge,” she said.
Thunderlane looked to his left, then his right, then his left again, making sure Soarin’ was nowhere close. Technically, he was off duty, but Soarin’ might still frown upon him having a drink. Making sure he was safe, Thunderlane took the highball glass with a hoof. Touching it to his lips, he poured the smallest swish of the sweet drink into his mouth. A shudder ran through him. Savoring the taste, he let the rum swish between his cheeks and tickle over his every taste bud. Tilting his head back, he gulped and let a pleased sigh slip out of his lips.
“You don’t drink much, do you?” Octavia asked, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.
Thunderlane shook his head. “I’ve been in the Wonderbolt training for almost six months now. When I am not in training, I’m with my little brother, and I don’t drink around him. Haven’t been to the bar with my friends in ages.”
Octavia smiled. It was a nice smile, with a cute upturn of the left side of her lips more than the right. “You are a Wonderbolt?”
Thunderlane blushed a little. “Technically, I am still in training, but Soarin’ seems to think highly of me. He says that’s why I was invited here, but I think it was because Spitfire didn’t want to come.”
“Soon you will be part of the most prestigious flyers in all of Equestria, something I imagine every pegasus dreams of.” She held up her wine with one hoof. “To being the best,” she said.
Clicking his glass with hers, Thunderlane nodded.
“It has been nice to speak to you, Lane,” Octavia said. “You’ve actually salvaged my night as well. If it interests you, I will be playing in Manehattan next week. It’ll be my first solo performance, actually. If you enjoy my music, perhaps you would like to come? I am afraid I am done for this night though.” Octavia took one more sip of her drink before setting the glass down. “I do not feel well, you see. I plan to head home.” She gave Thunderlane one last cute smile before stepping away from the bar. Thunderlane watched her disappear into the crowd. He turned back to his rum, though he didn’t feel much like finishing it. Having abstained for so long, the flavor was far too strong for him. Instead, he sifted back into the crowd. He hoped to catch up with Octavia, but by the time he reached the stage, she was already placing her enormous fiddle into its protective hard-case. Hoisting the great instrument onto her back, she trotted to the steps, where he was waiting to greet her.
“Would you like any help carrying that?” he asked. Octavia looked over her shoulder at the instrument.
“That is very generous of you, but I don’t want to put you out.” She tried to smile, but she could not hide the clear strain her body was under. Thunderlane bit his lip.
“It’s no trouble. I am quite bored of this Gala, and Soarin’ can’t punish me for being a gentlecolt to a fair maiden.”
Octavia shrugged. Carefully sliding the instrument off her back, she waited until Thunderlane drew closer, and helped mount it on him. As the heaviness weighed down upon him, Thunderlane almost lost his footing, unprepared for the sheer dead weight. With a loud grunt of exertion, he managed to lock his knees and find his balance. He looked to the earth mare, who was far from large or stocky, and felt a sense of respect that she could take even a single step with it. “I’ve never seen a violin this big,” he grunted.
“It is not a violin,” Octavia said, somewhat annoyed.
“Oh, please forgive me. I’m not from around here. Do earth ponies call it a fiddle?”
Octavia glared at the pegasus, before sighing. “It is actually an instrument of my own design, a hybrid of the elegance of the cello and the power of a double bass. It has been a personal project of mine for several months now. Only last week did I finally perfect its dimension and the tension of the strings, and this is the first time I have had the opportunity to play it in public. If you wouldn’t mind carrying it outside, I can catch a cab. Please, just be careful. It is the only functioning prototype I have, and I fear I may never be able to replicate its design.”
Thunderlane adjusted the instrument on his back. He nodded his understanding, but just to make her feel extra safe about him carrying it, he stretched his wings out, as if he could catch the instrument should it slip to the side. It was not a comfortable position for Thunderlane, but it seemed to put the earth mare at ease. Even with his Wonderbolt training, however, his wings had no hope of stopping the instrument if it slipped. He simply kept that little fact from Octavia.
Thunderlane followed closely to Octavia, though noticed they were moving away from the main exit. He was confused about that, but said nothing. As she walked, Octavia stroked the wall with one of her hooves. A spot of the wall gave way, and she used her great strength to push. To Thunderlane’s amazement, the wall opened into an empty hallway.
“The castle is full of these sort of passageways,” Octavia explained. She waited until Thunderlane trotted into the hallway before placing the fake wall back into place. “Hundreds of years ago, they were in case a rival kingdom invaded. Now, we use them to swap out the entertainment and restock the buffet without any of the snobs noticing.” She giggled softly. Thunderlane chuckled as well.
The midnight air was cool and crisp as Thunderlane stepped onto the street. It was so much better than the stuffy confines of the Gala, he took a moment to breathe through his nose and relax. Octavia cleared her throat and snapped him back to attention. He very carefully slid the instrument off his back and rested it on the ground while Octavia tried to hail a taxi. The Gala had shut half the city down, however. The streets were absolutely barren. Octavia stomped her hoof in frustration. “I just want to go home,” she growled through clenched teeth.
“Long night?” Thunderlane asked.
“Long year. Six months perfecting the design of the Hybrid, and I haven’t slept the past week from anxiety about tonight.” She sighed, lowering her head. “Someone was supposed to come tonight, too. Now I just feel sick. By the sun, I just want to lay down in bed and sleep. Forget this night ever happened.”
Thunderlane stroked a hoof gently over her back. “Where do you live?” he asked. “If it is not too far, I could escort you. Soarin’ can’t be mad if I missed the Gala to help a lady.”
Octavia looked to him, an angry scowl spread on her features. “So the truth comes out,” she snapped. “You would like to come home with me, wouldn’t you? Then you can meet Vinyl, and even though you assure me you didn’t realize I was that Octavia, suddenly the only mare you care about is the great and popular DJ Pon-3.” Octavia sighed. “I should have known better. Not like this is the first time it’s happened. I will take my instrument back, thank you. I can walk home from here.”
“What?” Thunderlane asked, dumbstruck.
“May I have my instrument, please?” Octavia snapped, standing firm. Thunderlane carefully picked up the hard case up from the ground. When he tried to help Octavia set it on her back, she swatted him with her long tail and hoisted it with her own brute strength. With it secure on her back, she did her best to trot down the street, but Thunderlane noticed a great deal of strain in her steps. He turned back to the Gala, but his keen ears could hear the uneven pitter-patter of her hooves and her struggling grunts.
“Octavia,” he called out. When she did not stop, he took to the air and covered the distance between them with ease. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, landing beside her. “I’m not sure what I did, but I am sorry. Please, let me help you carry that. It looks like you are about to collapse.”
Octavia turned to him, glaring. “Look, just drop the act. After all, I know what stallions like, and it’s not me. They like exotic fur patterns and big rumps and stupid sunglasses that are worn even when it’s dark out. They like simple, repetitive, prerecorded beats, not some homely earth pony with the mutant baby of a cello and double bass. So just do me a favor, and leave me alone. I’ll even give your address to Vinyl if you want. Maybe she’ll make a house call later.” She stomped along. “I can’t believe I was so stupid to think you actually liked my music.”
Thunderlane took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to offend you, but you don’t have to talk to me like that either. I’m just trying to help, since you look like a feather’s weight from collapsing.”
Octavia glared at him. Thunderlane glared back. Relenting first, Thunderlane broke eye contact and took a submissive step away. “How about we get a cup of coffee at that donut shop over there?”
As the only shop open on the street, possibly in all of Canterlot, the lights of Donut Joe’s Donuts and Joe was as bright as the sun. Octavia’s stomach rumbled loudly. It had been a long night, after all. She hadn’t been able to enjoy the snacks served at the Gala since she had been busy playing. Without a word, she headed for the humble shop, doing her best to hide the struggles of carrying her instrument. Thunderlane trotted a few feet in front of her and, like a true gentlecolt would, opened the door for her. He was slightly afraid that when he turned his back, she would attempt to run away (not that she could considering the weight of the instrument on her back), but to his relief she walked into the shop casually. A tan, heavy set unicorn, dressed in a white shirt and wearing a cute white hat atop his crown trotted forward.
“By the sun, Octi,” he muttered. His horn glowed as he used his magic to take hold of the instrument carried on her back. Octavia was hesitant to let it go, but he lifted a hoof to reassure her. “I know how precious this is to you,” he said affably. “I’ll put it in the back where it’ll be safe, but by Celestia, take a seat and relax. You look exhausted.”
“Thank you Joe. May I have the usual please?”
“And for your date?” Joe asked.
Octavia’s face turned a subtle shade of red and her ears drooped. Thunderlane stepped forward and politely said, “I’ll just have a cup of coffee. Black.”
Octavia selected a table with a large window that looked out onto the street. The window was so large, she could still gaze out and watch the meteor shower in the sky. Thunderlane had a suspicion Octavia had chosen this seat so she could stare out and not make conversation. He was alright with that, though. Just as long as she was off the street.
“I really admire your dedication to this role,” the earth mare said. She did not turn to make eye contact with Thunderlane. The dancing stars held her full attention. “Just write down where you are staying, or give me your demo disk, and I’ll pass it along to Vinyl. She’s why you talked me, isn’t she? She’s who you are interested in. I’ll put in a good word with her. Earth pony’s honor.”
“What do I have to do to prove I am not only not interested in this Vinyl pony, I have no idea who she is?” He sighed. “I’ll leave if you want me to. I just feel really bad about this whole thing. I thought we were having a nice night together and then… I don’t know what happened.”
Joe the pony came trotting over, carrying a serving tray beside him with his magic’s embrace. He set a rather boring white mug down before Thunderlane, and what had to be the most elaborately made cappuccino in all of Equestria before Octavia. Served in what appeared to be a crystal chalice, the drink was topped with several layers of frosty whipped cream. Chocolate sprinkles and flakes of cinnamon broke the monotony of the white mountain. Crowning the mountain was a chocolate sprinkled donut. Octavia pulled the chalice close and slipped her tongue out. She ran it over the whipped cream. Plunging her puckered lips into the bulk, she sipped at the drink before leaning back. Her cute tongue slipped over her face, licking away the cream that touched the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry,” she said, plucking the donut off the top and nibbling on it. “I may… sort of have a bit of a roommate complex.”
“That’s who Vinyl is? Your roommate?”
“Yeah, my roommate. She and I went to school together, and we were roommates back in college too. Now, we just share a house.” She looked to Thunderlane, wondering if he was bored, but instead he was smiling softly.
“Tell me about her.”
Octavia shrugged. “Vinyl is… Vinyl. There’s really no other way to describe her. She goes by the stage name DJ Pon-3, but her real name is Vinyl Scratch. We have been friends for as long as I can remember. Well, I’ve been her friend. I’m not sure what she is to me. We were in school and college together. I was first chair in the band, she was second, though I knew she always hated the violin. Then one day, she finally got the chance to start DJing at some local club, and poof, her fame skyrocketed just like that. I’ve been studying everything with strings since foalhood, but I still have to struggle for every gig I get. She puts a couple of tired beats together, and has some flashy lights, and the philistines just can’t help but bop their heads like a bunch of infants…”
Octavia giggled for reasons Thunderlane was not completely sure of. “Wow, I must sound like a foal. I’m not jealous of her, though.”
“Clearly,” Thunderlane managed to joke.
“I’m really not,” she said. “I love Vinyl like a sister, and I am happy that she has finally found something she loves. When she first got her cutie mark, she was terrified her special talent was composing classical music. She turned white… I mean, whiter than usual. Turns out she is a composer, just not in the traditional sense.”
“What bothers you then?”
Octavia occupied a few precious moments with sipping at her drink. She nibbled on her donut, both to occupy additional time, and because she really was hungry. Finally, she said, “She was supposed to come tonight. She looked me right in the eye and promised that, no matter what, she was going to attend the Gala to see me play the Hybrid for the first time. She crossed her heart and swore, yet as I looked out at the crowd, she was nowhere to be seen.”
By instinct, Thunderlane reached a hoof out and gently touched it against Octavia’s. She smiled in that cute way, with the left corner of her mouth a little higher than the right. She shook her head. “Oh forgive me. I’m sure you have no interest in hearing me whine.”
Thunderlane chuckled. “Better than being at the Gala, to be honest. Besides, I know what it’s like to put your hope in somepony and see them fail you over and over again.”
Now it was Octavia’s turn to lean forward and listen. Thunderlane wore a blush beneath his dark grey cheeks. Somehow he had hoped the comment would go unnoticed. “That was my dad,” he finally explained. “He always told me to do my best, reach the top, but no matter how high I climbed he was never there to see it. So I know what you’re going through.”
The grey mare leaned back and breathed through her nose, trying to gather her thoughts. “She is busy, I always tell myself. I mean, if this were the first time I wouldn’t mind. If it was a once in a while thing, I would understand. She is busy. It’s that she never comes to these shows and recitals, even when she swears on her life, but she always expects me to go to hers. It’s that getting drunk with her friends is more important than seeing me play. Those are the times that cut me the deepest.”
A crystal tear rolled down Octavia’s cheek. She didn’t bother wiping it away, so Thunderlane assumed she didn’t even realize she was crying. “To me, Vinyl is my sister, and that’s what she’ll always be. To Vinyl, I’m just an artifact from her old life. I’m just some cute mud pony who plays funny instruments, and can be the butt of all her jokes when she has friends over. I'm just the silly mare who carries her back to the apartment after she’s spent the whole night partying, and covers her rent when she spent all her money on new sunglasses.” Octavia’s ears were drooping and she was staring quite intently at the cappuccino, as if it might reveal some deep secret. “That’s what bothers me, I guess. It’s not really easy to love someone when they don’t love you back. You know how many nights I’ve stayed up, worried sick, only for Vinyl to come stumbling through the door and laugh about how she lost track of time? Do you know how many recitals she’s promised to come to… but then I look out over the crowd, and there’s an empty seat right in the front row and I have to stare at that empty seat the whole night. Oh, but if I miss one of her concerts, she’ll brood and pout for the days following.”
Octavia sipped her cappuccino. She sniffled, shrugged, and used a napkin to wipe her eyes. “But what are you going to do? At the end of the day, Vinyl is Vinyl and I am me. I’ll always be there to help her, she’ll always be there to let me down. It is that silly sliver of hope that things might be different that screws me over, time and time again.”
More tears rolled down Octavia’s face, yet she made no effort to wipe them away. She sat there, staring at her cappuccino, perhaps so she wouldn’t make eye contact with her company. “She promised this time she’d come.”
Thunderlane stood and walked over. His arms wrapped around Ocatvia’s neck and his wings wrapped around her body. He expected Octavia to finally let herself cry, but she did little more than sniffle before she managed to get herself under control. Placing a hoof against his chest, she gently, but firmly, pushed him away. “I am not some delicate little foal who needs a hug. Vinyl has done this to me more times than I can count. I’m used to it. I can deal with it.” She paused. “Thank you though.”
Thunderlane trotted back to his seat and took a sip of his coffee. He blushed as his belly rumbled loudly. Octavia giggled at the noise and offered the last half of her donut. Graciously, Thunderlane took a savory bite.
“Joe, would you please put this on my tab?” Octavia asked, and the unicorn nodded curtly. Octavia wiped her eyes with her napkin before looking to Thunderlane. “I don’t really want to go back to my apartment,” she said. “Vinyl is there, and I dread the thought of her excuses. I… uhm… I’m just curious… Could I maybe stay with you?”
“I would open my home to you for as long as you need, but I live in Cloudsdale. It’s not exactly practical for one without wings.”
Octavia huffed. “W-well, there is one alternative. Hey Joe, is the room open upstairs?”
“Of course it is, Octi.”
The mare looked back to Thunderlane. “Joe has a small room upstairs. I go there to compose sometimes, so I can work without Vinyl’s music blasting through the walls. Would you like to come up with me?”
Thunderlane realized he still had half a cup of coffee, but it had gone cold. He shrugged and lifted out of the seat to follow Octavia up a flight of stairs.
The spare room was surprisingly well furnished, especially considering it was in the attic of a donut shop. The near total lack of dust implied Octavia used it with some frequency. The moon and meteor shower glowed through a circular window in the wall, providing a haunting amount of light. It seemed fitting considering Octavia’s preference in music. There was a bed with a blanket neatly folded on top of it, a desk with several lyric sheets crumpled around it, and in the farthest corner; some sort of instrument even larger than the Hybrid. The sheer size of it intrigued Thunderlane, and he was tempted to ask for a demonstration of just how such a petite mare could play such an enormous fiddle.
Octavia kicked a few of the crumpled music sheets aside on her way to the bed. Unfolding the blanket, she spread it over the mattress and sat down. Her body was facing Thunderlane, but her head was hung quite low. Thunderlane walked forward, fearing she may be on the cusp of a breakdown, but she began to speak before he could wrap his wings around her. “Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked.
It was an odd question, and one that made Thunderlane slightly uncomfortable. He eventually admitted, “Yes I do.”
“Vinyl is popular with the boys. If a stallion talks to me, chances are he just wants to get to her. I understand if that’s what this is about. By now, I don’t even mind. I would just like to know so I don’t think this is real. The longer I’m led on, the more it hurts when it’s over.”
“This has never been about Vinyl,” Thunderlane said softly.
Octavia’s cheeks were turning steadily redder. “You’re quite handsome, and you’re quite sweet. It’s so rare to meet a stallion who has a vocabulary beyond yes, no, and maybe. A-and you really did like my music?”
Thunderlane smiled and nodded. “It was quite moving, quite-”
Octavia leaned forward and placed her lips on the tip of Thunderlane’s muzzle. She leaned back just as quickly. A full scarlet blush was worn on her cheeks. “I-I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a squeak. Thunderlane placed his hoof under her chin and lifted her face, until she could gaze into his golden eyes. He leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers, holding it for several moments. The blush on Octavia’s face deepened until he could feel the warmth sifting through her fur.
Octavia pulled away. “Would you…” She choked on her words, but finally asked, “Would you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone tonight. Could you maybe spend the night? Would you mind? I mean, if you don’t have to rush back to the Gala. I understand if you do, though. I would just like to spend a little more time with you. I really don’t want to be alone either. C-could you… could you maybe hold me?”
Thunderlane smiled, and lay down carefully behind Octavia. He wrapped his arms around her, then his wings, using them like a feathery blanket. Octavia was smaller than he was, and fit quite snuggly against his chest with her head under his chin. She placed a hoof on his, forcing him to squeeze her a little tighter. Setting her head down on the pillow, Octavia closed her eyes. Thunderlane set his head down as well, occasionally nuzzling, occasionally squeezing Octavia to remind her he was there.
A choked sob escaped her lips. Thunderlane acted like he didn’t hear it, but made sure to hold Octavia a little snugger in his embrace. The sobbing continued. Octavia lifted her hooves, trying to block her eyes or hold back the tears, but she could no longer control herself. She tried crying into the pillow to muffle the embarrassing noise, but her body shook and the choked sobs rattled no matter how hard she tried to smother them. “It’s alright,” Thunderlane finally said, stroking a hoof against her cheek. “It’s alright.”
As the sun rose the following morning and the golden rays shown through the small window, Octavia’s eyes opened. Behind her, Thunderlane was snoring rather loudly, having slipped into sleep at some point in the night. He was squeezing her as tight as a foal would a teddy bear. She didn’t mind though, and set her head down to enjoy the sweet squeeze of affection. Her pillow reeked of tears. She was embarrassed about that, but the unpleasant weight was gone from behind her eyes.
With a sigh, she knew she had to get up, and began the slow and careful process of extracting herself from Thunderlane’s squeeze. First, she lifted his arm and placed it on his side. Next, she scooted her lower half forward, slipping her hips out of the tight embrace of Thunderlane’s spooning. It was far from easy. She had to listen close and measure the depth of his slumber by the sound of his snoring. Finally free of the tight embrace, she was about to tiptoe away when she found herself pausing. She looked at Thunderlane, snoring so loud the windows were shaking, and couldn’t help but smile. With a sigh, she turned the door knob and trotted down the stairs.
Donut Joe had not come in yet. That was good. She didn’t really want to face him and all the questions he would ask about her new “coltfriend.” She retrieved the Hybrid from the storage room, though rather than hoist it onto her back, she set the case down and opened it. From a small pocket, she took out a heavily decorated envelope, sealed with the same G-clef of her cutie mark. Trotting back up to Thunderlane, she tiptoed through the room until she was standing before the bed. He was still snoring loudly, a sure indication he was asleep. Carefully, she placed the envelope down on the pillow where she had rested her head, just before his lips.
Her hoof shook as she gripped the doorknob to leave. Spinning around, she trotted back to the bed and snatched the envelope up. Mere moments away from tearing it and its contents to shreds, she strengthened her resolve and placed it back down.
“I was…” she started with a voice barely above a whisper. “I was going to give this to Vinyl. It’s a ticket for a front row seat at my solo show in Manehattan. I understand if you don’t want to come, Lane. You’ve been incredibly nice to me this whole night. If you do though, I would really love to see you again.” She leaned down and planted one final kiss on Thunderlane’s muzzle. “Either way, thank you,” she whispered into his ear. “Thank you for being one of the good ones.”
With those words said, she tiptoed to the main floor and out of the shop.
The walk back to her loft was actually quite pleasant. The city was quiet after the Gala, and the streets of Canterlot were nearly empty. Occasionally, a royal guard stood at a street corner, but they were more like statues than fellow ponies and didn’t bother Octavia’s sense of pleasant solitude. The sun was out, and there was a nice breeze, and she just felt quite good all things considered. The sense of peace stayed with her until she finally arrived at her house. The obnoxious pound of dubstep rushing through the walls greeted her. She opened the front door slowly and walked to Vinyl’s bedroom where the unicorn was happily pounding her head to some new beat.
“Vinyl,” Octavia said softly. Of course, Vinyl didn’t hear her, so Octavia said louder, “Vinyl Scratch.” When that didn’t work, she walked behind the unicorn and gently tapped her shoulder. Vinyl turned around and gave a wide smile.
“HI OCTY! BY THE SUN, JUST LISTEN TO THIS!”
Octavia rolled her eyes. Reaching past Vinyl, Octavia manually lowered the volume to a more manageable level. Vinyl blushed slightly. “Finally got the beat right,” she said, using her indoor voice (which for her was still pretty loud). “It’s just so awesome! Neon and I were working on it all night, but it was totally worth it! Oh, Neon is crashing on the couch.”
“I’m happy you managed to get your beat right. Did you forget last night was the Grand Galloping Gala, though?”
“Oh jeez, it was last night? I’m sorry Octi. Neon came by with a case of beer and we just started mixing and… just listen to it! We’ve finally got this down pat!”
“It’s just… it was the first time I was playing the Hybrid in public. I had prepared a special melody for you, but I looked out, and you weren’t there… You promised you would be.”
“Octavia, I’m really sorry. I just totally forgot. Look, I promise: next time I’ll be there, no matter how snooty and boring it is. Front row. I promise. As long as there's booze. Lots and lots of booze is the only way I can sit through one of those.”
“OK Vinyl. I really hope to see you there.”
Octavia was going to say something more, but Vinyl Scratch turned and resumed playing on her mixing board. She set a pair of headphones on her ears and began to bop to the rhythm that was blasting. Octavia sighed. “If you don’t come though, I think I know somepony who will.” With a solemn smile on her lips, she left Vinyl’s room and headed to her own. After such a long night, she really needed to give the Hybrid a good tuning.