Vinyl Scratch sat with her chin on the bar, staring at the drink in front of her, but not seeing it. The vibrations of the tunes assaulted her body, but she didn’t feel the music. Her ears noticed the clamor from the club around her, but she didn’t hear any of it. Her tongue recognized the familiar cocktail of cider, alcohol, and countless other mixes in the air, but she didn’t taste any of it. Her nose sent familiar signals to her brain that registered them as sweat, sex, drinks, and every other scent that came with clubs, but she didn’t smell any of it.
She was, for lack of a better term, a complete and utter wreck. Her hooves dangled off the seat and kicked lightly in the air as she continued to stare at the drink. She had ordered it over an hour ago, but all it had done in that entire time was sit in the same place. The blue liquid stared back at her, its vibrant color matching the mare’s mane. She focused and gripped the glass with her magic, pulling it to her lips. All the familiar smells wafted into her nose, but she couldn’t bring herself to raise her chin off the bar and take a drink. Sighing, she released the glass and continued to stare at it.
She pulled her phone out for the…sixteenth time? Thirty-fifth time? Oh Celestia, she had lost count. It hovered before her eyes as she scrolled through her contacts until she found the one she was looking for. For a long time, she simply gazed at the name on the screen.
Octavia.
Vinyl almost hit the call button, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. For a brief moment, she debated whether or not she should send a text, but she knew that wouldn’t do any better. If Octavia wasn’t going to answer a phone call, there was no way she’d reply to a text. Vinyl could write a hoof-written letter in the fanciest writing—penmanship was what Octavia called it—known in Equestria. It could put even the royal sisters to shame with its sheer beauty and awesomeness, and Octavia would probably still ignore it.
Vinyl had screwed up royally, Canterlot-level royally, and no matter how many times she tried to make it right, she knew it wouldn’t be enough.
She considered hitting the delete button. Octavia certainly didn’t want to talk to her anymore. The fact that she hadn’t responded to any of Vinyl’s texts and had hung up on every phone call proved that. Maybe it would just be better if Vinyl moved on. Octavia clearly had.
You can’t do that, a voice in her head said. Vinyl felt a tear run down her cheek as her magic hovered over the delete button. No, she couldn’t. Octavia was too important to her, and no matter how bad she had screwed up, she couldn’t see her life without Octavia. She’d find some way to make it up to her, but how?
She’d already tried everything she could think of. She’d gone to the concert, but security hadn’t let her in. When she’d tried to force her way in, the police had been called. Vinyl had been ‘escorted’ off of the property and told that, if she came back, things would get worse. She’d tried calling Octavia when her concert was over, but the mare hadn’t answered. No, it was worse than that. She had answered. She had ignored Vinyl’s call. The DJ knew that Octavia’s phone rang five times before the recording picked up. That always gave her enough time to answer it if she was near. Since it had only rung twice, it meant that Octavia had seen Vinyl’s number and hit the ignore option.
Vinyl had tried for two weeks to contact Octavia. She had called every day. She had sent texts nearly every hour. She had even gone to Octavia’s house, only to find her own belongings out on the front step. Her extra pair of sunglasses, her turntable, a few records, and the scarf Octavia had made her for her birthday. They had all been neatly arranged on Octavia’s doorstep with a note attached.
'These are yours. I know they are important to you, unlike me, so I kept them inside until I saw you coming. I did not want to damage them. Good-bye.'
Unlike me…Those words would haunt Vinyl for the rest of her life. That note had been the only contact she had had with Octavia in three weeks. The cellist hadn’t responded to any of her texts, hadn’t called her back, hadn’t even answered the door when Vinyl had pounded on it for ten minutes, begging her to open it.
Vinyl could feel the dam in her mind starting to break with that thought. “Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. If anypony sees you…” She closed her eyes and sniffled, wiping one of her hooves across her eyes. That broke what little control she had left.
Vinyl buried her face in her hooves and sobbed. Her tears came in short, fierce bursts and her breathing became little gasps of air. She tried to stop, tried to keep the noises quiet, but it just made her cry harder. It didn’t matter really, not with the club music. It was so loud that no pony would be able to hear her cries, and her quivering body could just as easily be mistaken for a pony who had had too much to drink at the bar and was trying to shake it off.
“You okay, dude?”
Vinyl didn’t raise her head. She sniffled and mumbled something that she hoped resembled a yes.
“You sure?” Vinyl raised her head enough to let one of her red eyes poke out from behind her hoof. Who was this annoying pony that wouldn’t let her be miserable in peace?
The bartender was standing in front of her, polishing a glass with his magic while he glared at her. His expression didn’t exactly scream sympathy. He was probably upset because all Vinyl had done for the past…Celestia, what time was it? She looked at the nearest clock. Two hours. She had sat at the bar for two hours, paid for one drink that she hadn’t even touched, and the bartender was probably worried that she was killing the mood for other customers.
Vinyl blinked and scrubbed away her tears. “Yeah,” she said with a cracked voice. She raised her head, trying to sound more confident. “I’m good. Sorry. Uh…look, I gotta go.” She pulled out enough bits to cover two drinks, put her sunglasses on while wishing she had remembered them ten seconds earlier when the crying had started, and pushed herself away from the bar.
Her hooves felt extremely heavy, as if she were wearing some fancy designer horseshoes that were all the rage in Canterlot at the moment. The rest of her body felt completely numb as she trudged through the crowd to get to the door. Ponies bumped into her constantly and she simply let the flow of the crowd push her toward the door. Sometimes a stallion or mare would try to start dancing with her, but Vinyl only continued forward, staring at the ground while she headed for the exit.
After what seemed like a lifetime, she finally found herself standing at the door. She opened it and stepped out into the night air. It stung her face for a brief moment, but she barely registered it. She wondered about taking off her sunglasses, but decided against it. She didn’t want anypony to see her eyes. They were redder than normal, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was some stranger pretending to care about her problems. Besides, she had walked home from this club drunk so many times that she was certain she could make it home with her glasses on in the dark.
The night wasn’t freezing, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either. A chill wind blew through the air, tearing at Vinyl’s tail. She felt her electric blue mane whip against her head and she lowered her muzzle, trying to keep the wind out of her eyes. It stung her cheeks even more and her mind went to the scarf Octavia had left out when she had removed all of Vinyl’s stuff. It had been a birthday present from Octavia, and one that Vinyl had worn every time it was cold—and sometimes even when it wasn’t cold. It was so soft and warm, with a beautiful mix of grey and blue flowing through it. On one end of it was Octavia’s treble clef, sown in black thread, while at the other end was Vinyl’s own musical note, sown in violet.
She had left the scarf at Octavia’s home one night because…she couldn’t even remember now. All she knew was that she had been thrilled at the idea of having another excuse to go visit Octavia. “Oh hey, Octy. I forgot my scarf at your place. Can I stop by and grab it?”Not that she had needed any more excuses on her list to visit the cellist. She knew Octavia was wise to her little game, but the mare had still played along.
Vinyl wished she had the scarf now. She wished Octavia was walking beside her, wrapped in her own scarf, folded in the perfectly elegant way that she always managed to obtain, even in wind. She wished the cellist was walking close to her, huddled for warmth as the two of them talked about music, what they could play together, ponies they had met during the day, gigs—Octavia called them performances, she reminded herself—that they had coming up, or just nothing at all.
“Stop it!” Vinyl said to herself, furiously blinking back the tears that were welling in her eyes again and stinging her face in the wind. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to stop. Stop the crying, or the pain, or the loneliness, or just how every single thing that crossed her mind always ended up on Octavia.
“Just…just stop it,” she whispered, even though none of those things stopped. The plea only made them intensify. She was left alone as she walked down the streets of Manehattan, her hooves echoing off the silent road. Each step rang down the empty street and echoed in her mind.
Alone. Alone. Alone…
Vinyl nearly jumped out of her white coat when her mane started vibrating. For a moment she couldn’t understand what was happening, but then she felt her heart soar. Her phone was ringing! Well, vibrating really, but still! It was Octavia! It had to be! No pony else would be calling her this late! Okay, that wasn’t true. Tons of ponies called her this late, and even later, but Vinyl didn’t want to let the feeling of hope fade away. She could barely focus her magic enough to grip her phone because she was so excited. A million thoughts ran through her mind as she pulled the device from her mane.
Okay, don’t blow this, Vinyl! You’re sorry. She knows that. But that’s not enough. You hurt her real bad, and words aren’t gonna cut it this time. Whatever she wants, whatever she says, you do it. No questions, no whining, no excuses. It’s done. If she says you can’t do another gig for a whole year, then you suck it up. You find another way to pay your bills. If she wants you to come to every single concert of hers, you go, even if they bore the hay out of you. If…
Her mind continued to race as she pushed the answer button without looking at the name on the screen.
“Octy! Boy, I’m glad you called! Look, I’m really sorry and I swear, promise, blood oath, Pinkie Pie—”
“Uh, whoa there Miss Scratch,” came the voice from the other end of her phone. Vinyl felt her heart shatter and her feeling of hope was utterly flattened. She pulled the phone away from her ear and checked the number. It was from her apartment complex.
“Oh…hello,” she said, all signs of joy vanishing from her voice, “uh…Steve, right?” The only reason Vinyl remembered his name was because it was so odd. Steve. What did that say about a pony? Nothing. It was so…plain.
“That’s right. Hey, listen. I’ve got a pony here that wants to talk to you, but she won’t do it over the phone. Says it would be rude. I told her it was rather rude to call you this late,” he said a bit louder, as if he was talking to somepony else, “but she was rather insistent. Said it was important. And that, knowing you, you were probably still up anyway.”
Vinyl’s ears perked up slightly. Octavia had her own phone, but if she was still pissed at Vinyl—and Vinyl knew she was—then she probably didn’t want the DJ hiding behind a phone when she chewed her out. Maybe she had come down to Vinyl’s apartment to talk in pony. Octavia was like that. She preferred to do important things face to face.
“Uh…okay.” Vinyl gulped, hope once again daring to return to her being. “Hey…this pony. Is she...pretty?”
“I believe so.” The voice on the other end went down to a whisper. “Very much so.”
Yes! “Okay. And…and does she seem a bit…stand offish? Like hard to approach? Maybe even a bit prudish?” Another ounce of hope found its way into Vinyl’s chest.
“She does carry herself with an air of…elegance, I suppose. Head held a bit higher than a normal pony living in Manehattan.”
“Would you say that she might be from…” Vinyl held her breath for a moment, “Canterlot?”
“Well, if I had to guess, I’d say so.” Steve was silent for a moment, then coughed. “Anyway, back to the reason I called. When do you think you’re going to be getting home? I know it’s none of my business, but she was very…pushy that I call you, and I don’t want to throw her out on the street if you’re not going to be back for a while. Besides, I doubt she’d leave even if I tried.”
Vinyl's heart jumped. It slammed against her ribs and she could barely stop herself from yelling. Octavia was at her place! She was finally willing to at least see Vinyl, and Vinyl was going to do her absolute best to get Octavia to forgive her too.
“Yeah, listen. Tell her I’ll be home in just a few minutes. Thanks, Steve.” Vinyl went to end the call, but stopped. “Oh, and you can go ahead and let her into my place. It’s alright. Tell her I’ll be right there!” With that, Vinyl ended the call and broke into a gallop down the street.
Five minutes later, Vinyl tore into the front lobby of the apartment complex. A rather tired-looking Steve was hunched over the counter. He looked up and offered a small smile. “Sooner than I expected.”
“Did you let her in?” Vinyl asked between gasps.
“Yeah, she’s waiting in your room. Which she said you really should clean.” Vinyl smiled. Of course Octavia would say that! She was so posh that seeing Vinyl’s disaster zone of a room always caused the pony to go slightly nutty. She would get the funniest crinkle in her nose and her eyes would squint up. It was why they practiced at Octavia’s place so often, despite the fact that Vinyl loved seeing her make that face.
“Thanks,” Vinyl said as she turned to leave.
“Yeah, you’re welcome. Look, I’m going to bed, so don’t—”
Vinyl was out the lobby door and dashing to her apartment before Steve finished his sentence. She trotted up to her door, a smile tugging at her cheeks so much that it was starting to hurt, and knocked once before pushing the door open.
“Tavi!” Vinyl said, blushing slightly as she realized which nickname she had just used. Octavia had said Vinyl could only call her that on very specific occasions. “Oh boy, you don’t know how glad…I…am…” She stopped in mid sentence and stared, dumbfounded, at the sight before her as she set her sunglasses on the side table by the door. If putting her glasses down hadn’t been a force of habit, she probably would have been completely motionless.
Her living room had been cleaned!And not just Vinyl’s version of cleaning, like moving one pile of stuff to another area, but clean cleaned. Her records had been stacked knife-edge style near her living room turntable. The turntable itself was no longer serving as a makeshift rack for some of Vinyl’s clothing, and it appeared to have been dusted to boot. Her clothes had been folded nicely and left on her couch, or at least the clean ones anyway. The dirty ones had been dropped in a rarely used laundry basket in the corner.
There was no sign of any of the dishes that usually littered her living room, and the magazines that she used as coasters had all been stacked neatly at the center of her coffee table. A single glass filled with water sat in the middle of the table and had a rose bobbing in it. If Vinyl had been drunk when she walked in the door, she would have seriously wondered if she had entered the wrong apartment.
“Uh, Octy, you here?” she asked carefully. Octavia often chastised her about her living conditions, but Vinyl had never known the cellist to dive in and go crazy with cleaning. If she wanted Vinyl to clean, she usually just hid something important to Vinyl and didn’t give it back until she cleaned up.
“Oh, Miss Scratch, good evening.”
Vinyl froze. That wasn’t Octavia’s voice. That was—
Just as Vinyl’s brain began to process the voice and match it to the pony it belonged to, a white unicorn stepped out of the kitchen. She carried herself the same amount of grace as Octavia, maybe even more so. Her coat was a startlingly bright white, and even though Vinyl’s was the same color, she couldn’t help but feel that they were made of different stuff. Her purple mane flowed from her head and along her neck in beautiful swirls. It seemed to draw Vinyl’s eyes to the horn on her forehead, which was polished to a near blinding white. Her eyelashes were long and elegant, and they fluttered when she blinked her dazzling blue eyes. The unicorn smiled as she began admiring her work in the room and the radiant light from her expression was enough to almost banish the dark hopelessness that was quickly filling Vinyl again.
No, this pony certainly wasn’t Octavia, although Vinyl could understand how Steve could make such a mistake.
Wait. Did I ever ask him what color her coat was? Vinyl smacked her face with her hoof. You’re an idiot, Vinyl. Idiot, idiot, IDIOT!
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of straightening up your…uh, living quarters,” Rarity said as she looked around the room. “Not bad if I do say so myself. Especially given the limited time I had to work. I thought your place looked a little, uh, dull, so I added the rose on the table. I was just starting to clean the kitchen when…oh my.” Rarity stopped as her eyes returned to Vinyl.
“Hi Rarity,” Vinyl said, depression dripping from her voice like blood from a wound. She walked over to her now-visible couch and slumped down on her stomach. For once, her face didn’t get smudged against a musty shirt or an old piece of pizza. Thank Celestia for small mercies she supposed.
“Sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look…well…” Rarity trailed off, trying to find the right word.
“Useless?” Vinyl offered as she buried her muzzle in the couch cushions. “A horrible pony? The worst pony to ever walk Equestria? Garbage? A terrible mare?”
“I was going to say tired,” Rarity said quickly.
“I guess,” Vinyl said. Octavia hadn’t come over. She still wanted nothing to do with the DJ. Vinyl could feel the tears welling up again and she buried her face even further into the cushions. She wasn’t about to let Rarity see her cry. The last thing she needed was for somepony like Rarity to see her so broken. She had to get rid of the unicorn before she completely broke down.
“Yeah, I’m really tired. Look, I know it’s a long trip from Ponyville, and you’re welcome to crash in my room if you didn’t make reservations anywhere, but can we talk later?”
Vinyl heard hoofsteps on her carpet and for a moment she thought the unicorn was actually going to leave. Vinyl was surprised when she realized she didn’t want that to happen. She wanted Rarity to stay, though she didn’t know why. Maybe she was just tired of being alone.
A hoof brushed Vinyl’s mane. She tensed, but didn’t look up from the cushions.
“First of all Miss Scratch, while I appreciate your offer, I have already made arrangements at the finest hotel in Manehattan. It has a spa, a buffet, a swimming pool, and most importantly, is right across the street from the nearest dress designer stores.”
Vinyl felt weight on the other end of the couch. Part of her was happy that Rarity wasn’t leaving, but she was still worried about breaking down in front of the unicorn. This was one of the ponies who had defeated Nightmare Moon, and Discord, and even played a part in saving Celestia and all of Canterlot from the changelings and their queen. Vinyl didn’t want to appear weak in front of such an important pony.
“And second, the last time I ignored a friend who was so clearly upset, things didn’t turn out so well. Ponyville was almost destroyed and Princess Celestia had to get involved.”
“I doubt my problem is that big. Uh, I mean, what makes you think I’m in trouble? I’m just tired, like I said.”
Rarity’s voice took on a tone of superiority. “Miss Scratch, fashion is my passion, as a friend of mine says. As such, I’m familiar with all my friends’ looks, and your look right now is not your own. You are usually so full of life, eyes sparkling behind those glasses of yours, coat shimmering in the different club lights, mane wild and alive. But now, your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, your coat dull and scruffy, and your beautiful mane is withered and flat.”
“I just came back from the bar. What do you expect after a heavy night of drinking?” Vinyl said, trying to sound defensive. She wasn’t sure if Rarity had complimented her or just insulted her.
“True, and I would believe that, if you smelled like a strong night of drinking. Which you don’t.” Rarity’s voice became gentle and she lowered it to a whisper. “There was also your face when you saw that it was me who was in your room. I take it you were hoping it was somepony else?”
Vinyl buried her face even further and put her hooves on top of her head. “Yes,” she mumbled through the cushions.
“Vinyl, dear, you’re shaking. Are you crying?”
Vinyl’s eyes sprung open and she realized that tears had been seeping from the edges of her eyes, despite her best efforts to stop them. No, she wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going—
“Yes,” Vinyl said. The tears, as they had done earlier that night, began to come in rivers. She sobbed into the cushion, her body shaking uncontrollably with each new wave of anguish that passed through it. She hated herself for crying in front of Rarity. Hated herself for hurting Octavia. Hated herself for simply being herself.
She felt Rarity’s hoof stroke her mane and neck again. Rarity didn’t say anything and Vinyl continued to cry into her couch. She was broken, and she could no longer hold back the pain that that one fact brought. She cried until her eyes hurt. She howled quietly into the couch cushion as her heart screamed in her chest. Her mind wanted to shut down as memories of Octavia raced through it, tearing at every raw nerve. Her body felt hollow, yet she felt like the weight inside her was going to crush her bones. Her soul felt fractured and shattered, and all she could do about it was pull the couch cushion more into her face and cry harder.
All the while, Rarity simply sat on the couch, silently stroking Vinyl’s blue mane and occasionally patting the DJ’s head.
Finally, when she felt like she couldn’t cry any more tears, Vinyl fell silent and stayed still, quietly drowning in her agony.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Rarity asked at last. Vinyl mumbled something, but didn’t lift her head. “Darling, I’m here for you, but it’s rather difficult to understand you when your face is buried in the decor.”
Reluctantly, Vinyl pulled her head out of the cushion and sat up, but she refused to look at Rarity. Her face was probably even more of mess now, and the fact that she wasn’t wearing her glasses made it even worse. She didn’t like being seen without her glasses to begin with, and now that she had spent so much time over the past few hours balling her eyes out, she was certain her appearance was halfway close to how she felt.
“That’s better. Now, tell me what happened.” Rarity put a hoof on Vinyl’s shoulder and waited.
Vinyl took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to cry. Not this time. She wasn’t sure she had any tears left anyway. She felt exhausted. “I…I screwed up. I screwed up real bad, Rarity. You know Octavia?”
“That lovely cellist? I can’t say that I know her personally, but we’ve met on occasion. She seems very nice. Very prim and proper. I’ve often dreamed about designing a dress for her. Oh, a pony with such elegance…why, she’d be a star! And that new song of hers that just came out is simply smashing!” Rarity blinked, and she seemed to bring herself back to reality. “Are you two friends? Surprising, but then I’m friends with a pony who puts the earth in earth pony. Oh! Do you think you could ask her to stop by my shop sometime? I know I can come up with the perfect dress for her. It would be...” She continued talking, but Vinyl had stopped listening.
That song. Vinyl had heard it on several different occasions now, and ponies everywhere were talking about it. Every time she heard it, her body ached.
“Rarity, that song is about me,” Vinyl whispered, snapping Rarity out of a fantasy that involved being recognized all across Equestria.
“Nonsense dear. That song is—” Rarity stopped and Vinyl looked up at her. Her eyes had gone wide as realization dawned on her. “Oh.”
“Well, I don’t think it was originally about me, but it may as well be now,” Vinyl said, lowering her face again. “I…I blew off Octavia’s concert. I completely forgot about it. This one was really important to her, and when she called to remind me, I tried to weasel out of it. She…she said she never wanted to see me again.”
“Come now,” Rarity said, patting Vinyl’s shoulder. “Surely she didn’t say that.”
“She may as well have. I tried to get to the concert, but security wouldn’t let me in. I’ve tried calling her, texting her, and even going over to her home. She hasn’t spoken to me in over three weeks.”
“Oh my. That…does sound rather serious.”
Vinyl nodded to the turntable that Rarity had cleaned off. “You see that? That’s a present from Octavia. She bought it for me so we could practice together at her place. I have my own in my room, but I used to have to drag it over to her place. It was a real pain in the flank, but it was worth it. Until she bought me that one and made me promise to leave it at her place. She really hates playing at my place because it’s always such a mess.”
“Hm, yeah, I could see that,” Rarity said.
“She had it waiting for me on her front porch when I came over.” Vinyl sank her face into her hooves. “She hates me.”
Vinyl felt Rarity’s foreleg slide over her shoulders and pull her into a hug. “I highly doubt she hates you, Vinyl. She’s just upset with you.” Rarity paused for a moment and looked around the room. “Very upset.”
“What’s the difference?” Vinyl asked as she gave in to despair yet again.
“The difference, Vinyl, is that your…music thing, is still in one piece. The difference is she cared enough to return it to you, and didn’t simply throw it out. The difference is that you can still make it up to her.”
“How? I’ve tried everything. She won’t even speak to me.”
Rarity gently pushed Vinyl out of the hug and made her raise her head so the ponies were looking eye to eye. “Then it’s time for some other pony to try something. You get some sleep, and we’ll talk more in the morning.” Rarity stood and headed for the door, leaving a baffled Vinyl sitting on the couch.
“Wait,” Vinyl said before Rarity reached the door. “Why did you come here? It’s not like you knew about me ruining my entire life because of my stupidity.”
“Oh, that’s right, I completely forgot.” Rarity turned and faced Vinyl. “I have been in town since yesterday, shopping for materials. I’m hosting another fashion show in Ponyville in a few days, and I needed some supplies. And then inspiration struck! You were there for my first, uh…show,” Rarity’s cheeks glowed red for a moment, but she continued, “and you were there for the wedding, and when my friends threw me that lovely celebration party a while back. Even if I did miss most of it. So, I was going to ask you if you would be so kind as to provide you D.J. talents again.”
Vinyl smiled weakly. “I’d love to Rarity, but I don’t think I’d be up for it. Look at me.”
“Oh, I agree completely,” Rarity said with a wave of her hoof. What? “I’ll have to find somepony else. But you’re still coming to Ponyville with me tomorrow.”
“What?!” Vinyl said, unable to keep the thought silent a second time.
“You heard me. You need a change of scenery, and I’m certain you can still help me with my fashion show.”
Vinyl’s mind was reeling and her mouth was having trouble forming words. “Look, Rarity, I don’t think—”
“Nonsense. I won’t take no for an answer. Now, I’ll be by bright and early tomorrow to collect you. We’re going to have to leave extra early if I’m going to have enough time. It’s a pity I won’t get to spend more time at the spa, but I can always come back some other time. Now, what am I going…” Rarity stopped as her eyes fell on the scarf that was hanging on the rack behind Vinyl’s door. “Ooooh. This is lovely. Where did you get it?”
“Uh, Octavia gave it to me. As a birthday present. She made it herself. Hoofmade and everything. It’s…it’s my favorite.”
A smile crept across Rarity’s face. “Perfect,” she whispered, then turned her head back toward Vinyl. “Now, make sure you get plenty of sleep. Like I said, bright and early tomorrow. Good night.”
And with that, the unicorn was out the door and gone. Vinyl’s mouth hung open for a long moment after that, her brain trying to process what had just happened.
“Guess I’m going to Ponyville tomorrow,” she said. She picked herself up off the couch and walked down the hall to her bedroom. She flopped on her bed, for once not thinking about Octavia, but instead about what Rarity had meant when she had said that Vinyl would still be able to help with the fashion show.
I only play music at her gigs. What else could I possibly help with…?