Ch. 3 – Escape
Octavia woke up to the loudest snoring she had ever heard. She wondered where it was coming from for a moment before she remembered what had happened last night.
She sat up, and discovered her head ached slightly. Oh, well. Nothing a little coffee and possibly some orange juice couldn’t fix.
She got up to shower and brush her hair and teeth, and then walked out of her bedroom to find the rambunctious DJ. She was right where she had fallen asleep, sort of. She was now lying on her back, with the blanket draped over a single hoof and spilling onto the floor. Her head was almost off the couch, and her mouth was open wide, producing the snoring Octavia was sure could wake the dead. Amazingly, her glasses were still on her face.
It was weird; Octavia had known this mare for less than twelve hours, and most of that time had been spent sleeping, but she still felt a connection, like she had more in common with the unicorn than she had thought at first glance. Well, she could figure that out later. She needed some coffee.
-XXX-
Latte’s twins Cream and Sugar were sweeping the patio and wiping tables when Octavia showed up.
“Hi, Miss Octavia!”
“How are you, Miss Octavia?”
Octavia smiled down at the colt and filly before her. They had been brought up on old-fashioned Canterlot values: their manners were flawless, their appearance ordinary. Cream’s coat was a slightly lighter brown than his sister’s, but Sugar’s mane was lighter than his.
“I’m just fine Sugar, how are you?” Octavia gave a polite reply, and continued the conversation at the same time. It was very high society of her.
“Very well, Miss Octavia,” was the answer. “Lovely day we’re having isn’t it?”
Octavia felt proud that this young filly was growing up knowing how to converse properly, but it was tarnished by guilt. She was just a child, and was being molded into the very thing Octavia was fighting against: an emotionless socialite. She decided to throw the little filly for a loop.
“I’ll bet tomorrow will be even lovelier,” she said with a smile.
Sugar did not have a response to that, so she set her face to a default smile. It seemed to satiate Octavia, who trotted past her and into the shop itself. Cream, in lieu of a hat, tipped his head slightly as she passed.
The bell tinkled, and Latte looked up from her newspaper. “Octavia! How are you? You look good,”
“I feel even better,” Octavia could not keep her smile from spreading. “What have you got for me today?”
“Hmm, nothing new, I’m afraid, but maybe you’ll like this,” Latte retrieved an item from one of her display cases and presented it to her friend. It was triangular in shape, and had berries sprinkled through the dough, almost like a muffin. “It’s called a scone,” she explained. “The dough isn’t as soft or as moist as a muffin, but it still has real fruit inside, and I know you like blueberries.”
Octavia accepted the pastry and took a polite bite. The crunchy texture was a welcome difference, and she munched happily on her newfound treat.
Latte gauged her reaction with the expertise of a pony that made a living making sure ponies were satisfied. “Like it?”
“Mm-hm,” Octavia managed, and then swallowed. “It’s delicious.” She pushed the necessary bits across the counter, and Latte took them graciously.
“So tell me what’s got you so happy today. Meet a nice stallion, did you?”
Octavia laughed briefly. “No. A mare, actually. At a club, of all places.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t take you for a… you know,“
“We are not together, Latte; I met her just last night.”
“A lot can happen in a night,” Latte winked.
Octavia treated her to her best deadpan stare before moving on. “Anyway, she says she’s going to help me write a new original piece for my cello.”
“She’s a musician? Wow, you got lucky!”
Octavia grimaced only slightly. “Well, she’s a DJ for a club… I’m not sure she’ll be big on classical composition. She called some of the most brilliant composers of our era ‘boring old guys.’”
Latte fought back her giggles. “Ah, she’ll be good for you, Octavia. You need a DJ in your life.”
Octavia stared into her now empty cup. “Maybe… Thank you, Latte.”
“Anytime, Octavia. You’re always welcome here.”
-XXX-
As Octavia approached her door, she heard the same racket she had heard when she had woken up. Was Vinyl still asleep?
The key clicked and the door squeaked, revealing her answer. The white unicorn she had met last night was unconscious on her sofa in the same position Octavia had left her in when she went out that morning.
‘Does she know it’s after 11:00?’ Octavia didn’t wait for an answer, hypothetical or otherwise. She walked up to the couch and solidly kicked one of the legs, jolting its occupant awake.
“Spiders! Ninja spiders! Spi…” Vinyl woke up screaming and breathing heavily. “Spiders,” She turned her head and saw Octavia standing over her. She adjusted her glasses on her face and launched herself at the other mare. “Oh, Tavi! You saved me!”
Octavia rolled her eyes and gently pushed Vinyl off of her. “Clean up and have some breakfast,” she said. “We have work to do.”
“Work?” the DJ’s brow furrowed, but Octavia could only see her frown.
“Yes, work,” Octavia repeated. “Now go take a shower, and for the love of Celestia brush your mane!”
“No way!” Vinyl shook her head violently, further agitating her hairdo. “Chicks dig the wild style.” She smirked.
Octavia did not even smile. “Well, at least use some soap.”
Vinyl sighed. “Fine, but only because I like you.”
Octavia pointed out the bathroom and handed her companion a towel, which she accepted with magic. Unfazed, Octavia retrieved the note she had gotten yesterday and found the second address Coda had written.
It wasn’t really an address, though; there was one word at the top: “Syncopation,” along with a street name from the Outer District, with a second name in parentheses below it. An intersection, perhaps? But who would live there? Maybe it pointed to a business? There were too many questions, and only one way to get the answers. Unfortunately, Octavia only recognized one of the street names. ‘This might turn into a wild goose chase.’
Vinyl exited the bathroom, trailing steam and rubbing the towel behind her ears.
“Heads up!”
Octavia barely had time to turn around before the towel hit her. It slid down her face to show a less than pleased expression staring back at Vinyl’s own cocky grin. “So! What’s for breakfast?” The white mare asked.
Octavia wordlessly folded the towel and placed it in a laundry hamper, keeping her aggravation in check. Latte thought this mare would be good for her? She was having a hard time believing it, herself.
“There’s oatmeal in the pantry, or you can make toast, if you like.” She finally said.
“Ugh, boring! Got any cereal? And please don’t say Corn Flakes.”
“What’s wrong with Corn Flakes?”
“Are you kidding me?” Vinyl had opened the pantry doors and was peering inside. “You don’t even have any Sugar Puffs?”
“Sugar Puffs. You’re serious?”
Vinyl shrugged. “Packed with nine essential vitamins and minerals. That’s healthy, right?”
“Actually, they’re really not.”
“Whatever. Got anything to eat that’s somewhat tasty?”
Octavia gritted her teeth, but spoke calmly. “Well, you can do what I always do when I want to treat myself.”
“What, put raisins in your oatmeal? Bleagh!”
The amount of restraint it took for Octavia to bite back a retort was quite extraordinary. Instead, she closed her eyes and sighed. “No, you can sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on buttered toast.”
Vinyl was silent for a moment, thinking. She nodded. “Can’t hurt to try!”
“That’s the spirit,” Octavia said dryly.
As Vinyl chewed, Octavia filled her in on the plan for the day: to find the other street Coda had been talking about when he had written his note. Between bites, Vinyl glanced at the slip of paper, not careful about whether she dirtied it with crumbs or not. The result was that she did indeed make a mess.
“So, who we meetin’ up with? What’s this? Syncopation? What’s that even mean?”
“If I knew, I would tell you. We’re just going to have to find out when we get there.”
“Well then let’s get there!”
-XXX-
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Octavia was walking half a step behind Vinyl, this being “her side of town,” as she called it. Since she didn’t recognize any of the buildings or streets, Octavia had no choice but to trust her companion.
They made their way behind a series of brick buildings where Vinyl pointed out a bent and faded street sign. “There you go; Withering Way. Told you I’d get us here!”
“Maybe, but we still need to find this other one, this ‘Breakaway Street,’ and I don’t see any other roads.” Octavia looked around. The alleyway was deserted, except for a snoring pegasus wearing a battered hat leaning against the side of a wall. He had a dirty cream-colored coat, and they could see streaks of silver in his midnight blue tail. Vinyl immediately trotted over.
“Hey, buddy!”
The snoring continued.
Vinyl’s second attempt consisted of actually pushing the stallion over.
“Hey! What’s the big idea?”
“Oh, good; you’re awake,” Vinyl ignored the glare she had deserved. “You know where we can find Breakaway Street?”
The stallion’s expression changed in an instant. “H-How d’you know that name?”
Vinyl showed him the slip of paper “Or you could tell us where this ‘Syncopation’ is.”
The old pegasus’s eyes grew even wider, and he snatched the note from Vinyl’s magical grasp. “Who gave you this?” he demanded.
Octavia finally spoke up, ”My symphony director; do you know a Coda?”
The old pony slumped against the wall, and thrust the paper back at Vinyl, who barely caught it. “Ain’t no ‘Syncopation’ here,” he said. “No ‘Breakaway Street,’ neither. Leave me alone.”
“You gotta know something!” Vinyl pressed. “This note says ‘Withering Way,’ and this is the only Withering Way in the city! Did Breakaway Street and Syncopation just get up and leave?”
The pegasus scowled. “Yeah, they left. Long time ago. Wish you would do the same. Leave me alone.”
He turned away from the two mares, and as he did, Octavia caught a glimpse of his cutie mark. It was simple: just two black notes, but Octavia understood it in a heartbeat.
“A dotted quarter note and an accented eighth note,” she said slyly. “If we assume the first note is on a down beat, that would put the accent of the second one on the off-beat. The simplest form of syncopation.”
The stallion squinted at her. “Somepony who knows their music, eh? You’re a disappearin’ breed, you are,”
Octavia wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, so she remained silent. Vinyl covered for her.
“You’re Syncopation? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I said ‘leave me alone,’ and I meant it. I don’t wanna be bothered by nopony. That includes you two.”
“But why?”
“Don’t matter why; go away.”
Vinyl did not. “So where’s Breakaway Street, huh?”
“Don’t know nothin’ about it.”
Octavia cut in, “But you recognized the name when we showed it to you, and Coda said you were an old friend. You must know something.”
The disgruntled stallion sighed. “Look, it ain’t nopony’s business where Breakaway Street is or who Syncopation is. Not even that old fart Coda’s. You’re wastin’ your time here.”
Octavia didn’t budge. “What happened between you two?”
Syncopation was silent for a few seconds. “You’re not gonna go away, are you?” The mares shook their heads in unison, to Syncopation’s chagrin. “Let’s say he chose his own path, and leave it at that.”
Octavia suddenly remembered something Coda had said: “If you called me a coward for what I didn’t do, you would be right in doing so.” What had Coda not done?
“What the hay does that mean?” Vinyl’s voice brought her back to the situation at hoof.
“Means I don’t want no part in whatever you two are doing. You gonna go away now?”
“Fine,” Vinyl turned away impatiently, but Octavia lingered, still thinking.
“If Coda didn’t do something,” she mused, “And you say he took a different path, that means you must have done what he didn’t do, right? What were you trying to do?”
Syncopation’s eyes and mouth moved slightly as he followed Octavia’s train of thought. Finally, he frowned. “It wasn’t nothin’ important.” He declared.
“It must have been!” Octavia insisted. “Or you wouldn’t feel so strongly about it! Did it have anything to do with music?”
Syncopation gave her a tired look and adjusted his hat. “Go home, miss. While you still got one. It’s too late to change anything. I did my best; look where that got me.” He indicated the run-down alley. “Canterlot’s too far gone; you can’t save it.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, believing the discussion was over.
“I can’t believe that.” Octavia said quietly. “I won’t believe it. Coda said I could save him…”
Syncopation barked a laugh. “You got any idea what you’re up against? The whole of Canterlot is stuck in the same way of thinkin’. There ain’t nopony in this city who’ll support you; you got no money, no plan, no nuthin! Give it up. You lost before you even began.”
Octavia tried to step back, and realized her whole body was shaking. Even worse, she could feel tears forming at the edge of her eyes. “You… how can you say that? How can you even suggest that? Giving up on music is tantamount to giving up on life!” She shook her head to purge her brain of the very thought of quitting. She couldn’t, not now; she had barely even begun. “Even if you have,” she held her chin high, masking the frustration and sadness she felt. “I can’t. Not while I know I can still do something.” She turned sharply on her hoof, her strides long and purposeful, taking her somewhere, anywhere away from the alley. She did not wait for Vinyl, and did not stop until her anger-driven energy ran out, and she collapsed on a stoop a few blocks away.
Vinyl caught up to her just as she put her face in her hooves. “Aw, c’mon Tavi, it’s not that bad,”
Octavia barely lifted her head. “How bad is it, Vinyl? Even ponies who used to care about music have given up. What can we possibly do?”
Vinyl shrugged, undeterred. “We’ll figure something out.” She held out her hoof. “C’mon. Don’t listen to that phil, fuh, fay, oh, you know what I mean?”
Octavia rolled her eyes, but accepted the hoof. “I believe you mean philistine.”
“Yeah, that! Who needs ponies like that?”
Octavia conceded a small smile, ignoring Vinyl’s improper use of the word. “So, what do you think we should do?”
“There’s a good burger joint just up the street,”
Octavia couldn’t resist facehoofing.
-XXX-
The “joint” Vinyl mentioned was a quaint 50s style restaurant, nestled between an old brick building and an out-of-business antique shop. The food was decent, but Octavia could do no more than pick at her hay fries and wildflower salad.
“Aroo not ‘unree?”
Vinyl’s attempted sentence was met with a disapproving frown. She gulped and tried again. “Sorry; are you not hungry?”
Octavia stared at her food, not really seeing it. “I’m just contemplating what we should do next.”
“Oh, lighten up; I told you we’d think of something,” Vinyl took another impossibly huge bite of her sandwich.
Octavia delicately placed a fry in her mouth and chewed slowly, not sure what to think at this point. “I feel almost… trapped. The ponies we’re trying to help don’t want help, and the ponies who should try to help don’t want to.”
Vinyl swallowed this time before talking “Ah, there’s always a way out, even if you can’t see it. Least, in my experience, anyway.”
“Why, Vinyl, that was almost wise,”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
A smile was Octavia’s only answer.
Half an hour later, the mares were back on the streets of Canterlot. They wandered aimlessly; they weren’t in a hurry to be anywhere. They passed Withering Way again, with no sign of Syncopation: the pegasus had disappeared.
Octavia stood for a second at the alley, but Vinyl pulled her onward. “Don’t worry about him; let’s get outta here.” Octavia nodded forlornly and followed.
They were passing through the park that they had run to the previous night when a voice stopped them.
“Hey! Hey, wait up!”
Both mares turned to see an airborne pegasus clutching a hat to his head as he flew. He touched down just behind them, breathing heavy. “Whoo! I ain’t built for sprint-flyin’, that’s for sure,”
“Syncopation? What in Equestria are you doing here?”
“Tried to… follow you… couldn’t find…” The older stallion was still having trouble breathing. “Look, I thought about what you said. You’re right; I can’t give up on my music an’ be happy about it. So,” he looked behind him, “To get outta that thinkin’, I guess I gotta get outta here, too.”
Octavia nodded approvingly, glad that the day hadn’t been a complete loss.
“All right, Sync!” Vinyl clapped the Pegasus on the back.
“Don’t call me Sync,”
“Sorry; Tavi’s got a nickname, so you need one too.”
“Two syllables is pretty much your limit, isn’t it, Vinyl?” Octavia had a smile back on her face.
Vinyl stuck her tongue out at her.