//------------------------------// // Charm Offensive // Story: CUTIE MARK CRUSADER SLEEPOVER AT OCTAVIA'S! YAY! // by Wise Cracker //------------------------------// Morosely, the girls walked out, Sweetie Belle carrying the DVD in her mouth. Scootaloo picked up the comic books and took them past Octavia’s room and into her own. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle glanced around for a moment to take it in. It was about the size of the other two bedrooms, only this one didn’t have a big closet beside one of the walls, just the walk-in closet next to the bed. A big trunk under a window marked where Scootaloo kept her toys, a surprisingly large and even more surprisingly laden bookrack stood next to it. The walls were a neutral beige, as was most of the house, adorned by only one Wonderbolts poster. Scootaloo kept the bulk of her collection in her weekend home, she claimed. “What are we gonna do?” Sweetie Belle looked from one friend’s face to the other. Scootaloo kept staring at the ground. She barely noticed her bed had been made, though the slight hint of perfume made her nose curl. “What can we do? We broke the rules, and Octavia’s gonna punish us. And then every grownup in town will know we really can’t be trusted. Miss Cheerilee will crack down on us, we won’t get any help when we wanna go crusading.” Apple Bloom huffed and crossed her forelegs in front of her chest. “We can’t let that happen. I really like gettin’ my own bits, and nopony’s ever really told us to stop.” “So what do you think we should do?” Scootaloo stared intently at the Earth pony. Said Earth pony thought it over for a moment. “The real issue ain’t that we broke Octavia’s cello, right? It’s how she’s going to react when she sees it.” Sweetie Belle winced. “I don’t think we can fix it before she gets home, unless one of us somehow manages to get an instrument-fixing cutie mark.” Scootaloo's tail flicked over her unmarked flank. “And I don’t think we can get Lyra in here without Octavia noticing.” Apple Bloom waved both concerns away. “But what if Octavia doesn’t get a chance to get angry?” Scootaloo arched an eyebrow. “How?” “You said she liked us. If she starts to really, really like us, she might not start yelling over breakin’ just one rule. Doesn’t your aunt Vinyl ever break anything?” Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes as she thought. Scootaloo shrugged. “Well, sure, I guess. It must have happened once or twice.” “And Octavia didn’t get mad at her for that? She doesn’t get all strict with her?” Apple Bloom's face lit up in anticipation. Scootaloo scratched her head, thinking hard. “Umm… no? Aunt Vinyl can get away with pretty much anything. I don’t think I’ve ever really heard them yell at each other. And you heard Octy, it’s hard to miss when she yells.” Apple Bloom shook her head. “And that’s all we need, right? If Octavia just gets used to us fast enough, she won’t mind we broke something. She just doesn’t know us well enough. If we’re nice enough and then she finds out, worst she’ll do is call us what she calls your aunt.” Sweetie Belle pondered it for a moment. “That might work. Fluttershy and Twilight didn’t get that upset because they knew us. We could just try and be extra nice to Octavia.” Scootaloo nodded. “And definitely wait as long as we can to let her know we messed up.” “Darlings! Did you find the DVDs already?” Octavia called out from below. They could hear the sound of the refrigerator opening and closing. “We found it!” Scootaloo called back. “I was just putting our comic books out of the way.” “Good girl. Now come on down, please, and I’ll fry up your breads.” Scootaloo took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She checked her face for any stray tear-shaped dust specks, then extended her hoof. “So we all agree, then? Best behaviour we can. No arguing, no shouting, no doing anything without Octavia’s permission.” Apple Bloom put her hoof on Scootaloo’s, then Sweetie Belle followed suit. Scootaloo took another deep breath. “Okay. Tonight we act like perfect little angels.” “There we are, nicely cooled down.” Octavia patted the breads before slicing them up so everypony had a bit of everything on their plate. The table was set, drinks were set out, and the girls sat quietly at the table, nibbling away at their food with a careful eye for errant crumbs. Octavia looked at the scene with bewilderment. The girls were eating at a pace she normally only saw in Canterlot ponies. More worryingly, they weren’t talking. That’s odd, they should be comparing breads by now. Octavia chuckled. They were all eating hers first. “Do you like my flatbreads, darlings?” Three heads bobbed up and down with excitement. Octavia flashed them a coy smile. “And what do you think of each other’s breads? Are they all right?” Hesitantly, the girls reached up for Apple Bloom’s pear and thyme bread and took a bite. In perfect synch, they chewed and swallowed. Almost mechanically, they repeated the motion with Sweetie Belle’s raisin and quince bread, then finished with Scootaloo’s pineapple and cheese bread. Octavia’s ears perked. And again, so much tension all of a sudden. Scootaloo knows how pineapple and cheese taste together, so why is she so nervous too? “Well, girls?” Sweetie Belle shot a worried glance towards Apple Bloom. The glance was met with an equally worried glance. “They’re fine,” Scootaloo blurted out. Octavia had a taste of Apple Bloom’s bread. “Oh? And you don’t think Apple Bloom may have been a bit skittish on the olive oil, or neglected to fully flatten her bread so it’s not quite as well done as it should be?” Scootaloo looked guiltily at Apple Bloom, then to Octavia. “Well, maybe.” Octavia smiled and took a bite out of Apple Bloom's bread. “Really, I should think you girls were all for a bit of constructive criticism. Apple Bloom, what do you think? Is it fair to say your bread is slightly thicker and more doughy compared to the others?” Apple Bloom nodded reluctantly. “I guess so.” Octavia chewed and swallowed, not betraying any hints of disgust or even mere disapproval. “And you know how to do better next time, right?” “Use a little more olive oil, roll it flatter?” She looked up at the mare. “Exactly. And Sweetie Belle? I think you know what your friends are going to say, no?” Octavia took a chunk out of the bit the unicorn filly had made. Sweetie Belle took a reluctant bite off her bread. “It’s too hard and too greasy. At least this one doesn’t taste like charcoal.” Scootaloo waved her friend’s concerns away, before charging in on said bread, gulping it down with a few quick bites. “Don’t worry about it, Sweetie Belle. Sure, it didn’t come out perfect, but it’s still tasty. It’s not bad or anything.” Octavia followed Scootaloo’s example. “Quite right. It was a first effort, after all, and I didn’t give you the exact recipe. You don’t get your cutie marks just following recipes.” That prompted all three girls to check their flanks. Octavia smirked. Like clockwork. “And in case you’re wondering, I have it on good authority Scootaloo has done this sort of thing before, but never baking. She once made breakfast for her aunt Vinyl while I was out, though. Liquid breakfast, mind you.” Scootaloo blushed. “You know about that?” Octavia glared evilly, then grinned and chuckled. “I know she taught you how to make that tomato smoothie she likes on certain mornings. Does that answer your question?” Scootaloo finished the slice of her own bread and gave a loud gulp before sinking into the chair. Apple Bloom cocked her head slightly to get a look at Octavia’s flank. “So how did you get your cutie mark, Octavia? If you don’t mind my askin’.” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo stared at Apple Bloom for just long enough to convey their fear, but quickly realised that they had a lot of bonding to do and precious little time to do it in. Octavia wiped some hair away from her eyes and finished another slice. “Well, I suppose I could share that story, if you can promise to keep it a secret.” The girls all nodded. Octavia took a sip of her drink and thought for a moment to find the right words. “My school was doing this musical play, and I was to play the cello, my instrument of choice. I can play others, mind you, but that’s beside the point. I practised along with my classmates, I tried to be in harmony with them, as musicians do, and I failed. No matter what I did, I kept feeling like the music we were playing just felt off. I tried my best to learn all the notes, I could play my part on memory after a week, but nothing helped. Every time we got together and practised, it just sounded awful to me, and I couldn’t understand why. Nopony else seemed to notice, either.” Scootaloo tilted her head at that. “And how old were you?” Octavia looked up and did a mental count. “Quite a bit older than you, come to think of it. Two years older, if I’m not mistaken. No, wait. I remember I got my first professional gig when I was fifteen, and that’s around the time I met your mother and your aunt. But I stopped going to music classes two years after I’d gotten my cutie mark, so I was three years older than you are now when that happened.” Sweetie Belle’s jaw nearly dropped. “Wow. Didn’t you get picked on?” “Not really. I rather liked playing music, I loved learning to play the cello, but the Canterlot music scene is… odd, let’s say. In Canterlot, ponies don’t watch your flank, they watch you. At any rate, I was just going completely mad over this silly thing. I kept on trying and trying, and eventually it got so bad I didn’t even hear my cello’s music anymore. That’s when it finally hit me.” Octavia paused to munch down on the last few pieces of bread, a reprieve the girls took full advantage of. Apple Bloom leaned in. “What did?” “I realised that I don’t hear music like other ponies do. You might even say I’m deaf, in a way. When I got so tired of trying to improve the sound of my cello, I realised the dissonance wasn’t coming from me. There was harpist right next to me whose instrument wasn’t properly tuned. For some strange reason, I was the only pony who picked up on it. I told my teacher, he told the pony in charge of maintenance, and when next I came to practice everything just fell into place. And then this lovely symbol appeared on my flanks.” She pointed towards her hind section with a flourish. Silence fell. “My talent is nit-picking music, basically. My mind has a tendency to block out certain sounds, certain instruments, and only focus on the things I want to hear. When I listen to music, not everything registers at the same time, my attention just wanders from one thing to the next, and if I can't focus then it all becomes random gibberish. Same with conversations, actually, but I only learned that later, that's why I have a tendency to ramble on. Like right now, even." She chuckled. "But that's just how my talent works. Hum any theme song to a movie and chances are I won’t recognise it. Tap your hooves to the same beat as the percussion does in the theme, and I might remember it.” Octavia smiled and shrugged dismissively. The girls sat flabbergasted as Octavia cleared the table. Scootaloo snapped out of it first. She helped put everything in the cupboards, Octavia loaded up the dishwasher. Sweetie Belle frowned, confused. “Wait, you said you stopped going to music class. But didn’t you play at the Grand Galloping Gala?” Octavia nodded. “Yes, I still do. I’m a regular guest there.” “But you never actually finished music school? Don’t you wish you had?” Scootaloo made a cutting gesture over her throat to get Sweetie Belle to stop talking. Octavia shook her head, her back still turned to the girls. “Scootaloo, please stop doing that. I don’t mind explaining.” She took out the tiramisu from the fridge and divided it evenly between them, before sitting down and facing the girls. “Can we keep this strictly entre nous, darlings? Top secret, you did not hear this from me, you did not even hear this, period?” They all nodded. Octavia bit her lip and sighed. “All right, then. First and foremost, you should always keep learning, whether you are of school age or not. I wished to keep on learning after I got my basic diploma, so that’s what I did. The path I was following, I felt, did not allow me to keep learning what I wanted, so I didn't continue specialising. Every pony is different, not every musician is meant for the orchestra, even if they do like the classical genres. I stopped when I did because I wanted to try new things, I wanted to reach out. My teachers didn’t want that, and they felt I was wasting my talent. Funny, that’s the one I thing I agreed with them on. My parents didn’t mind, they noticed things weren’t going to end well if I stayed, so they agreed to let me start looking for little odd jobs in the music scene that needed doing, get some income, make some connections. That’s around the time I met your mother, Scootaloo, and your aunt. After two years of side jobs and gathering up my courage, I went to my first rock concert. And amongst all the groupies and the drunks, there were two drunks who were a bit nicer than the others, and one of which had a fabulous library of music. We talked, we arranged to meet sometime afterwards, and, well…” Octavia looked at the screen. “A computer? You own one of these?” Vinyl nodded and donned her headphones. “Yup. Princess Celestia said it was gift, said she knew somepony who’d love to hear some of my stuff sometime. Didn’t say who, though.” Octavia sat down next to the unicorn. “I see. I take it this is what you use to mix your sounds with?” “Yeah, listen to this.” Vinyl Scratch hit a button and cranked up her speakers. A slow thumping and a sound Octavia could only describe as ‘wubs’ began to flow forth. Vinyl changed tracks, this one more of a rock sound, only harder. If she’d heard music that could be described as a rock before, this sounded more like a metal. Among the harsher sounds of electric guitar, she caught a few more familiar noises in this one. On the screen there was a single green band and a complex wave form that represented the sounds, a little cursor going by to indicate the time. It was fast, brutal, terribly modern, but it had a touch of the classic in it, especially in the strings. Octavia’s ears perked towards the speakers. “Nice touch with the violin you have in the background, Vinyl, very vivid and active, good rhythm.” Vinyl’s head snapped towards the Earth pony mare. “You like it?” Octavia clicked another button to start up a new song. “Oh, this is lovely, darling. It has all the bombastic power of a classical piece with the raw emotion of modern music. But it needs tweaking, though, some of these chords are so off-putting. The concept works, but you really ought to get that violinist some better material, for starters, it's all over the place. Can you isolate the strings, perhaps?” Vinyl caught herself gaping, before turning to the screen again. “N-not on this track, no. It was recorded sounding just like that. I’d have to record the strips separately, one strip for the violin, one for the rest. But I can play with every strip the way I want.” Octavia nodded. “Ah, I see. Goodness, what a lovely bit of technology this is. The possibilities are mind-boggling.” Vinyl nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. You could mix up sounds so much easier, you could get some good violins or cello sounds without those snobs –“ She stopped herself and tried to look apologetic. Octavia looked at Vinyl and smiled. “No offense taken, darling. Ninety-nine percent of snobs give the rest of us a bad name, after all. I can see what you’re trying to do, though, it sounds like a great idea.” Vinyl kept those eyes fixed on Octavia. Octavia looked at the shades. “What’s the matter?” “W-would you mind working with me? Like, closely? I’ve been tryin’ to get this thing to work forever, and I could really do with somepony who’s got a good ear and maybe some connections.” Sweetie Belle went wide-eyed. “Just like that? You heard her music, and you moved in with her?” Octavia glanced away, trying to look innocent. “Not immediately, of course. We rented an apartment at first, and I introduced Vinyl to some of my friends with the more classical training while she introduced me to her friends in the industry. They don’t mesh too well together, but they know one of us, so we can, ah, liaise different genres without causing any bad blood. Vinyl knows quite a few rock stars, I must say. But with her father and all, that’s no surprise. Mister Pieces has a very broad clientele.” Scootaloo shook her head curtly to clear it. Grandpa Z? Rock stars? How did he do that? “But that’s a story for another time, I suppose. In the meantime, enjoy dessert, darlings. Next we watch a western comedy musical. Cutie Mark Crusaders Movie Critics?” Octavia smiled at the fillies. Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo exchanged a nervous glance, then forced out a smile. “Yay?”