Octavia woke wearily to the smell of smoke, feeling as though she just closed her eyes only a minute or two prior. A small bead of panic forming in her chest, she roused herself to try to find the source of the odor.
Vinyl stood at the apartment’s small kitchenette, frying pan in hoof, using magic to try to funnel some of the smoke out through an open window. At the sound of a rustling blanket, she turned her head slightly to confirm that her guest was awake. “’Morning,” she said to her.
Barely, Octavia thought to herself. She instead replied, “Good-morning.”
“Here.” Vinyl scrapped a hoofful of scrambled eggs onto a plate and handed it and a fork to the cellist on the couch.
“Oh… Thank you,” Octavia said, taking the plate. “You really didn’t have to though.”
Vinyl shrugged. “The eggs were about to go bad anyway.”
Octavia looked down at the plate, and although the eggs looked a little black she forked a few bites into her mouth out of courtesy. They tasted slightly better than they looked.
“I gotta leave in a few for a gig,” Vinyl said, giving her frying pan a quick rinse in a nearby sink. “I hate to kick you out, but I generally make it a rule to not leave ponies here alone. Nothing personal,” she added, after a beat. “I think Quil Station is open now, so you can probably get a ticket back to Canterlot.”
Octavia was silent, mentally going over her friend’s words and the hours leading up to them. Was that really it? All this way for a hostile sleepover, then back to life as it was? She didn’t feel as though she could simply return to the way she’d been living the last few years. Not anymore.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you still have that old record player,” Octavia said, quietly ignoring Vinyl’s not-so-subtle way of trying to tell her to leave.
“What? Oh. Yeah. That old thing. Turntable.”
“Pardon?”
“Turntable. It’s called a turntable. Not a record player.”
“Oh…”
The room was without sound for a few moments, broken only by Vinyl moving some of her scrambled egg making supplies to new locations.
“Look, don’t take it as a sign that I’ve missed you or anything,” Vinyl said, breaking the silence. “I’m still really mad about what you said to me, even if it was years ago and you’ve somehow forgotten.”
“I didn’t forget, Vinyl…”
“Whatever. I’m still mad.”
Silence returned yet again, and Vinyl was running out of dishes to wash. Given the state of the rest of the apartment, Octavia was surprised to see her washing dishes at all, especially if she really did have some place to be.
“Do you hear from her much anymore?”
“What? Who?” Octavia didn’t really speak to anypony outside of Canterlot’s music appreciative circles, so she really did need Vinyl to be more specific.
“Your mom. Do you hear from her?”
“No…” Octavia looked at the ground, guilt flooding her veins. “I don’t think I’ve spoken to her much at all since graduation.”
Vinyl turned to stare at her, her black-rimmed glasses taking the brunt of her gaze. “What, are you serious? Wow… You really turned into a royal bitch.”
The back of Octavia’s neck started burning up. She rarely took such harsh words against her person, especially since other ponies rarely made them. Even when they did, she usually felt distant enough from the pony in question, believing their peasant tongue to be beneath her. Only those she saw as equals could truly get under her skin. The only thing stopping her from a hot retort was knowing that, language aside, Vinyl was correct.
“I know.”
“Excuse me?”
Octavia looked up at her old roommate, eyebrows now visible above her shades. “I said, ‘I know’,” the cellist uttered. “You’re right. I’ve been treating the ponies I used to love like the dirt I walk on, if I could ever afford to let my precious hooficured legs tread on such.” Vinyl opened her mouth to respond, but Octavia didn’t let her. “I’ve spent the last Celestia knows how many years thinking I was so much better than everypony else, and all because I was lucky enough to have a special talent that rich ponies enjoy milking out of me!” Octavia’s chest was heaving, her breath desperately trying to vent the smoke from the battle taking place within her. It was becoming clear that the dam that broke the previous night had not yet been fully repaired, and as such was failing miserably at holding back this fresh set of extreme emotion. “And oh, did I love being milked like a common bovine! I loved it so much that I threw you into a dumpster, convinced myself that’s where you belonged, and never looked back! I’M THE BIGGEST PIECE OF—!”
“OCTY!” Vinyl finally got a word out. Octavia fell silent, heart beating hard against her chest. “That’s enough, I… I get it. You finally realized that you maybe could have been a little nicer.”
“Not maybe. Definitely.”
Neither spoke for a while; the only sound in the apartment was Octavia trying to catch her breath. When Vinyl finally spoke, her voice had taken on a different tone from the last few hours. “So you really haven’t talked to her in that long?”
Octavia shook her head.
“And you miss her too?”
Octavia nodded feverishly.
“Well, go see her then.”
“What?”
“Go see her!” Vinyl walked back into her bedroom, raising her voice to maintain the conversation. “You came to see me, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing,” Vinyl said, returning. She handed a slip of paper to Octavia. “Here. It’s the train schedule for Quil Station. Train still leaves for Ponyville at noon, but you may as well hang onto this anyway.”
“Oh, Vinyl…” Octavia sighed, her eyes on the pamphlet in front of her. “What if she doesn’t want to see me? I mean, you didn’t want to see me…”
“Yeah, well, maybe I was being a little rough.” Octavia looked up and into the eyes of her reflection in the DJ’s glasses. “Besides, I know I’m not an expert or anything, but aren’t mothers supposed to love their fillies no matter what?”
“Well, Father—”
“We’re not talking about your dad. We’re talking about your mom.” Vinyl took Octavia’s hoof and placed the train schedule in it. “Go,” she said softly.
Octavia gulped, hoping that the feelings of pressure in her eyes and nose would go with it. She stared at the schedule in her hoof. If she could make an impromptu trip to Manehattan to see a friend who hated her, what was stopping her from going to Ponyville to see the mare who raised her?
“…Come with me.”
“…What?” Vinyl took a few steps back from the couch.
“Come with me! You used to always go on the train with me back to Ponyville. It was your home as much as it was mine. And I’m sure Mother would love seeing you again too; you were practically a second daughter to her.”
“Octy, I can’t…” The DJ shook her head in disbelief. “My schedule is completely booked up until almost two years from now. And I really wish I were making that up.”
“Vinyl, even the greatest of performers need to take a break every now and again.”
“Oh, and I’m guessing you know that personally?”
Octavia couldn’t tell if the remark was meant as an insult or a compliment, and in response did something she hadn’t done since she was a filly.
“Haha, Octy, you still have some egg on your tongue.”
With a small “Eep!” Octavia retracted her tongue, hoof rising quickly to cover her mouth as she did so.
Vinyl chuckled. “You know what? Sure. Why not. Half my songs are about carpe diem anyway.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. See, that’s the thing about club life. Most of the ponies there are really just living day-to-day, and—”
“No, Vinyl, I mean you’ll really go with me? To Ponyville?”
The DJ gave the cellist a small, harmless punch. “Like I can really let you take a train by yourself. When we were fillies there were days I was convinced you were scared of going alone.”
Octavia laughed. “I was. The way the trains rattled made me think they were going to blow up at any second.”
“Who says they won’t?” The DJ went back to her room and threw a few things into a saddlebag before harnessing it around her stomach. “Oh, wait, shoot, let me make a few phone calls real quick. I gotta let the clubs I’m supposed to be at the next few days know I won’t show, or they’ll think I died or something.”
Octavia giggled, but when Vinyl didn’t her composure became very serious. “Wait, is that a thing? People really think if you don’t show up it’s because you... died?”
“Let’s just say the nightlife here is a lot crazier than you’d think.
Octavia already thought it was pretty crazy, and the fact that her friend lived every day this way was a great concern to her. However, having finally gotten on her good side, Octavia didn’t want to start telling Vinyl what she should be doing with her life.
“Will cancelling a few shows damage your career at all?”
“Nah, are you kidding me? After a few days of being gone they’ll probably be clamoring for me more than they already do. Supply and demand, or whatever.”
After a few calls to various Manehattan club owners (some understanding, some very much less so) the two mares left Vinyl’s apartment and made for the train station. As they walked and talked with fewer awkward silences in between, Octavia dared to feel something she hadn’t known in quite some time: a genuine, Celestia-given happiness.
- * -
“Man, that ride was awkward. That one attendant was glaring at us almost the whole time.”
“Which, the green one? Vinyl, I think that may have been the same attendant from when we were fillies…”
“For real? Jeez, no wonder she looks so old. We’re probably the ones who made her that way.”
Octavia and Vinyl laughed together, having spent much of the ride reminding one another of stories long since forgotten. There were still a few sore topics that they both took care to avoid, a certain discomfort letting loose in the air every time one of them got close to breaking that unspoken rule. Those few moments aside, their travel had been rather pleasant.
Octavia looked around her hometown, head spinning on her neck. Rarity had been right; everything that was the same came as a pleasant surprise, and the things that didn’t came as a complete shock.
“How is Quills and Sofas even still in business? I thought it was a dumb idea back when it first opened.”
Octavia laughed, her friend’s thoughts clearly making some of the same loops as her own. “Didn’t you look around the last time you were here? Rarity said you came down for a fashion show or something not terribly long ago.”
“Oh, yeah. No, I didn’t get to look much… I came with this Hoity Toity character from Canterlot. That’s his actual name, not me trying to make a jab at him or anything.”
“I’m actually familiar with Hoity. He was the one who came down for the fashion show? I suppose that would explain why his stores now carry some of Rarity’s lines…”
“Wait, he bought some of those outfits? Dude, I saw those things. They were horrid.”
“I’m only telling you what I know,” Octavia said, not wanting to get into a debate on fashion with somepony who wore sunglasses at all hours of the day and night. “How did you become associated with him, anyway, if I may ask? Not meaning to sound rude, but I daresay he never struck me as much of a ‘clubber’.”
Vinyl laughed. “Yeah, me neither. The clubs would eat him alive. Truth is, Rarity was going over some numbers for ponies to do the music for her show, and see saw my picture in an add. Didn’t recognize the stage name, of course, and even though I was a ways out thought she’d give me a ring anyway. I was pretty busy that week, but somehow I felt like coming down to Ponyville to see an old friend. Guess that wasn’t the first time that would happen to me.”
Octavia smiled. “So after the show you just went back to Manehattan?”
“Yeah, didn’t see much point in hanging around. Rarity was the only pony I knew here, and she kind of locked herself up.”
“’Locked herself up’?”
“Yeah. You’re really underestimating how badly the show went. And you know what a drama queen she can be.”
“Well, what about my mother? You could have visited her too.”
Vinyl looked at the ground as they walked. “I… I had a gig in Manehattan to get to. Besides, it would’ve felt weird being there and seeing her without you around. And I thought… I thought maybe if… If you didn’t want me around anymore, then maybe she wouldn’t either…”
“Vinyl…” Octavia stopped and put a hoof on Vinyl’s shoulder, slowing her to a halt as well. “You just told me a few hours ago that mothers love their daughters no matter what. I’m sure that applies to you too.”
Vinyl looked up and gave Octavia a weak smile. “Does that mean you’re ready to go see her again? We’ve kind of been walking in circles for a minute or two here…”
“Oh… Maybe not just yet,” Octavia admitted sadly. “What about Rarity? I mean, we were just talking about her, and the last time she and I spoke it sounded like there was quite a bit going on her life worth talking about.”
“You could say that again. C’mon, she’s this way,” Vinyl said, leading them down a road. “Yeah, sounds like life’s been pretty weird for her and her friends ever since Nightmare Moon returned. Well, Princess Luna. I’m still not sure which I’m supposed to say anymore.”
“Oh, I forgot that happened here. That whole thing must have given them quite the fright, I take.”
“Fright? Heck they’re the whole reason it ended.”
“Beg pardon?”
Vinyl stopped to look at Octavia. “Rarity and her friends. They found some old gems or something in a castle near here, and somehow those things stopped Nightmare Moon.”
Octavia stood flabbergasted. Could somepony she knew as a filly really have stood against one of the strongest forces of evil Equestria had ever known?
“Doesn’t stop there either,” Vinyl said, resuming her pace. “She and her friends had something to do with that invasion during the wedding too. She even mentioned something about how they used those gem thingies to stop Discord when he came back as well.”
“Discord?!” They went from stopping one of the strongest forces of evil to the strongest force? She had heard that Ponyville took the brunt of his wrath, but even Canterlot took a few shakes before he turned his attention to Octavia’s hometown. A pang of guilt ripped through her when she realized that even in that face of peril, Octavia hadn’t contacted her mother to see if she came out of the horror in one piece.
“Yeah. I think she was just blowing steam at that point though. I mean, how could anypony just happen to be at the center of all that crud anyway? I don’t know, it just seems like way too big a lie for her to actually think she can get away with it. Whether she’s making it up or not though, I bet you never thought ponies in this town could have such exciting lives, huh?”
No, Octavia admitted to herself. No she hadn’t.
- * -
“This is it.”
“The old carousel?” Octavia looked over the decorative building, its pink and blue paint a few shades lighter than she remembered. At least she now knew the reason behind Rarity’s shop’s name. “We used to ride it all the time back when we were fillies,” Octavia recalled. “The fake horses never had much detail on them… I remember Rarity used to bring dresses and try to fit them on instead of actually riding like a normal pony.” The cellist laughed at the memory.
“Yeah, well, she does that for a living now.” Octavia laughed again at Vinyl’s statement, but stopped when she realized her unicorn friend was serious. Vinyl noticed the expression change and gave a small chuckle herself. “C’mon, let’s go say hello.”
The two ponies walked up to the boutique. Once there, Vinyl gave it a knock, but when she felt it was taking too long for somepony to answer she gave the door both a push and a pull, but to no avail.
“Hey, what gives? This is normal business hours!”
“Oh, she said she needed to close the shop for a few days.”
The two mares at the door turned to see a third. She was a mint green unicorn with a white-striped mane, amber eyes, and a harp for a cutie mark barely visible behind a pair of saddlebags on her back.
“Hey, wait, I know you guys… Octavia?” the new mare asked tentatively.
“Um… Yes… Lyra, if I remember correctly…?”
“Yup, that’s me. And I’m sorry…?”
“Pon-Three.” The DJ said. Octavia gave her a gentle nudge in the ribs. “Oh, right, sorry… That’s my stage name. I’m kind of used to it these days. You can call me Vinyl.”
“Right… Yeah, I’m not sure if we were ever properly introduced.” Lyra moved close enough to give the white unicorn a quick hoofshake. “Are you both in Canterlot now? Last I heard you were heading that way, Octavia.”
The cellist nodded, but the DJ shrugged. “Nah. I thought about it a lot, but it never really happened. Got kind of big in Manehattan though.”
Lyra smiled, and Octavia turned to look at her. “Really?” she asked, “You thought about moving to Canterlot?”
Vinyl shrugged again. “Yeah, but it’s not exactly the kind of place for club music. The stuck-up ponies there don’t really like trying new things.”
Octavia was about to respond, but decided against it. Lyra then turned to address her. “So, Octavia, what brings you back to the ol’ stomping grounds?”
“Just… Recapturing my past, I suppose,” Octavia answered. “It really has been quite some time. Is Rarity really not here right now?”
“Yeah, she and her friends just left like a day or two ago for Canterlot,” Lyra said, “Something about giving Twilight Sparkle moral support for a test.”
“Really? All the way to Canterlot for a test?” Vinyl asked incredulously. “Sounds like a lot over nothing, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised at how seriously Twilight can take that sort of thing,” Lyra answered. “Besides, with all the craziness those ponies tend to get into, they could be saving an empire or something for all we know.”
“I know they tell big stories, but honestly, even that is getting a little too out there for me,” Vinyl laughed. Octavia wasn’t able to do the same. Knowing that one pony she wanted to see during her visit was back where she just came from was tragically ironic.
“Think what you will, I’m just telling you what I know.” Lyra shifted her saddlebags absent-mindedly. “Anyways, I gotta get going. My roommate really needs these supplies today. It was nice seeing you guys again, though.”
“You live here?” Octavia asked.
“Well, yeah, most of my life. You know that, Octavia.”
“Yes, I just…” Octavia tried to figure out exactly how to word what she wanted to say. “You graduated from Manehattan’s School of Music as well. I imagined you would be using that degree somewhere… else.”
Lyra chuckled. “Yeah, me too. Ponyville doesn’t exactly have any concert halls, even if my lyre does have trouble being heard in most of them. I was living with some family in Canterlot a year or two ago, but moved back here about the same time Twilight did. I can tell it’s been good for both of us though; I knew her a little bit in Canterlot, and she was really anti-social. Cared more about reading than actually spending time with anypony. Can you believe that?”
“A Canterlot pony being snobbish, caring more about her career than her friends?” Vinyl snickered. “No, never.”
“Anyway, she really opened up once she got here. Made those friends she’s always having adventures with. Which again, Rarity—” Lyra said, waving a hoof at the boutique’s door, “—is one of, and, again, is why she isn’t here right now.”
“What about you then?”
“Hm?” Lyra looked up at Octavia, confused by the question.
“You said moving here was good for both you and Twilight Sparkle, but you also said you weren’t working.”
“Who said I’m not working?” Lyra asked. “I mean, yeah, I don’t use my special talent much these days, other than sometimes playing in the park. The ponies there really do enjoy it. It’s kind of nice being able to just play and not worry about things from time to time.”
“Well, what do you do then?”
“I help out my roommate Bon Bon in her shop.” Lyra said, motioning to her bags again. “She makes candies. Although if you’re around her you have to use the word confectionaries…”
“And you’re… happy?”
“Are you kidding? I mean, yeah, Bon Bon can be a real stick-in-the-mud sometimes, but I really can’t imagine my life without her. She’s my best friend.” Lyra shrugged. “Plus working for a candy maker means all the sweets I can eat, which is totally worth it by the way.”
Lyra and Vinyl both laughed, and after a moment Octavia did as well. They eventually let Lyra go, apologized for making her late back to the shop (“Eh, Bon Bon can just deal with it.”), and finally made their way towards Octavia’s foalhood home, where her mother was about to have some unexpected company.
They stood outside of the humble house, neither saying anything, Octavia’s hoof hovering in the air for at least five minutes.
“…You know, if you’re not going to knock, I can do it for you…”
“No!” Octavia shouted, coming out of a trance of sorts. “No, I… I can do it.” Her outstretched hoof started to tremble, but eventually it came down and hit the door three times, each knock louder than the one before it. They stood still, waiting, Octavia’s heart playing a heavy beat. Eventually the door opened; words took several seconds to appear. Octavia swallowed.
“Hi, Mom.”