Beats of Life

by NightsongWrites


Chapter 3

The train ride was, thankfully, nice and quiet. Vinyl was snuggled firmly against Octavia’s side, eyes glued in awe to the brochure in front of her. The Lunar 2380 Magi-Sonic System. The best table on the market… and the Canterlot Symphony was buying it for her. She looked up shakily, blushing at the grins the other members were giving her.
“Guys… y-you really don’t have to do this for me,” she whispered sheepishly- for the tenth time.
And for the tenth time, they all just chuckled. Vinyl knew quite well that she had become something of a mascot and friend to the Symphony in the past week. Beauty Brass was just as wild as she… used to be. Frederic was nice, but getting close to him, or Harpo, tended to bring bad memories up fast. She felt really bad about it, and had said so every time she burst into tears.
Vinyl hated this. She felt weak, and constantly on edge. Every time she closed her eyes… He was there. The unicorn, the pegasus. Laughing, mocking, hitting… She curled her legs underneath her barrel, laying her head on Octavia’s side. Her scent was calming. Vanilla and oil. A slight smell of freshly tilled garden soil- they had had to run to make the train on time, working up a sweat. She peeked up past her purple shades at her Angel.
Octavia was settled lightly against the side of the couch, her eyes closed in a peaceful nap. Her barrel rose and fell slowly, charcoal mane framing her face against the light of the rising sun like a reverse halo. Vinyl’s movement caused Octavia to shift a bit, laying her head down by Vinyl’s, ears twitching lightly in her sleep. The DJ smiled faintly, closing her eyes after a moment. And with Octavia’s scent in mind, she had no nightmares that trip.
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“Vinyl! Oh thank Celestia!”
The mint-green unicorn slammed full speed into the shaky DJ, hugging her neck tightly. Lyra Heartstrings had met the ensemble at the train station, eager to see her long-time friend. She sniffled softly, nuzzling Vinyl’s straight mane. Vinyl hadn’t had much time, or motivation, to gel it back to its old spiky self. Besides… Octavia kept her’s straight, why shouldn’t she?
“How’re you doing, Wubs?” Lyra asked softly, dainty hoof ruffling her mane.
Vinyl shrugged slightly, but leaned appreciatively into the hug. Lyra had always been one of her more touchy-feely friends and, while it used to be somewhat annoying- especially during the more arduous sets- it was very much welcome now. Lyra would never hurt her.
“Miss Heartstrings?”
Octavia was smiling softly as she shook Lyra’s quickly offered hoof, “It’s a pleasure to see a friend of Vinyl’s.”
Lyra grinned softly, “And it’s good to see the mare who saved my best friend. Come on, I have a cab waiting to take us to my house.”
This caught the ensemble off-guard, Octavia in particular.
“Oh, Miss Heartstrings, you don’t… we were going to get a hotel, and-”
But the minty unicorn merely smirked; her golden eyes set.
“Oh no, Miss Society-Pony,” she butted in, winking, “You saved my best friend, took her in when you didn’t have to, and now you are staying at my place for free!”
Vinyl chuckled faintly at Octavia’s hounded look, shaking her head.
“T-trust me, Octy, you c-can’t change Lyra’s mind once it’s settled. It’s like t-trying to move a damn m-mountain by hoof.”
“Exactly!” Lyra chirped happily, horn glowing golden as little balls of solidified magic pushed the ponies along to the extra-sized carriage.
As Vinyl climbed inside, she let her eyes wander, taking in the sights of her childhood home. Massive skyscrapers jutted high into the sky; the enterprising weather teams had even wrapped some clouds around the buildings, making them appear to pierce the very heavens. Ponies of all shapes, sizes, colors, and races walked on or flew above the streets, their clops and wingbeats mixing in with the cacophony of laughing, shouting, and talking voices to create its own chaotic, yet wondrous music. A small smile curved Vinyl’s muzzle. It had been this very noise and thought process that had brought her into making her own music in the first place. Maybe when she got that mixing table…
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Lyra smiled cheerily as she led the group up into her home. It was a modest affair, two stories tall and settled down by the large park in the center of Manehatten. Out front spun a glowing candy cane, and a little sign on the door read “Bon-Bon’s Sugary Delights.” Every time she read that Lyra had to giggle faintly. And speaking of her marefriend…
“Bons! We’re home!”
“I’ll be right down!”
She led the group into the living room, tail flicking towards the couch invitingly.
“Bons and I will get dinner started,” she explained with a grin, “You guys just get settled in.”
Dinner was always fun. Bon-Bon tended to add sugar into just about everything and, while Lyra was an admitted chocoholic, it was usually up to her to add some of the more savory components. And tonight was definitely going to be a salt night. Poor Vinyl needed some way to relax. By the time Bon-Bon galloped into the kitchen, Lyra had the stove going, a tray of large mushroom steaks settled in the oven while their salty glaze bubbled on the burners. She gave her marefriend a sheepish look, rubbing a forehoof over the other.
“Uh, sorry, love. I know you were saving those mushroom steaks, but I thought Vinyl could use- mmm!”
Bon-Bon was smirking as she leaned back from her “shut-up” kiss, rolling her eyes.
“Do you really think I’d give her anything less than our best?” she asked softly, making sure her voice didn’t carry into the adjacent room, “I’m proud of you, Lyra. ...did you get out the salt cubes?”
Lyra’s cheeks instantly colored, “What? They need to relax! You should have seen Vinyl at the station, with all those other ponies… I thought she was going to explode.”
“And I’m sure being in a home with loving friends will work wonders on that,” she replied with a smirk, “Not getting saltdrunk. Trust me, self-control is what she needs right now. Control over her thoughts and actions.”
Lyra nodded, peering over Bon-Bon’s shoulder into the living room; Vinyl was settled between Octavia and Beauty Brass, staring wistfully down at a paper of some kind. Harpo and Frederic had retreated off to one side, speaking quietly into a cellphone. The harpist smiled faintly, leaning lightly against Bon-Bon’s side.
“Don’t you worry, Lyra,” she was saying, smiling warmly, “We’ll help her get through this. She has quite the support group here.”
“I know, Bons… come on, let’s finish up dinner. How about hot cocoa, instead of salt cubes?”
“Thatta girl!”