Octavia was… nervous. While she was certainly happy that Vinyl had asked for a little alone time working up to meeting at the Ponyville Coffee House that night, the fact that she had also wanted “alone” time several times in the past week had begun to eat at the cellist. Had Vinyl finally gotten sick of her presence, her overbearing stuffiness? Octavia did have to admit that she was probably getting a bit… stale, especially since Vinyl’s personality was coming back more and more. She was louder, smiling brightly even, and the stutter had begun to fade when she was around ponies she had taken a liking too, like Rainbow Dash.
It… weighed at her, and the surprise of the revelation stopped Octavia in her tracks on the dirt road, her brow furrowing in thought. Why should it? Sure, they were friends, but even friends need time away from each other, right? So why in all of Equestria was she getting depressed at that?! With an irritated groan, Octavia stalked into Fiddlestick’s house, looking around alertly.
“Vinyl?”
But Vinyl was gone, as was her keyboard; alarm shot through Octavia’s heart, only to quickly fall away when she spotted the white card by the door jam, her and Vinyl’s sign for each other that they were going out. ...but going out where? Sighing a bit, Octavia trudged into the kitchen, trying to keep her ears up… and failing. She shouldn’t feel down. Vinyl was getting better! That was the whole point of it! So what if she wouldn’t need a cuddle partner in bed… Or a pony to lean against when they went walking. Probably wouldn’t need a pony to be with her when she gave birth to her foal.
With a plop of generous flanks, Octavia gave a deep-hearted sigh as she sat down on the linoleum, angrily scuffing a hoof as the revelation burned into her mind. She was falling in love with the pony she was trying to heal. A still semi-broken mare who likely wouldn’t want anything to DO with love or companionship, not after the horror she had been through.
Great going, heart, Octavia thought gloomily, Thanks for making life complicated once more.
Octavia had known since graduating from university that she had enjoyed the fairer sex far more than she did stallions. Where stallions made her think uncouth and unrefined louts, other mares stuck with her like beautiful chords of light and music. A hug from a stallion tended to make her tense, while a hug from a mare could make the refined cellist all but melt (something Fleur-de-Lis had found out firsthoof). And a kiss… Octavia’s legs quivered a bit at the mere thought, and to kiss Vinyl…
With a frustrated groan, Octavia spun back to the refrigerator, quite ready to drown her confused mind in a veritable tide of apple cider, one that would block out the sight of land for years to come, one that would- And standing, shining like gold in a setting sun, in the fridge… was bottle of brandy. And not just… any brandy. THE brandy. Aged Prench brandy. It was practically one of the few alcoholic drinks in existence that Octavia would tear somepony in half to get it… and here it was, a full bottle of that glorious ambrosia. With suddenly teary eyes, Octavia managed to notice a small note attached to the bottle, and she carefully- oh so very careful- turned it about to see it.
“Happy two month anniversary of saving my flank. I heard you like this kind of booze. Can’t wait to see you tonight!”
Who was cutting a thousand onions in the room? With trembling hooves, Octavia reached it to take the bottle, slamming it against her chest in a tight hug. The rich amber of the brandy glowed under the lantern light above, and a tiny smile tracked across the reflection.Perhaps she had overreacted a bit. They would stay friends… going through what they had together had cemented that. As for Octavia’s feeling…
Sighing again, a twist of teeth separated the cork from the bottle, and Octavia tugged a shotglass over. There was no need for her to complicate things any further between herself and Vinyl. Her DJ just needed a friend to help her through recovery, not some kind of… silly, pining fillyfooler. Her teeth grit at the instinctual name, grown into her mind by years of spiteful Canterlotian upbringing and taunts against those ponies, like herself, who loved those of the same sex. Vinyl didn’t deserve to apart of those hateful jokes. She deserved better than that.
“Besides,” Octavia mused absently, knocking back the shot with a faint sigh of satisfaction, “I don’t even know if she likes mares as I do… best not to mess up a good thing…”
She glanced up at the ceiling, biting the outside of her lip, “...r-right?”
****************************
The coffeehouse had a surprising amount of visitors that night, and Octavia definitely had to worm her way through to find a seat in the back. The PCH was a home-y establishment, with a crackling fireplace to one side giving off much needed heat, and the smell of coffee was so intense it made Octavia’s stomach rumble… for coffee. Two mugs of dark roast (no creme) later, Octavia was comfortably settled back against the wall, a warm smile stretched across her muzzle as she watched the rest of the patrons file in.
The stage was fairly small, with a “backstage” exit off to the left. The first performance of the night was, surprisingly enough, a griffon. Thin enough to almost be described as reedy, the white-and-brown feathered male smiled out at the crowd, and Octavia was even more surprised to find the crowd smiling back, some even giving friendly cheers. The tense relationship with the Griffons must not have reached Ponyville yet, or they didn’t much care. She always remembered Ponyville being quite friendly to visitors, if they understood them. The Griffon introduced him politely- Gor Fireclaw- before producing an acoustic case, cleverly hidden behind the stage, and drew his guitar with a proud flourish.
The music wasn’t exactly Octavia’s style- an energetic piece about flying that had several pegasi in the room cheering by the time it was over- but she had to hand it to the Griffon, he was hardly a slouch with his music, and knew what he was doing. She was quite happy to lend her hooves to the applause. The next performer was a teenage unicorn with a bright white coat and a periwinkle , dual toned mane. Her smile was bright and beatific, and quite infectious. To Octavia’s delight, a little orange pegasus mare practically jumped in surprise, eyes wide in awe as the filly began to sing. Her voice was brilliant, and Octavia could easily see the filly becoming a star if she focused on that wonderfully loud, carrying voice. But Octavia couldn’t help but stare at the little, practically vibrating pegasus in the front row, a giggle of delight leaping out as the unicorn darted during a particularly soft portion to trail a tender kiss across the pegasus’ lips. The crowd practically exploded with cheers, and when the song ended, the partners darted out with each other, tails tightly entwined and raised.
It was one of the most adorable things Octavia had seen in quite awhile, so she was still slightly giggling when… Vinyl!? The little unicorn was carefully maneuvering her keyboard onto the stage with her magic, light blue aura carefully fixing the wires and her seat. Octavia was… stunned. Vinyl was dressed in a black dress jacket, a purple tie and purple handkerchief gleaming in the overhead lights. On her head, lightly crushing her spiky blue hair, was a black fedora, a grey-purple fabric running along the outside. Her glasses were, surprisingly gone, and her gorgeous ruby eyes were on display for all to see. When they peered into Octavia’s own, and the little unicorn smiled, Octavia’s heart leaped into her throat. Vinyl was making it very hard to forget her feelings.
“Thank you all for coming,” Vinyl told the crowd softly, giving a soft smile that made the smallest whimper rise out of Octavia, “My name is DJ… uh, no, no. My name… my name is Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch.”
The first notes stole Octavia’s breath. They weren’t the electronically enhanced tones from their first concert; these were simple piano keys, but the melody they weaved was anything but. The tone and pitch wove an aching sing, one that gently gripped at the mind and pulled the listener in. Heart-breakingly beautiful, and Octavia knew she’d be crying by the end, no matter the lyrics or message of the song itself. She was a sucker for musical beauty. And as the tone rose and rose, leaving Octavia on the edge of her seat… it dropped. And Vinyl began to sing.
“Oh there's an ache in my heart.
I'm so glad I'm not tone deaf.
A desire, I can't speak it's name.
My soul belongs to the treble clef.”
Octavia’s world had stopped around her, the only thing moving were Vinyl, and the pounding in her heart. She couldn’t look away; her ears were practically tearing themselves to lean forward more, and her mouth was drier than Appaloosa. As Vinyl’s voice whispered the last line, her eyes bored into Octavia, and all she could do was mouth a word. Her word. Her whole world in that time.
Vinyl.
"Without my my love, my mind finds no tune.
Discs have no meaning, and music is mania."
Vinyl’s jaw and eyes clenched together, and Octavia gave a mewl of protest at the tears leaking down Vinyl’s cheek. She wanted to charge the stage, kiss the treacherous liquid away, but she was rooted to the floor. Vinyl’s hooves danced over the keys, and when she sang again, her voice sounded near broken, alto and broken and beautiful.
I dare not look at its source, or the love will find bloom.
Ruby eyes glanced across the silence-struck room, and magenta rose up to catch them, to cherish the pony behind them. A tremulous smile bloomed, and Octavia’s body quivered in response.
I want to be your instrument, you're an artist Octavia.
Octavia was quite the fast pony, and her agility was second to none in the room. The second Vinyl’s hooves left the keys, and the roaring cheer and applause broke out in the suddenly packed coffeehouse, the cellist was practically sprinting and vaulting over and under tables. Despite the pain from her old injuries, she launched herself up onto the stage, tears blurring her hooves. She had to slow down, or she would scare Vinyl. Vinyl would want it slow, or she might just shove her away, Octavia had- Octavia had to shut up. Vinyl’s lips, soft and quivering and eager, pressed firmly to Octavia’s, and the desperate, sobbing mewl the “fancy” pony had been holding in burst out with a vengeance.
Neither pony cared about the thunderous applause behind them, nor the cheering, nor even the silent glares from a few. Their worlds were simply each other at that moment. Vinyl pushed forward a bit, and Octavia let out a squeak as she was pressed against the wooden wall. Vinyl’s tongue darted in, and Octavia rose to challenge with need. They wrestled and fought, barely pausing for breath, relying only on their love and their friendship to sustain them, ears still ringing with the music of a mending heart.