//------------------------------// // 75 Jump by palaikai // Story: Rhythm and Harmony: The Octascratch Prompt Collab // by lyra_lover777 //------------------------------// Jump by palaikai It was one of those days in Ponyville: Celestia's sun was shining that bit brighter, the birds were singing in open harmony now that they'd been properly drilled by Fluttershy, and Sugarcube Corner was filled to the brim with happy ponies taking merciless advantage of the friendship discount Pinkie Pie offered to practically the entire town. The only dark cloud Rainbow Dash couldn't buck into oblivion, it seemed, was the one that had been hanging over the head of Vinyl Scratch for the past few days; ever since she had returned from a gig in Canterlot, Octavia had noticed a subtle change in her demeanour. The DJ had been reticent to talk about it, though, and Octavia wanted to respect her privacy … even if she was burning with curiosity. They didn't get to spend all that much time together due to their respective careers taking them all over Equestria, but even when they were both in the same room it was beginning to feel like they were still apart. Meeting at the bakery like this, it wasn't really a date; Vinyl was too cool and unconventional for that sort of thing, and she preferred to think of their little get-togethers as hook-ups. Mostly, they just talked, learning about each other's pasts. Neither of them had been in serious relationships before – although Octavia was learning that Vinyl was party to plenty of unserious ones – and at the forefront of their minds was the notion, “Don't screw this up.” They received their snacks from Pinkie Pie who offered them a cheery, knowing smile in addition to the pastries (as she did every customer), but it seemed just that much wider to them. Perhaps she was getting a vicarious thrill from watching two ponies fall in love? Or it was merely a side-effect of the gorgeous day buoying her already suitably positive mood. Any chance of it rubbing off on Vinyl, however, seemed doomed to failure. “So.” Octavia looked at Vinyl, her hoof idly prodding at the fudge doughnut before her without really focusing on it. “D'you want to … talk?” “Sure,” replied Vinyl distractedly. “What did you want to be when you grew up?” Octavia snorted in response. “Can you be serious for a moment?” “I can, but I choose not to.” “Why are you being like this?” asked Octavia, a trace of anger beginning to seep into her voice as she regarded the white unicorn before her. “You've been distant with me since you got back from Canterlot, won't tell me what's up with you, yet you still insist on dragging me to places like this.” She narrowed her eyes slightly and looked away. “Are you breaking up with me?” The question caught the DJ off guard and she looked perplexed. “Do you want to?” “No.” “Good. I don't want to either,” said Vinyl, poking her doughnut until the creamy filling began to dribble out of the sides and on to the napkin under it. “Vinyl ...” Octavia's eyes began to involuntarily water. “Tell me. Please?” * She ran. She knew not where; the city's architecture was beginning to blur together, and frankly she'd consumed enough that even without the frenetic pace navigation would've been difficult at best. Running wasn't cool, but neither was getting your flank kicked in some back alley gutter in one of Canterlot's rougher districts (well, the best parties were held there). If she could just make it to the hotel, or even the train station, before they caught up … No such luck. They were mad, and why shouldn't they be after what she'd pulled? They were keeping level with her through sheer will-power; a lung-bursting effort that she could only grimly envy, even as they circled her. Cloying breath mingling. Brawny hooves at the ready. In the cold night air, their blows felt twice as hard. Her forelegs went around her head, but to seemingly no effect; every inch of her ached, but still the flurry of kicks continued. They weren't content with simply breaking her body … There was the sound of something shattering, followed by something wet oozing down her face. “Don't show yourself around here again,” one of them said to her. He wasn't even angry or out of breath. It was as though he were simply issuing a command to a subordinate, one that he expected to be obeyed without question. The note of Or Else was left to linger. She crawled back to the hotel room, patched up her wounds and looked herself in the mirror. Her sunglasses were beyond repair. Somehow, that bothered her more than the damage done to her eyes. * “Vinyl, take off your glasses.” “Why?” “I've never seen your eyes before.” Hesitantly, Vinyl removed the sunglasses that she wore practically all the time. It was something of a jump for her to reveal herself in this way, especially in public, and her cheeks turned a shade of crimson as she did so. For a long moment, nothing was said until the DJ felt the need to break the silence. “Well, d'you think I'm ugly now?” “What? Why would I?” Octavia was mortified by the suggestion. While Vinyl's fetching claret eyes would probably have stood out on their own, what was startling was how red the whites of her eyes were. Probably because of so many shards of glass getting into them, Octavia guessed. The DJ was beginning to feel uncomfortable and she put her shades back on. She couldn't quite meet Octavia's gaze. “Because,” a hoof gestured roughly in the direction of her ruined eyes, “this is … hideous.” “What's hideous is that this happened to you,” Octavia said firmly, wishing she could get her hooves on whoever had done this to Vinyl. “You don't have to hide yourself away from me. No matter what, I'll always be there for you.” Vinyl's hoof reached out to Octavia's and grasped it firmly. “Thank you. That … just thank you.” She let out a breath that she didn't even realise she was holding; there were so few ponies in her life that she felt that she could rely on utterly, and she was glad that one of them was here now. Octavia walked around the table and pulled the DJ into a loving embrace; she'd seen another side to her marefriend today, and it was one she was glad to have had the chance to witness: one who was capable of naked displays of vulnerability, of softness, in stark contrast to the nonchalant air she liked to give off. “You're welcome.”