//------------------------------//
// Hour Five: Perfectly Imperfect 
// Story: House Arrest 
// by King X2 
//------------------------------//


H O U R   F I V E


Several minutes went by before Vinyl realized she was back in the living room, still confined to the space underneath the couch cushions. She pushed off the cushions, halfway hoping the entire night had been a dream and the house would be good as new. But when she beheld the great mess all around her and the damage done to the interior to the home, her memory quickly flowed back into her. Vinyl sighed heavily and fell back into the couch, thoroughly miserable.
Well, at least her fans didn’t all hate her. And Octavia didn’t actually shape-shift into a dragon and devour her in one gulp. But those flashbacks she saw near the end of the dream were very much real. Racking her brain, Vinyl could remember each and every one of those scenes like they had happened yesterday.
“The worst roommate in HISTORY,” echoed Princess Luna’s voice inside of her head. Although she knew that bit was a part of her dream, if the scenes were real, then perhaps, did Octavia actually think that way about her in real life? Was she truly the worst roommate in history?
“You didn’t kill anybody, dude,” said her conscious, jutting in. “Roommates have killed people before. You didn’t do that…”
Vinyl snorted. So she was comparing herself with murderers, was she? Well whoop-de-freaking-do! She wasn’t a murderer!
“Well…you didn’t burn the house down! Roommates have probably done that—”
“Oh shut up,” mumbled Vinyl, turning the imaginary knob on her head once more and tuning out her conscious. With her other hoof, she turned another make-believe knob and tried to tune into the bad side.
“What? Who’sss there? Is that you, Fuzzhead?”
“Yeah, Bad Conscious, it’s me. Listening to you now,” said Vinyl, kicking a broken corner piece of what was once her turntable.
“Ooooh splendid!” hissed the voice in pleasure. “What’s on your mind, dear?”
“Oh you know…I’m pretty much screwed, so I’m coming to you, dude. I’m done.”
“Well you’ve come to the right placccce! Okay, first off, grab a kettle—”
“DUDE! What are you doing?!” shouted another voice in her ear. It was the good conscious again.
“Ugh,” said Vinyl, smacking a hoof to her forehead. “Beat it, man! I’m trying to argue with the other half of myself.”
“Who’sss that you’re talking to, Fuzzhead? Is it Mr. Goodygood again?”
“Goodygood? Is that the best you can come up with, you moron?” Said The Good.
“Moron? Hehehe,” the Bad cackled. “Who’s Fuzzhead—sorry—Vinyl—she’s above that name now—listening to? Not you!”
“Bad, she listens to me 55.6 percent of time. I win overall.”
“Oooh a five-and-a-half percent margin! Go you!”
“It’s still a win though.”
“It’s all about who controlssss the throne.”
“You’re only winning the battle, not the war.”
“Battle? I’ll show you a battle, you self-righteous prick—”
“Oh so we’ve graduated from juvenile insults and moved up to grown-up ones, now have we?”
“Guys, guys!” shouted Vinyl, clutching her head. “You’re not helping, like, at all!”
“See, now dear Vinyl is upssset. Stop butting in.”
“Bad, my entire existence depends on me butting in.”
“What are you talking about? We don’t exist.”
“HEY shhhhhh…” hissed The Good this time. It lowered its voice to a bare whisper. “She’s out of her mind right now. She doesn’t know that.”
“Uh, guys. I can literally hear everything you’re saying—”
The bickering was interrupted by the distant chime of a clock out in Canterlot. Vinyl’s eyes widened. The time!
Vinyl scrambled off the couch and searched for the clock, which had flown off the wall during the fight. After a half-minute of searching, she came across the clock, which was miraculously unbroken. It was fifteen minutes to midnight.
“I am so dead,” groaned Vinyl, hopelessly looking around at the destruction, panic flooding into her veins. Octavia was going to be here in a quarter of an hour. If the royal guards didn’t have a reason to arrest her before, they certainly did now. There was nothing stopping Octavia from busting her for property damage.
“Tavi would never do that…she’s too nice,” whispered the Bad calmly. “It wasn’t your fault anyway…it was those armored meatheads…”
“Vinyl, you were the one brought them here in the first place!” chimed in The Good.
“Tavi was the one who forced her to stay here in the first place—”
“Vinyl was the one who caused Octavia to be upset!”
The arguing went on and on.
A glazed indifference had covered Vinyl’s eyes while her heart pounded relentlessly. Half of her wanted to run from the house and never look back. The other half was holding her there, stubbornly holding on to that last shred of dignity. The scenes from the dream flashed like a strobe light against the walls of her brain. Records were being shred to bits and tossed in a fire. Lights were fading to black. Colors were oozing out of where they belonged and lost down a sewer drain. Suns were going black and moons were crumbling to dust. The particles floated off into space, toward a black hole. Vinyl saw herself spiraling along with the dust.
“—but what truly matters is that Vinyl was the one—”
“Oh can it already, Good-for-Nothing. It all boilssss down to what Tavi chose to do…isn’t that right, my dear? …Vinyl dear? Are you there?”
Vinyl did not respond. How could she have let her life get this out of hand? How could she have ignored and set aside her very best friend, like a discarded record? She really should have been hauled off by those guards. Suddenly, Thimble’s squat and ugly face didn’t compare to the abomination that smirked on the covers of all her albums. Luna was right; Vinyl didn’t deserve to be here. Octavia deserved better.
“Vinyl? Fuzzhead? Fuzzy Wuzzhead—”
“Her name—” growled Vinyl quietly, glancing over to the picture frame beside the front door. A single white spark emitted from her horn and fell to the floor, glowing. “—is Octavia.”
The spark bounced off a shard of glass and into another close to it. The two tiny pieces, as though they had minds of their own, joined one another and became a larger shard. A sharp bink emitted from the shard of glass, making Vinyl lose her gaze.
“Huh?” she said, looking down toward the noise. She noticed just in time to see a fine white line disappearing down the middle of the two shards, leaving a seamless fix. Vinyl magicked the shard up in front of her face.
“Heh, just like Neon’s glasses,” she smiled weakly, tossing the shard back onto the ground. Her glass repairing spell had saved her glasses more times than she could count. She kicked herself again, realizing that it was Octavia who had bought her the book with the spell that taught her how to do it in the first place. Vinyl knew Octavia had always been secretly jealous of her ability to perform magic, but she still helped her anyway. If only the spell could have repaired their friendship…
“Wait a sec…”


▓ ▓ ▓


A large crowd of ponies were filing nosily out of the glass doors to the theater, which was shrouded in darkness. One of the only buildings in Canterlot purely lit by electricity, the Royal Canterlot Theatre was in a state of chaos. Ushers trying to find candlesticks to light were trampled and beaten out of the way by the forest of walking sticks marching alongside their upper-crusted owners. Unicorns were colliding repeatedly into the backsides of others, who squawked painfully. Their attempts to light the way by magic were being perpetually interrupted by more whacking of sticks. Pegasi had the only upper-hoof, hovering above all their heads, but were forced to pile up at the exit until they could funnel through the doorways. Discord would have heartily approved.
“Who touched my flank?”
WHACK
“Why I never—”
WHACK
“I think I just stepped on somepony’s…face…”
WHACK
“Who touched my flank?”
WHACK
“My leg! My leg…”
Among the confusion was Sledge, closely followed by Octavia, who had managed to evade all the swinging of canes so far. Sledge, on the other hand, had been whacked across the face dozens of times already. But not wanting to show weakness in front of Octavia, he bulldozed on. His size enabled him to part the crowd easily, but it was so dark that Octavia could barely see him, so she was forced to awkwardly walk close behind him. She was so close, Sledge’s tail brushed up against her face constantly.
“Thank Celestia it’s dark in here,” she said, pleading they were almost there.
When they had finally reached the exit, they stopped. Octavia kicked Sledge in the back of the legs before she could stop herself. Sledge immediately jumped ahead, bowling a couple of pegasi out of the way, then held the door open for her.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, not noticing the pegasi’s screams as they disappeared under the crowd. When she was outside Octavia stepped to the side and faced the theater while Sledge was talking to a nearby guard. Octavia yawned, glad the play had decided to cancel due to the power outage. She had a warm, fluffy bed at home with her name written all over it.
“So apparently,” said Sledge, coming over after a few minutes, “the electricity has gone out in all of Canterlot. Every last light, lamp and toaster has stopped working.”
Octavia raised an eyebrow.
“How…does that even happen?” she asked, confused. A blackout in Canterlot had never happened before.
“No idea,” said Sledge, just as quizzical. “My best guess is it was caused by magic. But it would have taken a mighty powerful unicorn to cast a spell strong enough to blow out all the power in Canterlot at once…”
“Perhaps Celestia got woken up again?” said Octavia with a shudder. The last time Celestia was woken up prematurely from her sleep, she thought a meteor had just exploded outside her house. Legend has it, the guard who was responsible was still recovering from third degree burns, even though the night had happened years ago. For such a calm and patient mare, Princess Celestia didn’t take kindly to being woken up for anything less than an absolute emergency.
Sledge winced, recalling the night. “Poor Stratton…his mane still hasn’t grown back…”
Octavia yawned, starting to become too tired to even contemplate such an oddity. Sledge looked toward the street pointedly.
“C’mon, let’s get you home,” he said, nudging her.
“Mmhmm sounds good,” she said sleepily, following his lead.
Shortly into the walk through the lamp-lit street, after the confusion of the crowd had faded away, Octavia’s thoughts returned to Vinyl. 
“I wonder how Vinyl is dealing without her electricity,” she thought, smirking. “If only she knew how to play strings or a piano, she wouldn’t have to worry!”
She wasn’t sorry. All the late night house parties, the broken promises, and the times she blew her off…how could she had let her walk all over her like that? She was Octavia; she didn’t have to put up with this rubbish. Sledge, who she still secretly thought was an oversized meat puppet, was in the right: she was the boss of the house! Vinyl was in no position to disrespect her.
But then again…she wasn’t perfect either. Sometimes she forgot to dust the picture frames, or do the dishes when Vinyl ‘forgot’, and she even neglected to check up on her dresses Vinyl was supposed to dryclean. She had missed a rehearsal last week because she had forgot to triple check her schedule, and she had neglected her diet for the fifth time this month…oh she was so far behind…
Octavia chewed at her lip anxiously, deep in thought.
“Sorry about tonight, Octavia,” said Sledge finally, not looking at her.
Octavia smiled and made a sound of friendly dismissal.
“It’s quite alright,” she said, wanting to leave the drama back at the theater. “I already knew how it ended anyway.”
“Y-you did?” said Sledge, doing a double take. “How?”
“Oh you know…I read,” she said airily.
“Oh yeah? Me too.”
“What do you read?”
“Uh, you know. Novels.”
“Which ones—”
“War novels,” said Sledge, not missing a beat.
Octavia eyed him suspiciously.
“Have you read V. Scratchworth’s newest novel?” she asked, feigning interest.
“Oh definitely; read the whole thing in three days,” said Sledge, nodding.
“Huh…look at you,” she said, smiling. V. Scratchworth didn’t exist.
“Yup. So are you sure you’re okay?” he said, changing the subject.
“It’s just past my bedtime.”
Sledge chuckled.
“Tch, who has a bedtime on weekends?” said Sledge, nudging her.
“I guess I do,” said Octavia, shrugging. She started to walk faster.
“I once stayed up for a week straight, you know,” said Sledge, keeping up with her. “Was really easy.”
“You don’t say.” Octavia increased her pace to a canter.
“I bet you could pull one as well,” he said, grinning. “All the awesome stuff happens after midnight.”
“I beg to differ.”


▓ ▓ ▓


“Psst…Vinyl,” said a voice in Vinyl’s ear. She ignored it. Vinyl was busy pacing around the house, trying to think of the best possible excuse for the wreckage. But each excuse was becoming more ridiculous than the last.
“Psst…Vinyl,” said The Good again, this time louder. It badgered her several more times until Vinyl finally gave in.
“What? What? What is it already?”
“Stop moping around and clean this place up already!” nagged the voice.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Good conscious, I’ve tried doing that. I failed miserably.”
“Then try it as an earth pony…pretend you’re Octavia.”
“Pretend I’m Octavia?” laughed Vinyl. “What, you mean pick all this stuff up without magic—”
“Exactly.”
“You’re out of your mind. That would take hours!”
“Actually, I’m in your mind. And you don’t know that.”
“Yeah, but…,” Vinyl said, looking around. She wasn’t a cleaner, nor had she ever been. There was simply no way….
“Octavia will be home any minute. It’s your choice, bud.”
Vinyl picked up the piece of mended glass and glanced over the rubble. Could she do it? Could she…clean? Vinyl shuddered at those words. They were almost completely alien to her. But she had to…what other choice did she have?
Vinyl, clueless, magicked the garbage can over to her and picked up the shard of glass. With great effort, she dropped it into the bag, saying her goodbyes to what was once a part of her turntable. She threw away the rest of the glass with her magic, wincing when the glass hit the bottom.
“That was…easy,” said Vinyl, moving the garbage can. A portion, although small, had now been completely removed from the ground. She had done it!
Vinyl magicked a piece of plastic and it soared over her head into the can. “It’s good!” said Vinyl, happily. She piled as much of the plastic she could into the can before it filled all the way to the top. Tying the bag and throwing it into an empty closet, Vinyl pulled bag after bag out of the kitchen cupboard and sent pieces flying into each of them.
The feeling was incredible. The floor was slowly but surely being deprived of all its clutter, save the pieces of drywall that still littered the floor in random areas. Vinyl picked up the clock and hung it neatly back on the wall. It was ten to midnight.
“Has that picture frame always been that crooked?” Vinyl asked herself, glancing over at a portrait of a lush garden, which hung next to Octavia’s bedroom door. The frame was slightly tilted to the left. Vinyl rushed over to correct it.
“Ugh,” she said, noticing a film of dust on the edges of the frame. “This thing needs some attention.” Vinyl flew to the bathroom’s sink cabinet to retrieve a can of dust cleaner and a rag. Finding them instantly, she returned to the painting and cleaned up the dust.
After she had cleaned up the last of the remains of her equipment (“–rest in peace, my sweet—”), Vinyl’s attention turned to the rest of the room.
“I gotta do something with these cracks and holes,” she said quietly, eying the closet door Thimble had crashed into and the voids in the ceiling. “But how…”
Her magic wasn’t practiced enough to mend such enormous holes, but she had another idea. Maybe, perhaps, if she just tried to use her fixing spell on each piece at a time, she could eventually repair even the largest holes? It was worth a shot.
Vinyl picked up a small piece of drywall and lifted it up to the ceiling with her magic. The piece locked into it, like a puzzle piece. In a flash of light, the piece had completely fastened itself with the ceiling, with a seamless transition. Vinyl stamped a foreleg in victory.
“Excellent,” she said. Vinyl lifted another and did the same. Once again, the piece locked into place and became a part of the ceiling once more. Before five minutes had passed, the whole ceiling had been completely put back together.
“Good work, Vinyl Scratch,” she said to herself smartly, fixing up the door and walls the same way. In five more minutes, the living room had been rid of its chaos. Vinyl glanced at the clock.
Midnight.
Taking a deep breath, Vinyl ran back over to the window to look out into the darkened streets. Miraculously, Octavia was still nowhere to be seen. She climbed back down onto the couch, straightening out the pillows in the process, and gave a deep breath. There was still much to be done.
Vinyl gave the house another look-over. 
“Look at all this white dust…I hope this will come out,” she said nervously, tip-toeing around the sheetrock dust that was trampled into the carpet. Vinyl stepped into the kitchen pantry and pulled out a vacuum. Although she had never operated this once, Vinyl gracefully sent its cord into the wall with a quick spell and proceeded to glide the vacuum across the dusty carpet.
“Maybe I should vacuum these sofa cushions too…,” she said, once the dust had been dealt with. Vinyl flung the attached vacuum hose into the cracks of the couch, humming a piece from Pulling Heart Strings.
“Now on to the kitchen!” she said melodically, hopping over to the kitchen. She gasped at the pile of dishes in the sink.
“I can’t believe I neglected these for this long,” she said in disbelief. She scrubbed them clean.


▓ ▓ ▓


“Miss…Octavia…what’s the rush?” Wheezed Sledge, who was trailing behind a speeding Octavia.
Octavia was in such a rush to get away from him, she hadn’t noticed she took a wrong turn and missed the street leading down into Lower Canterlot. They had reached a small courtyard when she finally stopped to rest.
“I thought you…you said you were tired?” gasped Sledge, fumbling to straighten his tie.
“I said…it was my bedtime,” she panted, eying his every move.
“Look, how about we just hang out here for a while—”
“I thought you were escorting me home?”
There was a short pause.
“Of course! I just thought we could talk for a bit more—”
“And then what?” said Octavia, exasperated. “Huh?”
“Miss Octavia I’m sorry if I’m—”
“Don’t be sorry, Sledge. Just please leave me—”
“You’re totally taking this the wrong—”
“SHUT UP!”
Crickets were chirping. Leaves were rustling. Ponies were snoring. Somewhere really far down the street, a door closed. After nearly a minute of silence, Octavia spoke.
“Look, I’m not interested. I’m tired and I want to go home. Take me home or take a walk. You follow?”
Sledge was thunderstruck. For a long time, he didn’t speak. Octavia assumed he was trying to come up with another way to try and flirt with her. But finally, without saying a word, Sledge turned on a hoof and took off into the sky. With an ego as inflated as his head, it was surprising he didn’t float away like a hot-air balloon. He could have floated higher and farther than any other pegasus could ever hope to achieve. But sadly, Sledge wasn’t a balloon. He was a meat puppet with wings.
“Stallions,” she said angrily under her breath. They were all the same. The ones in Canterlot, at least. With an exhausted sigh, Octavia set off back down the way she came.
When she had finally reached Lower Canterlot, her mood still hadn’t improved. The unusually dark streets gave her an increased feeling of anxiety, adding to the stress that was already weighing down on her.
“What are you staring at?” snapped Octavia, passing a stallion who had been strolling placidly outside a bakery. He raised an eyebrow at her then went back to his business.
“What are you doing out so late, beautiful?” called another stallion farther down the street.
“Aww, did you just get dumped?” said his friend next to him, smirking. A group of young mares behind them laughed as the stallion looked at Octavia with fake pity.
Octavia slowed to a stop and glared over at them.
“Ooh, I think you made her mad, Riff,” said one of the mares, smirking.
To their surprise, Octavia dropped the glare and smiled at them. She walked up to the two stallions.
“No, I haven’t been in a relationship for quite some time,” said Octavia. “I was just on my way to pick up some chocolate. It’s just that time of the month you know.” She winked at them.
Octavia could have been a leper for the reaction she received. Horrified, the stallions jumped back into the group of mares and knocked them to the ground.
“Freakin’ gross!”
Smug and unembarrassed, Octavia straightened her bowtie and continued on back down the street. The yells from the stallions were so loud, several other ponies in nearby homes had opened their front doors, looking around as though expecting Canterlot was being bombed.
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” mumbled Octavia under her breath.


▓ ▓ ▓


Vinyl Scratch marveled at the sight before her. For the first time in years, her room was finally clean. Tangled masses of cords, electronics and stray music discs were finally organized and rearranged. Thick layers of dust that had lined nearly everything did not exist; the only way the surfaces could have been shinier is if she buffered them all. The blue shag rug that used to lay underneath a particularly chaotic pile of boxes in one corner was no longer lost. She spent at least five whole minutes vacuuming the rug, which was essentially a dirt trap. However, the finished product was all worth it.
Vinyl continued throughout the house, taking care to instantly remove any speck of dirt or spot she could find. By the time the clock had shown half-past midnight, the entire house had been made new again. The only imperfections were the poor dresses Vinyl had ruined, which she ceremoniously lifted up to her bedroom, praying that she could find a master tailor to fix them.
The phone cord that had once dangled from the wall had been pushed back in and covered with a painting of Bridle Shores from the stairwell. The composition of the painting complemented the colors of the kitchen better than the stairwell, and Octavia was planning on buying a wireless phone anyway.
“There…that’s better, isn’t it?” said an approving voice in her ear.
“Octavia shall certainly be pleased,” said Vinyl, smiling.
“You’re a good friend, Vinyl. Good night.”
Given all the events that had happened tonight, these words should have lifted her spirits. But deep down, she couldn’t believe them. She overturned her foreleg hoof, which had been stained from all the cleaning. The other hoof looked the same. Vinyl then became aware of just how sweaty and oily her fur was. Her mane felt sticky and matted, as well as her tail. Once again, her heart began thumping inside of her chest.
“Oh Celestia…I can’t let Octavia see me like this,” she said, trying not to throw up all over the newly vacuumed floor. She had to get to the shower as quickly as possible. Not daring to look into the mirror as she ran into the bathroom, Vinyl turned the shower knob all the way to ‘H’ and yanked it on. She stood up on her hind legs and let the water run down her back, sighing deeply. Then, magicking one of Octavia’s volumizing shampoo bottles from off a metal rack, she emptied half of it over her head.
“Lovely.”


█ █ █


“Finally,” gasped Octavia, turning onto the final street toward her house. She was exhausted. At this point, she didn’t even care if Vinyl had decided to abandon the house for the night again and sleep at a friend’s house. The last thing she wanted to deal with right now was drama from Vinyl when she got home. If she still happened to be there and so much as spoke to her, she would come unglued. Octavia tried to focus simply on her warm bed. It was the only friend who truly understood.
When the house finally came into view, Octavia did a double take, making sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Light was shining through the blinds of every window, even on the second floor. The two Canterlot guards that had spoken with her earlier were across the street from the house, pacing. Every few seconds they eyed the house warily, as though it was some kind of unpredictable beast. When they saw Octavia gallop into view they waved her down.
“Evening, ma’am. What brings you to this end of town so late?” asked one of the guards.
“I live here,” said Octavia grumpily. “What is going on?”
The guards looked at each other and shrugged.
“No idea. Princess Luna is investigating. We’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Interesting,” said Octavia, yawning. “Well if you gents don’t mind, I’m going to bed.” She started towards the front door.
“Wait, you live here?” asked the guard, astounded. “You know the violent young mare who lives here?”
Octavia stopped in her tracks.
“What?” She said, spinning around.
“The assault case we told you about earlier happened here,” said the guard cautiously.
Octavia stared at them.
“Assault? What?”
“Well…Princess Luna acquitted the charges but we’re still on watch—”  
She was barely listening due to her anger. If Vinyl really had assaulted someone, there was no way she was staying. Octavia couldn’t believe it.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. VINYL!” screamed Octavia, racing up the steps to the front door. A huge dent that hadn’t been there when she left was imprinted into the door. Octavia tried the doorknob, but it was locked. She pounded it furiously with her hoof.
Late-night strollers in the surrounding area watched the scene. The guards braced themselves, but took no action. Even they knew it was unwise to put themselves in the middle of a cat fight.
“Ugh!”
Octavia’s eyes were swimming with tears of rage. How could Vinyl do this to her? She felt ridiculous, locked out of her own home by her idiotic best friend. She was reminded of her strict parents, who would lock her outside all night if she came home after curfew. She wasn’t going back. Never. She called the shots now.
Octavia was about to call assistance from the guards when the door opened and light flooded into the alleyway. Taking one look at the pony before her, she fainted onto the threshold. 
Crickets were chirping. Leaves were rustling. Ponies were snoring. Far away, a clock was chiming. Somewhere down in Ponyville, a door closed. Mouths hung open from every onlooker in the area. Octavia’s twin of a different color palette stood horrified in the doorway, as the finale of a symphony flowed behind her.
“Oc…tavia?”


☼


When Octavia finally came to, sunlight was flowing through the pink curtains in front of her window. She was lying comfortably in bed, as though the whole night had been a silly nightmare. The image of Vinyl was still imprinted vividly in her mind. The rest of the night was merely a blur. 
Heaving a long sigh, she sat up and brushed the hair out of her eyes. Her eyes scanned the pink walls of her bedroom and finally rested on a note that was taped to her vanity. She scrambled out of bed and yanked it off.
“Octavia—,” the note read, “I screwed up.”
“You got that right, sister,” she said coolly. She continued reading.
“I’m not going to pretend like I deserve to be forgiven, because I don’t. That would be, like, even lamer than everything else I already did to you…if that’s possible. I’ve been such a jerk for so long, I’d have to kill you in order to do anything worse.”
“Such a way with words,” said Octavia sarcastically.
“So…yeah. I’m not good at writing these kinds of things, but I’m writing the truth and sincerely hope you understand me. If there’s one thing I can ask you at this point, it’s to ask you this: stay away from me.”
“What?” said Octavia, confused. She put the note closer to her face.
“Let me say that again…stay away from me. I’m a bad influence to you, Octavia. I don’t mean this like I think you can’t think for yourself, but all I do is drag you down anymore. What kind of friend is that? Friends are supposed to lift you up, not bring you down. Sure, we’ve had our good times…tons of good times…but I think those times are long gone. I don’t want them to be, but…”
Octavia found the next line hard to read due to it being smudged. She held the note closer still.
“…they have to be. You’re a beautiful, disciplined genius while I’m just a lazy disc jockey who parties and knows how to flip some switches. Most of the friends I have only love me because of my music. I’d be a nopony around here without it. But even if you didn’t make music, you’d still be the prettiest stinkin’ thing around…and smart…and an amazing friend…and—”
Oh shut up, Vinyl. Shut up,” she said through a fresh set of tears.
“I once heard that in order to be successful, you need to drop the losers from your life. Drop me. PLEASE. I’m not looking for self-pity, and it would piss me off if I thought you didn’t think any of this was true.
Anyways…wow I’ve said a lot here already. I don’t think I’ve ever written this much—even music! Haha. But I hope this all makes sens—”
The rest of the letter was illegible, but Octavia had read enough. She ripped up the letter and dashed from her bedroom. Galloping up the staircase to Vinyl’s bedroom, she prayed that Vinyl would be there. But upon opening the door, she met only a few empty boxes and her bed. Everything else had vanished.
Octavia shook her head, refusing to believe any of it. Vinyl wouldn’t just leave like this. She couldn’t…could she?
She sprinted back down the stairs and made for the front door. But before she could do so, she caught the eye of an unexpected visitor laying on her couch.
“Good afternoon, Octavia,” said Princess Celestia, smiling.
“Y-Your Majesty?”
Octavia straightened up her face as best as she could and bowed deeply to the princess.
“Are you alright, my little pony?” said Celestia, stepping tenderly off the couch and walking over to her. Octavia, still bowing, shook from intimidation. The area around her was noticeably warmer as Celestia drew nearer.
“I-I’ll be alright,” said Octavia, smiling nervously. “But—excuse me for asking this—what brings you to my home, Your Majesty?”
Celestia smiled. “Rise, my dear, and I will tell.” Octavia stood back on all fours and Celestia pointed at the picture frame of her and Octavia by the front door.
“What do we see in this picture here?”
Octavia studied the picture intently, hoping to provide the right answer.
“Well…you are awarding me with a blue ribbon at the Canterlot Gardens last year. For my musical performance. I…also see other friends and acquaintances, as well as the other contestants…and that’s about it.”
“Well, yes, that would be who. But I asked what you see in this picture. Would you like to know what I see in this picture?”
Octavia said nothing.
“I see beauty, talent, and nobility. At the same time, I see envy, doubt, and resentment. All qualities that lie within every single pony in this picture.”
“Except you—”
“Especially me,” said Celestia. “I cannot tell you how many times I have been angry with my sister in our co-ruling. Sometimes I envy the quiet life of my pupils instead of the responsibilities I have to uphold as a Princess. When I banished our own Princess Luna to the Moon, I doubted my decision for a thousand years. Never have I considered myself perfect, and neither should you, my little pony.”
Octavia nodded, wiping away a tear from her eye. Celestia turned to the window.
“Luna arrived at your home last night just after the commotion with you and Miss Scratch. We finally discovered the source of the power outage.”
“What was it?” asked Octavia.
“Dark magic.”
“Dark…magic?” Octavia wasn’t sure she understood.
“This home rests less than twenty feet above the top of the highest shaft in the dungeons of Canterlot castle. The dungeons are full of negative energy, and one of its hotspots is directly underneath this area of Lower Canterlot.”
Octavia’s eyes widened and she gasped. Celestia smiled reassuringly.
“The energy doesn’t affect earth ponies, so you don’t have to worry, my dear. However, sometimes it can manipulate unicorns when they are feeling intense negativity. Combined with your home, one of the most electric hubs in Canterlot, the result can be quite interesting.”
“Oh my…,” whispered Octavia, worrying about Vinyl. As though Celestia could read her mind, the Princess turned back toward her.
“Miss Scratch didn’t suffer here tonight in vain,” said Celestia. “Luna told me she cares deeply about you, but she needed some time alone to realize it.”
There was a long silence between them, filled by the ticking of the circular clock on the living room wall. It was just after eleven in the morning.
“What am I to do?” said Octavia quietly.
“The choice is up to you, dear. But whatever happens, remember what I said about perfection. Although I understand it’s important to take your work seriously, never take yourself too seriously. We could all use another laugh or two anyway,” Celestia ended with a wink. Then with a flash nearly as bright as the sun itself, she had disappeared.
There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation. She flung the door open and raced out into the street, hoping it wasn’t all too late. Morning shoppers stared at her as she galloped through the street, but they were as good as invisible to her.
A few minutes into her search, Octavia noticed a thick of ponies near a pawn shop. Octavia paid them no attention until a familiar face called her over.
“Ay! Octavia!” shouted Neon Lights, who was near the front of the crowd. His head had a light bandage around it, but otherwise he was just like his pre-concussed self. Neon pushed through the crowd over to her.
“Neon! Have you seen Vinyl?” asked Octavia breathlessly.
“Seen Vinyl?” said Neon, almost laughing. “Well yeah, there’s a pony in there that looks like her, but she’s not the Vinyl I used to know.”
Octavia’s heart leapt but Neon’s words troubled her.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s selling all her stuff!”
“WHAT?!”
Octavia charged through the crowd, which were all comprised of angry fans. When she finally pushed her way into the pawn shop, she beheld a large stack of electronics piled high on the front desk. Beside Vinyl was a whole mountain of records—more than even Octavia knew about. What puzzled her most was how she managed to get it all down here.
“Nine thousand five hundred, and that’s a-my final offer!” shouted a bearded stallion behind the desk. He looked extremely harassed.
“I need twelve thousand, pal!” shouted Vinyl even louder. Please man, I can’t let this stuff go for only nine!” Vinyl hugged an older version of her turntable, which was still in near-perfect condition. “C’mon buddy, we’ll find a way—”
“VINYL SCRATCH!” screamed Octavia above the chaos of ponies. The shop fell silent. Vinyl turned slowly to face her, like she had just been caught robbing a bank.
“Octavia, I—”
Octavia ignored her. She threw her forelegs around Vinyl in a neck-breaking hug, knocking off her glasses. Vinyl responded with the same force. The shop broke into an earthquake of applause as the two of them hung on for dear life.
“You’re not going anywhere,” cried Octavia. “Not without me!”
“I just wanted—I just wanted to pay you back—”
“Oh you can’t buy this girl’s heart!”
They were a sobbing mess. The crowd cleared out of the shop as the stallion behind the desk punched numbers into his calculator, seemingly unaffected by the sudden reunion. When he finished, he pushed his calculator towards the front of the counter.
“Twelve thousand. If you want one bit more I’mma throwin’ you outta here,” he said gruffly, but ended with a small smile.
“I’ll take it, man. Thanks,” said Vinyl as she finally broke away from the hug. The stallion threw a hoof into the air in relief. Octavia stared blankly at her.
“Vinyl, that’s everything you have—”
Vinyl put a hoof over her mouth.
“Nah I’ve still got it all.”
“But Vinyl—”
“No. I’ve still got the music. I’ve still got the shades. And most importantly, babe, I’ve still got you.”


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