//------------------------------// // 13) Homebound Train // Story: Music Makes The Heart // by TheVulpineHero1 //------------------------------// -Homebound Train- (Bon Jovi) The moon commanded the night as the train rolled onwards, the rhythmic 'chk-chk' of its wheels on the track almost a lullaby to its overnight passengers. Octavia, relaxed but not yet asleep, let the sound wash over her, set it to a time signature, heard horns and clarinets in her head. She was almost done refining it into a vague sonata before she became aware of the sound of somepony turning the pages of a magazine. With a huff, she opened the curtains of her berth; sure enough, the curtains of the berth opposite were lit with the soft glow of unicorn magic. "Vinyl, are you still awake?" she asked in a hushed whisper. "DJs keep long hours," the reply came after a second, tinged with amusement. The page flipped again. Typical, Octavia thought, but held her tongue. The night was too peaceful for verbal sparring, no matter how benign. She had other things to worry about, anyway. "I don't mean to doubt you, Vinyl, but this scheme of yours-- are you sure it will work? We may be able to influence the maestro, but the board of directors will be another matter," she whispered. "It's my scheme. It'll work," Vinyl replied, slipping her head out from the curtains. Her eyes didn't contain even a hint of fatigue. "So, I'll still have my job? But the board--" Octavia began, but was arrested by the click of Vinyl's tongue. "...Listen, Tavi. How many foals do you think grow up to be music moguls?" Vinyl asked. "It's a difficult job. Advertising, organisation, prediction. Ruthless, too. Some ponies have the talent, but can't stick the market. Get driven out by the veterans. You wanna know the truth? There's maybe ten ponies who decide what flies in the music world." "That's awfully unfair...but another case of 'welcome to the music business', I suppose?" "Yeah. Anyway, one of 'em is my manager. I had a chat with her the day after I spoke to your maestro. Turns out that six out of the nine directors for your music hall either owe her big or are straight-up on her payroll. Your job's safe, Tavi," Vinyl said, her voice confident, as though the music industry was just a pile of zeroes and ones that she had solved. "Really? That's a relief," Octavia sighed, before something caught in her head. "But Vi, if my job is safe, then why are we traipsing all over the country doing auditions?" "Partly because I don't like your maestro and I want him to sweat. Partly because you could use some exposure," the unicorn said nonchalantly. In the berth behind her, the pages of the magazine flipped. "...and partly because you want an opportunity to be alone with me in a shared hotel room, I expect. You've somewhat of a tell, Vinyl," Octavia replied, eyes narrowed. "I thought most unicorns grew out of uncontrolled object manipulation." "I was too busy practising music to practice magic," Vinyl replied, a little petulantly. Octavia grinned. "You are awfully fond of those magazines, though. I rarely see you without one." "...Pony's gotta have a hobby." "Aside from stalking young and promising musicians?" the earth pony teased. Vinyl shot her a scowl, and retreated behind the curtain again. A few seconds passed without sound. There was a swift rifling of pages, and then Vinyl said, in her very quietest voice, "...'takes interest in hobbies. Three points. Outlook is good. You and your partner have a great rapport. What kind of date does your partner like to be taken on? Answer the quiz in the next issue to find out'...That's the same as what they said about this quiz in the last issue. What a rip." Unceremoniously, the light of her magic faded, and the cabin was returned to darkness. With only the rumbling lullaby of the train to distract her, Octavia sank down into the quilts of her berth, into a world of softness, and blackness, and sleep. "Just to warn you, Vi, I expect that Mother will be waiting at the station when we disembark. She's very...vibrant," Octavia explained the next morning after a train's breakfast of stale daisies and bread. Vinyl had ignored the daisies and busied herself with the crusty rolls, carefully using her magic to cut and butter them in mid-air, scowling as she did so. Whether it was because she had something to prove regarding her magical capabilities or just plain morning grumpiness, Octavia didn't ask. "How does she even know? We only set out yesterday," the unicorn groused, before taking a bite of the roll she'd just cut up. It was stale enough that it crunched. "You aren't the only one with contacts, Vinyl. I have friends in high places. Specifically, mail ponies," Octavia said with a smile. "You have no idea of the lengths some ponies will go to for a platter of muffins." "If you say so. What do you mean by vibrant?" "You'll find out, soon enough," Octavia groaned. "One thing, though. She's very much into classical literature, so if she calls you something and you have no idea what it means, it was probably first said by some poet who died two and a half thousand years ago." "Oh joy." "Oh, cheer up. We shall arrive in five minutes. That's more than enough time to brush up on your pre-Equestrian history." The five minutes of grace passed in a blink. As the rest of the passengers jostled to get free of the train, Octavia allowed herself to brush against Vinyl's flank, as comfortingly as she knew how. She would need it. "Oh, Octavia! My darling little one!" a voice shouted as they stepped off the train, legs still unsteady. Before Vinyl had chance to react, a pony in a truly magnificent hat launched herself at Octavia and swept her off her feet into a hug that could have crushed concrete. "You haven't changed a bit, my dear!" Vinyl tried to size this new pony up, but found she couldn't. Her eye kept drifting to her headgear, a feathery, lacy, three-tiered paragon of hat-ness that threatened to block out the sun. She was still reeling from the shock of the thing when Octavia's mother finally deposited her daughter back to the ground. "I see my friend got the letter to you on time," Octavia groaned, with all the tell-tale signs of an abused windpipe. "Yes, yes. Although, I shall have to look into fixing the window she crashed into," the mare trailed off absently, before glancing at Vinyl. "Tell me, dear, who is your skinny friend?" "...skinny?" Vinyl asked icily, returning glare for glance. "Of course, dear. Look at you, you're all bones and angles! Such a shame, too, with that fine white coat. I ought to subject you to some of my home cooking. We'd soon add a few stately curves to that marble bust!" Octavia's mother fawned. "Ahaha. She's the friend I told you about, Mother," Octavia said, standing between them as if she were intervening physically rather than verbally. "Oh, Velvet?" "No, Mother. Vinyl." "Like those seat covers? I wonder what exactly her parents were thinking. Oh well," the mare carried on cheerfully. "Come along, you two. I've just had the house cleaned, and I'm pleased to show it off." As she marched off, Vinyl fixed Octavia with perhaps her most frightening look. "Vibrant, huh?" "Oh, don't be such a grump, Velvet. I happen to like your bones and angles," Octavia replied, giggling like a schoolmare. "...and you say I'm a jerk," Vinyl muttered, before rolling up her magazine and playfully bopping Octavia on the head with it. Despite herself, she grinned, and nudged her temple to adjust the glasses that were no longer there. At least her day was going to be interesting.