//------------------------------// // Chapter One // Story: A Change of Pace // by Swaglestia //------------------------------// A Change of Pace Chapter One Ruby eyes misted over in the dim light of the bar, music blaring through the speakers but failing to register in her mind as nothing more than mere noise. She took another long, drawn out sip of the bitter liquid, feeling the traveling burning sensation rest in her stomach. The stress of the past few months had been forgotten long ago at her third drink and now she was simply continuing on for no reason in particular. The bar itself wasn't anything out of the ordinary; typical mahogany tables that gleamed in the light, chairs occupied by either extremely miserable or inebriated ponies, idle inaudible roars of chatter, the trustworthy bartender who could've possibly graduated with a phD in psychology and knew everything about everypony. And, of course, that one mare or stallion who chugged down far too many drinks. Tonight, that was Vinyl Scratch. “That's enough, Vinyl.” The unicorn bartender's voice was stern, but his intentions were strictly to keep his customer and friend out of harm's way. “Keep this up and I won't let you leave 'till you're sober, which will be about six hours from now.” The mare smirked and rolled her eyes from behind her purple mirrored sunglasses, although the bartender couldn't see the gesture. “Chill, I'm fine. I'll show you.” She made her barstool spin around in hopes of proving her false sobriety. Instead, Vinyl landed face-first on the wood flooring, the sudden impact forcing the alcohol and her stomach to have a rather hostile quarrel inside of her. With an obvious grimace and cough, she swallowed the day's food back down before anything ugly occurred. “That didn't go as planned, huh?” He cocked an eyebrow, an amused grin plastered on his face. His horn became aglow as Vinyl was surrounded in an aura, his magic propping her back up on the barstool. She was swaying back and forth as if on a boat tackling rough seas. “Just one moreee.” Her sunglasses dipped down on her snout as she pleaded, red eyes as big as saucers. “No can do, Scratchie.” His stance on this matter was unwavering and rock solid. “As much as I would love to keep on taking your bits, I'm too much of a nice guy to let you hurt yourself like this.” “In my hum-bler-y-est opinion,” Vinyl slurred, raising an uncoordinated hoof matter-of-factly. “you're not being too nice tonight. You know I've been down on my luck for the past, like, trillion years.” “Humble. The word your looking for is humble. And it's only been a few months.” “Don't go pushing your fancy word-smithing on me. My music doesn't even have lyrics.” With a huff and an almost fatal drunken stumble, Scratch hopped off the stool and attempted to navigate through the bar to the front door. This proved to be an almost daunting task and she had a particularly paranoid suspicion that everypony was laughing at her in their sick heads. She truly was in a rut; she felt as if her entire music scene was slowly dying. Attendance to various shows or parties had been on a steady decline and as a slippery-slope effect, no clubs were hiring her. This left her without the perpetual flow of income she had been accustomed too. She had to resort to providing the music for some fashion show in Ponyville, for Celestia's sake! Her days of being the superfantastic DJ P0N-3 may as well be over. As she shuffled along in her mental fog Vinyl noticed a grey mare sitting in a secluded section of the bar, the isolation obviously intentional. She was doing nothing more than absent-mindedly stirring her vibrant red drink with the straw, a scowl seemed to be biologically etched into her features. This pony was obviously troubled or deep in thought, her amethyst eyes seeing through reality into whatever was ailing her. Vinyl was searching for the appropriate words to describe the sight but through the alcohol and clutter in her brain, all she could conjure up was, Ooooh, pretty. Trying not to fall flat on her face yet again, the DJ began what seemed like a treacherous journey onward to the striking mare. Dodging and weaving through equally hammered patrons and chairs that she could have sworn got in her way on purpose, she came to a conclusion that she had no idea how to approach her drunken love at first sight. Even more of an issue, did she even like other mares? Only one way to find out, ol' Scratchie! After completing the obstacle course, Vinyl locked in on her target. Making bets with herself on how the situation would paint itself out, she established that she would either get lucky or strike out. Her judgement skewed and distorted, she found herself failing to care. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Octavia was out of her element. In fact, it reached far out of elements and all the way into mixtures and compounds; ones that she happened to think were juvenile and outright uninhabitable for a pony of her prestige. The yelling rowdy stallions, the blaring jukebox with the most distasteful music, and just the trashiness of it made her feel like she needed to be dipped in bleach to wash it all away. To be frank, it was so disgusting that-... She sighed inwardly, cursing herself that she would ever think with such ignorance. She wasn't a judgmental pony, she merely had her preferences and chose to stick to them. Besides, it was her sole idea to unwind at this bar after the raging chaotic storm of a night she just had. She had a prerogative to let loose after the events that took place at the Gala, although the actual "letting loose" part didn't quite happen. She furrowed her brow as she cursed the alcohol for not working enough, thinking of the travesty of a party it had been. "Uh, hi." The grey mare's brooding flashbacks were cut short by a pony that had undetectably slipped into the booth with her. She looked over at the intruder with only her eyes, not even bothering to turn her head. She was another mare; unicorn, milk white, sunglasses (which Octavia found to be rather odd, considering they were indoors and it was night), and the most peculiar hairstyle the cellist had ever seen. "Hello?" Octavia replied, the greeting translating into something more rude and pretentious than intended, which caused her to immediately feel a bit of guilt. "Well, I, uh..." The unicorn stammered, awkwardly scratching the back of her head with her hoof. "I just saw you from across the bar and, uhm... Come here often?" "No, actually. This is my first time." Octavia finally turned her head to the other mare and cocked an interested eyebrow. Of course, she's had her fair share of suitors and stallions approach her, more often than not shallowly wanting nothing more than to use her for their sick breed of pleasure. But a mare? This indeed was one of the most amusing nights of her life. "Well," The unicorn continued. "You totally should. 'Cause I'm here a lot and, well, that's all I got right now." She shrugged. Octavia cleared her throat nervously, a thought uncomfortably weighing down on her. "What sort of bar is this?..." Nothing out of the ordinary had been seen but she refused to take any chances. Octavia wasn't opposed to fillyfooling; she liked to think of herself as a rather open-minded pony. That being said, just because she wasn't prejudice against it didn't mean she was going to take body shots off Princess Celestia. It didn't tickle her fancy, and that was that. "Oh!" The white mare gave a loud laugh. "It's nothing like that here, I promise." "Oh, that's good, because for a moment I could've sworn-" "So, what's your sign?" The grey mare sighed. The establishment may not have been 'like that,' but this unicorn sure was. Octavia decided to play along; surely messing with this pony would help her forget the Gala disaster and instill some entertainment. There you go again, thinking like a bitter old hag. Just be nice. "I'm a Libra." She forced a smile. "Woah, no way!" The other mare said. "Me too!" "Oh, fascinating." Octavia had heard this one a million times. "When's your birthday?" The unicorn's demeanor was suddenly downcast, obviously caught in the act of zodiac-fraud. "Just kidding!" She composed herself a little too quickly. "I'm a Pisces. I was just testing you." She grinned victoriously, as if she just won some sort of quarrel. Octavia couldn't help but giggle a bit, which caused the unicorn's smile to swell. This mare certainly was something else; there was a sort of obnoxious charm, to put it lightly. This blend of spontaneity and a strange brand of innocence was enough to keep the grey earth pony around some more. The giggles came to a halt when Octavia noticed that the unicorn had grown quiet, her eyes wandering down to her-... "Excuse me. Are you staring at my fla-" "You're a musician?" The white pony's ears perked up and Octavia noticed a look of curiosity from behind the cryptic sunglasses. Ah, the cutie mark! For the second time that night, a feeling of guilt crept over the grey mare for being so quick to judge yet again. "Yes, I am." Octavia was relieved for the shift in conversation. "I play the cello." "As you can see," The unicorn shifted so that her own cutie mark was visible. "I happen to be a musician as well. I'm a DJ; just mostly arranging beats so godly and infectious that even Celestia herself would go down on m-... Wait, you play the what? The cello?!" She erupted into a fit of laughter as big as the entire Gala itself. "Oh?!" Octavia felt the smoke spew from her ears. "And what, may I ask, is so funny?" She crossed her hooves. The white mare removed her sunglasses, her eyes closed as she wiped a comical tear from them. She replaced her shades, eyes still shut; this intrigued Octavia for a split second but then brushed it off, remembering to be offended. "They still make those?!" The unicorn obviously had no regard for the respect of another musician's talent. Either that, or the alcohol was making good use of her vocal chords. "Yes, why wouldn't they?" "Like, you can actually go to a store and buy a cello?" "Yes, in fact, you can." The unicorn's amused smile suddenly faded, her ears falling to display her emotion. She shook her head. "Hey, I'm sorry. I promise I'm way nicer and less overbearing when I'm sober." Octavia's defenses were breached and the anger quickly dissipated at the apology. "It's quite all right. To each their own." "Anyways, I should probably stop trying to get in your pants... Or your bowtie. You're obviously not interested." The unicorn gave a sad attempt at a smile, which struck a rather sympathetic chord within Octavia. The alcohol's side-effect of emotional instability and moodswings were ringing clear within the other mare. She continued, her voice much less enthusiastic, "What brings you here? Come to drink away your sorrows?" "Not quite..." The unicorn finally toning down put Octavia more at ease, allowing her to open up a bit (although not enough to give anything away. A pony must retain her class, you know). She spoke of the Gala that night, of how she had been personally hoof-chosen by Celestia's royal court to be a part of the musical ensemble; a prestigious honor, indeed. She then explained the disaster and how some insane pink pony insisted that they play the "Pony Pokey" (this earned a chuckle from the unicorn). After being scolded by the head of the musical planning department, the entire place just basically collapsed. And now here she was, attempting to unwind after a series of mishaps and disappointments. It was then the unicorn's turn to share her grievances, her story being much more forlorn. According to her, her music scene had been hit by a harsh plague of disinterest, resulting in less and less gigs; that's all she covered on the matter. Octavia sensed it was a rather large problem, so she was slightly taken aback when the unicorn just laughed it off as if it was nothing. "Will you be okay?" The cellist inquired, unaware at why she was suddenly concerned. The other mare waved it off. "I'll be fine." She seemed contemplative for a moment before proceeding, "Say, I have an idea; if you're up for it, that is." Octavia nodded, signaling for her to continue. The unicorn's horn flickered with magic, stealing a pencil from a nearby table and bringing a napkin closer. She spoke as she wrote, "Here's my address. Come by tomorrow some time. You and me, Cello-Butt, are gonna make some music." Octavia took the napkin, questioning her own sanity for actually thinking about going through with this. I've lost my Luna-forsaken mind. Going with some random, strange pony like this. Her mind began its infamous battles. Shush, Octavia. She seems to be stuck in a rut, the least you could do is aid her. "I'm such a dunce." The unicorn said abruptly, giving a soft chuckle. "I never got your name. I'm Vinyl Scratch." "I'm Octavia." "Well, Octavia," Vinyl Scratch said, making her way out of the booth and to the front door of the bar. "I'll see you tomorrow."