//------------------------------// // Chapter 9: Disaccorded Beats // Story: Between Bassdrops and Bowstrings // by Quillian Inkheart //------------------------------// Chapter 9: Disaccorded Beats Octavia returned silently to Vinyl’s home with the DJ close on her heels. She was exhausted from the day and found herself falling onto the couch sleepily, not even wanting to bother with the stairs. The pair had spent the day parading all over Ponyville, meeting several old classmates – including Cheerilee, who had become a teacher herself. She had enjoyed the company of Maestro’s grandson and had spoken to him at length about instruments – her cello specifically. He had happily proclaimed himself a fan of both hers and Vinyl’s music, saying that he enjoyed music in all its forms; every genre he had ever heard. Octavia didn’t doubt it and respected the pony for his wide tastes. The two had seen some odd things on their way back, but Octavia and Vinyl just chocked it up to being so tired. Vinyl trotted into the room behind her, giving her a smile and levitating her glasses aside. “Busy day, eh?” She muttered, shaking her head to get some hair from her eye, her mane bouncing slightly from the motion. “Quite.” Octavia’s voice was a low whisper, already halfway to sleep's doorstep. She lolled her head sideways, snuggling into a pillow as she hummed to herself, a joyful song that was filling her mind. Sleep won out and soon Vinyl covered Octavia up and started up the stairs to find her own bed. Peace and harmony ruled over the starlit night, but little to the knowledge of the sleeping ponies of Ponyville, a storm of chaos was brewing elsewhere. Discord’s madness settled on Ponyville like a wave. Few had any chance to respond. The six defenders of Harmony were nowhere to be found. Chaos spread through the humble town, turning everything upside-down, sometimes literally. The Spirit of Chaos wasn’t benevolent in his reforming of Ponyville. The ponies residing in the quaint town were drastically affected, but some escaped the madness mostly unscathed. In the disorder of chaos, there would always be some who weren’t affected. Some resisted the Discording, for chaos cannot be truly appreciated – cannot be truly respected – without at least a shred of order. Fiddlesticks watched sadly as Big Macintosh dug holes like a dog not far away. Her family had descended into insanity and Applejack was nowhere to be found. As Granny Smith danced an impossible jig off to the side, Fiddle thought about how the rest of Ponyville could've been affected. Even now, she could see the chaos consuming her home: the sun and moon were acting strange, cotton-candy clouds rained chocolate milk randomly onto the landscape, and Fiddle could have sworn she saw ballerina buffalos earlier. And Octavia. She hadn’t seen hide-nor-hair of her beloved half-sister. She was one of the few whose coat hadn’t been grayed by the ascent of Discord, but that hardly mattered. With so many changed, she might as well have been alone. Her worry for Octavia and the rest of her family threw Fiddle into a fit, making her pace with ever-increasing speed. She kept her eyes clamped shut, wishing order back into a world gone horribly wrong. Her prayers weren't answered. “Please Celestia, if you’re out there, help my sister…” Even as she said it, she realized how foolish it was. Celestia wouldn’t hear her plea, and even if she did – given the circumstances – she likely had her hooves full. Looking from her grey-coated family to the altered town not too far away, Fiddle came to the decision to go find Octavia herself. She was terrified as she started out, fear and conviction battling for control in her heart. She wouldn’t leave Octavia – or even Vinyl – in this insanity. She’d get them out of there, if she had to hogtie them both to do it. Traversing the chaos-scape of Discord’s realm was harder than Fiddle had imagined it would be. Roads were unstable and prone to suddenly transforming into slippery substances, like soap or oil. One time, a rock she stepped on decided to turn into a banana peel, sending her screaming into a nearby bush. The bush then promptly stood up on a pair of hooves, scolded her for being so rude, and marched away indignantly. Fiddle was without words. Day and night blended; what should have been a short walk felt like an eternity. Perhaps it was. Maybe she wasn’t even moving at all. Fear stabbed at Fiddle’s heart and mind, making her hurry faster. Soon, she arrived at the border to the chaos capital of Equestria. Nothing of her home remained anymore. A checkered, chess board-like ground, covered the familiar roads of Ponyville. Buildings were either gone entirely, flipped upside-down, or somehow deformed into a mockery of what they should be. Staring at it, Fiddle felt her sanity waver. She caught herself laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. She faintly began to wonder why she was even trying this. Why did she even need Octavia? What had her sister ever done for her? Looking down to think on this, Fiddle saw the graying of her hoof. With a frightened jolt, she forced those thoughts away, focusing on her sister’s kind words in Canterlot. Color returned to her coat and she was left trembling. Was this what disharmony wrought? “Fiddle!” Fiddlesticks looked up, seeing a pony she certainly hadn’t expected to see. Neon Lights was stumbling towards her, panting heavily. She could tell from how he looked that he was absolutely worn out. He was sweating profusely, his hooves were trembling, and his mane was a wild mess, along with his clothes. “Neon, what’re you doin’ here?” Fiddle tipped back her hat, watching the unicorn approach. "Princesses are missing… Discord on the loose… Everyone panicking in Canterlot... Used magic to get here…” He was gasping between sentences, hunched a bit as he tried to pull himself together. “Took more energy than I thought…” “You traveled all the way here from Canterlot?” Fiddle adopted a worried expression. “You’re lucky you didn’t keel over.” “Practically did,” Neon gasped out. After several minutes, Neon forced a laugh and straightening himself out. He was still sweating, but looked much better after a breather. “So, Vinyl and Octavia?” Fiddle shook her head, motioning towards Ponyville. Neon rested his face in his hoof. “Everything there is nuts. I’ve been wandering around for, like, an hour now. I came here to find Vinyl, but after I got here, I realized… I’d never been to her pad before.” Fiddle had to giggle at Neon’s blind conviction. Slowly she asked, “Have you felt anything strange since you got here?” She paused, searching for the right words. “Wrong would be just as good a word, I suppose?” “Where your coat goes grey? I saw a ton of ponies in there, lookin’ like that,” Neon replied with a nod. “Yeah, it started to happen to me alright. It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever felt. I still get chills, thinkin’ about it. Thankfully, I got it together before it got a hold.” “What’d it do to you?” Fiddle asked curiously, starting towards Ponyville. She was careful to not stare directly at any of the weirdness, looking towards her goal rather than any one bit of strangeness in general. Neon laughed behind her. “It made me stop and wonder why I wasn’t chasin’ stallions instead of mares, among other things.” Fiddle pulled a full turn, staring at Neon with big, shocked, innocent eyes. Mirth danced behind those eyes, though. Neon just shrugged. “What?” “Nothin’…” Fiddle shook her head with a tiny giggle and continued. Without another word, the two ventured into the madness. Mutated animals trampled over the chaotic scenery. A pony flying upside-down blew raspberries at them. Somewhere, an owl made a rooster call. Distance became relative. Time was dead and meaning had no meaning. Existence was upside-down and chaos reigned supreme. Just as Fiddle was beginning to see into the fourth dimension, she walked smack into a door. Thankfully, it was the door she wanted. Kind of. Like all the other buildings, the disharmony had ravaged Vinyl’s home. It looked like a surrealist paining; the geometry didn’t seem physically possibly, bending at impossible angles that hurt the eyes to follow. The door – mockingly normal – read ‘Vinyl Scratch’s Classical Emporium and Tea Shop.’ Fiddle and Neon shared a worried look and then opened the door. They were assailed by an unusually normal room, both disquieting and a welcome departure from the madness outside. What was once filled with the clutter of machines was now clean and tidy. Somewhere inside, classical music was playing softly through the air. “Well, at least we know Octavia will be happy, right?” Neon chuckled, but Fiddle wasn’t too sure. She certainly wasn’t able to laugh about this like Neon was. As the two progressed into the living room, the pair stumbled upon the source of the slow, haunting melody. Vinyl, wearing a bow and collar not unlike Octavia’s, turned to look at them. Her mane was styled neatly into a bun, a wisp of hair flicking over one ear. On top of all this, her coat was heavily grayed, muting her normally bright colors with a film of bleak mundanity. She smiled a lazy smile, leaning back from the cello she was playing. “Ah, guests,” Vinyl said, shifting to lean the cello more appropriately against its stand and sitting up from her chair. “Hello Fiddlesticks. Hello Neon. I didn’t hear either of you come in.” “Vinyl?” Neon stepped forward, frowning. “Ah buck, we were too late.” Vinyl gasped. “Neon! Language.” “Well, she was in Ponyville when things went south. It was chaos-ground-zero.” Fiddle looked from Neon over to her DJ friend, frowning. “You feelin’ okay, Vinyl?” “Why, of course I am, dear Fiddlesticks. Come, have some tea.” She motioned beside her, to a dainty cup holding some steaming tea. “I made it myself. It's lavender.” “Okay, this is super weird. How do we fix this?” Neon turned to Fiddlesticks for advice, but she simply shrugged. Vinyl rose, dusting her coat carefully. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about me like I wasn’t here, ruffian. Neon, I truly expected better of you.” Neon frown, shaking his head. “Ugh. Vinyl wouldn’t say this kinda stuff. It’s so…” “… Unlike her.” Fiddle finished for him, thinking. “Her opposite.” Finally, she began to understand exactly what being discorded meant. It was more than negative thoughts or strange actions; it was inversion. “Well, if you two are quite finished and aren't going to have tea, I would rather you leave. I have to finish my practice and I don’t wish to be disturbed. Shoo shoo.” Neon shook his head. “No way am I playin’ along with this little game,” he said, taking a step forward. “Don’t you get it, Vinyl? This isn’t you. You’re the greatest dub-trot musician in all of Equestria. You beat me in our spin-off. We’re…” Neon trailed off, but moved closer. “You’re my special somepony and I’m not leaving here without you.” Vinyl backed away, looking a little uncertain. “D-don’t touch me, cretin.” “Oh, stop being so posh, Vinyl! Remember!” Neon lurched forward the few steps, his horn shimmering. Illusions were his specialty and it was hardly difficult to make Vinyl relive the time at Club Canterlot. Vinyl’s eyes screwed shut, but from how she was shaking her head, she couldn’t avoid what she was seeing. “I just… I can’t… I’m sorry… Get out. Both of you get out!” Vinyl jumped back from Neon, breaking the spell. “No!” Neon closed the gap faster than Fiddle thought he could, pressing his lips to Vinyl’s. Fiddle blushed, looking down and to the side, giving the two at least an ounce of privacy. This time, Vinyl didn’t retreat. The cello clattered to its side, shattering like glass, vanishing. As Vinyl stepped back from the kiss, color began to return to her, from her tail up. “Neon…” She put a hoof to her lips, eyes shimmering, color spreading from there as well. The grayish discordance fought, but soon, Vinyl was grinning like herself once more. “I ain’t some songbird, locked up in her house practicing.” Neon smiled as Vinyl stood up straighter, prouder. Vinyl’s glasses were resting where the cello had been and – just as Fiddle looked back – Vinyl levitated them back over her eyes. With a cheer, she reared onto her hind legs, spinning her hooves in front of her. “Vinyl Scratch is back, baby! Yeeeaaaahhh!” With a stomp, she landed back on all fours, her horn shimmering as it amplified her voice; Vinyl wanted the whole town to know she was back. In a bright flare of energy, Vinyl's hair unwound from it's bun, flaring back to it's usual spiked shape. “Well, that wasn’t too hard,” Neon muttered sarcastically. “If the worst we need to worry about is a lazy, dub-trot loving Octavia, then I don’t think we—“ Neon was interrupted by a loud crashing sound. All eyes snapped to the ceiling, towards the source of the noise. “Tavi…” Vinyl muttered under her breath. Another crash filled the air, this one louder. Without the need for any more words, the group dashed for the stairs. Neon and Fiddle felt weightless under the joy of Vinyl’s recovery. If Vinyl could be cured, so could the rest of Ponyville! The Discording wasn’t permanent. But the DJ was far too worried to be so cheery. She knew Octavia better than Neon and – while Fiddlesticks knew her well – she was naive to a lot of Octavia’s more complicated aspects. Vinyl was very worried, to say the least. “Tavi!” Vinyl noticed Octavia’s door was ajar and shouldered right through, not even pausing before the entrance. Her eyes darted under her glasses, scanning the room for her warped friend, but the room was empty. Something on the floor, however, caught Vinyl’s eye. “Where is she?” Fiddlesticks asked, walking in behind Vinyl as Neon stayed out in the hall. “Vinyl? What’s wrong?” Vinyl frown, motioning with her head. Octavia’s cello, her long time companion, was smashed to bits on the floor. Vinyl had given up trying to count the pieces once she'd passed forty. “Why would she do this?” Fiddle asked, looking back to Neon, who just shrugged. Admittedly, he didn’t know Octavia very well. “Well, we know she isn’t just a dup-trot junkie now,” Vinyl concluded. She had hoped to find Octavia here, jamming out or something. A part of her knew better, though. Octaiva wouldn't simply change genres like she had. A crash from the hall made the whole group turn. It had come from Vinyl’s study. “Octi!” Fiddle darted out, quickly followed by her two companions. Bursting into the next room, they found who they were looking for. Octavia sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by destroyed objects; tables, chairs and more than one of Vinyl’s inventions. Unlike much of the house, this room seemed to have hardly changed at all. Fiddle stepped forward, sighing with relief. “Oh Octi, I’m so glad we found you.” “Glad?” Octavia’s voice was wispy and frigid. Vinyl shivered; she had never heard Octavia talk with such a lack of any devotion. Even when she'd announced she was leaving for Canterlot, she'd been determined through all the pain. “Y-yeah. Glad.” Fiddle was trying to sound confident, but she'd clearly noticed her sister’s odd tone as well. Fear and doubt was creeping past the relief in her voice. From behind, wrapped in shadows, it was hard to see Octavia. Her mane was a mess, but her old style was still somewhat maintained. Her collar was open, a splash of white in the darkness, the bow hanging limply from one side of her neck. She turned, still in the dark, looking at them with sunken, dark stare. She scowled, shaking her head to herself. “Glad. You’re glad. My, isn’t that just wonderful.” “Octi?” Fiddle’s voice sounded like a mouse’s final squeak. “You’re pathetic, Fiddle.” Fiddlesticks twitched. “You're a talent-less chump who clings to my flank so you can ride my coattails to stardom. Of course you’re happy you’ve found me. How else could you survive without me?” Octavia laughed a heartless and cruel laugh. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it all sooner.” “Octi, that ain’t true.” Fiddle’s voice waved and Vinyl was certain she would break into tears soon. “Stop lying, sister dear. It’s unbecoming of you.” Octavia frowned, walking a semi-circle around them. “I can see a lot more clearly now. Things I was blind to before make perfect sense now. Like your music, Vinyl.” She nudged her head towards her roommate, her scowl turning into a twisted smile. “Dub-trot; I always thought it was a loud, unseemly, and uncouth genre, ever since I first heard it. But now, I realize that we really are on the cusp of a musical revolution. It’s like no other genre I know. “Music." Her voice turned bitter. "I thought it was the power to create. What a joke. I used to think music was all about inspiring and building; about turning a bleak silence into something more.” Everypony was silent, wrapped up in the horror before them. Only Fiddle made any noise: a slight, frightened whimpering. “Equestria is rotten. Buck, this whole world is rotten, right down to its filthy core.” Octavia kicked a piece of scrap out of her way, watching it as it tumbled. “But music is forever, isn’t it?” She laughed again, manic and mad, making Vinyl break out in a cold sweat. She didn’t like where this was going. “My eyes are wide open now. Music isn’t just about creation.” A hoof rested on the destroyed fragments of a lawnmower. “It’s about destruction too, isn’t it Vinyl?” Vinyl swallowed the bile in her throat. She shook her head slowly, not wanting to take her eyes from her friend. “No, you’re wrong, Tavi.” “Pull the other one, Vinyl. It’s got bells on it.” Octavia spat the words, stomping her hoof on the metal of Vinyl’s dead invention. “You, the very pony who taught me that, can’t deny it.” She shook her head. “Destruction is how we feel most alive, isn't it? Watching something unique, something frail and small, crumble under the weight of our hooves lets us know we're still breathing. You can't deny that anymore. Don’t make me laugh.” Truly, Vinyl didn’t want to. Octavia's laugh was still haunting her mind. “Tavi, let’s get outta here. You’re not yourself.” “Of course I’m not.” Octavia’s smile was half covered in darkness. “I’m much better now. I can see. I can see everything so clearly.” “You guys, I’m getting’ a real bad feeling about this.” Neon muttered under his breath, taking a few steps back to the door. Vinyl wanted to scream at him. No, really, a bad feeling? What was the first hint? “Octi, please, come with us.” Fiddle said, just a little too loudly. Fear and sorrow was getting a hold of her. The little pony was shaking in her scarf, eyes wild. “No.” Octavia was blunt, moving more to the side, resting her hoof on the large black box she had been working her way towards. “Uh oh…” Vinyl paled. She hadn’t realized how close Octavia was to that. “Guys, we should go. Like, now.” “Why, Vinyl. Don’t you want to see what music can really do?” Octavia stepped around the box, entering a brightened section of the room. Her grey coat was stained down to a darker, blackish color, her eyes wild, furious and not a little twisted. She started to laugh and this time, there was no control to it. It sounded like the kind of laughter the truly insane need to take years to perfect. Vinyl was suddenly overcome with a sense of intense wrongness. She wanted to run, hide and never look back. “What is that?” Neon made the mistake of asking. “Oh, it’s not mine. It’s Vinyl’s.” Octavia patted the box, a grim look stealing over her face. “It’s nothing special, really. It’s just her bass cannon.” Vinyl tensed in preparation. Fiddle trembled, having no idea what was happening. Neon was confused, uncertain about what was going on. Octavia hit the button. The box seemed to unfold, flowing outward and glowing with a bright blue light. Lightning danced over the mouth of the cannon as it appeared, building up to firing. Vinyl shouted over the sound of the cannon’s warming. “Run! Go!” The others didn't need a single second to consider it. They made it to the middle of the stairs just as the ripple of power struck the space behind them. Suddenly, there was no hallway. No second floor, for that matter. Fiddle shouted as the sound hit her, making her grab her ears in pain. Vinyl and Neon, more used to loud noises, seemed mostly unaffected. Vinyl looked back up at the space behind them. With a disheartened sigh, she realized she could see sky, a pink raincloud showering chocolate milk where her father’s bedroom had been. Hurriedly, she bolted back up the steps, looking across the way to Octavia. She had collapsed beside the cannon, but was laughing as she held her pained ears. The sight made Vinyl’s skin crawl. The floor had been damaged, ripped up by the sonic blast of the cannon, leaving it unstable and rickety. Below the destroyed floor was a chaotic sea of blackness; the already unstable structure of the fabricated home was disintegrating back into chaos. There was no telling what would happen if somepony fell into it, but Vinyl hardly cared. If she fell, she fell. She heard Neon and Fiddle say something behind her, but her eyes were locked on Octavia and nothing else mattered. She stared at her friend – suffering, fighting against her own nature – rolling on the ground, and forced herself to her hooves. Fiddle and Neon had helped her out of her own discorded state. Now it was her turn to help Octavia. Leaping forward, she cleared a small distance and landed in what was, at one time, the hallway. The floor creaked and groaned and as Vinyl rushed ahead it gave way. Fiddle and Neon couldn’t follow her now. Leaping from spot to spot, Vinyl tempted fate, daring the ground to fall out below her, double-daring it to even consider slowing her down. With the feeling of ripped carpet and splintered wood under her hooves, Vinyl landed in what was once her studio, not too far from Octavia. Her friend was pushing herself with one hoof and Vinyl noticed a thin line of red leaking from Octavia’s uncovered ear. “Tavi, listen to me,” Vinyl said quietly. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if her friend could even hear her right now – if she’d ever hear anything again. Guilt wrenched at her heart; her own invention had done this. “You’re not alright. You’d never use music to destroy, Tavi. I remember seeing your face when I showed you my cannon.” She motioned with a hoof towards the invention in question, which had reverted back to its box shape after firing. “You wanted to get rid of it, I know, but you didn’t say anything because I’d made it. I should’ve just trashed the stupid thing when I had the chance.” She trotted towards Octavia, who was pushing herself up now, glaring at her. “You make the most beautiful music. My music rocks hard and makes your heart pound. My music rips up the ears and shreds the mind until you’re lost in it; until nothing else matters but the raw bass, sinking into your soul.” Vinyl closed her eyes, sighing and swaying, as if to the unseen call of the cello. “But, your music is different… “Your music is so beautiful – whenever I hear it, I can’t help but smile. You once told me your music was the gateway to your soul, but I think it’s the gateway into everypony’s soul. Your music moves ponies. It's inspirational and calming. Your music creates and mine… well, mine destroys.” Vinyl paused to look at the destruction around her. “We’re a balance, the two of us. Remember the first time we played together?” Vinyl reached out to Octavia, who was snarling now, backing away like a feral animal. The expression was so unlike her friend, Vinyl felt for a moment that this couldn’t be Octavia in front of her. She caught up to her friend and rested her horn on her head. “Remember how happy you were. How you ran home to tell your parents. Remember how we stayed up, all night – every night – practicing to be the best. Even though I didn’t know what I wanted to do yet, I practiced with you. I loved your music so much. I still do. Tavi, I want to hear you play again. Please, remember who you are.” Vinyl’s horn started giving off a faint glow, her magic seeping into Octavia. Octavia fought back, trying to push Vinyl’s magic aside, but soon her face scrunched up into an anguished expression. A brighter hue returned to her tainted coat for a moment before she snapped away from Vinyl, her eyes wide. The darkness swarmed back over her body, but Vinyl pressured her, stepping up to match her retreat. There wasn’t much space for Octavia to run, so she changed tactics, grabbing a nearby object and hurtling it at her friend. Vinyl simply redirected objects with a flick of her horn, advancing with a slow, determined march. Eventually, Octavia ran out of things to throw, her flank pressed against the wall. “Get back! Get away from me, you scum!” Octavia searched around for a weapon, but found nothing worthwhile. “You don’t understand anything, Vinyl! You couldn’t possibly understand what I’ve gone through! The pain, the confusion, the anger! You have no idea what seeing you with…” She trailed off, gasping as tears jumped into her eyes. She snarled them away, her coat darkening even more. “You never worry about anything but your next big thrill! It. Makes. Me. Sick!” Octavia stomped her hoof, overcome by rage. “You sicken me, Vinyl. I don’t want to see you ever again!” Vinyl just ignored her. She closed her eyes – glasses slightly lopsided – and continued towards Octavia, who braced herself to fight. Magic danced over Vinyl’s horn as she got close enough to affect her friend. Just as Vinyl was about to start the spell, a hoof collided with her muzzle, making her shout. Vinyl immediately regretted the self-defense lessons she'd convinced Octavia to take with her. Her face stung as she tried to move in, taking another hit. She gritted her teeth, lunged forward, and pressed her horn to Octavia’s head once more. Octavia gasped, trying to leap back again, but there was nowhere to go. The truth struck her like the weight of the world making tears pour from her eyes as color returned to her body, harmony finding its place in her heart again. Visions of her time with Vinyl flashed through her mind, flaring behind her eyes like a slide-show of her happiest times, all seen from Vinyl’s own eyes. She saw Vinyl, staring in the mirror after Octavia left, crying and alone. She gazed through the crowd at Club Canterlot, genuinely not seeing herself among all those ponies. Vinyl poured everything into Octavia, hoping, praying, wishing her friend would remember who she was. And remember, Octavia did. Sobs shook her as she collapsed, the weight of her own actions making it impossible for her to stand. Her precious cello, smashed by her own hooves. Vinyl’s home, a place where she'd spent so much time growing up, torn apart by her actions. She had even damaged her ears, though she hoped it wasn’t too serious. Sick to her stomach, she remembered the happiness she felt, using music as a tool of destruction. Now she wanted nothing more than to retreat into herself and never come out. “Octavia?” Vinyl nudged Octavia with her head, making her look up. Vinyl was the picture of worry. She gazed down at her friend, having lost her glasses during that final scuffle. “Please tell me you’re you again.” “I’m sorry.” Octavia’s voice was a hoarse whisper, strained through her tight throat. “I’m so very, very sorry.” Vinyl hugged her, picking her up off the floor. Octavia found it hard to cry under such attention, so she focused on not meeting Vinyl’s eyes instead. Behind Vinyl, Neon and Fiddle had relaxed. Neon was guiding a still-hurt Fiddle back down the steps towards the ground floor. He looked over his shoulder at the two and gave a small smile, perhaps a little jealous of their friendship. Octavia had gotten the impression from Vinyl that Neon didn’t have many friends back in Canterlot. Finally, the ringing in Octavia’s ears faded, at least enough that she could hear her friend when she spoke normally. There was still, however, a faint buzzing, just beyond the edge of her perceptions. If she focused, she could still hear it. After a few seconds, Octavia leaned back from the hug to look at Vinyl. “Vinyl, about your house…” “Don’t worry about it, Tavi.” Vinyl cut her off, setting her friend back down. “We can fix it. All that stuff’s replaceable. I’m just glad you’re back. I couldn’t lose you again.” Octavia was forced to turn away, but not because of her shame. She felt herself blushing, though she had trouble understanding why. Just as she was about to speak, she heard Neon shout. “Vinyl! Octavia! Get over here! You two have got to see this!” The stallion’s voice rang from somewhere around the front of the building. Unsure how they would get past the missing section of floor, the two rushed to the nearest hole in the wall and stared out. The chaos-scape around the house took on an entirely different appearance from even a single story up. The chaos had descended over Ponyville so swiftly, Vinyl and Octavia hadn’t had a chance to see the damage it had done to their home. It paled in comparison to what was happening in the distance, though. Lights flashed in every direction, shimmering bursts of prismatic colors. Squinting, Vinyl and Octavia could make out several figures in the distance, six standing together and one set apart. The lights were bursting from the six, towards the lone figure. The pair of friends quickly made their own internal assumptions about to what was happening, but neither were very close to the truth. In this case, fact was certainly stranger than fiction. In a burst of bright light, a bridging rainbow exploded from the six, engulfing the lone figure. Everything beyond that seemed to all happen at once, so swiftly that Vinyl and Octavia were left speechless by the result. As the rainbow consumed the lone figure, there was a loud shout, echoing over the chaos-scape. Octavia felt her skin crawl. Then, in the period of a blink, normalcy was returned. The magic of harmony, a dome of light around the chaos, brought reality crashing back to the insanity. Damage still lingered here and there, but at least it was understandable damage – not the madness that had prevailed only moment earlier. A sense of relief washed over the pair of onlookers and Octavia made note of ponies from all over Ponyville, walking from their homes to find out what had just happened. “We should go.” Octavia spoke, relaxed that the danger was past. “I’m still very sorry.” She turned to face her friend, and then leaned over, hugging Vinyl tightly. “You saved me from becoming something despicable. I would never have forgiven myself if I had hurt anypony seriously… Thank you.” She felt Vinyl return the hug, her heart thumping in her chest. “No worries, Tavi. You woulda done the same for me, I know.” The two leaned apart, and went about trying to find a way across the gap. Much to their relief, with the return to normalcy the darkness on the floor below had faded, letting them simply drop down to the first floor, amid the rubble. Vinyl cleared the hall away with her magic as Octavia toyed with her ears. The bleeding had stopped and Octavia wanted to get them looked at, as soon as possible. “Vinyl?” Octavia hurried to Vinyl’s side, as the two left the building. “Yeah?” “You saw my cello, right?” Octavia asked quietly. Vinyl tensed, but nodded slowly. “What should I do?” Octavia was torn, her voice strained and miserable. She had purchased that cello with her own hard-earned bits. She'd had it long before her trip to Canterlot. That cello had been there, by her side, for years. As she thought more about it, a profound sense of loss came over her, as if she’d lost a dear friend. She had to assume Vinyl felt the same way; she had lost a chunk of her childhood home, after all. “Don’t worry.” Vinyl tried to sound chipper, but Octavia felt she sounded more like she was trying too hard. “I’ll help you replace it. It’ll all be fine, I promise.” She grinned, looking far more like her usual self as she did. The sight made Octavia smile. Perhaps things would turn out alright...