The Spice of Life

by Alun Aleriksson

Faithfully

Ch. 8 – Faithfully

Vinyl snapped her eyes open and was immediately thankful for her shades. They dulled most of the glare bearing down from on high, but enough got through to make her head throb.

She took in her surroundings even slower than usual, eventually realizing she was not at her apartment. She remembered collapsing, and some awful dreams, but no details.

She struggled to her hooves, wincing as the headache reminded her why that was a bad idea. Closing her eyes against the offensive sunlight, she started to walk forward and immediately tripped over a prone princess.

“Hm?” Luna regarded her fallen subject. “Well, it’s better than some of the ways ‘Tia wakes me up…” she muttered. “Good morning, pale, hung-over unicorn!”

Vinyl clapped her hooves over her ears and grimaced. “Not so loud,” she mumbled.

Luna grinned. Her sister may not consume so much as a single cocktail per night of “fun,” but she could sympathize with the effects of a drink too many. “Sorry. Did you sleep well?” She knew the answer, of course, but figured it was polite to ask.

“Umf,” the unicorn in question was attempting to stand for the second time that day, and it required all of her extensive concentration. “Slept. Don’t remember sleeping. Guess so.”

Nodding, Luna considered her options. She deduced that she was not going to get the answers she needed while her target was intoxicated. She could wait until the unicorn was sober, but she was much too impatient for that. The quickest way would be to just revert her mind to a sober state. That was risky, though: mind or memory alteration could have serious consequences if done improperly. Ponies had been known to wake up believing they were a different type of pony, or sometimes a different species altogether.

The other magical solution was simply to flush the alcohol from her system completely. This technique did have drawbacks: It would leave the pony completely dehydrated, and the liquid had to come out of the body somewhere.

Long story short, Vinyl spent the next few minutes vomiting for a good cause.

-XXX-

“Feel better?”

Vinyl regarded the floating water bottle as if were the source of every moment of misery she had ever experienced, and grudgingly accepted it. “No,”

“That is fair. So why did you run away?”

The bottle froze halfway to the DJ’s lips. “Uh, what?”

“Why did you run away?” Luna repeated, a little slower this time.

Deciding her thirst was more important than her answer, Vinyl took several large gulps of water before responding. “I didn’t run away!” She grumbled, but softened her tone when she realized whom she was talking to. “No offense, Princess, but why do you care?”

“One of my subjects is in need of your talents,” Luna said, unperturbed by her companion’s mannerisms.

“My talents?” Vinyl snorted unattractively. “Well, they better keep looking. I’ve got nothing to offer.”

“Everypony has something to offer,” the princess countered.

“Not me,” the DJ asserted. She took a long sip of water to emphasize her point.

Luna ruffled her feathers, but retained her composure. “And where, if I may, has that attitude gotten you in life?”

Vinyl’s mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds. “I… have a job,”

“That you enjoy?”

“… Yes…”

“And friends?” the princess pressed.

Vinyl exhaled a tired sigh. “What do you really want, Princess?”

“I told you: one of my other subjects is in dire need of your talents.”

The unicorn fell into a brooding silence. “Everything… I’ve done,” she said quietly. “It always backfires somehow. I lost my dad, then my mom, even the friends I thought I had…”

“Just because you walked out doesn’t mean—“

“No, not them. The… ponies I tried to make friends with in high school.” She paused to draw a shaky breath and wiped her messy face with an even messier hoof. “And I tried to fit in, I did! But no: every time I did something, something I thought was cool of funny, or… gah, I don’t even know. I just remember getting shot down. Every. Single. Time!” She punctuated the last three words with vicious hoof-stomps.

“But then, I thought I had a chance. I really liked swing, more than any other music I had ever heard! And Tavi n’ Sync… they didn’t question me, didn’t care who I was. We just… played together. Like it should have been. Like it should be.”

Luna tilted her head. Perhaps these musicians were a more perfect match than she had at first perceived. Certainly each had their issues, but with the right nudges in the right directions-

“And they killed that, too!”

The exclamation startled Luna out of her thoughts. “Pardon?”

“Those stupid philtalines ruined swing the first time we performed. That’s why I ran out. I just…” She collapsed into a heavy heap. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The princess had to pause to try and understand. “I’m sorry, do you mean ‘philistines’?”

“Izzat not what I said?”

“I suppose. More or less,” Luna resisted the urge to giggle. “So, if you don’t know what to do, why not go back to your friends?”

“I can’t. I can’t do it again. I just can’t handle the rejection, Princess!”

“Your friends will not reject you,”

“No, you still don’t get it! I’m tired of society rejecting me.”

Luna fell silent, contemplating. She hadn’t expected this level of opposition. Wasn’t everything supposed to work out? Wasn’t everypony supposed to be happy? Where had she gone wrong? ‘Oh, I wish ‘Tia could help me out here.’ But this was her sworn duty, and she would not cave so easily.

“Have you told your friends that you are albino?”

Vinyl’s head whipped around, her hooves waving frantically. “Shhhh, Princess! Not so loud!” She looked side to side before calming down, confident nopony had heard the princess’s revelation.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of,”

Vinyl mumbled something intelligible in response.

“What was that?”

“I said tell that to the rest of Canterlot. I’m not ashamed of who I am, Princess, but I tried living as an albino. It didn’t work out.” Her gaze lowered and her ears folded back. “The job I have right now only panned out because I wouldn’t be near anypony behind the turntables. It’s even in my contract to wear these glasses.”

“I… things have not changed in a thousand years, have they? Discrimination is still very much prevalent,”

“Sucks to be different,” Vinyl said hollowly.

Luna put a hoof to her chin. ‘It shouldn’t be, though. Difference is the spice of life, after all,’

-XXX-

Octavia hummed to herself as she walked down the sidewalk at a sedate pace. The tune was one of her favorites: Beethoofen’s Ninth, otherwise known as “Ode to Joy.” It was simple, but that wasn’t why she loved it so much. She could hear in her head the orchestra supporting her quiet main theme, every part balanced, rising and falling dramatically with the notes. She could practically feel the passion of the strings, singing praises to happiness and wonder. Each cycle of her four steps measured out a bar of music as she continued on towards her apartment.

As much as she hated to be a passive observer, she trusted Princess Luna to do her part. She didn’t mind relaxing, contrary to belief. In fact, she relished the freedom from responsibility. She just didn’t want ponies to think she was slacking.

She entered her room, still tapping a hoof in time. When she had a song in her head, it was hard not to move some part of her body to the beat. She supposed that contributed to her inability to swing, but what if…?

Keeping the same time and the same notes, Octavia began to experiment. She lengthened some notes and shortened others, making a new rhythm, a new feel. She smiled and began dancing to her improvised beat, one completely different from the original.

Somehow, it worked. Despite an unrestricted tempo and practically indeterminable time signature, the piece lost none of its impact: Octavia could still hear the orchestra support her, proclaiming the happiness she felt.

Her concentration was broken by an outside voice. “Octavia? Um… what are you doing?”

Octavia jumped. “Fermata! I must admit I didn’t expect you to be here.” Thoughts raced through her brain, chief among them ‘What in Celestia’s name?’ and ‘Why didn’t I shut that door?’ Fortunately, she wasn’t so far gone that her social decorum had completely vanished. “How are you? Would you like something to drink?”

“Hm? Oh, no thank you. I ah… ate before coming here. I just wanted to… touch base? I’m sorry if I interrupted something,”

“Not at all! Please come in, sit down!”

“I’m fine. Really. I … just wanted to… check up, you know?”

“Of course!” With nopony to usher into her apartment, Octavia shuffled awkwardly in front of her fellow cellist. “It’s been what, days since we last talked?”

“Weeks, Octavia.” Fermata glanced around the small living room. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” Octavia answered, a bit transparently. “What about you? What’s going on in the Symphony?”

“That’s… um, actually, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you mind if we take a walk?”

Octavia deliberated, weighing her options. Fermata could certainly lend her some insight as to what the rest of Canterlot was doing musically, plus she had a respect for classics and composition. It wouldn't hurt to hear her out. Could this be what Princess Luna had in mind? Her inspiration?

“Sure. Let’s go,”

-XXX-

‘I wish I could tell you something a bit more, well, light-hearted, but there it is,”

It had only taken a few blocks for Fermata to tell her story, even with the pauses and hesitation in her speech.

“Do you ever regret staying?”

“Oh, never! I don’t know what else I’d do! That’s… that’s why I came to check up on you. Because I knew it might be hard…” her sentence trailed off, and the two shared a moment of silence.

Surprisingly, it was Fermata who spoke up again. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing when I… well… the twirling and dancing? It’s not like you,”

“There are lots of thing you don’t know about me,” Octavia said with just a touch of humor.

“Octavia, please,”

The cheerless pall returned. “If you must know, I was experimenting with a new style of music,”

“New style?” Fermata murmured, but her companion heard her.

“Not even as new as you might think. Apparently it was developed years ago by a couple of stallions who were just playing around,”

“But that… that doesn’t sound right,” Fermata halted her pace as she thought. “A ‘new style’ doesn’t make any sense. I mean, of course I know that you can play different tempos, or different instruments to make certain sounds, but notes are notes. What do you mean by ‘style’?”

“It’s just… it’s a different way to play the notes. That’s the best I can describe it,”

Fermata gave her a look that suggested she had grown an extra hoof out of her forehead. “Different way? Octavia, there… there are no other ways to play notes.”

The charcoal cellist could swear she actually felt her spirits fall. Fermata wasn’t her inspiration; she couldn’t be. Luna wouldn’t send her somepony so close-minded, though it pained her to think of another musician in such a way. She shook her head and strode forward at a slightly brisker pace.

“Octavia, are you alright?”

“Yes,” Octavia sighed.

“Are you sure? Have you been getting enough sleep?”

‘Oh, yes; Vinyl and Syncopation are really into reasonable sleep schedules,’ she answered in her head, and had to repress a chuckle. “I’m fine, Fermata. Just going through a bit of a slump, I guess.”

“I think I know how you feel. The whole world’s against you, and it seems like you can’t go anywhere without running into- Oof!”

“Ow! Son of a hay bale, I was just getting over my headache,”

“I- I’m so sorry! I wasn’t…” Fermata suddenly quailed under a crimson gaze. To her credit, she made it almost thirty seconds before bolting down the street. Vinyl watched her go with a bored expression, having one of the biggest déjà vu moments in her life.

That boredom quickly morphed to fear, though, when she noticed the pony that had been walking next to her accidental assailant. She blinked once before dashing off as well, leaving Octavia and Princess Luna alone on the sidewalk.

“Hmm. Not quite what I had in mind,” the princess mused, glancing in the opposite directions her subjects had fled. “It would appear you have a choice, my little pony,”

It was a no-brainer. Octavia paused for less than a second before galloping after her friend.