• Published 13th Mar 2012
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Moonlight Sonata - Lynked



Though Vinyl and Octavia are together, the two have never been farther apart.

  • ...
7
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Chapter 7: Crescendo

Vinyl didn't remember much - only that it was the morning after a horrible dinner and she had woken to a cool breeze...on the deck couch. The easy swaying of the silent ship jumbled her gut and disoriented her sight as she rolled off the plump sofa to the harsh wood below. Her crash sent waves of pain searing her body; fire would be more welcome than the tormenting feelings she had in her now. Her mind pounded with the weight of the ship, throbbing in mocking sync to each gentle sway.

Pressing a hoof, and soon her whole arm to the deck table, the sickly unicorn managed to get back on her hooves. It was strenuous; her legs were shaking like the crumbling columns they were, and she gagged once or twice. But once on her hooves, after a moment of wobbling - she headed towards the blue glass door in hopes of finding it unlocked; why they had a lock in the first place was a mystery to Vinyl, but mystery or not it would cause problems. At the door, she grazed a hoof over the handle, and gave it a tiny nudge left.

It didn't budge.

And so she tried it again; with even more force and a reddening face, she yanked at the door. It should've slid open easily, tossing the curtains aside to reveal the luxurious suite, fine carpets and soft beds. But it didn't budge.

"Horseapples!" she spat. Today was going to be good, too! With nothing else to do she could just go inside and relax on her bed, falling into the cushioned haven to never return. The images of such luxury flashed through her mind, making her writhe in pain and wanting. But no, instead of giving her sore body a break she was stuck on a breezy patio with no more than the sun to provide warmth. It was hardly doing its job. The wind that morning carried a salty nip to it, biting her fur with each pass. Once again, she yanked at the door, the handle tightly gripped in a light pink aura. Yet even with the most powerful force her aching horn could muster, the door did not budge. It was true, then; Octavia had locked her out.

Moments later the cellist came, throwing the curtains aside to expose her glaring scowl, darkened eyes, and frazzled mane. It must've been early; Vinyl could reason this easily, as Octavia was normally an early riser. From the looks of her exhausted marefriend, she must've just risen. From the dead, that is.

"Vinyl..." Her cracking voice seethed through the stained glass. "You..."

"I know, I know, go ahead and spew about how I ruined everything again. Just let me inside," the DJ grumbled, pressing her hooves to her aching temples.

"Let you inside?" She asked, a low hissing seeping through her teeth. "You'll be lucky if I don't come out there and shove you overboard."

"Shove me over...Look, I'm not in the mood-"

"Not in the mood?" Octavia jerked her hoof back and slammed it against the glass. Vinyl stumbled back, tripping and landing flat on her haunches. "Perhaps you're not in the mood because you always ruin the mood!"

"It's never too early to be mad, is it Tav?" Vinyl asked, snarling and standing again. She pressed her face to the cool glass, frowning at her marefriend.

"Early? Vinyl, it's almost noon! Maybe if you didn't drink so much, you'd actually wake up, you insufferable drunkard!"

"Oh, so here we go!" Vinyl rolled her eyes and tossed her head around flamboyantly. In her best 'eloquent' tone, she mocked: "Vinyl you're always wrong! Vinyl stop being yourself! Vinyl let me run your life because I'm a control freak!"

Silence. Everything stopped, even the nippy breeze. The two mares stared into each other's ferocious eyes, the blue tint of the glass being their only barrier. Snarls burned into their faces, mirrors of anger and fire alike.

But Octavia sighed, and backed away from the door.

"Fine, Vinyl, you can come in. Then, you can get out. I don't want to see you again until tonight at the ball, do you understand?" she asked, unlatching the door with her patented high-society scowl. Nose scrunched, eyes darted, she backed away to let the DJ pass.

Vinyl did so with her head held high, suppressing the painful grimace that she so wanted to display. Instead she gripped her own frown of contempt, fumbling but a few times as she trotted through the suite. At the door, which she had tossed ajar with her magic, she snorted and said, "See you later dear."

"Bye, honey," the mare retorted as she fell back onto her bed.

Before more words were exchanged, Vinyl stomped out of the room and into the red and blue hallway, slamming the door behind her. As she turned left, her hoofsteps pounded audibly and purposefully brutal against the floor. Her rampage did not last but a mere second however, as Lyra and Bonbon slammed into her, causing the three of them to tumble to the floor.

"Oh, um, hey Vinyl," Bonbon said, rubbing her flank.

Lyra, rubbing her own, concurred. "Um, yes...hello Vinyl. What was all the shouting we heard-?"

"Shut it!" she said, lashing out at them. Her jaw clenched shut with a rather loud snap, and her greasy tail and mane whipped right. "I don't want to talk to anypony right now, especially not you!" Hoof extended, she pretended to spit at Lyra. Quickly she stood, spinning on her hooves to face the opposite direction.

"Me? Vinyl, what's wrong? What did I do?" The harpist was taken aback, an offended frown dressing her face.

But Vinyl did not respond; she kept walking, head held high as her hangover would let it go. With a few grunts, she trotted away, down the hall, and disappeared into the elevator lobby.

***

"What was that about?" Lyra asked, falling to her haunches with a blunt face.

"I'd be willing to bet it had something to do with the shouting," Bonbon said. In response to her marefriend's flat look, she offered a smile and a wink. After giving a little nudge to Lyra's chin, she walked up to the recently slammed suite door, raising her hoof to knock.

Just before she could, the unicorn sighed and said, "Yeah, well...look, I'm going back inside. You deal with Octavia."

"Oh, c'mon Lyra, please don't be that way," Bonbon cooed.

But the mare did not stop on her receding course. She trudged to their suite, going in and throwing closed the labeled door behind her with a bang. By now, a few ponies had their heads peering through their suites, looking for the source of the commotion with scowls and gripes.

Bonbon ignored them; they were just another thing that would stress her out. Her eyes glanced at her abused door, low and sad. Lyra wasn't fairing well on a cruise that was for her. The stress of the whole situation was sinking in, bags beneath the cream mare's worried eyes. Even still, she turned back to the task at hoof, bringing a rasping knock upon Octavia's door a few times. The response was immediate, sending her aback as the grey cellist lashed the door ajar.

"What, Vinyl? I told...oh my, um, hello Bonbon dear," Tav said, her sneer giving way to a nervous smile and a light chuckle. "I'm...terribly sorry about that."

Bonbon's eyes sunk back to normal, and her heart slowly regained its rhythm, her hoof falling from her chest to get her back up from her haunches.

"It's...fine. Look, we're, uh, I was here to tell you about tonight, as usual. But...what was wrong with Vinyl? She seemed angry."

"She's just being uncivil is all," the cellist snorted. "Please, come in." She waved a hoof, inviting the wary mare into the open room.

Yet she rejected the offer with the wave of her foreleg. "I, uh, well I can't come in right now. Sorry," she said, offering but a polite smile. Finally on her hooves again, she strode across the hall, back to her suite's abused door. "Vinyl lashed out at Lyra. I think her feelings are hurt, especially after last night..."

"Oh my, um, yes, please do tell her I'm sorry about that," Octavia gulped, returning the nervous smile through her doorway.

"Yeah, I will. I think she'll be fine." The cream pony pushed her cabin's door open, but paused before it. "And about tonight, just be ready by, say, six or so. We'll swing by."

Octavia nodded, curtly falling back into her suite. Bonbon gave a deep, thick sigh, her gaze shifting down to her hooves for a mere second before she herself re-entered her suite. She shut the door behind her, calling in, "Lyra, are you alright?"

***

The rage of the morning seeped off of Vinyl, trailing behind her. It was early - at least by her standards - and that was more than enough of a reason to not be angry. In fact, she was forcing a smile on her strained lips as she trotted through the gently swaying ship. It was surprisingly active this morning; even in the bars, an unusually large crowd of ponies was occupying themselves with idle chatting.

As she strode through the main deck's halls, she recalled her own thoughts. After she had left, the smile that smothered her face grew. There was only one thing to do in this situation. Rage - no, of course not. Leave - absolutely. And leave she did, down the elevators, and to the foyer. Now at her destination, she read the bright cyan bar banner that was strung across the doorway, holding the name Of Dreams.

"Buckin' cheesy," she sighed as she slipped into the well lit, crowded hole-in-the-wall.

The theme was blue - as if there was more than one to choose from. A raised brow, she swerved past the filled tables and shuffling crowd to an empty barstool. Quickly she hopped up, slamming her card - she had cleverly snagged it with her magic before being booted out - down on the marble top, demanding service.

"Your poison?" a plump bartending mare, dressed in rolled up, unfashionable sleeves asked in a hoity-toity tone. Vinyl jumped, not expecting to be approached from behind, but was kind enough to keep her jaded smile.

"Uh, yeah," she said, swerving around, "get me a screwdriver."

"Are you quite sure?" the mare asked, a wary eye adorned.

"Of course I am. I just ordered it, didn't I?" Vinyl's smile faded quickly; now she held a face easily mistaken for paranoia. She was scowling, her eyes darted and drawn back in a defensive fashion.

The bartender gulped and said, "Um, yes, of course miss. I'll have that for you in a jiff."

The DJ sighed, spinning back around to rest her hooves on the bar. The place smelled of fruit for some reason, drawing a soothed expression from the hard scowl.

Pounding, throbbing, screaming pain seared in her temples, her hangover returning full force. Or was it? Pain as such came rarely; the few times Vinyl had felt this was either after her equipment set her alight one time, or...

"Mild poisoning..."

"Oh sweet Celestia..." she muttered, pressing hard against her temples. Her face scrunched tight, her jaw and her eyes lapsed shut.

The bartender who was currently fiddling with the orange juice noticed, asking, "Ma'am, are you all right?"

"Y-Yes, just, how long till you have that thing ready?" she strained to ask, glancing at the in progress drink with bared teeth and wanting lips.

"In just a few moments," the bartender replied.

"We'll know in a few moments..."

Vinyl groaned in agony, tossing her head to and fro. Her hooves pressed harder to her head, squeezing it like an orange. "Stop!" she cried out. The whole bar did as commanded, falling silent to observe the writhing mare.

"Um, miss, your drink?" the bartender asked, sliding a tall, skinny glass of diluted orange liquid down the bar.

Wordlessly Vinyl gripped the wet glass with her magic, unceremoniously bringing it to her lips and sloshing it down her crying throat.

"Another," she demanded as the glass drained of all its contents. Throwing the glass down and sliding it back to the bartender, the grimace on her face grew. "Now."

***

The rough jets of the steaming hot tub were just what Octavia needed. As the water bubbled and the tub vibrated, she let herself drown into a sense of ease. What seemed like perfect harmony, though - the gentle massage of the jets, the soft rocking of the ship, and even the sweet steam that was ever rising - was not enough to kill off the thoughts that riveted her head. And yet she let her tail and mane soak to her little heart's content, not caring if the drenched sepia strands fell uncouthly in her face. Her eyes softly lapsed, and her mouth opened ever so slightly, letting the warm water brush her lower lip as she fell farther into the rectangular tub.

Her blood was as hot as the water, still boiling and pulsing from her little scuffle with Vinyl. That mare really knew how to curdle somepony's insides. "And give them a deathly headache," she added aloud, lightly kicking the water's surface. It splashed out of the tub, plopping on the floor and creeping outward.

"But fine Vinyl," Octavia softly ranted to nopony, "Do what you want. I'm sorry I'm such a 'control freak'." The words seemed to echo through the water as tiny ripples spread out in front of her. It was a cause of the jets, of course, but the timing could not have been more perfect.

"If wanting you to keep your promise is called such." As those new words rolled off her tongue, she actually spat into the water. In fact, such words flared her thoughts so much that she actually cringed. A small wave of pain shot up her spine, implanting itself in the base of her neck. Chagrin awash on her face, she gripped her head, squeezing her temples, and scowling at the bubbling water.

"But you can't even do that, can you? You can't even keep a promise you made so long ago...Fine!" she shouted. It was unintentional, but loud nevertheless. She bucked her hind leg, slamming it into the side of the tub. Another bolt of pain crept through her body, eliciting a quiet moan. "No, no, calm yourself Octavia."

She sank lower, dipping the back of her head into the tub. The water invaded her ears - not far by any means, but enough to cause her to yank herself back up. She scowled at the invasive feeling. Once again, she reared her leg to buck. But now she successfully stopped herself, lowering her flank to the seat of the tub again.

"I just need to be calm," she told herself. And what better way to be calm than a little fur stroking? Petting, no matter how much anypony denied it, felt euphoric. Her hoof raised from the steam, dripping with little plops. She brought it up to her chest, pressing ever so lightly on her smoothed over fur, and then dragged it down. It slowly rubbed down her chest, to her belly, then back up.

"See?" she asked herself," calm..." Her hoof followed that path effortlessly; she had done this plenty of times before, mostly on nights wherein Vinyl was sleeping on the couch. Down again her hoof fell, landing intentionally on a sweet spot of hers. Despite what many would think, or had assumed for that matter, it felt somewhat comforting to rub this place.

She looked down at it. The spot on her belly, while comforting her, enraged her. It was a strange mesh of emotions, and Octavia could not portray it properly - her face looked like a psychopath who was happy he had burned himself.

"One chance. She has one chance," Octavia whispered with a sigh. "But if she breaks her promise just one more time..."

No more words slipped loose; her mouth did not even try to form any. Instead, her eyes fixated on that sweet spot, letting her mind do the talking. The pinkish purple eyes of the emotional cellist traced the spot - a line, as it were - up and down its full length. It was thick, long, and precise; only could something be this exact if it were premeditated. It's paleness contrasted her darkened fur, and was even more visible due to its submersion. It lay vertically on her stomach, never to leave her body, and yet she had no direct memory of getting it. But she knew...despite having no direct memory, she remembered everything. And so Vinyl would have one more chance.

"Just. One."

***

It was six thirty; the moon had been raised with the stars lighting the night sky. At least half of the entire ship was laced throughout the foyer, either chatting with mindlessness or dancing with skill. The center of the room was a maelstrom of dancers, graciously curving and twirling around each other to an instrumental piece played by the ship's pianist. He had the stage once again, allowing Lyra time to herself.

The mint unicorn's wish of quality time with her lover was unfulfilled in every way. At their table, one of the many set up around the outskirts of the darkening foyer, three ponies sat with three very different expressions. On their woven lace tablecloth, Octavia's head rolled to the swaying of the ship, inaudible mutters riding out with every breath she took. Lyra and Bonbon were at her sides, both with a hoof stroking the cellist's pink gown. Even now, with the simple tune of Moonlight Sonata to expunge tension, there was nothing that could be done.

"It's alright, honest. I'm sure she'll show up," Lyra cooed, a stressing herself. There was sweat dribbling down her forehead. What she really wanted to say was: That mare's probably passed out, now let me dance with my marefriend. But, it was not in her to be so harsh, especially not to her friend, even if it was her obnoxious marefriend causing all the problems.

"No...No, she won't..."

"Aw, just give her time," Bonbon said as she glanced away. Her eyes drifted to the large, arched windows. The moon was about half full, its reflection painting the still water pale.

"No...I give up," the muffled cellist sighed, her voice wavering. "I-I just can't take it anymore girls. I've done some thinking..."

"Calm down. Maybe you'd like to go rest?" Lyra suggested, flashing a look to her marefriend. Bonbon sighed, and for once, did not scold her for the obvious attempt to be rid of the mare.

"I suppose...T-There's more thinking to do anyways..." She pushed herself off, revealing her bloodshot eyes, and dark tear trails on her fur.

"Oh my...do you need help getting back?" Bonbon was always quick to offer help; it was a simple fact that not even Lyra could dislike. A smile blossomed on the harpist's lips, kind and gentle towards both Octavia and the kind pony she lumbered herself with.

"N-No, I'll manage. Thank you girls, I'm sorry tonight was a disaster," Octavia said, pushing off and disappearing into the crowd.

When she was out of earshot, Bonbon sighed and told Lyra, "Do you think she'll be alright? I mean, I've seen her upset before, and I've seen her upset with Vinyl about twice as often, but..."

"She'll be fine, I'm sure. Underneath that well tamed mane, there's a tough pony," the harpist said, leaning on her companion's shoulder. "Besides," she said with a tiny peck to Bonbon's cheek, "based on how things are going so far, they'll just fight and get on with their lives."

"I don't know..."

"Aww, c'mon, let's not drag the night down!" Lyra perked up, a smile and flame alight in her. She bounced off her chair, Bonbon's hoof enshrouded in her magic. She dragged the mare out onto the edge of dance floor, propping her up onto two hooves before she could even comprehend the situation.

"Lyra, what-"

Her voice was cut off by Lyra's lips, pressing deeply against her own. Her tongue perused the slick caverns of Bonbon's warm mouth, dancing with her own willing tongue. The music had changed to a fitting tempo, fast and unrecognizable to either as they began swinging in a waltz. One thing not many ponies knew of the mint green harpist was of her ability to sweep ponies off their hooves.

As they drew back from each other, spinning around the edge of the ball floor, Lyra whispered, "You know I love you, right Candy Lips?"

'Candy Lips' giggled, nibbling on Lyra's neck and replying, "I do, as a matter of fact. It's just..."

"Don't worry about them right now," the harpist sighed, her smile unfaltering. "This is about you and me, and nopony else." As they continued dancing, bliss spinning in the air around them, she added, "And like I said, they'll be fine."

Bonbon giggled, nuzzling up into Lyra's warm coat. "You're probably right," she breathed. She had quite the dancer for a companion, following with ease. The two spun slowly, meshing with the crowd of other dancers. A few shot estranged looks to them, disapproving even, but they were politely ignored. Only between the two of them would a moment be shared - their locked gazes and sweet caressing made sure of it.

"I know I'm right. They're always fine...just...oh just kiss me you sad sap." And she did - Bonbon planted a huge, wet, soft kiss on Lyra's guiding lips as they continued their waltz of the night.

***

Vinyl stumbled down the dim hallway, treading and almost falling on the thin carpet beneath her hooves. The suite was but a few doors down, but that was by no means a simple feat. Soon she was using the wall to support her drunken weight, scraping along it just barely. It was cold, the wallpaper brittle, though she could not feel it - she could not feel a thing. And still she subconsciously gripped her gut, biting her lip and suppressing a gag.

"Tav," she slurred as she approached the door. At the wooden portal, she dragged her hoof down in a grinding, rasping sound of hoof-boots on a chalkboard. "Tav, open th' door..." her tired voice called.

The sound of hooves shuffling on carpet echoed under the doorway, lighting Vinyl's face with a fiery hope. Her eyes fixed themselves on the wooden plank labeled 'Suite 113', waiting. Soon the sounds stopped, and the door handle jerked. It flew ajar, exposing a scowling cellist, watery eyes and distraught sepia mane.

"Oh hey Tav, I-"

"Where were you?" she quietly asked. Her face was not a scowl, nor a frown. It was flatter than a pancake, no curve on her lips, and no fire in her eyes. "Where were you tonight?"

"Tonight?" the DJ repeated. Her face fell from its puckered form, taking up a frown with serious eyes; something was wrong; very, very wrong. "Ah was, um, around..."

"You were 'around'? Yes, Vinyl, of course you were," Octavia said, her tone oddly quiet and somber. Her pink eyes were engulfed in a sea of blood red veins, her ducts watery and puffed. With quivering lips, she continued: "Of course you were around. At bars, I see?"

"Yeah, uh-"

"A-And did you have a good time?" she asked with a quivering smile.

"Well, um, yeah I guess." Vinyl carefully dragged her hooves forward, almost falling.

"That's g-good," Octavia said. Her smile was strained, red, but it held. Through her puffy eyes, a map of red lines criss-crossed their way around, slicing up the whites.

The DJ extended her hoof, bringing it near Octavia's face. "Tav, are you-"

"Shut up!" The cellist stomped her hoof down in a ferocious display. Vinyl stumbled back from her, collapsing to her haunches and then falling to her side.

"Whoa, chill," she said, weakly heaving herself from the carpet. A red scar of carpet burn spanned her side, but had no effect on her expression; the grimace and wide, drooping eyes were unmoved.

"Tonight was important. Important to Lyra, important to Bonbon, important to...me..." Octavia took one lone hoofstep outside the suite. Her darted eyes locked themselves onto the stabilizing mare, fire alight in her dark, burning pupils. "I had hope," she sniffled, "that you would pull yourself together. I had hope that you would somehow, in some Celestia-forsaken way be the Vinyl I fell in love with!"

"Hey Tav, you're freaking me out..." Vinyl backed against the wall, almost collapsing again. The alcohol on her breath flowed from her putrid breath, seeping into the air around it. The sniffling up mare sneered at the smell, her drained nose scrunching up.

"But no! All you do is drink and buck things up!"

The DJ's blurred eyes flared at the chastisement. "I buck things up? You know what; you buck things up more, with your control-freak attitude and uptight standards. Maybe if you let me be myself, I would be the Vinyl you fell in love with!" The mare snorted and tossed her mane left, shooting a sloppy snarl at her marefriend. The grey pony, fur ruffled and legs shaking, returned the gesture.

"You know quite well why I do the things I do!" she cried. Her posture, slumped and low, seemed to sink further down as she stood her ground. The candles in the hallway flickered, a somber crimson-orange glow lighting up the faces of the arguing mares. The cellist in particular held a menacing gaze that one would give a killer who had been caught. "Or...Or have you forgotten? Six months ago? You did, didn't you? What...Dammit Vinyl what's wrong with you!"

Vinyl's face blanked. Her ears dropped, her jaw snapped closed, and her ruby eyes dilated to the size of peas.

"You could've stopped her."

After a bit of mindless muttering, she stammered, "B-Buck off Octavia! Y-You don't do anything but fight! Where's the mare I fell in love with, huh? The laid back, easy going Octavia that was pure awesome? Not...you..." She pointed a hoof to a candle beside the door.

Octavia gasped, letting but a lone tear skid down the corner of her eye. "All you do is cause problems," she said, "For me, for our friends, for our relationship! I find myself wondering if we even have something left."

"Oh, so it's my fault our relationship sucks?" Vinyl said, shoving herself back to her hooves. In an abrasive display, she hissed at the cellist, disoriented though she was.

"Yes, Vinyl, it is! You and your drinking! You've ruined everything!"

There was a thick silence now, clotted and diluted with the broken gazes of two shattered mares.

"What're you saying..."

Octavia's lips fumbled, but no sound slipped loose. The white mare stumbled her way up to the cellist, pressing her up against the grey, slick, wet nose. Their eyes gazed deep, locked; Vinyl's slanted with the rage of a drunkard, and Octavia's sagged with the despair of a widow.

"I'm saying..."

"Don't you do it..."

In her sweet, soft voice, she finished, "I'm saying it's over."

Without further adieu, she retreated into the confines of the warm suite, slamming the wooden door right onto Vinyl's nose. A harsh cracking reverberated through the hallway, bouncing off the walls and into the ears of a few curious ponies.

Vinyl paid them no heed; she was desperately trying to regain her bearings, steady out, and perhaps even understand the situation. "Over?" she muttered, swaying to and fro.

And then it clicked. It clicked louder than the crack of her nose, or the slamming of the door. It clicked with the force of a jackhammer splitting down a section of concrete. It clicked like the final second of a bomb.

The DJ fell back with a cry of pain, gripping not her nose but her chest. Over? That meant...she was alone now, truly and surely alone. It was over.