Chapter 4: In Sickness and with Help
Your eyes slowly drift open. A beam of light streams through the window, light enough for you to see the space around you, but just dim enough for your eyes to open comfortably. You could hear the gentle sound of birds chirping outside your window. The comfort of the couch you slept on amazed you, the large fluffy comforter on top of you providing your body with a pleasant warmth. You nuzzle your head further into your pillow, allowing the gentleness and grace of the world when you wake at your own time to surround you. Everything was so peacfu-
BEE-BEE-BEEBEEBEEB-BEEEEEB
You sigh as you gaze over at the device that had produced the intrusive noise. You lift the phone with your hoof and read the name on the screen:
Pon-3 FTW
You sigh as you press the answer button.
“What is it Vinyl?”
“Come on, you’re late for our session.”
“W-what?” you slur groggily, “Isn’t it at like, ten?”
“Yes it is, what time is it right now?”
You shift your gaze to a nearby clock.
“10:30” you reply.
Silence from the other end of the line.
“...Oh! Shoot! I’ll be there right away Vinyl!”
Without saying goodbye you hang up the phone, making sure to take the large case next to the door, and that you have your key with you. Spreading your wings you take to the skies and start rapidly flapping toward Vinyl and Octavia’s flat in the center of town.
As opposed to your short, brick-and-mortar building, the complex in which the mares reside is a towering skyscraper of several glass windows that slowly cascade all the way from earth to sky. As you land in front of the building, you have a brief feeling of being an ant.
Pushing open the front door, you trot toward the metal doors of the elevator, located in a small offshoot of the main room. You press the button on the wall making the light on top of the door light up.
Waiting…
Waiting…
Waiting…
DING!
The door finally opens to reveal an empty room, with a window showing the streets outside. As the glass chamber slowly rises, you have to make sure you don’t turn around to see the outside world. No, you weren't afraid of heights, but the prospect of falling was certainly one you didn't want to deal with.
Another ding later and you exit the elevator, not unwillingly. It doesn't take you long to find the musical mares’ residence, theirs was the only door that was shaking off it’s hinges due to the loud amounts of bass and drums, (not to be confused with drum’n’bass, as you've learned).
You lift a hoof to the door and strike it with all your strength.
“VINYL! OPEN THE DOOR!”
You felt awful that you had to shout, probably disturbing the other residence, but then again, the residence are likely already used to this. The door opens, and it is still a strange experience to feel the vibrations through the handle without hearing the music, the light red barrier separating you from the ridiculous volumes of the music inside. Bracing your ears, you slowly walk into the room.
And then it hits you.
The second your ears enter the sound-barrier, the electronic noise hits your ears like a sack of bricks.
“WILL YOU TURN THAT INSANE NOISE DOWN!!!!!!!!!!”
The music slowly fades into nothingness, leaving your ears ringing from the massive contrast in sound from just a few seconds ago. Opening your eyes, you see the DJ herself standing in front of the over-sized speakers, a smug smirk upon her muzzle.
“Wipe that look off your face! I probably just lost 20 decibels of hearing because of you.”
“I don’t know if that’s how sound, or science in general, works” the white unicorn retorts.
You sigh. “Fine then. You didn't just call me over to destroy my eardrums, I hope.”
“Oh no, I need your help with the ‘Synthetic Orchestra’, think you’re up for it?”
“Forgive me, but isn't electronic music more your thing, not mine?”
“Yeah, that’s true. But what isn't ‘my thing’ is fancy piano playing, and trust me, digital sequencers can only go so far.”
You eye her skeptically, “So…if you don’t like Classical music, why exactly are you writing a symphony?”
“I- well- you know, I just sort of, thought it would be cool,” she stutters out. You can’t tell if your eyes are betraying you, but you think you see a pink tint start to form on her muzzle. Your eyes widen in surprise, if only for a second, before your mouth curves up in a smirk.
“Are you suuure? There isn't something -some…pony- that inspired this?”
You couldn't see her eyes from behind her purple shades, but you could imagine she was avoiding contact with you.
“W-w-what? Nah, ‘course not?”
“It just so happens that you’re trying to mix classical and electronic music? The two being bound together in an intimate embrace of old and new, just like…lovers~” you let the word drift out, just to tease Vinyl as much as possible. The white mare gulped, she her blush was way more evident.
“N-n-nope, no r-r-reason,” she was stammering uncontrollably, a way-too-wide smile painted on her face.
“Well, then, you turn toward the door, slowly starting to move toward it, ¨I'm sorry Miss Scratch, but I'm afraid I have better things to do than aid a DJ with a project just cause it 'sounds cool', so if you'll excuse me-
“No! Wait!” the DJ shouts desperately.
You turn around to look at her, a deep red blush is spread across her muzzle and she’s looking down at her hooves.
“Fine,” she says in defeat, “You win, okay? I was making this song for ‘Tavi...”
“Because?” you ask, knowing the answer yourself already, but you needed her to say it.
“Because I love her, alright?!” Vinyl yelled back defensively.
You couldn't help but laugh, Vinyl’s confession was certainly more violent than Octavia’s, the contrast between the two mare’s fitting their personalities perfectly, the absurdity of it all was simply overwhelming.
“Hey! Don’t laugh at me!” Vinyl glares at you through her glasses, “You know how hard that was?”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about…well, that’s not important.” you say, waving a dismissive hoof “Good for you for trying to write this song, but wouldn't it be easier to just, you know, tell her?”
“I can’t tell her…” Vinyl admits sadly.
“Why not? You have so much confidence in everything else you do.”
“This is different,” Vinyl says, “I mean, what if I blubber on like an Idiot for an hour, just to have her reject me instantly.”
“I don’t think she’ll reject you…” you don’t want to just come out and tell Vinyl, that was Octavia’s business, but it hurt you to see the DJ so sad.
“What if she’s not into mares?”
“She is,” you reassure, “she’s told me she likes mares.” It wasn't really a lie, she did say she liked a mare.
“Really!?” Vinyl’s eyes lit up behind her glasses, a hopeful grin spread wide across her muzzle.
“Really,” you assure her, “Now, this song?”
“Right! Well, I’ve found one of Octavia’s favorite orchestral pieces, I figured that I would perform it with a bunch of different synths instead of wind and brass.”
“I don’t mean to criticize your ‘please-be-my-marefriend’ present,” you interrupt, “But, That kinda sounds like you’re just taking over classical music with electronic, not quite a combination.”
“That’s where you come in,” Vinyl pointed a hoof at you, “To keep this thing symphonic, I’m going to keep all the strings and percussion the same. I can handle sequencing the strings and drums, but I need you to play the different keys and figure out the mallets and other percussion.”
“That…actually sounds pretty cool,” you say, starting to get excited about the one project of Vinyl’s that you actually found interesting…or feasible. “So, where should I set this up?” You tap the case on your back.
“Follow me!” She cheers.
Following the alabaster mare to the back of the apartment, she leads you to a simple white door with a gold plaque that claimed: THE LAB.
Oh, dear. This oughta be good.
“Pardon the mess if you will,” Vinyl warns before lighting the doorknob with a red aura and swinging the door open.
“...Whoa!” Your eyes grow as wide as dinner plates.
The place was HUGE! The walls were all covered in sound panels to reduce eco, at the back of the room stood a large white desk, on top of which laid a plethora of electronic instruments. Synthesizers, samplers, drum pads, turntables, laptops, and even an electric cello (you reeally hope Octavia doesn’t know that thing exists).
“Um…Vinyl?” You ask, your eyes still glued to the enormous studio, “How big is this apartment?”
“Pfft, you kiddin’ me? It’s nowhere near the size of this studio.”
“Then…how does it…fit?” You ask, not entirely sure how to phrase the question. Not entirely sure if it’s even the question you want to ask.
“Magic.” She says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Sigh. Unicorns…
Following her back to the desk, she points to sleek, white laptop in the middle of the desk.
“Here.” She says, tossing you a thick black cord.
Opening your case, you pull out the one instrument you used the least (well actually, that award probably went to the saxophone in the closet you bought at a yard sale in Coltcinatti that you never even bothered to buy reeds for). Pulling out the pristine, silver keyboard, you place it on the simple black stand and plug the cord into the socket in back. Lifting your hooves to the plastic keys you warm up with a few simple scales and arpeggios.
“You ready for this?” Vinyl asks with a wide smile.
“Sure! You have any sheet music?”
“…what’s sheet music?”
It’s days like this that you are unbelievably grateful that you have wings. Your forehooves absolutely ache! Despite how you acted toward Vinyl, you really were delighted to help her with her song, especially if it’s what she is going to use to try and convince Octavia to be her marefriend, but even so…
“Uuggh…my hooves,” You grown aloud.
Vinyl had truly put you to your limit with how much she wanted you to play. It needed to be perfect for her ‘Tavi. Ah well, hopefully it’ll all go over well.
Flying over Manehatten at a relaxed pace, only bothering to move every time a skyscraper nearly halted your journey. Nearing your house you notice a large black van with a gold shield with the letters EPS emblazoned on it.
Is that-? Could it be?
Suddenly accelerating quickly, you dart toward the van, noticing a brown-uniformed pony wheeling a dolly with a large cardboard box out of the the van. Striking the ground with immense speed, your hooves decide to remind you about the immense agony that they were in, a jolt of pain all throughout your body, causing you to fall over onto the ground.
“Um…are you okay?” A bubbly, feminine voice asks from above you.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You reassure as you quickly scramble to your hooves, “If you don’t mind me asking, what appartment is this package going to?”
The deliver-pony, a grey mare with long blonde hair and golden eyes, responds with a cheerful…cheer of “Special Delivery to room AB85!”
Your eyes light up, “Oh, that’s me! This is my package!”
The grey mare pulls a clipboard out from behind her, “Sign please.” She says, through the clipboard still in her teeth.
Lifting the pen with your hoof, you scribble your signature across the bottom of the clipboard. The mare nods and places the clipboard back to wherever she had pulled it out from.
“Alright, I’ll just carry it up there for you!”
Wrapping her hooves around the large package she attempts to fly up to your flat’s window. Immediately after leaving the ground, she begins to wobble back and forth under the weight of the box, and you can’t help but notice that her eyes aren’t lining up quite right.
“NONONONO, PLEASE NO!” You cry out worriedly, holding your own hooves against the package, (damn this thing is heavy, what kind of strength does that mare have). “Ju-just set the box down.”
She does as you instruct and carefully lays the package on the ground.
“Well, if I can’t lift it, how can I get it into your house?” She asks, her eyes apparently trying to look at each other.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a unicorn with you do you?” you ask.
“Sure thing,” she smiles, “Hey, Stamp, come on out!”
Out of the van comes a yellow stallion with dusty-gray hair steps out of the van. Seeing the size of your package and the look of panic on your face, he doesn’t even need to ask.
“Leave this one to me Derpy,” he says, lighting up his horn with a tanish aura. The box starts to glow the same color and then suddenly winks out of existence, assumedly into your room.
“Have a good day!” Stamp calls, hopping back into his delivery van.
Derpy (wobbly) flies over to the other side of the van. You hear her ask a very simple and terriffying question:
“Hey Stamp, can I drive?”
“Sorry, Derpy," the unicorn laughs, "not today.”
Recovering from your miniature heart-attack, you quickly run up the stairs to your front door, scrambling to fit the key into your door. Bursting through the front door, you immediately slam into the box.
Ow.
Shaking off the pain, you stare amazed at the beige prism of joy in front of you.
“It’s here,” you whisper to yourself, “It’s finally here!”
You open the box, slowly and carefully. Revealing the polished wooden legs, the velvet-cushioned seat, the sleek, black-and-white keys set in two rows.
It was perfect.
You raised a hoof to the keys, playing a single note, a simple middle-C.
A shiver runs down your spine as the plucky note emanates from the instrument. It was already tuned.
It was your newest instrument, it was perfect.
The harpsichord.
Lifting both hooves to the keys you play out a quick melody. It was incredible, the sharp, eerie sound of the instrument giving chills from your neck to the base of your tail, even travelling up your wings.
“This. is. AMAZING!!!!"
You happily strutted through the corridors. Today had been amazing.
No work: check!
Creating a combination of two genres to help your friends fall in love with each other: Check!
Finally receiving the instrument you waited your whole life to play after so many months of waiting: Check!
Finish it with a casual sewing session with the cutest mare in Manehattan:
You approach the door to Coco’s office.
On it’s way!
You open the door with a wide grin on your muzzle.
“Hello Coco!” You greet cheerily.
You hear a groan from the corner of the room “Uuugh…not so loud, please.”
You open your eyes to find the mare across from you sitting down on her haunches rubbing her head with a hoof.
“Oh, gosh,” you say, much quieter and with concern in your voice, “Are you okay, Coco?”
She looks up at you with a pained smile, “I’m fine, really. It’s just a bit of a- *cough cough*- of a headache.”
“It sounds like more than that,” you say worriedly.
“No it’s fine, really,” she tries to convince you, and probably herself as well.
You trot up closer to her, looking into her eyes, “Are you sure?”
“Y-yes, I’m sure,” she says, averting your eyes. You notice her cheeks starting to flush.
“You look pretty red.” You say, trying to convince her of her own illness.
“Oh, well, I- *cough*- I’m sure it’s nothing”
Her coughs are kinda cute.
…
…just gonna...push that thought to the back of your mind.
You reach a hoof up to her forehead, immediately pulling back. She was positively burning!
“Coco, you’re absolutely burning!” See.
“Really, I’m fine.”
“No, Coco you’re not,” you state firmly, “And you’re also not in condition to be working, you need to go home.”
“…okay,” she quietly gives in.
She attempts to stand on all four hooves, starts swaying and then falls back on her rump.
“I…I can’t…” she was talking quietly, as if she couldn’t form her thoughts into words.
You reach out a hoof to help her get onto her hooves again, when she started to sway, you leaned up against her, supporting her weight with your body.
“Ready to go?” You ask.
Her only response is to nod her head.
Slowly and steadily the two of you walk toward the door of the office, through the halls, out of the theatre.
When you exited the building a swift gust of wind blew past the two of you, causing Coco to shiver.
“C-c-… cold,” she mumbles.
You look down at her. A solution coming to your mind, but it might too much. What if she gets the wrong idea (or, you know, the right idea, whatever). She shivers again. Ah, to hell with it. You open your wing and wrap it around her, pulling her closer to your body, trying to provide more heat.
You can’t speak for Coco, but it certainly helped you. Your cheeks start to burn in embarrassment, grateful that the designer couldn’t see your face, and the bright red blush spread across your muzzle.
“Coco, where’s your place?” you ask.
“It’s…is…over…” she trails off, still unable to speak very well.
You rub the back of her head with a hoof, shushing her like a foal, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to push yourself, I’ll take you to my flat.”
You can’t quite understand what she says in response, but it sounds like a protest.
“Coco, we’re going to my flat, that’s that.”
She stands still for a brief moment, then nods.
By the time you reach your flat, you’re carrying Coco on your back, her hooves giving out about a block and a half ago, walking into the bedroom, you lay her down on the large, Princess-sized bed, laying the covers over her.
“Do you need anything?” you ask the sick mare.
“W…water…”
You nod. “Right away.”
You trot back into the kitchen and fix the mare a glass of water, making sure to add plenty of Ice.
Carrying the glass back to the bedroom, you place it down on the table next to the bed.
Coco’s eyes are closed, but her breathing tells you she’s still awake, if only just.
You think about how adorable she looks, her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open, her mane messy, and a single strand laying over her face. You think about how nice it would be, to take her into your embrace, lean down on top of her, move your muzzle toward hers and press your lips against her-
Whoa Whoa Whoa! Calm down there Florence Nightingale. What kind of pony would you be if you took advantage of her state. She can’t even move, be respectful, sheesh.
You walk back to your couch and lay yourself down. Gazing over at a nearby clock, you notice the time. It’s only seven. You were still tired. You pull the blanket on top of yourself and lay your head on the pillow.
Until tomorrow.
...
Coco’s sleeping in your bed~
Oh, give it a rest, would you…?
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Oh no, sick Coco!
And the run-around with Vinyl, Octavia, and their feelings is funny. Hope to see more soon!
I likte the story so far and i give it a favourite. Coco is probably one of my Top 3 Ponys. Somehow i want her to confess her love to him first. I think it would be cute if she stutter a bit. Coco and Fluttershy are probably that Cute because they are so shy. Well Coco get bullied in the show so i think that make me sympathize with her.
Finaly! A pony-fied name for Cincinnati!
You don't know how long I've been looking for this.