15. A Return to Rock (rw)
“There you go. One week’s worth of rent.” I pass the bulging bag of bits over to Vinyl, rendering my total number of bits back down to zero. Not for the first time, I find myself bitter, yet wholly grateful that I don’t have much of a need for bits at the moment, otherwise this moment would feel much more painful.
“Sweet! That takes care of that.” Vinyl accepts the bag and slides it in a cupboard beneath the coffee table. She immediately turns her gaze to the guitar case resting against the wall just behind me, hardly bothering to hide her interest. “So…I see you went and bought yourself a guitar. I guess all that talk about being a musician wasn’t just talk, then.”
“You doubted me?” I question with a raised brow. “If so, why did you hire me?”
“Relax, I’m only joking. I knew you were short on cash.” Vinyl briefly gives me a wry look. “Back when we first met, you said you play the piano. You play guitar too?”
“I tried a bunch of different instruments to pass the time growing up.” At Vinyl’s behest, the two of us move back to the couch with the guitar in tow. “Brass and woodwind instruments never really clicked with me, but I found an affinity for stringed instruments, like piano and guitar.”
“That’s pretty cool. I’m actually a little jealous; I can sing I guess, but I’m all about that electric sound, so instruments are a no go for me.” Vinyl motions over her shoulder, though I can’t tell what she’s trying to indicate. “You gonna try her out? I’ve got a soundproofed room in the back if you want to use it.”
“That depends, are you going to be watching?” I reply, not too crazy about the idea of having an audience before I’ve even had a chance to clear the rust out of my skills.
“What, you get stage jitters?” Vinyl takes the chance to tease me, a grin crossing her muzzle. I roll my eyes, earning a chuckle from her. “Nah, you can have the room to yourself if you want. I want to hear you eventually though.”
“First I’m going to see how rusty I’ve become.” I reply. “Do you care if I use the room now?”
“Nah, go ahead. I figure you’d want to try her out the second you had a chance,” Vinyl accurately states. “Come on, I’ll show you where it is.”
I grab my guitar, and then Vinyl takes down the first floor hallway to a large room that has been thoroughly converted into a production level studio. The walls are covered with soundproofing material, and all of Vinyl’s equipment—consisting of her turntables, speakers, and lighting equipment—is all set up in the back ready to go.
“Vinyl,” I say, a stray thought coming to me. “If I’m using your music room, what are you doing for the rest of the evening?”
“Hay if I know. Maybe read some magazines or chill to some tunes in my room. Probably both.” Vinyl shrugs. “Why, what’s up?”
“Nothing. Forget I asked.” It feels odd that she’s giving up this room so easily when I’m pretty sure she lives in here when I’m not around. “I’ll see you later then.”
“For sure.” With that, Vinyl leaves me to my own devices in the music room, closing the door behind her.
This would mark the first time I’ve been in a fully soundproofed room. It’s an odd sensation; I can hear every little movement that I make, yet at the same time, it all seems quiet. I clear my throat, finding that even my voice sounds weird without the echo. In spite of the surreal experience, I find myself excited to hear how the guitar will sound in such an environment. It’s no secret that the best quality recordings were done in similar rooms to this.
I remove the guitar from its case, revealing one not unlike Applejack’s, except this one is brand new with a rich, glossy, wooden finish. Rolling over the chair from Vinyl’s tables, I sit down and rest the guitar on my lap. One by one, I go through each of the strings, using my new tuner to ensure each string is properly in key.
Clutching the pick loosely between my thumb and index fingers, I sigh. It feels like a lifetime has passed since last I’ve played. My fingers trace the patterns of familiar chords once again, and I start to play.
At first I keep it simple, switching between the standard chords typically used in classic rock tunes just to see if I can remember finger placement. Ultimately, it’s very much like riding a bike; it doesn’t take long before the muscle memory kicks in.
A feeling of satisfaction comes over me as I run through the notes to a rock song I remember, my head lightly bobbing up and down to the beat. My fingers slip every now and then, but that’s only to be expected. The fact that I can do this much, along with the crystal clear sound coming from the guitar, is more than enough to sate me.
“You’re still going?” Vinyl whistles as she finds me the following morning still in the soundproofed room, guitar clutched firmly in my hands. “That’s some dedication. Did you even go to bed last night?”
“I didn’t stay up all night, if that’s what you’re asking.” I take my strumming hand away from the strings and turn to face her, a little peeved that I’ve been interrupted. “I went to bed not long after you did, and then woke up earlier than usual.”
“Waking up early when you don’t have to? Sounds rough,” Vinyl jokes. She motions back towards the door. “Anyway, there’s food on the counter. Come get it while it’s still hot, then we’ll talk.”
Wondering what she means by that, I follow behind her to the breakfast table, where a steaming plate of eggs and toast rested on either side of the table, along with a folded up newspaper.
“So how’d the session go? Still rusty?” Vinyl asks as she sits down at the table, her horn already lifting up the newspaper and unfolding it on the table beside her.
“A little bit, but it’s all coming back quickly enough.” I sit down as well and reach for the plate, already starting to dig in. “Is it really that interesting to you?”
“Yeah, duh. I’m a musician,” Vinyl reminds me of the obvious, tapping a hoof to her muzzle. “Not to mention, it’s cool to see you doing something other than working and sleeping. I was wondering how you hadn’t gotten burnt out or bored out of your mind.”
“I...haven’t had the time nor presence of mind.” Vinyl’s words hit me harder than I expect. I really haven’t taken any time to relax at all since arriving in Equestria; it’s just been wake up, eat, work at Applejack’s, work with Vinyl, do other chores that need to be done, eat, and sleep. I notice Vinyl starting to look sympathetic. “Besides, how could I possibly be bored, considering every time I turn my back, another one of you ponies is sidling up to me, acting kind and getting offended?”
“Ouch. Harsh,” Vinyl remarks, turning the page of her newspaper. “Though that actually reminds me; since when did you and Dash start getting along?”
“Oh for god’s sake,” I immediately say, rubbing my forehead in annoyance at the thought of that insufferable mare. “I wouldn’t call it that. Somehow she went from hating me to never leaving me alone. I personally think it doesn’t make any sense.”
“I did hear that she’s been hanging around you. Not to mention you two apparently tussled. So did you like, fight out your differences? Because I could totally see that with her,” Vinyl pressed curiously. “Come oon, gimme the deets.”
“More or less. Though my opinion of her hasn’t much changed. She’s still the same childish egotist who doesn’t know when to quit. I don’t know what’s her angle, but whatever it is, it’s not happening.” I grow more and more uncomfortable as Vinyl insists. “What’s it matter to you anyway?”
“Hey, I’m just asking. She’s a friend and it’s a small town.” Vinyl shrugs, sipping her coffee. “I wouldn’t worry about her trying to get anything out of you. She’s more likely to prank you than anything else.”
“Prank me? Are you serious? Is she a actually a child?” I repeat disbelievingly.
“Nope, she’s as old as me!” Vinyl affirms with a grin. “So what, you’ve never pulled off a good prank before?”
“Why would I? It’s ridiculous, and no self-respecting individual would ever stoop to such a level just for the sake of a few cheap laughs.” I express, recalling the sort of nonsense people used to pull in high school. “Does she have nothing better to do?”
“Whoa, dude. I think you should chill for a moment,” Vinyl says while furrowing her eyebrows. “There’s nothing wrong with a little practical joke here and there.”
“There is when it’s at the expense of someone else.” I counter, not convinced. “How is finding humor in the misery of other people a good thing? If anything, it shows how awful a person you are.”
“Hold on, what? Are we even talking about the same thing?” Vinyl laid down the newspaper, looking confused. “Who’s humiliating who? What kind of pranks have you seen, dude?”
“Well…” Memories of my early public school life come to mind; where I first started to realize that the world wasn’t as kind as my family led me to believe. “Tripping someone with fishing wire, locking someone into the girl’s bathroom at school and then getting a teacher, sending messages to someone pretending to be someone else. Those were the most popular ones,” I say as I tick off each prank with my fingers.
“Uh…” Vinyl’s eyes widen as she listens to me, a firm look of disgust forming on her face. “Yeah, that’s not what a prank is. That’s just being a jerk. There’s a big difference between the two. Pranks are supposed to be fun for everypony involved, not hurtful.”
“Either way, it doesn’t seem like something a grown adult should be doing.” I relent with a hint of bad grace. I’m not willing to change my opinion, regardless of how surprisingly noble her words sound.
“You know, sometimes it’s okay to let down your mane and have a little fun, even if it means acting a little like a foal.” Vinyl admonishes me. I don’t answer, focusing on eating the food in front of me. She sighs, but ultimately turns back to her newspaper rather than argue with me further. A long silence ensues between us as Vinyl scans the pages, and I finish up my meal. When Vinyl finally says something, it’s in reaction to something she reads in the paper. “Uh oh.”
“What?” I ask before I can stop myself. Vinyl turns around the paper to show me a rather indistinct picture of what appears to be the Everfree Forest...and there’s something large hidden within the trees. I can barely make it out, but there’s no doubt that it’s a predator of some sort due to the large pincers I can see. “What in the name of all that is holy is that!?”
“Another reason to stay away from the Everfree Forest. Apparently we needed one more.” Vinyl brings the newspaper back to keep reading. “Looks like the Scorpio is active again. Yeesh, that’s just as bad as an Ursa Major.”
“I’m confused. Those are constellations. What do those have anything to do with monsters in the Everfree?”
“Oh, there are also monsters that go by the same names. Supposedly they share an affinity or whatever with those constellations,” Vinyl attempts to explain, though it only makes me more confused. “...This isn’t making any sense to you, is it?”
“Not one bit. Stars are hundreds of light years away from us; how could any monster possess any kind of affinity with them?” I remind her.
Vinyl shrugs helplessly. “Magic?”
“You’ve got to give me something more than that.” This isn’t the first time the answer to my questions has been magic. I’m getting really tired of hearing that as an acceptable explanation.
“I dunno, dude, I’m just a DJ. Twilight might tell you, though. She knows pretty much everything,” Vinyl remarks. “I just know the basics; they’re real tough, mean and I should stay far away from them. The Ursa Major I know at least doesn’t really leave its cave, but the Scorpio wakes up every so often and starts terrorizing the forest. I hear ponies have been going missing in that forest for centuries.”
“Well that’s just great. Not ominous at all.” I shudder at the thought that I could have run into such a monstrosity during my time in the forest. For better or worse, I was exceedingly lucky.
“No kidding. Do yourself a favor and stay away from the forest, yeah? At least until that thing goes back to sleep.”
“Trust me, there is no force on this planet that could get me to go back to that forest.” With that, I finish my meal and stand up from the table. “Thanks for the meal. I’m going to head to the shower then back to the music room.”
“Sounds good to me. Might join you in a bit.” Vinyl calls after me as I go. Hearing that only causes me to sigh.
Sure enough, Vinyl pokes her head into the music room not long after I get back to practicing. I do my best to keep playing, but before long, she slips entirely inside the room and closes the door behind her. I stop playing and turn to face her.
“Can I help you?” I ask impatiently.
“Aw, why’d you stop?” Vinyl expresses with clear disappointment. “You’re not bad at all! I even had a little tune running in my head with those chords.”
“I’m grateful for the room, but I prefer to practice without an audience.” I say with a shrug, lowering the guitar and placing it flat on my lap.
“Come on, don’t be like that. I just want to hear what kinds of songs you play. Country, rock, blues…? This mare is all kinds of curious!” Vinyl as she moves towards the corner of the room, close to where her turntables are. She puts on an awkward grin when she sees my unchanging expression. “Really, I’ll be good. Not a sound from me.” Her grin starts crumbling under my deadpan gaze. “Just a few minutes?”
I glare at her, annoyed at her persistence. Despite her reassurances, I don’t want her in the room while I play. But at the same time, it doesn’t seem smart for me to argue too much with her when it’s by her leave that I can even play in this room in the first place. I grit my teeth, resenting the fact that I took her offer; it feels like I unintentionally let her do me a favor. This resentment turns to resignation when I realize that if I hadn’t agreed to use this room, Vinyl would have heard my playing through the walls anyway. This alone causes me to calm down.
“A few minutes only. Then I’m going to ask you again to leave me to my practice.” I relent before turning my gaze back to my guitar, ignoring Vinyl’s happy confirmation. I move the pick to the strings...and realize I don’t know what to play. Before, I was just running through simple songs I knew to pick up the groove.
Out of the many guitar songs I remember, I’ve only mastered the solos of a scant few of them. Before I realize what I’m doing, I opt for the song that never failed to perk me up. It was a song that Amaryllis and I used to enjoy during those hours long trips in the car.
At first, it’s nothing more than a singular chord that I repeatedly play. I play that for a solid few seconds until I have the beat running in my head. Then, I start to run through the opening riffs of the song. Typically, these riffs were combined with the base chord, involving two separate guitarists.
As the song turns into four separate chords to build up to the first verse, I realize that maybe starting off with one of the more difficult songs wasn’t the most sensible idea. It’s coming back to me easily enough, but it would have been much safer to start out with something simple. So why did I pick this one? What was I trying to prove?
Vinyl listens intently as the song goes on, her head bobbing up and down in rhythm to the beat. When I reach the solo and my muscle memory kicks in, the shades slide down her nose as her eyes widen in surprise and admiration. A grin slowly crosses her muzzle as she moves over to her turntables.
So intent am I on not screwing up the solo that I don’t notice what she’s doing. In fact, I’m several measures into the final chorus when I realize that the beat in my head isn’t just in my head anymore. I blink up in surprise; a distinct electronic drum beat courses through the room, courtesy of the speakers set up around Vinyl’s turntables.
My first thought is to yell at her, my playing faltering in the wake of my surprise. Yet, I realize that the beat she’s putting out fits with the song I’m playing rather well. I decide to wait until the end of the song before I confront her about it.
“What did we say about not making a sound?” I demand of her, lowering my hand from the strings once again.
“Hey, I technically didn’t...it was my tables,” Vinyl has the presence of mind to look sheepish at my confrontation. I shake my head in disbelief. “Hay with that, though. You’re baller, dude! After hearing you do that solo, I had to join in. You needed a beat!”
“Vinyl, you should have given me some warning. I’ve never played with someone else before,” I tell her, my voice remaining calm. I’m not as angry as I feel I should be; despite her intruding on my practice in the first place, it didn’t feel bad to have a backing beat.
“Sorry, it was a spur of the moment thing. But really, you’ve always been solo? I can’t believe it, not with that skill.” Vinyl swiftly brings the topic back to me, her apology lasting no more than instant.
“I’ve always found practicing on my own to be good enough,” I reply. Yet I know that’s not entirely true. My mood darkens as I remember the one person whom I eventually wanted to show my playing. “Are you satisfied now?”
“Yeah, but I gotta see that again. Want to play through that again with me all the way through? I think I’ve got an idea how to play along. There’s like five chords, right?” Vinyl’s excitement seems only to be ramping up. “Dear Celestia, imagine how that would sound if it were a bit heavier…”
“Vinyl, are you even listening to me?” She either doesn’t hear me or chooses to blatantly ignore me, her eyes lighting up as an idea comes to her. Yet, due to the conflict I’m feeling between wanting solitude and having a backing beat, my words come quieter than usual.
“Stay right there! I’ve got an idea!” Vinyl zips out of the studio for a moment, and seconds later I can hear her ruffling through the mess that is her living room. Eventually she returns with the very same black electric guitar that I’d seen her with the night I moved in. She passes it over to me, the guitar held firmly in her telekinesis. “Here, use this!”
“What? That’s your guitar; I’m not going to touch it,”I protest, as much as the beautiful instrument hanging before me appeals to me.
“Hah, it’s actually not. It belongs to my old roommate back at uni. A real rocker mare, that one,” Vinyl reveals with a chuckle. “I’ve been planning to go see her and give it back eventually, but she’s since moved on to a better magic guitar. She won’t mind if you use this.”
“Magic guitar. So I’m guessing it works with magic…” I deduce dryly. Sure enough, I spot a crystalline orb set in the base of the guitar, the interior swirling with magic. I set my acoustic down gently on the floor. I also set my rifle down, as I can’t wear a strap without it getting in the way. I then accept the guitar from Vinyl, feeling its satisfying weight with a hint of excitement welling up inside of me. I pluck one of the strings, but it sounds just the same as any other unplugged guitar. “How do you make it work?”
“Easy! Just flip that switch at the bottom there...and…” Vinyl instructs me. I easily find the switch she’s talking about and flip it. When I next pluck the string, the easily recognizable sound of a distorted electric guitar rings out, sounding like pure joy to my ears.There’s a sound long and dear to my heart. “There we go! How’s that for metal?”
“Oh man...” Is my simple response. Vinyl beams at my reaction. As much as I’d rather have her out of the room, the chance to play on an instrument like this overpowers all my reservations. I can’t wait any longer; I stand up from the stool and strum the first chord on the guitar, filling the room with the satisfying sound of distortion. Then, I run through a simple set of scales to familiarize myself with the guitar’s sound.
Without any further warning, I start to play the song again, playing the first chord repeatedly in a steady rhythm. Vinyl doesn’t waste any time in joining in, her electronic beat meshing surprisingly well with the guitar. This run through of the song quickly turns into experimentation as Vinyl and I occasionally trade off parts of the song to get a better idea of how best to work off each other.
“I’ll take the four chords, you take the rhythm—at least until the chorus hits,” Vinyl reasons during a pause in the song. “Then the solo’s all yours.”
I nod, and we once again start the song, and this time the song feels just like it should. With her taking the rhythm at the beginning, I can focus on leading in the song with various guitar riffs that lead up to the four chords. When we reach that point, we switch, and I return to the rhythm, and she takes control.
My stress and worries seem to fade away in the wake of the music filling my ears. With my eyes fixed on the fretboard and my focus entirely on hitting the notes, there’s no room to think about my nebulous state of mind. It’s just me, the beat, and the music. At one point, I even start to hum the vocal line, though it’s easily drowned out by our combined sound.
“Yeah, let’s turn it up!” Vinyl is equally excited, her telekinesis turning up both the volume on her tables and my guitar simultaneously. We grow so loud that it feels like I have front row seats at a rock concert, but that only seems to add to the experience. “Whooo!”
After the chorus, I shoot right into the solo, doing better than before now that I remember what notes to strum and when to bend each string. My bends could still use some work, but for the most part I’m able to run through it with a great deal of effort. I remember always feeling jealous of those guitarists who could make solos look so easy.
We hit the final chorus at near max volume. The original studio recording of the song ends in a fade out, so when it comes time to end the song, I try to just end after the last chorus, but in the vacuum, Vinyl surprises me with a drum solo, and when she finishes, it only feels right to strum the last chord once more.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Vinyl cheers, the mare leaping clear over her tables to come talk with me. I flip the switch to turn off the distortion on the guitar, and I hand it back to her with some reluctance. Vinyl catches the guitar with her magic, and bumps my leg with her hoof. “That was a rockin’ good time! I could see myself jamming with you live, if you got talent like that!”
“I suppose it wasn’t awful,” is my seemingly uncaring response, but if I’m honest with myself, that was probably the most fun I’ve had since coming to this era...and probably the most fun I’ve had playing music in my entire life. I feel like I’ve gone over the moon and back.
“That’s an understatement. What song was that anyway?” Vinyl questions curiously. She places the guitar gently on the ground beside mine. “I’ve never heard a style like that before.”
“It’s a human song. It’s essentially all about turning up the music to get away from the day’s work,” I reveal to her, feeling somewhat wistful. My thoughts turn to my phone, where the song in question is present, but I’m unable to play it for fear of wasting what little battery I have left.
“Hah, I can get behind that. Though I guess music is my day’s work…” Vinyl brushes at her chin, thinking for a brief moment before shrugging. “Eh, whatever. Still, it sounds killer. Would you do it live with me sometime?”
“That would be a bad idea. My reputation in town isn’t the best, in case you forgot,” I point out, recalling just how many ponies think poorly of me. Granted, that was intentional and entirely my own doing, but it is what it is. “I can’t imagine my presence doing you any favors.”
“Eh, you’re thinking too hard about it. Ponies come to my shows to party, not to ask questions about who or what I’m playing with,” Vinyl waves my concern away, much to my annoyance.
“Clearly you don’t understand how people work, then. People are judgmental and are drawing conclusions about performers and their performances from the moment they walk out on stage. They can look like they’re having fun, but could be entirely dissatisfied.”
“Now you’re really thinking too hard about it.” Vinyl eyes me with disapproval. “Besides, you’ve only been to a few of my gigs. You’re saying you know what ponies think even when you don’t join in or talk to them?”
“I…” I pause, realizing that Vinyl has effectively driven me into a corner. To prove my point, I’d have to talk about my own race, and I’d rather not do that, else I risk my mood plummeting from my own cynicism. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m not ready to perform live anyway. It’s too soon.”
“That’s fair.” Vinyl eyes me a little longer, looking as though she wants to continue that discussion. She thankfully chooses not to do so. “Think about it, alright? It’s not the first time I’ve taken a guest star for a few performances.”
I don’t answer.
After an hour or so more of practicing on my acoustic, I decide to take a break and get some fresh air. I leave the house and enter the streets, figuring that a walk around the perimeter of town may do me some good. Remembering what I’d heard about the Scorpio, I keep my wanderings to the north side of Ponyville,
During my walk, I notice that I can see a great deal more guards than normal. They’re mostly earth ponies, equipped with silver armor and spears, who are stationed at seemingly every street corner. It seems the princesses finally got around to stationing extra guards here to watch me. To confirm this, I walk by one of them and notice that his eyes snap to me the moment I walk within view and follow me until I leave his sight.
As annoying as that is, what with the Scorpio prowling around, the extra protection could come in handy. That’s assuming they bother to protect me too, which is a bit too generous of an assumption to make.
I cast my gaze around the different shops and cafes as I walk. Sometimes if the identifying signs are clear enough I can reason what the business specializes in, but often my inability to read Equestrian gets in the way. This handicap is beginning to irritate me; reading is often what I did when I needed a break from music or games back in my era, and now that hobby is suddenly unavailable away me. It’s clear to me that I need to relearn how to read if I’m going to keep the boredom at bay.
As I pass by the schoolhouse, the idea of asking Cheerilee for help in that regard comes to mind; no doubt she’s used to teaching language at an elementary level. Yet such lessons would cost money that I don’t have at the moment. Ultimately, I file that idea away for later.
Before reaching Vinyl’s house again, I double back the way I came to make my walk last a little longer. It’s cold out, but not so cold that it renders my clothing ineffective. I’m more than comfortable enough to continue walking.
I arrive near Rarity’s Boutique after another fifteen minutes. Sadly, my walk hasn’t killed that much time at all. Perhaps I should catch up on lost sleep with a nap. Rather than walk near the boutique, I cut through the park nearby, thinking that it’ll be a quick and easy way back.
So far, though there are some ponies I’ve recognized, none of them required any sort of interaction on my part. Unfortunately, my good luck comes to an abrupt end when I reach the fountain clearing at the center of the park.
Lyra is sitting at the base of the fountain, her lyre hovering in the air just in front of her. She’s not alone either; just like the last time I interacted with her here, she has a small audience of ponies sitting on the benches near her
“Oh hey, Seth.” She spots me almost immediately, even as my spirits sink at the inevitable confrontation. She gives me a smile and a wave, almost as if she thinks that acting friendly will magically change the way I feel about her. “Can we talk for a moment?”
I turn to the other direction in stoic silence, having absolutely zero interest in hearing what she has to say. In my current state of mind, dealing with a pony with a ridiculous and disgusting interest in me is one of the last things I want. This time, however, avoiding her doesn’t seem like it’ll be so easy.
“Come on, it’ll only take a moment!” Lyra insists, the mare abandoning her audience in favor of following me. The clear tension in our interaction is enough to get the attention of the nearby ponies. “Please, I’m sorry about before!”
When I still don’t acknowledge her, Lyra’s expression turns from sorrow to desperation. Suddenly, my progress stops. I blink, finding myself completely unable to move. No matter how much I strain my muscles, my limbs won’t budge. The pressure in my chest makes itself known as well, as if reacting to the aura of golden magic that has engulfed me.
“What the…” Much like the last time I was frozen with magic, further struggling proves pointless. I start to panic, feeling like an animal trapped in a cage. My mind goes down a dark route; just how far is she willing to go in the name of pursuing me? “Lyra, let me go right now. Now, you hear me!?”
“I’m really sorry, but you just keep ignoring me. This is the only way I can make you listen!” Lyra weakly explains, her horn still glowing with magic. “Please, I just want to make things right!”
“Are we really going to do this here!?” I snap back at her, unable to turn my body to face her. I can hear the murmurs of the onlooking ponies, no doubt promising that word of this incident is going to spread all over town by tomorrow at the latest. “Take a look around, you moron; we’re hardly alone!”
“You’re right...I don’t want to do this in front of everypony. We’ll move elsewhere.” Lyra agrees, and then suddenly I’m moving through the air despite the fact that my body remains motionless. I’m aware that unicorns are capable of telekinesis, but I didn’t think they could move something as large as me.
“How about putting me down first!?” I demand, thoroughly unsettled. With this knowledge comes the realization that any unicorn can do whatever they want with me, whenever they want, regardless of my intentions. My mind goes bleak at the realization how helpless I am in front of magic. “Lyra!”
Lyra eventually puts me down in a shaded spot between the wall of a building and a small group of trees. She releases me from her magic, and my immediate first instinct is to put as much distance between myself and her as I can. I know she’ll only catch me in her magic again, so instead I direct a withering glare towards her.
“Lyra...give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call for the guard right now,” I tell her in a dangerously calm voice. With guards all over the streets, there’s no doubt that if I shout loud enough, I can get the attention of at least one of them. Lyra recoils at my tone of voice.
“C-Call the guard?” Lyra gulps at that, and then a look of incredulous disbelief crosses her face. “Seth, I’m only trying to apologize to you! I’m really sorry I had to bring you here with force, but you just wouldn’t give me a chance otherwise!”
“I don’t know how to make it clearer that I want nothing to do with you. At this point, all you’re doing is wasting both my time and yours.” My rejection is as cold as it could possibly be.
“Could you at least let me finish!” Lyra snaps, surprising me with how vehement she sounds. She sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that teasing you like that would make you never want to talk to me again. Please, can we just forget it ever happened, and go back to the way we were before?”
“You weren’t teasing; you were flirting, and you had been since you met me,” I correct her harshly, causing her to flinch and look embarrassed. “I have no interest in you in that way, and you’d be better off finding some other person to lust after.”
“Couldn’t you have just said that then? You’re acting like flirting is some kind of unforgivable crime!” Lyra accuses me. She notices my look of disgust, and then points at me accusingly. “There it is again! Do you think I wanted to jump your bones right then and there, or something?”
“Are you telling me that’s not the case?” I find it difficult to believe that anyone implying that their butt is nice to look at has anything other than lust on their mind.
“Obviously not! What kind of mare do you think I am? I was teasing!” Lyra appears offended by my question. “Okay, so maybe I was being a little flirtatious, but what’s wrong with that? I just wanted to see if there was any interest on your end...you know, like how flirting is supposed to work?”
“I can’t fathom why you’d pick me of all people.” Her words make me feel somewhat foolish; I don’t actually know how flirting is supposed to work, considering all I know of it is through rumors and the media. But I’m not about to admit that. “But I’m not attracted to ponies in the least. Nor do I have any interest in romance.”
“Well, then that’s that, I guess. But really, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you uncomfortable,” Lyra repeats, dipping her head. I gaze at her for a long time, mulling her words over in my head.
“Alright.” In the end, I just wanted her to stop. The idea of relations with a pony was and is still completely disgusting. But if she’s giving up, then I’ve no reason to keep being angry with her...apart from being forced into an alleyway. “As long as you remember that, I’ll overlook what happened the other day.”
“Thank goodness.” Lyra’s expression becomes radiant with happiness, and before I can stop her, she rears up on her hind legs and hugs me around the waist, her head resting on my stomach. “I’d thought I ruined our friendship just by being a little too forward.”
“Alright, get off,” I press down on top of her head, her sudden unwarranted affection making me uncomfortable. Not to mention, her words don’t sit well with me. Exactly how did we have a friendship in the first place, when all you did was force your company on me and tease me?
“Sorry.” Lyra hops down and gazes up at me with a smile. There’s a short awkward moment where neither of us knows what to say. “So...are you going to be at Vinyl’s gig tomorrow night?”
“It’s my job.” My typical answer to questions about Vinyl’s gig comes to my lips. I realize with a sigh that if Lyra is going to tomorrow’s gig, this confrontation was inevitable. I guess it’s better I dealt with it now rather than then.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then! Sorry again for dragging you out here.” With that, Lyra breaks away from me, leaving me once again in blissful solitude.
“What a pain in the ass these ponies are,” I say to myself with a heavy sigh, and then I resume walking back to Vinyl’s house, slipping deep into thought. Humans never gave me this much trouble, and were perfectly content to leave me well enough alone after a single encounter.
Then again, humans never saved my life either.
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Yea? Good writer.
It’s a good chapter, maybe you should delete some of the old ones.
This is really a surprise, I haven't checked this chapter until today, because I was busy to finish some work, but now I have the rest of the month free.
This chapter showed a lot of character development on Seth, even if he doesn't want to admit it out loud, he's enjoying on playing the music, and that's really good. The conversation between him and Vinyl was nice, and them playing together was great too. The Lyra's scene didn't looked that it had changes, it still looks like the original, except Seth is more composed in this rewitre, and it ended more peaceful.
And yeah, I'm a little surprised that you didn't put CMC in this chapter (CMC have an importance on Seth's character development, at least in the beggining and maybe in the middle of the story, it's been a while since I read the original). I hope that in the next chapter you bring the CMC so we can see how Seth behaves with them. I'm already imagining how it would look like.
Anyway, once again I'll wait for the next chapter, and have a good day.
The CMC having a prominent role is almost like a fake out. They really don't belong in a grisly undead war scenario.. I think it's funny that they're called magic guitars. Hm, now, is the magic responsible for it all, or is the magic responsible for making electricity? If it's the latter Seth could still call it an electric guitar, heh. Man, this less edgy explode-y version of Seth is like way more enjoyable.
Seth x Lyra the forbidden shipI got Jurassic park 3 flashbacks
I've always been terrified of the idea in stories, that unicorns can fully immobilize living beings. Like, how do you fight that? If they ever had the drop on you, your screwed unless you happen to have something that nullifies magic. Scary thoughts.
Glad to see Lyra, at the very least pretending to, back off now that he's made his position clear on the subject. The implications of what she could force through magic is disturbing to think of.
Luckily, ponies seem to be pretty well disposition against those kinds of thoughts. Most of them anyway.