Postclassical

by Horizon Runner

1st Movement: The Turning of the Age

Octavia woke to darkness. She lay there in a daze, wincing as a dull ache spiderwebbed through her skull. Her dream, despite her struggles, was already beginning to fade. Soon, it would be nothing but a faint imprint upon her unconscious mind. She recalled a little, still; images of light and color, beauty incarnate—and now, gone like wisps of morning fog under the sun.

She slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, letting the covers slide away from her body. She flexed her limbs and twitched her ears and tail, making sure they all still worked. Her mouth was dry, and so she wandered towards a bathroom. It was as she was splashing water into her face that she began to register something wrong through the throbbing in her skull, but it was only as she turned to get back into bed that she remembered exactly where she was and what was going on.

Vinyl Scratch was still asleep, sprawled out across the other side of the bed—on top of the covers, for Octavia's sake. At some point, she'd started snoring faintly—not enough to wake Octavia up, but definitely enough to keep her from falling back into sleep. Upon her flank was a small detail Octavia had missed before—two bridged eighth notes. What an odd coincidence, that her savior would turn out to be a musician as well.

Vinyl's snoring stopped for a moment, and her lips curled into a faint grin. She murmured softly in her sleep, in a hilariously overdone southern drawl, "You'n me pal... we gonna shoot the breeze or shoot each other, eh?" Then, she started snoring again. Octavia had to stifle a giggle.

Still, despite Vinyl being rather adorable while sleeping—in a completely non-romantic way—her snoring meant that Octavia was effectively done sleeping for the day, and the sun wasn't even up yet. Octavia rolled her eyes, and searched the apartment for a clock. It would be good to know the damage to her sleep schedule, at least.

Finding a clock in Vinyl Scratch's apartment was harder than one might imagine. Octavia found plenty of empty take-out containers, a couch that was indeed as rock-solid as Vinyl had claimed, a brand-new magic-powered television, and several costumes of increasingly bizarre design. Purple sequins and latex? Really?

But the most interesting and impressive objects in the apartment by far were a series of magitech devices.

They stretched across most of a wall, situated below the room's only window of any size—curtained up, at present. The setup consisted of a large soundboard, covered nose to tail in knobs, sliders, and buttons, with a tangled mess of cables connecting it to half a dozen microphones and several tape/record players. Next to all of this, a quintet of amps of varying size rested like standing stones in a rough circle. Beneath them was some kind of chalk diagram, marked off in scribbles that Octavia couldn't read. It raised a particularly interesting question about her impromptu roommate's line of employment, but it was the sort of question which could be asked over morning tea.

Finally, lo and behold, Octavia discovered a round wall-clock, half-buried beneath a pile of… disreputable magazines. She pulled it out and set it on the floor. The time it gave was about nine-twenty in the morning.

Octavia glanced at the curtains. Not a sliver of light shone through. She sighed, and rubbed her aching head with her hoof. The bloody clock was probably stopped—

Wait. Octavia squinted, and picked up the clock to better get a look at it in the dark. The second hand was moving.

Even if it wasn't stopped, all that meant was that Vinyl had set it wrong—or not. Turning the clock around revealed a sigil—a standard spellmaker's mark. This one was a round circle with two wavy lines emanating from it—meaning that this clock was powered by a two-spell talisman. One spell to spell to move the hands, one spell to bind them to the movements of the stars. Since those spells ran on the same gem, it was nigh-impossible to stop one without stopping the other.

Which meant that, in all likelihood, it was nine-thirty and the sun wasn't up.

Octavia had lived in Equestria long enough to know what that meant. She rushed over to Vinyl, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her violently. “Vinyl Scratch! Wake up!”

“Whazza? Wha? You fin'ly star'ed the game eh you bazzt—?” Vinyl's eyes popped open, then abruptly closed again. “Wha—Octa… Octavi… Octy? Hi. Good… morning? Or… night? What's up?”

“The sun!” Octavia hissed. “Please, Vinyl, tell me that the clock in your room is wrong.”

“Wha? You mean the... the one on the floor? Nah, dude, that's... that one... it's fine.” Vinyl's eyes suddenly snapped open. She'd no doubt started to piece things together herself. “Whoa. What... what's up?”

Octavia took a deep breath. “It is nine-thirty, and the sun isn't up.”

Vinyl's eyes slowly widened. “Oh. Shit.”

“Do you have a remote for that television? This might be on the news.”

Vinyl sprang out of bed and dove into a pile of Zebrican food cartons. She returned moments later with a remote held in her magic. She sat down on the bed, and flicked the remote's power control with a tiny shift in her telekinesis.

The TV blinked to life, revealing some stallion in a suit. “—No news yet from Canterlot in regards to the blackout, but we understand that the palace is on lockdown, and that news crews are unable to get inside. Princess Twilight Sparkle has apparently been called up from her castle in Ponyville, and Princess Cadance has arrived from the north. Given the speed with which they went inside, it seems like whatever's going on is very important.”

“Whoa, dude…” Vinyl shook her head. “That's not good. That has never been good.”

“They called Princess Twilight Sparkle and Princess Cadance?” Octavia breathed, her eyes wide. “That hasn't happened since the Tirek Crisis!”

“Do you know of anything that could stop Celestia from raising the sun? Like, currently?” Vinyl asked.

“No, not at all.” Octavia shook her head. “I mean, I wouldn't necessarily. I hadn't heard of Nightmare Moon or Discord before they appeared, but… something about this feels different.”

“Yeah? How do you figure.”

“Well, when something big happens that threatens Equestria, what's the first solution we turn to?”

“The Elements of Harmony?”

“Right, but they said only the Princess was summoned. That means that the Elements may still be… where do they live?”

“Ponyville. Small town, but pretty cool. Ever been there?”

“Ponyville? Yes, once. By accident, actually. I didn't stay long.”

“Well, it's not far from Canterlot, so it's possible they're just on their way.”

“Yes, I suppose, but they said that Twilight Sparkle was in a hurry, and she's the leader of the Element Bearers—”

“Breaking news,” the newspony suddenly said. “I've just gotten word that… wait, who gave me this bulletin? Damn it, Newsworthy, we're not a tabloid! There's no way…”

The rest of what he said was cut off by as the newspony walked right off screen. The set was empty for a moment, before a mare stumbled into view. “Sorry about this, Manehattan. I'm Sure Scoop, producer of Manehattan Local News. I apologize for the interruption, but I'm frankly not sure what mister Burgundy is doing right now. Um… some kind of commotion seems to be going on outside, I think… wait, Burgundy, what in Celestia's name are you doing—?”

And then, the newspony pushed his way back onto the scene, shoving the producer out of the way. His entire demeanor had changed. Underneath the perfectly curled mane and custom-fitted suit he was trembling, and his eyes were as round as the moon when he spoke.

“I've just been informed that the Princesses have released a statement,” he said. “It seems that Princess Celestia has been…”

There was a long pause, and Burgundy visibly swallowed before continuing.

“Princess Celestia has been… incapacitated, and is unable to raise the sun. Princess Luna, Princess Twilight Sparkle, and Princess Cadance are currently working to carry out this task. That… is all we know at this time.”

There was silence, both from the television and in the apartment.

“Incapacitated?” Vinyl said, after a moment. “What in Tartarus does that mean? How do you incapacitate Princess Celestia?”

“There… there was the wedding,” Octavia stammered. “Cadance's wedding, remember? The changelings?”

“That was some kind of love-magic thing, though, right? Do you think that could happen again? They must have protection against that by now, right?”

“And then there was the time the Princesses vanished, about two years ago—”

“Wait, what? I didn't hear about that!”

“Remember the day the sun and moon were both in the sky? The Princesses went missing for about half a day. I heard it was Discord's work. It was only for a day, but Celestia and Luna weren't seen at all during that time. The story goes that Princess Twilight had to assume their duties until she could find them.”

“Well, that's Discord and love magic. Both are kinda hard to miss.”

“What about Tirek? Could he be back… or something like him?”

“We'd know if it was something like Tirek, dude. We could see him coming from miles away, once he got started, remember? Didn't you get the evacuation notices?”

“So… what is it, then?”

Vinyl suddenly pointed to the television. “Wait, something's happening, look!”

“We're taking you live to Canterlot,” Burgundy said, completely without feeling. “Princess Twilight Sparkle has emerged, and is about to give an announcement.”

“Woo, thank goodness,” Vinyl breathed. “Finally, somepony who knows what's actually going on.”

Octavia just bit her lip.

The view changed. The camera stream was coming in from Canterlot, and Princess Twilight Sparkle was standing at a podium before a large crowd outside of the Royal Palace, lit up by a dozen spotlights. She looked exhausted, and it was clear that she hadn't had time to eat or bathe this morning. Her draconic assistant—Octavia didn't know his name—stood beside her, eyes hollow as he clutched at her tail with one claw.

“Citizens of Equestria,” Twilight said. Her voice was raw, and Octavia realized that the princess's eyes were red from more than just lack of sleep. “I'm afraid I come with… no, sorry, I… no.”

She turned, and started to walk away. The press exploded into questions, and her assistant looked at her aghast before running over and whispering frantically to her, waving his arms.

Something he said made Twilight stop, and she turned once more, returning to the stand. This time, her face was neutral. “I'm sorry,” she said, and the crowd went silent. “I'm afraid I'm still unused to my position and the… duties it entails.”

She took a deep breath.

“Princess Celestia… is dead.”

And like that, everything stopped. For four unending seconds, the world dared not to breathe.

Then, the crowd erupted. Questions rained down on Twilight Sparkle like the arrows of a besieging army. She did her best to ward them off, but her voice was drowned by the cacophony of screaming reporters. She went very still. For a moment, her eyes closed.

Then they flew open, and her voice roared out like thunder.

“ENOUGH. BE QUIET, OR LEAVE. I WILL NOT HAVE THIS BECOME A CIRCUS.”

The crowd fell silent all at once. The speakers on Vinyl's television sizzled.

“Listen to me, and listen closely,” Twilight Sparkle said, her voice hard and cold as a northern wind. “We do not, as of yet, know what happened to Princess Celestia, but it seems that, somehow, she has passed of natural causes. There is absolutely no evidence to indicate this was any kind of attack or assassination. We are still looking into how this is possible, but for the moment I have one request—” Twilight Sparkle's eyes suddenly blazed. “No, consider it a command. Do not spread rumors. Do not indulge in speculation about my mentor's death, and—consider this a royal decree—DO NOT PLACE BLAME. We will find out what has happened here. We will discover the truth and give you the answer.” She paused, and lowered her head. This time, nopony interrupted her.

“I will find the truth,” she said. “And I will give it to you.” She lifted her eyes, and Octavia felt an arrow of ice pierce her chest. The pain and fear of an entire nation was there, held back behind a barrier of steel-hard will.

Twilight spoke once more, her voice faint. “I swear this on Celestia's soul: We will all know the truth.”

Then, she turned around and walked back into the palace.

The television flickered off, and Octavia turned to find Vinyl Scratch staring in shock at the blank screen. The remote had fallen to the floor, and the impact had switched off the screen.

“Dead?” Vinyl said the word quietly, but in the silence it seemed to echo throughout the apartment.

Octavia laughed. She felt dizzy. “That can't be right—alicorns are immortal, aren't they?”

“Yeah… but Twilight Sparkle was the one who said it.”

“She must be wrong!” Octavia protested. “This must be some kind of strange, sick joke! Or… or she's being impersonated by a changeling, and there really was some kind of… love magic attack, or… something. That… or—”

“Octavia? Shut up.”

“What? But I—”

Vinyl reached over and grabbed her, twisting Octavia's head until they were eye-to-eye. “Shut. Up. It was the one thing she asked us to do. No rumors. No speculation. Just shut up. For Princess Celestia we can do that much.”

Octavia opened her mouth, but try as she might she couldn't make a sound. Vinyl was right. Twilight Sparkle was right. If the princesses of Equestria didn't understand what had just happened, then how were two ponies in a Manehattan apartment supposed to?

“Come on,” Vinyl slid out of bed and shook her mane twice before snatching her sunglasses off the nightstand and slipping them over her eyes. “Let's get downstairs. Rocksteady's got booze.”

They made their way down to the ground floor, and Octavia's now-sober mind took in the details her inebriated self had missed. The building was a four-story block, done up in ugly red brick. The interior was sparsely decorated, but at least it was clean. There were some spots where paint had chipped or a leak had obviously been patched, but otherwise it was in fairly good shape.

Coming from upstairs, it was obvious that The Rainbow Record's circular setup was a recent addition. The room was indeed round, but only because the building's corners had been hidden behind additions. Octavia did note with some appreciation that they'd been put to use—instead of just blocking them off, the architect had converted them into storage closets, with the one farthest from the front door housing the staircase by which Octavia and Vinyl made their way down.

With the lights turned up to full blast the club was far less grand, though the stage-lamps, speakers, and smoke machines arrayed across the ceiling were impressive in their own right. The lights revealed that the dance floor was perhaps in need of a good mopping, though about half of it looked to have been cleaned before somepony stopped doing so.

Rocksteady was already downstairs, leaning back against the central spire which held his wares. The radio was playing next to him, and some mare was shouting indistinctly over a roaring crowd.

Rocksteady looked up as they approached, then switched the radio off. “Hey, Scratch. Octavia. Sleep good?”

Vinyl glanced at the radio. “You hear the news?”

“Yes I did, hon. Yes I did.” Rocksteady held up something—an odd-looking cigarette. “Want one? Special occasion, and all that.”

“Keep the poison to yourself,” Vinyl muttered, climbing onto a stool. “You got booze. Gimme booze.”

“It's nine in the morning.”

“Celestia just died, Rocks. I don't give a flying shit what time it is.”

Octavia took the stool next to Vinyl. “Could you get me a cup of tea, if that's not too much trouble?” She winced as a fresh stab of pain hit her head. “Decaffeinated, please.”

Rocksteady gave her a quizzical look.“Sure. No trouble at all. World's ending, anyway.”

Vinyl raised a hoof. “Make that vodka. I need all the vodka you got.”

Rocksteady shook his head as he pulled a teakettle and a hot-plate from under his counter. “Nuh-uh. No vodka. The most I'm getting you is a beer, hon.”

“Ah come on! You just said it, Rocks! This is the end of days! Now give me my damned booze!”

“Just 'cause the world is ending doesn't mean you have to face it drunk.” Rocksteady held up the cigarette. “This is a painkiller. Vodka is a tranquilizer.” He filled the teakettle at a spigot and set it over the hot-plate. “Give it… two minutes? You fine with waiting, hon?”

Octavia smiled. “No trouble at all. Thank you for the kindness.”

“Damn you to Tartarus, Rocks.” Vinyl groaned and pressed a hoof to her face. “Beer then. Make it tall.”

“You're paying for that?”

Vinyl mind seemed to go blank. She opened her mouth, looked at Octavia, smiling serenely. Then she looked at the teakettle, then at Rocksteady, then at the radio, then at Rocksteady again. “I… well damn, I guess I am.”

“On your tab?”

“Yeah.”

Rocksteady turned to Octavia. “The tea's on me. You've been through a lot. And don't worry about your tab from last night—you can pay me back when you're on your hooves again.”

Octavia blinked in surprise. “Oh. Well, thank you.”

They sat in silence for a while. Octavia stared intently at the kettle. Vinyl stared intently at Rocksteady as the latter filled her a glass. Rocksteady finished his work and then stared intently at the far wall.

They saw the sun rise. It was slower than normal, but the glow piercing the windows of The Rainbow Record was unmistakable for anything else. Rocksteady reached for the radio again, but his hoof never made it there. The silence remained.

“How screwed are we?” Vinyl asked. She took a sip of the beer. “I mean… let's really think about this, here. Celestia, as far as we know… is dead. Now I'm not going to try and guess how the hell that happened, but… what does that mean?”

“Princess Twilight's probably going to be taking over a lot of her duties, that or Cadance.” Rocksteady shrugged. The tea kettle whistled, and he abruptly switched off the plate. He pulled out a cup and met Octavia's eyes. “Got a preference?”

“Earl Brae, if you have it.”

“Decaf Earl Brae…” Rocksteady muttered. He reached under the counter and pulled out a bag. “Then again,” he said, “I can't see Cadance really doing anything like that. She's… well, she's the most normal of all of them. She's got a family. They're saying she's shooting for a kid. Plus, she's already in charge of the Crystal Empire.” He poured the tea and gave it to Octavia, who accepted it with a quiet word of thanks.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Vinyl mused. She sipped on her beer. “I've met her a couple of times. DJ'd a couple parties she was at. She's… okay. Nerdy, sure, but smart nerdy. Kinda girl who ends up successful.”

“It makes sense,” Octavia muttered. “Actually… I don't mean to… well, speculate… but what if Celestia knew this was coming?”

The other two looked at her blankly, but Octavia continued on. “Think about it for a moment. Celestia is… was not the kind of mare who let things slip past her. You both know Twilight's story, yes? Being chosen by Celestia as her personal protege, et cetera?”

The two nodded, and Octavia continued. “What if she knew that she was going to… die? What if Twilight Sparkle was always intended to be her replacement?”

“Damn it,” Vinyl muttered. She took a hefty sip of her beer. “Damn it, that makes sense.”

Rocksteady took a long drag on his cigarette. “Well… then why didn't she warn anypony?”

“Maybe she didn't know when, just that she would eventually pass.” Octavia shook her head. “I don't know. I shouldn't speculate. It just seems… convenient. Luna notwithstanding, the other two alicorns who exist at this point were both born within the last forty years. Given that Celestia has been around for…”

“I've always heard two thousand,” Rocksteady offered. “But I've heard some ponies say she and Luna are way older than that.”

Octavia sipped her tea. “Yes, and in all that time, were they ever involved with other alicorns?”

Vinyl raised her hoof. “There was another princess, back before Nightmare Moon happened. She shows up in some history books, I think. A… Princess Heartstone?”

“What did she do?”

“Something about… love? No WAIT!” Vinyl's eyes lit up. “She was the one who controlled the Crystal Heart. You know, before the Crystal Empire went all vanishy.”

“So, Cadance's role.” Octavia nodded contemplatively. “That's odd. What happened to her? I never read about her in my classes.”

“She was a long time ago. I dunno what happened, but she's not around now. Could mean Sombra did something to her, or maybe… she wasn't, y'know, immortal.”

That silenced them all again. Octavia sipped. Vinyl drank. Rocksteady puffed.

“Damn,” they all whispered in tandem, then chuckled as the synchronicity hit them.

Vinyl shrugged, and gulped down another swig, draining her glass. “I got nothing. No, seriously, Rocksteady, I got nothing. Can I get another?”

“Nope. Still not letting you get drunk this early in the morning.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Vinyl got off her stool and stood. “Well, turn on the radio, at least. I want to know what's going on down there.”

The radio proved to be little better than roaring static. The reporter for this station was talking excitedly, but what she was saying amounted to “everypony is freaking out”. It was a brilliant observation, sure, but it didn't help answer any of the many pressing questions.

So the trio sat, listening to nothing at all. Rocksteady smoked, Octavia sipped, and Vinyl stared mournfully down at the bottom of her glass, as if regretting that she'd taken things so quickly.

“Damn, this is gonna be whacked,” Vinyl muttered. Nopony contested that statement.

Comments

[Flink]

a bridged-eighth note

Wouldn't that be two beamed eighth notes?