• Published 25th Dec 2014
  • 4,087 Views, 171 Comments

Simple Melodies are for Fillies - bahatumay

Introverted DJ Vinyl Scratch tries to win over a famous cellist while her roommate Lyra tries to figure out where she stands with the candy maker at the mall. It sortof works.

  • ...

Success and Failure

Lyra was many things, but an early riser was not one of them. She was of the strong opinion that while the early bird got the worm, the second mouse got the cheese, and she'd happily take cheese over worms any day of the week. And since batting cleanup at the food table at parties meant you could eat as much as you want without feeling guilty that you were taking too much from other people, it was obvious to her that being the first to wake up was also severely overrated.

Thus it was a very bleary-eyed and stumbling girl in twisted, crumpled pajamas that stumbled out of her room at a quarter past eight. She shuffled over to the front door, retrieved the newspaper from their doorstep, and collapsed on the couch. Holding up up and squinting with one eye, she only half-heartedly looked through the front pages before rolling over onto her back and looking for the comics.

She cracked a few smiles at some of the characters and folded the paper again, ready to put it over her face and fall back to sleep for another hour; but then she saw a very familiar-looking name stand out in the previous page of the Life section. Her eyes widened as she flipped back and read the attached article. “Hey, Vinyl!” she called, sitting up.

Vinyl poked her head out of the kitchen. “What?”

“Come here!”

“But my waffles,” Vinyl protested. She and Lyra had long ago set up a system that if one cooked, the other would clean; but since Lyra could burn a salad (had burned, to be honest), it was usually Vinyl making breakfast. Since Vinyl didn't like eating breakfast at ten (which is when Lyra usually finished waking up enough to be semi-productive) this also meant that Lyra was getting very, very good at cleaning spells.

“Waffles can wait! Check this out!”

Vinyl grumbled. “Fine, but if this one burns, you're eating it.” She walked over and read where Lyra's finger was. It was near a chart of the top songs of the month and…

Then her jaw dropped as she followed her finger.

“Number one locally?” she gasped.

“Yeah,” Lyra said. “That single you recorded with Octavia last month got big. And guess whose song is beneath yours?”

Vinyl read and felt a surge of pleasure as she read the name of Octavia's coltfriend. She sat back, stunned but pleased. “I did it,” she breathed.

“You did,” Lyra agreed.

“I really did it.”

“You really did do it.”

Vinyl sat, basking in her success for a moment. Lyra let her; it had been a while since Vinyl had done anything that she had felt really proud of doing.

Finally, Vinyl snapped herself out of her trance. “You know, I should record with her again.”

“You totally should!” Lyra cheered.

Vinyl rubbed her hands together, the gears in her mind already spinning rapidly. “That one was more chill. I've got a much more active song that I'd love to hear her take on. Yeah. I want her to stand out this time, and she'd do a wicked solo, I just know it… drop the violins on that part and just have her come in there and…”

“Um, Vinyl?”

Vinyl waved her down. “Lyra, don't interrupt me; I'm being all genius-y here!”

“Is it just me, or is something burning?”

Vinyl gasped and sprinted back to the kitchen, her mental music notes disappearing into smoke and trailing behind her. “My waffles!” she wailed.

* * *

That weekend, Vinyl Scratch and Lyra stood outside the concert hall. Vinyl wore something a little bit more comfortable tonight; and by that it should be understood that she was wearing a small black jacket that covered most of what was exposed by her dress.

“Does she even know you're coming?” Lyra asked. She had elected to wear the same dress as before, but this time she had completely changed her hairstyle. Her hair flowed like a waterfall, and Vinyl felt just the tiniest twinge of jealousy.

“No,” Vinyl admitted, “but I wanted to come anyway. I might see her here.”

Lyra inhaled, then exhaled. The chances of that happening were very low; but she was not about to shoot down Vinyl like that.

Vinyl shrugged. “But even if I don’t, it’s good to go out and be a little bit cultured, you know? Do something that doesn’t involve me coming home smelling like ethanol?”

“I thought you liked the smell of ethanol,” Lyra said teasingly. Once, Vinyl had come home with a broken wrist because Pon-3 had tracked down and punched someone in the face who had spilled his drink on her shirt, and she’d had to smell it all night.

“I tolerate the smell of ethanol,” Vinyl said flatly. “Besides, I've had these tickets for a while.”

“Are these the tickets you camped out until six am for?”

“Yes,” Vinyl muttered.

“And you were the only one waiting for these in that line?”

“Also yes,” Vinyl mumbled.

Lyra gave her a gentle bump with her hips. “Totally worth it, though, right?”

Vinyl brightened. “Oh, yes.”

They soon found their seats. Fifteen minutes later, the lights dimmed, and the concert began. Vinyl clapped exceptionally loudly as the curtain rose, but refrained from cheering as she caught sight of Octavia. She looked exceptionally good tonight, in Vinyl's opinion.

They started with a famous sonata. Vinyl was unsurprised; in any venue, people tended to remember what they saw first and last, so those two songs always had to be showstoppers.

After the third song, which featured a rare cello solo section, Lyra leaned over. “Bet you wish she was working that bow magic on you, huh?” Lyra whispered with a wink.

Vinyl gave her a little shove. “Horsehair can't get wet, idiot,” she hissed. “That ruins it.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow teasingly. “I was talking about making music, not making love. Pervert.”

“Yeah, sure,” Vinyl said, blushing furiously and turning back to face the stage. “Whatever you say, Lyra.”

“You’re a kinky pervert,” Lyra sang under her breath.

Vinyl chose to ignore her. She closed her eyes and focused on the music. The tickets had been pricy, but worth it. It was three hours of bliss. Vinyl may not have played classical music herself, but she had been classically trained. She could hear the subtle characteristics that gave it such a high reputation, the nuances in rhythm and volume that a regular visitor wouldn’t have understood or appreciated.

Vinyl understood. And, of course, this music was all wrapped up in beautiful packaging.

After her performance, Octavia bowed with the rest of the ensemble. Somehow, out of all the people in the audience, her eyes caught Vinyl's, and she smiled. Vinyl waved back shyly. It had all been more than worth it.

* * *

Lyra and Vinyl walked back into the atrium. Well, Lyra walked; Vinyl more or less floated along. Octavia had seen her, and she would have paid twice the amount for those tickets just for-


“Yeah?” Vinyl asked, looking over at Lyra.

Lyra shrugged. She hadn't spoken.

Vinyl looked over her shoulder and saw a very familiar mare standing there. “Octavia!”

Octavia smiled and nodded. “It is me,” she said. “I'm somewhat surprised to see you here; the Second Symphony isn’t exactly the most popular of our repertoire.”

“Yeah, well,” Vinyl said with a slight blush. “I've always loved your music, and you're a star on stage. Seriously. I was only watching you. You've got command, artistry…” Vinyl's voice trailed off as she realized she was rambling again, and she blushed slightly darker.

Lyra giggled, but Octavia was unfazed. She gave a modest nod. “I'm glad you find my music so impressive.”

“It's really impressive,” Vinyl affirmed.

Octavia's eyes twinkled. “High praise from someone whose last song just made the number one slot on the pop chart,” she said.

Vinyl shrugged as she tried to hide a smile. Octavia had noticed her success! “Yeah, well, it was totally you, really. You made that song special. You put real feeling into it.” Words just kept tumbling out of Vinyl's mouth, but this time it didn't feel like a complete train wreck. “Would you like to come record with me again? I've got something a little faster that I think you'd sound great on, too.”

Octavia smiled. “I'd love to,” she said. “Same as last time?”

Vinyl nodded. “If that works for you.”

“It does,” Octavia said. “I'll see you then. I'd probably better get going; I’ve got early morning rehearsal.” She cracked a smile. “No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

“Isn't he going to walk you home?” Vinyl asked.

Octavia's lips tightened ever so slightly. “No, no he's not. It's not that far to my apartment, though.” She paused. “I don't think he's ever come to one of my performances.”

Vinyl clenched her fist. “That's just wrong.”

C'est la vie,” Octavia shrugged. “Until then, Vinyl.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

They watched her go back into the back room.

There was a pause.

“Vinyl?” Lyra said, sidling even closer to her friend.

“Yes, Lyra?” Vinyl said.

“That was the part where you were supposed to step up and offer to walk her home, Vinyl.”

Vinyl bit her lower lip. “I know,” she whimpered. Failure!

Lyra rested a comforting arm over her shoulders. “There's always next time.”

Vinyl grumbled something incoherent under her breath.