• Published 25th Dec 2014
  • 4,085 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.

  • ...

Recording, Take Two

The time had come once again; once more, Octavia's presence would grace Vinyl's little studio. Vinyl was a little more relaxed for this second recording session, and by that it should be understood that she was only pacing a little bit through the living room, chewing on the fingernails of only one hand, and was not having too much trouble breathing. She still hadn't eaten anything all morning, though, and the way her stomach was churning, that wasn’t about to change.

She licked her lips again. For some reason, she tasted like mint chocolate this morning, and this was unexpected but not unpleasant.

When the doorbell finally rang right on time, she sprinted down to open it. She slipped and nearly tumbled down the steps, but managed to recover her footing before faceplanting into the banister. She paused in front of the door, caught her breath, quickly adjusted her hair, and then opened it.

Octavia stood there, waiting patiently. She looked somewhat distracted, and fiddled with the cello case strap that went across her chest.

Vinyl barely managed not to stare at that. “Hi! Are you ok?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” Octavia said distractedly. “I'm fine. You said you had a fast song for me today?”

Vinyl knew she was not fine, but she didn't feel comfortable pushing Octavia just yet. She stepped back to let her in. “Yes I do. Right this way.” She bowed respectfully, as if she were a butler of some kind, and was relieved to see Octavia crack a tiny smile as she passed.

It was indeed a faster song, but Octavia was never one to back down from a challenge. Setup was completed quickly and quietly... too quietly. Octavia still seemed distracted by something weighty, and Vinyl just didn't know how to start a conversation to find out what was wrong. So, feeling as though she were missing a golden opportunity she simply couldn't grasp, Vinyl merely adjusted her levels as Octavia tuned.

Vinyl had only had to play the track through twice before Octavia felt confident enough to record her part. With her posture upright, her eyes half-lidded, and her bow freshly rosined, she nodded to indicate she was ready. Vinyl counted her down and hit record.

She started slowly, gently bobbing her head with the beat, almost as if she were not even there for the first part. During the chorus, she quietly played along with the louder notes of the bassline. Then for the second verse, she followed along the bassline but changed the notes slightly in one measure before falling back into line, one of those little hidden trills that you only notice on the second or third time listening but then can never miss it again. She did it again for a bit longer next verse, dropped off during the second chorus, and then went into full-on improvisation for the interlude afterwards. Her fingers flew on the black wood and the strings sang. Her eyes were closed as she lost herself in the music. She was truly in her element, and for a moment, she finally looked at peace.

Midway through her solo, Octavia looked up and saw Vinyl dancing to the music, with her eyes closed and shaking her body with the beat, thoroughly enjoying the music. A smile flickered across Octavia's face. Vinyl was adorable, really. She was cute and loved music, and she seemed to brighten every time she saw her.

Did that mean…?

Octavia shook her head and continued playing. It was indeed possible; but one could never assume anything about anyone’s sexuality. She would find out sooner or later.

As it turned out, it would be sooner. As Octavia was packing, she was aware of Vinyl standing somewhat close; and by standing it should be understood that she was leaning back and forth and unable to find a good place for her hands, shifting from her pockets to her vest to her belt to just wringing them, as if she had something she really wanted to say but no idea how to say it.

Octavia packed slowly, taking her time as she methodically wiped off the rosin dust on the lower end of the fingerboard with a cloth and wrapping and packing her microphone with much more care and much less speed than usual. The zipper seemed to move more slowly, and the screw in her bow tighter and harder to turn. Finally, as she was packing her bow back in the case, it came tumbling out.

“Could we do this again sometime?” Vinyl asked hopefully.

Octavia raised an eyebrow. She had been in Canterlot long enough to understand verbal games and when what was said was not what was meant, and she certainly knew an opportunity when she saw one. “Are you saying that because you want to record with me, or because you like seeing me?” she asked.

Vinyl was not a good liar. “Um… both. The first one is great but there may be a little bit of the second one as well.” She smiled sheepishly. Had she ruined this by being too honest? Was that a thing? Ruining a relationship with honesty?

Octavia smiled and rested her hand on Vinyl's shoulder. “I'm a regular mare, Vinyl, just like everyone else. If you want to ask me out, do it.”

Vinyl almost didn't hear that last part; her heart was pounding hard at the physical contact. But Octavia waited; and Vinyl knew she needed to act. She needed something, anything! “How about ice cream?” she asked. “Everyone likes ice cream, right?”

“I do,” Octavia said.

“Would you like to go and get ice cream with me? Like, tonight or something?”

Octavia smiled, and she seemed to relax a bit more from whatever weight she was carrying. “I most certainly would.”

As soon as Octavia stepped out the front door, Vinyl sunk to the floor and just stared at the ceiling.


A horrifying thought crossed her mind. She quickly lit her right hand and shot a stinging hex at her left wrist.


Oh, good, she thought to herself as she shook her left hand. Not dreaming.

But as she lay there, something rather important occurred to her. Something vitally important; a question that she hadn't needed to ask herself in a long time but suddenly became quite relevant.

"What do you even wear on dates, anyway?"