Nocturnal Things
The Castle of Friendship towers above me... above all of us.
There was a time when it... bothered me...
When it got under my skin.
Lately, with each passing day, I find a strange... meditative comfort with it. And with being in it. It's more than the blank, black canvas that the harmonic walls of crystal afford me. There's something about its opaque surfaces that bring solace to me. Especially when I stand alone in the ballroom—as I've retreated to as of late—to compose music... sometimes music that's never even there.
The Castle of Friendship hides me from the rest of the world. I'm pretty sure that such was... never the structure's true intent. But when is Friendship ever something we mean it to be?
It's late at night. It's always late at night. I'm walking for the tenth... twelfth... maybe fifteenth lap around the base of the Castle in cold starlight. The guards minding the upper bastions of the palace would think something was amiss—if they weren't so used to me engaging in this cyclical habit these past few evenings. Perhaps they believe it's how a royal minstrel like myself chooses to think... to contemplate all of the symphonic masterpieces she's working on.
I wonder if they'd be alarmed to find the same blank canvas on the inside as there is on the outside.
I sigh, strafing left and right in my stroll. The Friendship Gala is only a few days away now, and the area immediately surrounding the castle is covered in tents, supply shacks, and stacks upon stacks of crates. Everything is only partially unloaded, and I know that in just a day or two this entire place will carry with it an epic spectacle worthy of outshining Canterlot or Manehattan. Everypony in Ponyville is excited about it—or at least I can assume so. I've turned nocturnal over the past week. It's a potentially catastrophic thing—considering that I need to be fully awake to perform my musical sessions for the Gala proper when it transpires. Maybe I can binge through some Dr. Pony a few hours previous. Yeesh, as if I don't use the royal lavatory enough...
Part of me looks forward to the event. Another part of me is afraid of it—only because I'm not entirely sure what lies behind it. It's been a long while since I planned for anything beyond a month in advance. Even when I was touring, I left all of the gruntwork to Beau.
But now—after this Friendship Gala has come and gone—I'm not entirely sure where to take my talents. Certainly any place in Equestria would be happy to have DJ-P0N3 host an event. But I'm feeling more and more distant from her, almost as if the black edges of this sharp castle have sliced the layers off of me, peeling loose a wispy ghost underneath. That phantom seeks a body to return to, but we both know she's gone. The shredded bits of a record cover were the only remaining effigy. Now all is emptiness and starlight, and these wayward hooves, circling... shuffling... but going nowhere.
My teeth grit and I feel my breaths coming out in magenta shudders. I barely have anything for the Gala's musical session. At this point, I may be forced to improv most of my materials into a digestible mix. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem for someone like DJ-P0N3. But things have been far from normal lately.
I shuffle to a stop somewhere near the Castle's entrance. It suddenly occurs to me that I've been wearing headphones throughout the entirety of this midnight stroll... but no music's been playing. The last track I had selected ended countless minutes ago, and I've been just listening to the muddled echoes of my own heartbeat in my ears ever since.
A sigh escapes my lips. I look skyward, my shaded eyes traveling up the black summits of harmonic spires.
What died first?
Inspiration?
Or the desire to be inspired?
The contemplation is jarring enough to end my walk. I shuffle back through the gates to engage in yet another fruitless session...
Wondering...
Do we ever die as artists?
...or perish multiple times in a single life as our own audience?
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Gods damnit Vinyl. You need to sit down and 'talk' it out. Just tell one pony what's eating you, just to let it out.
Best way to poison yourself is to hold everything in, I should know.
6627616 I know right?
And finally...
Try singing. One more time.
6627616 Well, what are they going to do for her? Are they going to magically make it all better by going 'Huh, that sucks'? Is Twilight going to magically give her voice back?
Or are they going to look at her differently? Are they going to start pitying her? Are they going to look at her like she's broken now? Are they going to go all 'Don't worry, we'll fix it!' And then slowly realize there's nothing they can do before they slowly start avoiding her altogether?
Let's be realistic, she can't tell any of the mane 6. Not only are they not actually friends, just in an employer-employee relationship, Rarity (and you know whichever one she told would tell her at some point) would probably use it as a weapon to try and sabotage her relationships further than she already is, or possibly make 'simple suggestions' to Twilight that she isn't fit to be Royal Minstrel.
Or what about Octavia? Surely she won't judge her for any of it, or blame her for getting angry, or upsetting the famous pony who TOTALLY wouldn't use the situation to try and worsen their relationship like she already has been, or get angry at her for jeopardizing her position as a royal minstrel, or any hundreds of things that could go wrong both in that situation and with rarity actively trying to fuck up her life, or anything!
There's one way actually telling somepony could go right, and that's as unlikely as anything.
There are thousands of reasons it won't, most of them ending with her needing to leave town. At this point, it would be the dumbest thing she could possibly do.
There's a reason she tells absolutely nopony about Cyan. She's very, very dead, and realizing that will make ponies treat her differently.
You know, at this point I wouldn't be surprised if it's Flash Sentry she ends up finally breaking down and having the much needed talk with.
Fun fact: the music started fading out right as I was reading this. Spooky.
V's getting deep.
6627660 The thing you missed in what I said is the point that she doesn't need to be 'fixed'. She's fine as she is.
But she needs to acknowledge and open up about the fact that:
1: She does still hurt over what happened to her, and that she can't sing.
2: She has feelings about Octy beyond just 'good friends'. What those are exactly are hard to define, but they are more than just friendship.
3: The previous two facts combine with the way everything has gone in the past month or so to stir up a lot of negativity in her.
It may not be the same situation I've been in, but I can say that, if I had opened up with someone, anyone, about the things hurting my heart, I'd be much happier than I am now. Holding everything inside poisons your soul, and when everything is fresh and raw (either after it just happened, or when the wound is torn open,) it's easy to lash out blindly. When the wounds have time to fester and rot, the feeling dulls and poisons anything good you have. Better to open up and clean the wound out entirely.
Vinyl is currently riding the slippery slope down to the point where, at the height of the party, she's likely to have another catastrophic breakdown. Everything is too fresh inside her, but she's not had a chance to clean the wounds so to speak.
If she sat down with Twilight and just talked... That'd be her best bet, really. Ideally, it'd be Octy, but there's no way she could do that right now.
I hope we won't see a chapter called 'Dead Things'.
6627701 Hey, Halloween's over pal, spooky is forbidden. Slightly more serious note, nice avatar.
6627751 Exactly- VINYL isn't going to be the one who intends on fixing being done, but have you ever known a pony to not overreact and decide that everything needs fixing?
For the rest, I suppose that just involves a level of trust in other people neither of us has.
Kinda hope she's made of sterner stuff than we are
6628112 To reply to someone, mouse over their post and click the [>>] button that appears in the upper left of the reply; it'll instantly scroll you to the bottom of the page and open a reply, with the hotlink built in.
This does two things: Automatically sends an alert to the person who you replied to, and allows anyone that sees the reply to click the hotlink to the original post to see what, exactly, the reply is to.
Just using >>'name' does nothing helpful.
6628107 She's not, in this one. SS&E won't settle for less than the most dramatic possible resolution to all this, after all.
10 to 3 odds she has a catastrophic breakdown in the middle of the party, and finally clears the air. Smooches with Tavi may occur after that, but that largely depends on if SS&E is feeling tolerable about that ship.
6627616 That's what a friend of mine I used to have did. He lost most of his friendships beacuse he bottled his feelings and snapped at them instead of telling them what was wrong. Hopefully this doesn't happen to Vinyl.
Awww Vinyl, you need to talk to someone Dx
Or get a hug!
Nice job!
6628740 Yeah. Holding everything in leads to, depending on the person's temperament, either catastrophic meltdowns or sullen emptiness.
The first is still the better option just because it makes it clear there is an issue and usually hints at what it is.
The second is most definitely the worst; it's a silent and peaceful rot that ruins the heart completely. Most people tend toward the explody reaction instead, just because holding in that much negativity is extremely difficult, and it's easy to slip up, especially when pressured.
But there are people out there that have, with methodical and ruthless precision, butchered their own feelings to the point that their heart is naught but a swamp of filth and darkness.
Of course, that's boring. Vinyl is almost certainly going to explode, instead.
6629075 i would disagree. Drowning in a swamp of self-hatred and attempting to cut out one's own emotions is not necessarily boring if written well.
6629075 I just thought of something. What if she snaps at Tavi?
6630068 ...
Anguished declarations, running into the night, reconciliation in the dark, long smootches, and finally being together. But probably not sexy times.
6629544 a particularly amusing statement considering the author of this story, though I imagine that was the point