Like A Broken Record

by axxuy

Chapter V - On the Inevitability of Parties

It was the second longest summer of Moondancer's life. Her little break from studying having been quite enough, she returned to her studies. She was a mare of ink and paper as much as flesh and blood, and any departure had to be temporary. Fate had decreed that by the mark on her flank, and even if it had not, she would have done so herself.

But the contentment she felt knowing that this was the work of her life did not stop her from wondering if there was anything more. Lucky for her, then, that if there was one thing she was good at it was asking questions and looking for their answers. This, she reasoned, was merely another subject to study.

She roamed ever farther across the sea of Equestrian knowledge, into regions previously unknown to her. Her first expedition was into the realm of music. And there she was grateful for those few friends she had; she had a guide instead of setting out blindly like usual. Letters flitted from her house down the mountain to Ponyville, to Lyra, bearing questions. Lyra's responses carried answers, and those exquisite treats: book recommendations.

She could not really say where the sudden interest in music came from, but that did not lessen her dedication to its study. By August she had read most of a degree's worth of textbooks. There was one point of dissatisfaction in that her self made program did not include much actual listening to music. But that was a necessary casualty. Time and again the books told how it was like a language of its own; it would slow her down far too much to sit trying to detect all the intricacies. Also, she did not have a record player, or the ability to play any instruments herself. Given her past experience with live performances, she was not eager to try those. So she stuck to pure theory, and the silent words on the page. It wouldn't be that bad, she had learned Old Ponish like this, surely that was harder.

And so the summer passed. In autumn her research moved on, as ever, to new subjects. Study, study, study, that was her life. Study, study study, that was Moondancer. The weather schedule, she noticed, was strange that year. The city had ordered a lot more gray skies than usual. But it did not really make a difference to her: she spent all her time inside anyway.

But something restless remained in her. There were a number of times when she wandered and ended up in front of Minuette's house. She thought about knocking. But no, how would she even react? It had been months since they had seen each other last, sure she had said they were friends, but they had still just fallen out of touch. Could you really be friends with somepony you hadn't seen for months? No it would just be weird. After that whole thing where they had all gotten together again, only for her to immediately lose touch again. No, it'd be hard for Minuette to get excited about seeing her.

She kept walking.

She had the same internal conversation in front of her other classmate's houses. At least, their fillyhood houses. She did not know if any of them had moved and if so, where to.

She always hoped one of the girls would see her from a window, and come out to talk, invite her to hang out sometime... Moondancer was not a lucky mare, and they never did.

So she did the only things she could: she studied and she thought.

All she had to do was knock she told herself time and again. But every time she found she could not, or even breathe. Her hoofsteps were so loud; the clanging of knocking would be an unbearable noise; she could not knock. Every time her hoof froze as if there were a forcefield between her and the door, or some puppetmaster were yanking her strings back. Oh she hated that "as if." Damn analogies. It was not a spell or curse preventing her, she knew magic, she could have dealt with that. Either of those scenarios she could have handled with ease; it could be so simple, it could be something she could wave away with a flick of her horn. It could be somepony else's fault.

Because that was the worst part. That it wasn't really them: it was her. The barrier was in her. The only real barrier, invisible, but impenetrable. She passed evilly long hours lying in bed thinking about that. She, she knew how to analyze, her mind had a sharpness scalpels could only dream of. And she lay there in the dark and opened herself up wide. And she saw the truth as ugly as a tumor: if her wishes were fulfilled, and all those ponies she knew came to her, lined up at her door, "Sorry for ignoring you Moondancer," "Do you want to come hang out with us Moondancer," "What do you think of this book Moondancer," even if they did all that for her and laid themselves down at her hooves, she would still end up right where she was now.

Moondancer was a smart mare, she could see that what she needed to do was do. She could see that she was the one who needed to reach her hoof out, that unless she did so she would be alone forever.

So what was there to do but study?

---

Winter came. Cold came. But she did not notice. No meteorologist, Moondancer. Why would she notice? What did it matter what was in the sky as she trod the path from home to library to home to perhaps bookstore. It rained all year and that was easily prepared for.

She did not notice the cold, and tried not to notice the season's other attendants. She tried very hard, until they at last took notice of her (often in poems she had read of ponies being compared to seasons; this was one avenue in which she wished they were less similar).

A letter came. A twin of the one that had arrived in summer. While the image of Twilight's royal seal no longer incensed her so much, it was still—she searched for the right word—perturbing.

It was another invitation; Twilight was asking Moondancer to come to Ponyville again, to a Hearthswarming party she was organizing. All her other friends, the letter told Moondancer, were coming, and she should too.

No. Too busy, she was. And what was there to say to the others? Hey, how are you doing? Sorry for disappearing for a year again. It's not like I've been avoiding you—nope! been hanging around outside your houses. Not in a creepy way, though. At least you know them: haven't been lurking around stranger's houses.

She decided, after some thought, that she would not go. There was no real reason to. She was not a party pony. It would simply be an awkward and uncomfortable night standing on the sidelines watching everypony else. It even occurred to her that it might be unhealthy: she would not want to seem like she was just standing around with nothing to do (even though that would be the case), so she would want to look occupied. There was sure to be a lot of food at the party, so she would probably spend a lot of time eating, so as to look busy. If the night wore on long it could get excessive. Not to mention the effects of drinking. So really it was a health concern if you thought about it right.

She marked the details on her calendar—so she would know when it had passed, and she could stop worrying about it.

---

A whirl of steam and snowflakes greeted Moondancer as she stepped off the train. Despite everything, she had not been able to shake the feeling that she would be missing out on something. After all, wasn't this the excuse she had been looking for? Another chance at that blessed thing, Somepony Else, coming down from on high to help her?

As if it will make a difference. It's just going to be the same old thing ag—NO. She was going to have a good time, and she was not going to regret anything. Confirmation bias: go in there expecting it to be terrible, you'll find something. Let's try the other way around for a change.

She crunched her way through the snow to Twilight's castle. It was warmer in Ponyville, or felt like it, a completely unlike the high mountain air of Canterlot.

Some kind of meteorological phenomenon? Certainly; you were crazy if you expected the weather to behave exactly the same way up on a mountain as down in the plains. But... It wasn't anything she could see about the weather. It wasn't really that the temperature was different, or that the clouds were so much higher up. It was just—cozier. How the hay was she supposed to quantify that?

Ahh, there was nothing to make the time pass like a good question. Moondancer considered the problem of the weather, and soon nearly ran straight into the side of Castle Friendship.

The doors were wide open next to her. She took a deep breath, and before she could think about it, walked in.

It was warm. It was loud. Ponies milled and mingled everywhere. She still could not quite believe that ponies really enjoyed talking with strangers, but, like the warmth outside, there was something in the air that made her feel... She didn't know what. Excited? Happy? It wasn't a bad feeling, just strange.

She took a good look around. She did not know most of the ponies there, which was to be expected. She looked for Twilight, hoping she could introduce her to some of them. The prospect didn't thrill her, but it was better than spending the whole night standing in a corner alone and bored, which is what undoubtedly would happen were she left to her own devices. She wasn't proud of it, but it was a fact of who she was.

She also looked for the buffet. Having a glass of punch to hold and sip occasionally went a long way toward not looking out of place. Even she could appreciate that.

Predictably, the food was indeed easier to find than friends. While she was primarily looking for Twilight, there were a few other ponies she knew and counted on being there. In fact, she had already seen Lyra. Unfortunately, she was deep in a circle of ponies she did not know at all, and she had not succeeded in catching her attention.

The search continued. Bravely armed with her glass of punch and napkin-wrapped cookie, she set out into the pastel miasma.

She did see the other girls here and there, but only in glimpses. Two ponies would step apart to make room for a third, and in the momentary gap she would see a familiar cutie mark. But never a way to actually get to her.

She sighed, but managed to avoid letting her head hang down. See, a little self-consciousness is good: everypony who writes about body language says the same thing about what that means—af if they need to. Just need to find something to do with the rest.

The world was too big, she thought. Too spread out. Old was fine with her. Old fit well on a page. Enough of them and could follow a pony as closely as you liked; get to know her like family. But add a second pony, add a third and everything was far more difficult. Books could handle deep, not wide. Ponies were wide. Even a small roomful had enough history and relationships to dilute your attention to just about nothing. Moondancer's point was, a roomful of ponies—like this party—was necessarily a roomful of strangers.

She sipped her punch. The problem was that however sound her arguments wre, she couldn't help feeling like she was the strange one. Equus abnormalis.

She had not been invited to many parties in school. This was why she hadn't minded. At least the music was good.

It was funny though, she really didn't know much music, but there was something about the beat, something in the pulses of sound that was familiar. What was it, what was it, what was it. She had never heard this song before, she was sure of that. It was catchy, but as it burrowed its way into her memory, it did not uncover any long lost ancestors. And yet.

The anxieties generated by the ponies around her faded a little as she absorbed herself in this question. She just closed her eyes and let the music fill her so she could examine it more closely. She moved with it without noticing. Had she known she was dancing, she would have been mortified, of course. But she did not know it, and so she danced on.

And so she moved, mistakeable for a normal pony.

And then she saw her. She kicked herself: the answer to her question was so obvious. Vinyl stood at the front of the room like a high priestess at an altar.

See? She should have known; there was only one musician in the genre of dance music she had had any exposure to.

She was slipping. Oh Celestia, she was slipping. Was this the start of some disease? Her family didn't have any history of dementia—that she knew of. If some uncle or aunt had lost their minds in their youth would she even have heard of it?

What did they do with ponies like her these days? Asylums like she'd read about couldn't be a thing anymore, ponies wouldn't stand for it besides medicine was so much better more likely the closest thing was a home right along with the old ponies who'd lost their minds when they were actually old and that's still sad unthinkable but better than her going to spend the next 60? 70? 80?? years drooling unable to remember her own name much less read.

Deep breaths, Moondancer, forgetting a song doesn't mean you're getting dementia. We've got issues, but since when was hypochondria one of them? She remembered the crowd around her. Stick to worrying about them.

She—well, there was nothing else she was particularly worried about doing and nopony else she could see that she knew—made her way to the front of the room. Only, she got there and realized that she had no idea what to do there. Vinyl was of course occupied entertaining the whole party. She couldn't just go and chat with her. She didn't even know her all that well.

She might as well have been up on that stage for how she felt; in addition to the usual six senses Moondancer had always been "gifted" with a seventh: a sense of conspicuousness. It was not a keen sense, and mainly served to make her aware of exactly how many ponies’ gazes were on her.

For lack of any ideas she stood there, enduring the groping eyes of the ponies facing her; and the flicks of saccades against her hide.. Her sweater was hot and suffocating as if it were summer.

Sip.

How long had she been here?

Sip.

How long was she going to make herself stay?

Sip.

It occurred to her that she had not checked the train schedule for rides back to Canterlot. She wasn't sure where she would spend the night; she began composing a petition for Twilight so she could stay in the castle, or was there anypony else from out of of town here? What were they doing—

"Hey there Moony. Long time no see." Vinyl Scratch was suddenly standing next to her.

She jumped at the unexpected voice. "Oh, uh, hi. I noticed you were doing the music. It sounds great, but aren't you busy?"

She shrugged. "Nah, it's pretty chill as parties go. Besides, I saw you hanging out down here and I thought I'd take a little break.

So, how ya been?"

Moondancer stammered—that was weird, she didn't usually do that: her usual reaction to social interaction was complete silence. "Oh-well, you know, this and that. Studying, the usual."

"Oh yeah? Whatcha been studying? What was it"—she tapped her head, thinking—"farming or something that you were doing last time?"

Moondancer was surprised. Really honestly surprised. She had long dropped any expectations of ponies closer to her than Vinyl (few as they were) making any attempt to keep track of what she was studying. "Uh, yeah, pretty much. Then I actually got into music for a little while. And now it's, um, architecture."

"Hey music, nice."

"It's actually more interesting than I had realized."

Vinyl laughed and swung her flank around to show her cutie mark. "You don't need to tell me twice."

"Hah hah, I guess so," Moondancer said, wanting to die.

And then Vinyl took her turn regaling Moondancer with her exploits of the last six months. She'd been here, she'd been there, she'd been to Fillydelphia, and Baltimare, Las Pegasus—she had not been back to Canterlot, which was kinda weird since usually she was pretty popular up there, and also it was a shame for the same reason and also she liked it there, and sometimes she thought about moving up there but it wasn't like she didn't like it in Ponyville she did just in a different way, you know.

Moondancer nodded along, each moment expecting to cringe, always anticipating pangs of regret at what she said. But the words just flowed as if from a pen. It was like ow it used to be with Twilight.

They talked for a while and then Vinyl said: "Hey, I'm gonna go grab a drink. I'll be right back." She turned and started walking to the tables of food.

Instantly, Moondancer felt all the cold of the winter night outside biting at her. She watched Vinyl go. She had said she was coming back, but there were so many ponies between her and the buffet; they seemed like a river and Moondancer wondered if the currents would not pull Vinyl away. She felt sick suddenly, like she had swallowed a stone. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with the feeling that she would not see Vinyl again. And yet who had glued her hooves to the floor?

"Calm down," she told herself. It was just a feeling, and divination was decidedly not one of her talents. And even if, hypothetically, the feeling as accurate, how would it be different than with all the other ponies she had met? That was just her lot in life, her destiny.

She followed. She caught up with Vinyl, but found that the spell had broken and she didn't know what to say. It was all she could do to remember how to walk—and you can forget about breathing!

But her anxiety did not relent; it only intensified.

Vinyl noticed her approach. "Hey, you gonna get some punch too?" But Moondancer's distress was plain. She put her hoof on her shoulder. "You alright there? I know parties aren't really your thing."

Moondancer assured her that she was fine:" I...Um..."

Vinyl changed course and led Moondancer off to the side. Each step was full of nails that raked her belly. How many times had Vinyl helped her like this? How many embarrassments had she been saved from now because this mare stepped in and helped her? It wasn't fair. She ought to—when would she ever give anything back?

Moondancer looked aside at Vinyl. But she did not show any signs of being bothered at having to carry Moondancer's burdens, only mild concern. Hah. Concern. But could she feel the blade hanging over their heads like Moondancer did. It oppressed her. And she had no idea what it was. It was not the normal dread of social interaction, but something heavier, something keener. What was it? she wracked her brains, what was it? she searched her soul. At last she actually looked up to see if she could see it hanging over her.

There was no blade, no weight, no threat up there. But there was a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above them.

There is a state in deep study where everything becomes clear. Where words on the pages disappear with all their nuances and shifts of meaning and association and leave behind only crystalline images, or the world and its dizzying, fractalling complexity collapse and all is flat and clear. It is a state beyond language, beyond hesitation, beyond thought.

It is the state that Moondancer entered just long enough to, as Vinyl turned to her and asked if this was better and if she wanted for her to go get a glass of water, lean forward and kiss her.

Moondancer was an anxious, awkward little mare, but she did not feel any regret as she resumed normal being and watched surprise spread over Vinyl's face.

While she did not feel regret, she did feel fear, and a good bit of it. And while she did feel fear, she was no longer haunted by dread as before. That afforded her a measure of calmness that allowed her to form recognizable words as she stammered in desperate explanation: "I—mistletoe——sorry."

She watched carefully for any hint of anger or upset on Vinyl's face. The other mare craned her neck to look up at the ceiling. "Huh," she said as she grinned. She looked back at Moondancer. "No wonder you were so jumpy. You like me too."

Moondancer barely had time to register the "too" before Vinyl pulled her into a kiss of her own. And this one was long and it was wonderful.

They were both breathless when they broke apart.

"Whew, it's been a long time since I've done that," Vinyl said.

"That was my first time doing that at all," Moondancer said.

Vinyl smirked, and pulled Moondancer into another long kiss. "And there's your second."

Moondancer giggled, despite the corniness. But amidst her giddiness, there was a sense that she needed to say something more, only she didn't know what.

"Now what?" she finally settled for.

Vinyl shrugged. "I dunno. These things never go the same way twice... What are your plans for the rest of the night, I guess? Like, where are you staying?"

" don't know," More said. "I never really figured that out."

"Just gonna party all night long then?—That's my girl!" She smacked her lips. "I do still need some punch, actually. C'mon."

They walked back into the party, side by side. Somehow, it didn't feel so overwhelming anymore. For the first time in her life Moondancer actually enjoyed a party, and she kept on the whole night long.