• Published 31st Dec 2019
  • 1,464 Views, 155 Comments

Filly Friends - thehalfelf



In the morning, Vinyl Scratch would be leaving, and Octavia didn’t know if she would ever see her again.

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Drip

Drip

I drifted through the next couple of days in a daze. I didn’t leave the house; barely even left my room. I spent most of my time idly playing with my cello. Mother came up from time to time, sitting with me when I actually played. She didn’t push, but I knew she was worried. I hadn’t asked to go to the park once.

Father hadn’t really been home since his concert started in just a couple of weeks. From what I’d heard, Vinyl’s case had officially gone before Sentinel’s boss and was set to be decided within the week.

And I still didn’t have an answer.

“Octavia, can you come down here? I need your help with something.” Mother’s voice was just loud enough to be heard over my cello.

I finished my note and took another second to place my cello back in the case before leaving my room. Mother was waiting for me at the base of the stairs with a smile, a rag, and a bottle of wood polish.

With my own grin I bit the rag out of Mother’s magic and headed with her towards the foyer. Whenever Father had a concert, Mother liked to deep clean the house. We got a lot of visitors: family, friends, important businessponies. Cleaning before a show was almost a little ritual of ours.

With a dab of furniture polish on both of our rags, we got to work. With her height and magic, Mother cleaned the high shelves and the wooden parts of the chairs. I started with the tables and moved my way to the shelves that I could reach easily.

“Your cello has been sounding very good Octavia,” Mother said, adding another drop of polish to my rag. I didn’t say anything, just slapped my rag back down on a side table with a hoof and kept scrubbing.

“It’s really nice out,” she tried again. “Did you want to go to the park when we’re done?”

An image of Mother smiling at Vinyl while she swings flashed through my mind. “No, I’m okay. I think I’ll just keep practicing, I’m trying to work through a hard part.”

The only indication of Mother’s disappointment was a single flick of her ear. “Okay. If you need help, ask,” she replied before putting the polish back on the floor and walking over to a chair.

Cleaning is very relaxing, in a way. A lot of repetition and not a lot of focus.

No worries, no thinking, no deliberation, just polish.

I didn’t notice Mother behind me until her hoof slowly lowered mine, still clutching the rag, to the ground.. “Octavia,” she said, “I’ve been trying not to be overbearing, but I want you to talk to me.”

I turned around, but couldn’t meet her eyes. What could I say? That I was afraid my parents would get attached to my friend? That I’m selfish and didn’t want to share?

So I said nothing.

Mother sat next to me with a sigh. “I’m proud of you, Octavia. I know something is bothering you, and I’m pretty sure I know what. Some foals, even some ponies, tend to shy away from anything tough, but you’re doing your best to fight through it. It’s Vinyl, isn’t it?”

I nodded as Mother wrapped a hoof around my withers.

“You’re running out of time,” she muttered. “From what Father has told me, the case is due to be decided soon, and if we don’t give an official answer to Sentinel, Vinyl will be put into the foster system, somewhere in Canterlot. Things will change even more then, and she’ll probably be too far away to play with you anymore. You don’t want that, do you?”

“No,” I shook my head. “But...”

“But what?”

I don’t want you to love her more than me, I thought, but once again said nothing.

I was saved from answering by a rather loud rapping on the front door, followed by a bombastic, “Hello, Mels? Anypony home?”

Aunt Rosin didn’t wait for an answer. She opened the door and strolled into the entry. Seeing us in the neighboring parlor, she moved over. “Hey Octavia, hey Mels, how’s it...”

She took one look at the rag still under my hoof and stormed over to Mother. “Melody Philharmonica, how dare you. This filly is supposed to be vacationing, not cleaning!”

The rag gently tugged at my hoof until I let up. It floated over to Rosin, still in the middle of her rant. “Young filly, you better get your hind end back to your room and continue enjoying your vacation!”

Despite my mood, a grin spread across my face. “Yes, Aunty Rosin,” I said before scooting up the stairs.

Once back up in my room, I was stuck with the same problem I’d been struggling with for days: overactive thoughts and idle hooves. Despite what I told Mother, I really didn’t feel like playing the cello; it seemed like a lot of effort to drag the thing from its case.

Instead, I curled into a ball on my favorite window seat, staring out into the midday streets of Canterlot. It never ceased to amaze me how much light there was coming from the city center and how many ponies always seemed to be out and about, even in the dead of night.

A series of quick knocks and a loud thump shattered the quiet of my room. With a smile, I got up and headed over to open the door. Rosin stood on the other side, trademark smile plastered across her face

“Heya, kiddo! Got a minute?” Past Rosin’s blinding smile, I could just make out Mother’s shade of gray hovering near the stairs. “I just want to talk,” she continued a little softer.

I stood back and she walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. “Your mom thought I might be better to talk to.” Rosin barely even let me sit before starting. “She is worried that if she tries again, it might sound like a lecture, or that she’s pressuring you. Personally, I would have loved to live with Mels for a couple of weeks, no matter what might be going on, but I also knew her since I was a little filly.”

Rosin sat on the floor in front of me, leaving us eye to eye. It wasn’t often that she got very serious, much like Father. It was almost weird to see.. “I don’t want to lecture, or tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. I just wanted to give a little advice from a different perspective.

“See, Mels is an only child, and Legatus has a twin. She’s always been alone, he’s never been. Mels always wanted a sister, that’s why we’re so close, and I think that’s why she’s confused that you are so reluctant to give an answer about Vinyl.”

Before I could reply, she held up a hoof, cracking another of her normal grins. “Please, hold all questions and comments until the end, complaints until never.”

Her smile faded. “I understand though. When I was a little filly and my mom said I was going to be a sister, I wasn’t happy. So much changed so fast. I was scared, not of being a sister, but of everything changing. But when it comes down to it, change is the only constant in life.

“I know bringing another pony into your home is scary, and I know that part of you is afraid that your parents might change how they treat you. That’s what I was afraid of, but in the end it didn’t happen. Ponies are good creatures, we have a lot of love to go around. After all, you love both Mels and Legatus, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“And your Grandma Serenade, and your Uncle Tapps, and of course your favorite aunt, right?”

I nodded again, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Rosin nodded and rose to her hooves. “But you don’t love one of us less just because there’s a new pony to care about. That’s just not how we are.”

She reached out a hoof and ruffled my mane. “Ha, I forgot how cute you are when you scrunch up your muzzle like that.”

It looked like she was just going to leave, but she turned around halfway across the room. “Vinyl is your friend, and she needs your help. Your parents want to help her, and I know you do too. You can worry about what might happen all you want, but in the end it won’t change anything. Personally I would go for it, at the end of the day, it’s only for a couple of weeks. If it doesn’t work, she’ll leave, unlike a sibling.”

She pulled open the door before giving me a goofy smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go steal some of whatever Mels is cooking and go home. Catch ya later!”

When Mother called me downstairs for dinner, I gave her my answer.

<><><><>

Four days later, we stood once again in the entryway, with Vinyl and Sentinel on the other side of the door. With her muzzle not weighed down, Vinyl stared openly at the polished banister of the main stair, or maybe the crystal chandelier that provided light at night. Mother fussed around, as usual, ushering everypony into the clean parlor where a fresh pot of tea already sat on the table.

“I really can’t stay,” Sentinel said for the fifth time, taking a seat and an offered cup anyway. Mother sat next to him with Vinyl across. With a smile, Vinyl patted the empty part of the couch next to her and I sat.

“That should be the last of it,” Father said, setting Vinyl’s bag down next to the other in the entry hall. He grabbed a cup and sat in his favorite chair, even though it’s on the other side of the room. “We’ll get it moved upstairs to your room later.”

“You’ll be taken care of here, Vinyl,” Sentinel said, breaking away from his conversation with Mother for just a moment.

“It’s gonna be great!” she said, turning to me and beaming. Despite my initial concern, I smiled back.

The adults continued to talk, despite Sentinel continuing to repeat that he had to leave. I could tell Vinyl was starting to get bored, though. She started to fidget, starting with her hind hooves, then her rump, then up and up. Sentinel and Mother were busy talking, Father chimed in from time to time, but he was grinning at us, so I knew he knew.

Taking Father’s nod as permission, I leaned in close to Vinyl to whisper, “hey, Mother and Father are talking about showing you around later, but do you want to come up to my room?”

We stood after she nodded, and she followed me from the room and up the stairs. I opened the door and saw my room through her eyes. The window nook with its frayed cushion, directly opposite the door. My bed took up the right wall, opposite my cello, stool, music stand, and a small shelf holding my books, including a few for music. A couple of posters from Father’s shows and a few old toys filled the rest of the empty spaces.

Vinyl walked in with wide eyes, head swiveling slowly to take it all in. As soon as her eyes landed on the bed she grinned and took off, leaping into the air and landing on my mattress with an, “oof.”

The blankets ballooned around her; their fluttering almost masking her laugh. “Tavi, I have a very important question for you. Can I have your bed?”

Looking at Vinyl’s wide pleading eyes, I laughed. “No, you’ll have your own.”

To my surprise, she pouted. “But I don't want my own bed, I want yours. Okay, compromise, we can share.” She moved over and I joined her on the bed. The springs squeaked quietly as VInyl bounced, enthusiasm unable to be contained. Frantic red eyes finally stopped on my cello.

She jumped back to her hooves and trotted over to the standing case holding my cello. Her horn sparked, setting the case down before pulling the zipper and opening the cover exposing the dark, polished wood. “That’s so cool,” she breathed. “Will you play me something?”

My hooves went cold as words stumbled from my mouth. “I... I don’t... I haven’t...”

“It’ll be cool! Look, I’ll give you a beat.” Vinyl perched on my window bench, dangling hind hooves over to the floor. She started tapping out a simple rhythm, bobbing her head in my direction.

Seeing no other way out, I slowly slunk over to my cello and the stool next to it. The polished wood nestled into the crook of my neck, the comfortably worn bow pressed into my hoof.

I closed my eyes, zeroing into Vinyl’s rhythm, and touched my bow to the strings.

The song started soft as we both felt each other out. Simple rhythm, simple notes, a strong backbone. I slowly picked up speed, adding flourishes to the end, hooves jumping and sliding across the strings. Boldened, Vinyl sped up too, using a forehoof to beat on a wall. I responded in kind, adding trills on the high notes, stops on the lows. Her base beat changed and I changed tempo to match. It ended up being much faster, much more frantic.

We continued on for several measures, going faster and faster until I finally took control. I drew out one single low note. Vinyl adapted quickly, fading out the heavier beats of her hind hooves on the floor to transition solely to forehooves on wall and seat. Once again the notes deepened, my cello sang louder, her hooves struck harder, until we were both interrupted by the door being thrown open.

Mother and Father both stood at my door. He looked on in fading concern, she with a small smile. “Sounded like a herd of gryphons trying to break through the floor,” Father said.

Vinyl pointed at me. “She did it.”

“I suppose while we’re here,” Mother said when her laughter subsided. She turned to Father, who sighed and moved with Sentinel down the stairs. “Do you want to see your room, Vinyl?”

She nodded, and Mother lead us out to the hallway. Most of the rooms on the second floor of our home were towards the inside, so the hall made a long winding U-shape. We went almost all the way around, past Mother and Father’s room, past the bathroom and Mother’s practice room, before we made it to the guest room.

Mother let Vinyl open the door to a room much like my own. Just as before, Vinyl’s red eyes locked onto the bed and she ran off, jumping into the air and splaying her legs to bounce, headfirst, across the mattress and into the stack of pillows.

“Excuse us,” Father said, shouldering his way through the door and dropping Vinyl’s suitcase into the room. Sentinel followed, setting down a duo of boxes.

“Now that you got your free labor, Legatus, I really must be leaving.” Sentinel turned to Vinyl. “If he gives you any trouble, you know where to find me.”

“Yeah,” she replied. Sentinel nodded then bowed himself out of the room, followed by Father.

“I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner will be ready in about a half hour,” Mother said before leaving as well.

Despite the number of suitcases, unpacking didn’t take much time. One of her three bags held a stereo, the second nothing but records. The third, and smallest, was her small collection of clothes, including a very vibrant pair of sunglasses, and various small bits and bobs that we sprinkled around the room to try and make it feel less empty.

We finished well before dinner, and decided to go downstairs early. Father was still in the parlor, in his favorite chair, staring intently at the door to the kitchen. Seeing us, he grinned and waved Vinyl over.

I grabbed myself a seat and settled in to enjoy the next few minutes.

“Ah, Vinyl,” Father said as she approached. “Could you do me a favor?”

Vinyl bobbed her head and Father pointed to the kitchen door. “Would you mind asking Melody what is on the menu for dinner tonight?”

Before I could warn her off, Vinyl gave an enthusiastic, “yeah,” and trotted to her impending doom. Without hesitation she threw open the kitchen door.. “Hey, Miss Melody, Mister Leg--”

The rest of her sentence cut off with a loud, metallic crash. Father and I both jumped from our seats and ran over, but before we made it there was another crash. Father pushed the still-swinging kitchen door open to reveal a disaster.

Vinyl sat closest to the door, a bowl of freshly-prepared salad resting unceremoniously on the top of her head. Mother was across, with the bowl of dressing on hers, the dressing itself dripping down her face and staining her coat. Father laughed and threw a dish towel over to his wife. “Guess I’ll step out and buy more salad fixings. Come on, Octavia.”

Stifling my giggles, I turned and followed Father from the house.

Author's Note:

I'm not going to lie, the hardest part about this is trying to come up with these chapter names. I initially wanted them to make sense, but I think that went out around Cello Sounds.
E: Shoutout to The_Puffin_King for fixing my own timeline errors. Thank you!