Never Miss A Beat

by TaleweaverTheUnicorn

Octavia Chapter 5: Unstoppable Forces Adore Immovable Objects

Author's Note:

Times Like These is the track for this one.

Octavia strolled through the Canterlot gardens. They astounded her, even after repeated visits. All Earth ponies had a connection to the earth and growing things, even ones that did not actively cultivate that ability. Herself, for example. The Gardens were so peaceful, she could almost hear ‘Morning Mood’ being played by the wind in the leaves, the crackle of dirt underhoof.

And yet she did not feel peaceful in the least.

She checked her phone once more. Still mum from Vinyl. The filly had become more reclusive than a changeling that was unable to shift. She paused under an appropriately somber weeping willow to reread their text history. Almost exactly one week ago, her long note left for a sleeping Vinyl. The morning after, an infuriating reply from the Nonsense pony about Octavia’s supposed dirty mind. Since then, only three messages from Vinyl disturbed the list. One regarding Octavia’s favorite pieces to play, which she had replied to with a comprehensive collection. No reply for several days.

The second was another attempt at poetry, with many misspellings. Octavia had not deigned to reply to that one, under the assumption that Vinyl had been drunk when she sent it. To very little surprise, Vinyl’s third and final message was an apology for the former message the next morning, and a confirmation of her inebriated state. Octavia had replied to that one scathingly, expecting a humorous retort. Instead, she had received no further communications in the three intervening days. Not for the first time since, she felt the urge to crack her phone in half.

Parish had suggested she apologize, but Octavia did not feel her and Vinyl’s rivalry-friendship was quite at the stage where it warranted such a sincere response. Vinyl might be happy to get inebriated and then fire away with insincere apologies, but Octavia certainly was not. No matter how much she missed the banter.

Octavia refused to sigh, but she did allow a slight huff as she pushed her way through the boughs of the tree, returning herself to the tea garden where the rehearsals would be held. She would have to put both her investigations with Stellar and her gentle prodding of Vinyl to rest for the week. Vinyl’s mysteries could wait. The Canterlot Garden Party may not have quite the acclaim of the Gala, but that did not mean it deserved any less than her best.

Basic stages had been set up for the musicians, as yet unadorned. Only her own instrument case currently rested atop one of them, the rest stood empty. Nopony else had yet arrived, as it was still forty five minutes until the listed start time. Octavia preferred to be everywhere one hour in advance, it gave her time to settle into a space. Each year, she held out hope that others would join her, and each year she was disappointed.

“Dude, don’t drop it! Careful!”

“Sorry!”

Octavia turned about, slowly. She blinked, not fully believing her eyes. Two familiar fillies were picking their way along the garden path. Between them, held in a rickety one-pony cart, was a large magical-electronic monstrosity. Vinyl stood in the hitch, and Crossed Wires pushed from behind, sometimes scrambling to hold up a wobbling speaker. Vinyl’s open, stunning, uncovered eyes met Octavia’s, and both of them froze.

“Aw, rats. Look, Wired, she’s already here.” Vinyl clapped a hoof thunderously to her forehead, horn sparking from the impact. She rapidly, if foalishly, recovered by throwing herself into some kind of elaborate dancing pose, and winked at Octavia. “Surprise, I guess!”

“‘Surprise’ is one word for it.” Octavia said, after a long moment of processing. A speaker began to tip precariously over the edge of the cart once again, and Crossed Wires ran to catch it. Octavia sighed, and moved to assist. So much for a calm morning.

With the best efforts of all three of them, moreso Wires and Octavia than Vinyl, the equipment took up a position on a separate stage. Wires set about plugging in the various magic-conduit cables, and Octavia’s mind moved on to a more pressing question.

“What on Equestria are you doing here, Nonsense pony?”

“As if you don’t know.” Vinyl sauntered over, standing just above Octavia onstage. “I was requested, apparently. Now who would have done that, hmm?”

“Are you implying that it was me?” Octavia raised an eyebrow. Vinyl had been requested for a party of this caliber? “Certainly not. I simply can not imagine you ‘blasting’ your ‘music’ at an event like this.”

“Oh, sure, of course. Definitely wasn’t you.” Vinyl winked repeatedly, hooves tapping allegro on the plywood stage. “Just like you definitely didn’t do anything that night~”

“You are impossible.” Octavia rubbed one of her temples. “And nonsensical. You spent all this effort arriving here bright and early, but I suppose it would have been too much effort to text me back, hmm?”

“That would have ruined the surprise, Octy.” Vinyl corrected something that Wires was doing with a burst of blue magic, without even looking; her eyes, alive with joy, remained locked onto Octavia. “Besides, I was busy writing music all week. But don’t even worry, next time I’ll text you. I didn’t know you needed your Vinyl fix that bad~”

“Oh yes, I was simply inconsolable.” Octavia loaded her voice with sarcasm, though she blushed slightly remembering how crabby she had been minutes prior. She turned away quickly, but the smirk she saw on Vinyl’s face informed her she had not done so quickly enough.

“Seriously though, it wasn’t you? Huh.” Vinyl pulled a keyboard out of the wagon, which piqued Octavia’s interest. “Who the heck asked for me, then?”

“I certainly can not imagine who would do such a thing.” Octavia watched as Vinyl attached the keyboard to the giant machine. . . thing. “What is all this nonsense, Ivory? Surely you could have used an actual piano, hmm?”

“Nonsense equipment for a nonsense pony?” Vinyl chuckled. “No, but seriously I’ve been working on some cool new pieces that I think you’ll dig.”

“I see. I assume it is not . . . dubstep, given the party and it’s caliber.” Octavia stepped up onstage to examine the equipment closer, trying to remember back to the research she had handdone with Vinyl’s album. “Is it closer to ambient? Or, ahem, trance?”

“Uh, yeah actually! I’d usually do an ambient-y house or chillout. Something similarish.” Vinyl glanced at her with a look of such innocent happiness that Octavia felt suddenly and inexplicably guilty. “But I’ve also been messing around with remixes of classical stuff after I heard you do the cello version of that one song I played.”

“Beethoofen’s Sonata for Two Pianos?” Octavia asked, disbelieving.

“Right, that!” Vinyl gave her two quick hooves up, nearly dropping the keyboard as Wires struggled to unfold it’s legs.

“How can you remember the entire piece perfectly and yet not remember what it is?”

“I dunno, filly. Just how I roll.” Vinyl shrugged, snapping the last cable into the keyboard. “Actually that one was in a cartoon I loved when I was a filly so that’s prolly why I remember it better.”

“A cartoon.” Octavia gaped. A memory of an animated foals cartoon was what had inspired the beautiful playing she had so enjoyed? That certainly cheapened the experience. Or. . . did it? Perhaps she only felt it should.

“I know other ones too.” Vinyl said, defensively. She ran a hoof across the keyboard, producing a series of piano-like notes. She tapped out a few, experimentally. “But speaking of knowing things, you mentioned three separate types of electronic music! What’s up with that?”

“Well, I. . . That is to say, Parish forced me to listen to your album. Baby Scratch?” Octavia was prepared for the blush on this occasion, and contained it.

“Scratchbaby! You listened to it? What did you think?” Vinyl actually clapped her hooves, flopping down on the grass by Octavia.

“Some of it was . . . tolerable. I do not care for the dubstep, however the trance was less abrasive to my ears.” Octavia struggled to remember what the other kinds were called. “As were some others I do not remember in particular, the nomenclature is very complicated.”

“True that! Awesome that you kinda-sorta-maybe-didn’t completely hate it though!” Vinyl was like a foal again, hopping and bucking cheerily. It was infectious, and Octavia felt a smile across her own muzzle. Vinyl continued, casually. “I’ve been listening to some of yours too.”

“What? You have?” Octavia reeled from the utter shock of that statement.

“Sure, yeah. You’re a heck of a composer. I could almost follow your ‘emotional journey’ or whatever. What's the word. . . Expressive?” Vinyl returned over to the turntables, and fussed with them, seemingly unconcerned. “Real expressive.”

“I- You-”

“You’re older than I thought though, since that first one was from fifteen years ago-”

“I am not!” The insult snapped Octavia out of her shock. “That was released when I was sixteen!”

“. . . Huh.” Vinyl glanced back, her face a mirror of Octavia’s own surprise, handled better. “And you don’t come from music ponies? At all?”

“Not in the slightest.” Octavia sniffed. “You dare assume I must have? You elitist-”

“No no, shut up, that’s not what I mean.” Vinyl waved a hoof frantically, as if to swat away her words. “It’s just freaking amazing. You’re just freaking amazing. I was musically trained from the time I could stand on four hooves and you’re still better.”

“Nat. . . Naturally.” Octavia reacted before she could quite process what was being said. Her usual bravado snuffed, for lack of fuel. What was Vinyl saying to her? “Manehattan disagrees.”

“I mean, sure, whatever, but still. You’re some kind of genius, apparently.” Vinyl looked up at her, and smiled. Without Vinyl’s glasses between them, it was almost unbearable to meet that gaze. She was so joyful, so genuine. The expressive eyes Vinyl hid away bore her heart in them, a raw spring of wild, free emotion that threatened to sweep Octavia away.

“Stop this.” Octavia felt the blush from earlier returning in force, and quickly fled to her own stage, fumbling with her cello case. “You aren’t meant to be complimenting me. We trade insults, and that is all.”

“I just call things like I see ‘em” Vinyl’s speakers crackled to life behind her. “Good or bad. Or old. You are still a year older than me, by the way.”

“Shut up.” Octavia removed her cello tenderly from its case, and began orienting herself to stand alongside it. She could feel Vinyl’s eyes on her. The silence stretched. “Are you going to rehearse? Or will you stare at me like a stone age pony?”

“Oh, well I could, I guess.” Vinyl shrugged, and played a single thump of a beat. “But I think it’d be easier to work around you. If I start, you’ll get drowned out, probably. It’ll still be tricky but-”

“You wanted to. . . collaborate?”

“Well sure, why else would I have studied all your albums? I have some mixes I did, but it’d be cool to hear you live. . .” Vinyl trailed off under Octavia’s gaze, perhaps mistaking consideration for fury. “O-or not, you know, whatever. It was just an idea I had, that’s all. We don’t have to.”

Octavia rebalanced herself on four hooves. It was a painstaking process, lowering herself without putting too much strain on the wood of her instrument, balancing herself against it, and then it against her so she could grasp it in her teeth to set back down, gently. She hopped off her stage, not trusting herself to speak yet. Vinyl, nonsense pony that she was, immediately cowered behind her deck.

“You have made, ahem, ‘remixes’ of my work?” Octavia murmured. Vinyl poked her head out. Her eyes, usually shielded by glasses, held genuine concern, or maybe fear. Was Vinyl truly afraid of her? Octavia supposed she had struck her, once. “I am not going to strike you, Vinyl. I am genuinely sorry I did before, and certainly will not do so again.”

“Oh, heh, right.” Vinyl laughed weakly. “Yeah, totally, I’m just, you know, hamming it up. Anyway, yeah, I’ve been practicing on some of your old music so that I could drop some sweet beats on your classic stylings without, you know, screwing them up.”

“I suppose I could. . . demonstrate what I had in mind?” Octavia’s voice remained hushed. She was not sure why, but she feared this moment was fragile enough to shatter with a touch. Or with the wrong word, spoken too loudly. Vinyl hopped off the stage to stand before her, the unshielded eyes still so open, so vulnerable.

“That’d be good, yeah. Again, only if you want.” Vinyl shrugged, nodded, then shrugged once more. “It was just a dumb idea I had, you know, idly. Definitely didn’t spend all week on it.”

“Vinyl.” Octavia picked up her cello once again, balancing it against her shoulder. Vinyl looked up at her, not unlike her mother’s old herding dog. “You Nonsense pony. I will happily demonstrate what good music sounds like.”

“Cool.” Vinyl said simply, plopping down on the grass. A thin string of magic reached towards her bags, wrapping around her shades, which were folded and stuck through a strap.

“No.” Octavia said, without thought. “Leave them.” Vinyl scrunched her nose, but the magic dissipated. Octavia took a deep breath. She had not felt nervous performing in nearly a decade. But right there, in that moment, there was the slightest tremor.

She began. Octavia had planned a piece that was complex, but quiet, easy to fade into the background, yet enough to hold a pony's attention if you listened for it. It wasn’t intended for a solo, per se, let alone a rapt audience. Yet Vinyl watched her like there was nothing else in the world. She found herself adding additional flourishes, to justify the attention paid. Each time she did, Vinyl would react, a slight perk of the ears, a twitch of a smile. It was invigorating, someone paying that close attention. She found herself playing more forcefully, the bow dancing across the strings effortlessly, her hooves steady on the difficult grip.

With the piece completed, she let her hoof drop, and began to settle herself back on all fours. Vinyl blinked, as if surprised, and then began applauding furiously. Octavia waved a hoof dismissively, though her cheeks were red.

“O-only you would be so impressed by such a piece, nonsense pony.” Octavia cursed the stammer in her words.

“You coulda played whatever and it’d be the same amount of amazing, I think.” Vinyl remained seated, idly tapping her fore-hooves between her hindlegs. “You’re sorta the common denominator here. But if you want me to be really impressed, you could always play something else. . .”

“Perhaps, but would that not distract from our purpose here?” Octavia felt, dare she say it, flustered. How could Vinyl say such things with a straight face?

“Oh horseapples, you’re right.” Vinyl zipped back over behind her setup, giving her an expectant look. “In that case, maybe once more from the top? I’ll see what I can do around you without drowning out the amazing.”

“Nonsense statements from a nonsense pony.” Octavia shook her head, allowing her mane to cover her blush, and her smile. “Very well. One, two, one and two and three. . .”

=======================

Half an hour slid by, the two of them working together in melody, few words exchanged, for few were needed. Octavia had prepared herself to squash Vinyl’s melodic ‘improvements’, but the other mare had stuck to her word of working around Octavia. It was quite a novel experience, in all honesty. Prior to breaking out as a soloist, she had ever been forced to bend around the whims of Frederick or other quartet members.

Vinyl had added selective percussion, and a slight layering of what Octavia mentally termed ‘magical’ sound, for its resemblance to the sound of unicorn horns sparking to life. The resulting collaboration was not terrible, all things considered. It retained it’s previous qualities, with Vinyl’s edits it was perhaps a somewhat less ambient piece, but that was just fine with her.

“Perhaps a little something extra in the lull towards the middle?” She suggested, surprising herself with needing to prod Vinyl into additional additions. She was yet more surprised that she wanted to.

“Mm, yea. Let me see what’d be good there. . . Maybe take it from three measures up? I’ll mess around.” Vinyl tugged the keyboard closer with magic, tapping at it. Her eyes held a similar fierce joy as before, and it was infectious. Octavia was enjoying this. Dramatically more so than she had expected. She never enjoyed a single session with her old quartet this much.

Octavia peeked over at Vinyl once again. Her tongue was clamped between her teeth, as she concentrated on . . . whatever it was she needed to do to make her music. Her head bopped slowly to a beat audible only to her. Her horn gleamed, sliding sheet music across her vision, comparing to something on her instrument, casting her face in shades of blue to match her mane, contrasting her blazing eyes. She was. . . radiant, just as she had been at the piano all those weeks ago.

A simple, terrible thought stuck in Octavia’s mind at that moment. One that had been long growing, but so well buried it evaded detection. Unfortunately, the usual coating of ribbing and rivalry had been yanked back, the covering of annoyance and anger long since blown away, revealing the stark truth. Her admiration for Vinyl, long held in abeyance by Octavia’s own pride. Built atop the admiration was the makings of their friendship, forged by time spent in verbal sparring matches and drunken rescues, inexplicable charm from Vinyl, and Octavia’s own loneliness and long unmet need for kind words. This was alloyed with Octavia’s fascination with Vinyl’s life, and the many, many things about her Octavia failed to comprehend. Atop those was an uncovered, unfortunate, and undeniable layer of emotion. The beginnings of a deep and abiding love.

The emotion was hot to the touch of her mind, blazing the cherry red of melting metal, much as Vinyl’s eyes. It burned away the rest of her thoughts, her objections and confusions, leaving her mind empty of all else. With naught to temper it, her mind was set to a boil, the pressure to act upon it building within her. If not now, when?

“Vinyl.” She said, her voice came out hoarse.

“Sup?” Vinyl had set the percussion to play, but looked up, confused, as her cello remained silent. “Don’t like it? I haven’t even started yet!”

“On the contrary, actually. I am having a marvelous time.” Octavia spoke slowly, the better to hoof-pick each word. “In fact, I-”

“My goodness, you two are here early!”

Both musicians nearly jumped out of their coats. Three ponies had evidently arrived, unbeknownst to either of them. The first was a familiar looking unicorn with a tidy black mane and a severe pair of glasses, which were quite charming on her. The second was a Canterlot unicorn with enviably long legs and a blue-and-green mane that had been carefully braided and done up with the colors separated and intertwined.

The third was Her Terrestrial Highness, Princess Twilight.

“Your Highness!” Octavia slipped into a bow, as gracefully as she could with her cello yet resting against her back. A glance at Vinyl showed she was doing the same, with slightly more elegance. Octavia supposed she had practice.

“Rise, please. Your music is beautiful, don’t stop on my account!” Princess Twilight waved them up with a hoof. “Though I suppose since you’ve already stopped we might as well introduce ourselves.”

“We’ve met.” Said three voices in unison. Octavia blinked, as did the Princess. Vinyl knew these mares? Unless her eyes deceived her these were important ponies! Thankfully the Princess was quicker to demand answers than Octavia, though she did so with excitement, rather than trepidation.

“Vinyl is my sister, your Highness.” The bespectacled pony spoke first. Octavia felt her eyes widen. Vinyl’s sister? “I reached out to her in regards to performing when Astral asked after her.”

“And I am simply an avid fan of her work.” The Canterlot unicorn, who must be Astral by process of elimination, spoke next, her words gushing. “We happened to meet after one of her shows a month or two ago.”

“Ah yeah, no way I forgot that.” Vinyl said, with a half-smile and a wink. The motion was somewhat. . . sultry. Octavia’s stomach did a sudden flip. The blazing red of her pure emotions prior now held a coating of ashy gray dust. Oh. Of course. Octavia knew. About all this. She knew Vinyl had had intimate relations with other mares, perhaps even many other mares. She knew this. Why was it such a nasty surprise to be confronted with it? And why, She thought. Did it have to happen *right now?* The Sidereal Princess of Love may as well have descended herself and slapped me right upside the muzzle!

Raven pulled the Princess aside to review other preparations. Octavia turned back to Vinyl, increasingly desperate to get her words out. Unfortunately, Astral was sashaying over to the pair of them, and Vinyl’s eyes were tracking her, alight with an emotion Octavia had not seen in them before. It lit a rather different fire in Octavia, a dark and furious blaze.

“Vinyl.” Octavia said again, Vinyl glanced over, but jerked a forehoof up once, a somewhat rude ‘one second’ gesture.

“Guess that explains who requested me.” Vinyl said, leaning half over her turntables, a smug smile on her lips. “Couldn’t get enough with just the show and ‘afterparty’, I see.”

“You put on quite a performance.” Astral fluttered her lashes, lowering her volume and moving closer. Octavia did not miss the seductive sway she had suddenly adopted. “You have a skillful ear, and know just what your audience wants.”

“You forgot to mention my dextrous hooves.” Vinyl’s eyebrows bounced. Octavia choked on air. “You know, for pushing buttons and flipping switches?”

“Vinyl!’ Octavia said, louder.

“Mmm, your horn is not bad either. . .” Astral half stepped up on stage, forehooves planted in front of Vinyl.

“Not Bad? It's essential. It’s how I-” Vinyl’s horn flickered to life, as did the power to her speakers. “Turn things on~” Astral let out a very unladylike guffaw, clapping a hoof over her muzzle a moment later.

“Vinyl!” She faux chastised, demurely, with a wave of a hoof that said plainly ‘do go on’.

The pounding of blood in Octavia’s ears grew to such a deafening volume she could no longer hear what was being said. Her gaze continued to flicker between the two ponies. Astral did not move any closer, but she did writhe in place. Vinyl let out a laugh of her own, that hungry fire still in her eyes as they caressed the mare in front of her. So distressed was Octavia that she failed to notice the lavender hoof extended to her, nor the voice speaking. With a start, she finally turned her eyes to the royalty before her.

“A pleasure.” Octavia said, by way of default. Her voice trembled slightly as she shook the hoof. The Princess smiled.

“I’m sure you’re focused on your work. I get the same way.” She said, kindly. “Let me ask again: Are you and DJ Pon-3 going to perform that piece at the party? She said it was your call. I really enjoyed it, for what that’s worth.”

“We-” Octavia hesitated. The whole idea had gone sour for her. Her thoughts were still disorganized, and she forcibly quieted them, trying to smooth over her rumbled consciousness until only blank white remained. “We certainly will if you wish, Your Highness.”

“Oh, well, I suppose I do wish.” Her Highness chuckled. “But you seemed to be having so much fun, it really came out in the song.”

“It was a mere dalliance.” Octavia said, her mouth jumping out ahead of her thoughts, but a surprising amount of venom remained within her. “How wonderful that something good came of it.”

“O-kay. Good, well, I guess that’s one thing off the old checklist.” Her Highness actually produced one, checking off a tick box next to incomprehensible scribblings that only barely passed for writing. “I see Ladies Astral and Raven have this all well in hoof. I’ll leave you to it! Oh, make sure to get frosted cookies, they’re Cadance's favorite!”

The assembled ponies bowed as Her Highness departed. This, most unfortunately, left Octavia alone with Vinyl, Vinyl’s sister, and Astral. She found herself unable to keep a glare from her gaze as it passed over the assembled unicorns.

“The other musicians should be here soon enough.” Astral spoke cheerily into the frosty silence. She began fussing with the stage decorations, a rosy blush still on her cheeks. “Until then, why don’t we have some light refreshments? I had the kitchen send up lemonade and oatcakes~”

“I’m starving,” Vinyl said, with some surprise. “Lemme at 'em!”

“I had them send up some with authentic Crystal Empire syrup, the ones on the blue plate. Just for you~” Astral’s slightly singsong voice continued. Vinyl’s ears perked right up. Octavia gagged. What a miserable mare. Not nearly as miserable, however, as a certain other pony who was far too free with her affections! She stalked over to the table and seized one of the cakes from Vinyl’s plate.

“Saccharine.” Octavia said, bitingly. Her mind remained unable to wrangle her heart back into line, and bitterness pumped through her veins. “Is this truly your taste, Nonsense Pony?”

“Aw, the nonsense is back?” Vinyl sighed dramatically, either not noticing or not caring about Octavia’s exceptional salinity. “I like syrup for breakfast. I don’t usually eat it because I’m already getting kinda tubby, but-”

“You know plainly that is not what I am actually speaking about.” Octavia hissed. “I am being metaphorical.”

“Oh I get it. Savage takedown of Astral outta nowhere!” Vinyl turned to look at her. “Or is it a rip at me? I’m not honestly sure. Look, Octy, if you want more of my attention, all you had to do was ask~”

“What an offer!” Octavia snapped, Vinyl’s insincere and patently trite compliments now only fueled her fury. “I’m sure it has been made to every mare in Canterlot by now! I feel so. . . honored to be part of such an expansive club!”

“Thanks for the compliment?” Vinyl’s eyes searched her face, evidently unsure if this was fun banter or not.

“You are unbelievable. Of course it was not a compliment!” Octavia let out a derisive snort. She was reminded forcibly of their first meeting, a sleeping Vinyl ignoring the awards, or else casting salacious looks about her.

“Yeah, I figured.” Vinyl sighed, sliding her glasses back on, head turned away from Octavia. Her magic even fumbled in her bags for her headphones. “I was sorta hoping you’d chill out if I didn’t engage. I’m sorry I ignored you, I just got distracted.”

“I’m surprised you were not drooling.” Octavia quieted her voice as best she could.

“Look, I said I was sorry.” Vinyl looked back at her. “Was it just me ignoring you or do you have some other problem?”

“I have countless other problems.” Octavia snarled. “As if that one was not enough!”

“Oooookay. Look, I’m gonna go over there for a minute, maybe we can pick this up later when you’ve chilled out a bit and are making sense.” Vinyl slid her headphones over her ears with a sense of finality.

“That is what you do, isn’t it?” Vinyl’s response did nothing to soothe Octavia’s anger, which flared up hotter still. “You run and hide. You block out the world, so you need not hear that which you disagree with, see that which displeases you. For everything else, there is alcohol, yes?”

“Pretty much.” Vinyl laughed, it sounded one degree away from sincere. She tipped her glasses down to wink at Astral, allowing syrup from her held oatcake to drip suggestively onto her tongue before she ate it as lewdly as could be possible. Astral tittered, and blushed a practiced amount. “Ya got a point buried in there somewhere?”

“I- You-” Octavia guttered. She did not have a point, not a cohesive one. She had been interrupted before she could state the root cause, and she certainly couldn’t announce it now. “You- You know full well why I am angry! It is about that mare-”

“I could make an educated guess.” Vinyl rounded on her, sudden fury etched on her features. The cadence of her words mimicked Octavia’s, or more accurately, Octavia’s typical speech mimicked the speech that was Vinyl’s mother tongue, which she wielded with a grace Octavia could never attain. “It is unbecoming of me to indulge my base urges so freely, or so publicly? It disturbs you to see evidence thereof in your daily life? Or perhaps it is merely that you wish what is best for me? I suspect you have a twelve-step plan prepared for me?” Vinyl laughed, a perfect, measured giggle, carefully half smothered with a hoof. It cut Octavia right to the heart of her, a reminder of every snobbish teacher, every miserly critic that had ever dismissed her without thought.

“You are twisting my words.” Despite all their verbal sparring, Octavia was unused to being on the back hoof. A portion of surprise replaced part of her anger. She found herself taking a physical step backwards. “I was just-”

“Allow me to make my position perfectly clear.” Vinyl stepped forward, half closing the distance, precisely crossing hoof over hoof like a fencer. Her voice was even, utterly precise and devoid of emotion, a rapier in her magical grip. “Your concern for my affairs is neither welcome nor, indeed, helpful. Do not presume to know what is proper for me. Do not presume to dictate terms to me. If my company has ceased to suit, you may take your leave at any time.”

“Ya can’t mean that.” Octavia’s own voice slipped, so stunned was she. “I jus’ meant-”

“I am well aware of what you intended.” Vinyl turned half away, one disdainful eye still on Octavia. “My ways offend you, and you would see the behavior that bothers you removed, for then I would be simply marvelous.”

“Yer already a wonderful pony. I wasn’t sayin’-”

“Indeed. You were not saying anything novel.” Vinyl turned fully away, taking another perfect, cross-hooved step. “My homosexuality offends you. I believe the common phrasing is that ‘something must give’. My proclivities are ensconced within the deepest truth of myself, and so it is you and our friendship to which we must bid farewell.”

“That’s not why- You cannot be serious!” Octavia gasped, anger mixing with shock and a measure of fear. They were friends. They could not be parted so easily. Not after what they had endured and built already! “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?! That you can walk away so easily?”

“Sorry Octy.” Vinyl turned her head, removing the glasses. Her usual attitude was back, if subdued. It reminded her of a morning in Vinyl’s hotel room, so long ago, where Vinyl had reintroduced herself. “But I’ve been there before. It’s my mom’s favorite refrain. And just like with her, I won’t ever be what you want me to be. Better a clean break.”

“I- You- You still have to perform with me!” Octavia said, wildly, desperately. “You cannot just quit!”

“Sure I can. I’ll miss the bits, but I can.” Vinyl slid the glasses back on, and popped the headphones over her ears. “Have a good life, Octy.” She walked over to Raven, who merely nodded, as if this was utterly mundane, even expected. She escorted her sister away into the garden, a comforting hoof on her shoulder.

Octavia was left there, alone, soggy oatcake in hoof, thoroughly divorced before she could even be wed.

Comments

[TaleweaverTheUnicorn]

11584892
This doesn't actually matter really but the implication I intended there is that Crossed Wire's mom or something was a journalist.