Never Miss A Beat

by TaleweaverTheUnicorn

Octavia, Chapter 1: Pushing Every Button

Every time Octavia thought the horrible Vinyl Scratch could not get any more odious, she would somehow dig herself an even deeper hole. Getting drunk with the caterers, losing her invite, and the lecherous looks were bad enough, but this was simply beyond the pale. The miserable unicorn's snoring was loud enough Octavia had difficulty hearing the speakers. What, she marveled, was the point of attending such an event if you planned to sleep through it?! No amount of vicious throat clearing seemed to be sufficient to wake her. Octavia quite seriously considered tipping her over into the aisle. No, she mustn't. Somepony simply must have good manners here, and it would clearly have to be her.

Would it not be wonderful, she comforted herself, to rub the award she would soon be winning in the vile clubber’s face? A rude awakening as Octavia stood to receive it, jostling the hideous mare awake, stepping up on stage under her envious gaze, poorly disguised behind her obnoxious sunglasses. She struggled to hear the next announcement over a mysterious grinding sound, before she realized it was her own teeth. She forcibly relaxed her jaw. She would not be nervous. Country music next, then classical. Octavia redirected her attention to the ponies onstage. Fiddly Twang, such a Ponyville name. Still, her music was quite pleasing. There was a whoop from one of the other rows, and a single rumpled hat graced the air before falling back into the crowd. She smiled fondly despite herself. She adored Canterlot, yet every so often homesickness would rear its head.

Next was Classical, finally.

Frederick Horseshoepin was a horseshoe-in, of course. This was his third MMA, his all earth pony musical group had existed before Octavia joined, and continued on now that she had left. He was talented, make no mistake. Octavia felt her heart jump slightly as he stood with a smile. The applauding pony on his right was, naturally, Parish. He seemed happy. Genuinely so. She kept a weather eye on the aforementioned Horseshoepin, however he seemed to be on good behavior. He smiled at ponies, accepted the award with grace, and even mentioned Parish’s steadfast friendship in his acceptance speech.

Shock of shocks, perhaps Parish was right. Perhaps he really has turned over a new leaf. The thought filled Octavia with joy for her friend. And yet, it was unexpected and somewhat unwanted. If Parish truly did move out, Octavia would be well and truly in the lurch. She would be elevated from quietly dating a known oddity of a pony to being the abandoned ex, left for a stallion. Not to mention she would be forced to cover rent all on her own, which most likely meant a move to a smaller home. Perhaps even an apartment. That is quite enough, Octavia. Why will you not simply be happy for your friend? She berated herself so profoundly that she almost missed what the announcer said next.

“Last, but certainly not least, we have a divine piece. A modern take on the classic instruments. A truly heartwarming and experimental piece, Rolling Hills-” The stunning Canterlot mare read from a card. “-along with beautiful performances of the classic pieces ‘Sun at Eve’ and elements of Beethoofens Fifth, The Manehattan music awards is honored to recognize Miss Octavia Melody!”

A trill of laughter, tinged with notes of relief, burst from Octavia’s throat. The applause was cacophonous. She stood, careful to walk the proper, Canterlot way. She also made sure to subtly smack the white mare next to her with her tail as she passed, eliciting a snort. Look upon me and envy, Vinyl Scratch. Let this turn that white coat green with envy. Octavia made her way up to the stage, feeling the pleasing warmth of the lights take root in her dark coat. There it was, the trophy. Beautifully carved into her treble, cast in gold over its natural violet. A subtle handle atop it allowed her to accept it in her jaws, and hold it up for the crowd. Her wandering eyes alighted upon Parish, who was weeping openly, hooves blurred as he applauded furiously. Her oven warmed heart melted just a little further.

“I’d like to thank Manehattan” She began, as was expected, then stumbled. She could thank Parish, her very best friend.. . . Who else could she be expected to thank? Her mother, who was not present? Her sisters? She had no one else. If she had, perhaps she would have avoided sitting besides the miserable DJ. She scrambled for a recovery. “And my lovely friend, Parish, to whom I owe everything.” She made a final few waves and departed the stage rapidly, some small part of her joy snuffed.

Yet more insufferably, Vinyl had not even moved, and was still fast asleep. Octavia elected to be less subtle this time, allowing the trophy to swing into the idiot’s dangling hooves as she passed. That got Scratch up, with a very satisfying yelp at that. She blinked blearily at Octavia as she sat back down, looking from the award to her. To Octavia’s frustration, she looked confused more than jealous.

“Hey, congratulations!” She said, confusion giving way to an infuriating smile on her alabaster muzzle. She seemed almost genuine. Hah! “You mind if I take a- Uh, well, nevermind. Sorry to bother ya.” She turned away quickly, pretending to fall back asleep. The buck was that about, you inarticulate ingrate?

“You are irritating me more by not asking.” Octavia crammed as much derision as she could into the sniff she gave, fueling coal into the furnaces behind her eyes, hoping against hope her gaze alone could ignite the unicorn before her.

“Sorry. I’m kinda tired. Uh, I was going to ask you if I could look at it, to see which name they put on it, like, is it your birth name or cutie name, but then I realized I don’t actually know either of your names, so, you know, it wouldn’t help.” Octavia could swear she felt steam exiting her ears. She gaped, unable to find words. What kind of inane non-question was this? “Thanks for waking me up though, wouldn’t want to miss the Electronic bits.” She smiled again, and struck herself on the cheek with a hoof, apparently trying to promote wakefulness, for all the good it did her. Her eyes still drooped.

“Oh, it was my pleasure.” Octavia said sweetly, indulging in a brief fantasy of bashing the stupid foal’s head in with the trophy, which said Octavia Melody, thank you very much. No birth names here. She sat back down, hard enough the chair squeaked in agony. She glared back up at the stage, which was now occupied by a new mare with a vivid two-tone mane-cut to do the modern music awards. Octavia listened intently as she walked the guests through a cavalcade of strange ponies and their awards. Hmm, no Vinyl Scratch, I see. Oh dear, I wonder why not. Perhaps because the very same Scratch is an utter imbecile, certainly not a pony who knows a rotten apple about music? Perhaps! A final pink pegasus accepted her gramophone speaker shaped trophy, and then the announcer cleared her throat.

“For this category, Fillies and Colts, we’re saving the best for last. One of the few ponies in our history to win two awards in one year! Tackling two different categories of music, we are proud to present these final two awards, for the stunning tracks of Scratchbaby, long overdue recognition for this excellent album, which varies from trance to jazztronica-'' She paused to let it play for a moment. Not bad, for modern music. Octavia thought, before she noted the little signature of quarter-notes at the bottom of the album cover, and her eyes widened into saucers. No. Impossible. Can’t be. No. She didn’t dare to look at the mare beside her. That’s just not possible. She couldn’t have.

“And if that’s not bassy and booming enough for you, get ready to shake those flanks to her new dance album and it’s titular piece ‘Blue Sun, White Sky.’” The magical projection changed to an image of Celestia’s cutie mark, but in shades of blue. A cloudy white background surrounded it. Same unseemly cutie signature, bottom left. Octavia shivered with rage, trying to clamp down on her traitorously tapping hoof. “I couldn’t be more hyped to present these two awards to Miss Vinyl Scratch, better known as the illustrious, the charming and the beautiful DJ Pon-3! Get on up here filly!”

The thunderous applause played second fiddle to the blood pounding furiously in Octavia’s own ears. Her eyes were pulled over to the mare, as if drawn by gravity. The devil-sent DJ was still blinking bleariness away, having fallen asleep once again. She scrubbed a hoof across her drool stained mouth, and adjusted her purplish spectacles before hopping out of her seat, swaggering down the aisle. Or perhaps she’s still drunk? Octavia was beginning to feel as though she would pass out. Two awards. Two! And she could not even be bothered to care? Who was this pony? Had Octavia sinned against Celestia somehow, that the Princess would send somepony to torture her like this?

Comments

[Jlargent]

Cannot resist:

[Gavier]

Eeeeeeeeeee! I'm loving it!

[TaleweaverTheUnicorn]

11558947
I like where your head is at

[new55]

That was a good story goodluck with the rest of it.