Chapter 1: Goodbye Sanity
Octavia enjoyed the rattle of the bench as it shook beneath her. Another train was passing by on the platform behind her, rumbling the ground with its locomotion. It was about time she had some time to herself, even if it was raining. And cold. And she was wet. And cold again. But despite it, she was alone in somewhat peace and quiet, if the rumble of the train could be ignored. At least there wasn’t a crowd.
She huffed, brushing a black lock of mane from her face and settling into the bench a bit more, thankful for the overhang that was deflecting the downpour. Celestia knew why the pegasi had scheduled it for today, but it had soaked her luggage, and that alone was enough to ruin her day.
Now her train was late. The clock on the station platform was ticking away steadily, its hands locked on eleven now. Lamps shone through the dark, illuminating the soaking tracks, the sparkling tile platform, and the ever obnoxious news vendor at the end of the station. Her pink eyes drifted to him, his dry stall, his little treats for the foals, and of course, his newspapers.
Her face was plastered on yet another one. Of course it was.
She breathed in and sighed heavily, standing up and giving her best attempt to wring the water from her mane, before trotting over to him. His stall was a bit warmer, thanks to the candles he had on either side, illuminating the glass casing in front which the newspapers were protected. Bending down, she inspected one, its large picture of her face, an expression of distaste and anger on it as she glared back at a peculiar mare, whose spiked mane and musical flank would tell any and all that she was none other than Vinyl Scratch.
In huge bold letters the paper advertised: Biggest breakup of the musical century: Octavia and Vinyl play their final crescendos.
Her lips curled into a snarl, but soon fell to a limp frown. She looked up to the salescolt, whose lips mocked hers with a smile. “How much for a paper?” she asked.
“Two bits, all things considered,” he said. Octavia eyed him over, frowning at his knowing smile. From her coin purse she pulled two shiny bits, tossed them on the table, and took the paper from him as he collected his money. She made her way to the bench, sitting down with a grunt and pulling the paper high. Might as well see what the paper has to say about it, she mused.
Octavia Philiharmonica and DJ Vinyl Scratch are possibly the most reknown couple in Canterlot. Their drinking sprees and music collabs, as well as their connection to their fans, have made them a favorite. But when Octavia’s drinking took a turn for the worse--
“I only had a few glasses of red wine,” she muttered, squinting to read the text. “With dinner.”
--it became clear that things would go south. She and Vinyl began arguing over music rights--Equestria Inquirer spoke to Pone-3 Records--and the music collaborations--
“Abominations.”
--ceased. According to Pone-3’s agent, Vinyl has kept all the rights to her songs, leaving Octavia reliant on her old works. But when, in a spree of anger, she crushed her cello, the pride instrument of the most famous musical mare of Canterlot, it crushed a lot more than a few strings and wood.
“Uncouth,” she growled. “I thought papers were meant to have some sort of moral standing...”
It crushed her career. Word has it nopony will hire the mare, and she’s fleeing to Ponyville to escape the bad press. Also, according to Vinyl, Octavia “smells like stale rosin.”
“That is a downright lie!” She slammed the paper down, then wadded it up and tossed it onto the tracks. As if by fate, the next train rumbled into the station, screeching along the tracks as it ground to a halt. The paper was now oblivion, as it should be. Octavia tilted her nose high and huffed, slinging her suitcase across her back in remembrance of her now non-existent cello.
A mustached stallion stepped out from one of the cars, looking to her, and the other few passengers who were also relocating to the middle of nowhere in the forsaken hour of the night. He smiled to them all a friendly smile and said, “Eleven o’clock to Ponyville. Tickets please.”
Octavia whipped out a ticket from her luggage, and the stallion took it in his magic. After making a small tear on its corner, he slid it back in her pocket, and stepped aside to let her aboard the train. She stepped on, a small smile creeping upon her face as a blast of warm air hit her through the doors. Even better, it was quieter aboard the train than it was the station. Every seat was empty, letting in unabated orange light. She took a deep breath, enjoying the warmth for a moment, before beginning down the rows to the midsection of the car. After slinging her luggage into an overhead compartment, she tucked herself into a seat and reclined.
It was, after all, a long night.
And tomorrow would be longer, she thought as she stared idly out the window. Ponyville was like hot against cold when compared to Canterlot, and it was certain a place that a pony such as herself would never go voluntarily.
The newspaper flashed in her mind again. She shuddered; voluntary was out of the question. If anything, this was her luck at its peak--not very high, of course-- and she’d be a fool to ignore it. Besides, getting out of Canterlot for a little while would be good for her complexion and health, right? Of course it would.
It was all thanks to her long time... friend. As the train jerked to life, the conductor shouting his final warning to absolutely nopony at all, Octavia’s mind wandered to her bag, where somewhere deep inside was a letter signed with a little hoof-drawn lyre.
Light. It was flittering in through the curtains, bouncing along the walls of the car and into Octavia’s head. She sat up and groaned, passing a quick, painful glance through the window; she’d slept all night. Sitting up, she arched her back and nearly yelped, easing up instantly. The ride left her sorer than she would’ve expected.
Wait. She turned to the window again, finding herself looking down upon a town from the cliffside. Ponyville, covered in the sun’s morning rays, sat quiet and quaint, waiting for her. Simple houses with simple gardens along simple streets simply watched her simply staring. This was her destination.
The light of day was sucked away as the train slipped through a tunnel, leaving her in momentary darkness, before blinding her again. She waved her hooves furiously in an attempt to shut the curtains, falling into the aisle as she did so. It took at least a good minute for her to blink out the whiteness and stand to her hooves again.
Soon enough, the train was grinding on its wheels. Octavia made quick work of her luggage, pulling it down and slinging it across her back, then looked to the doors. Through the window she saw the train ease into the station without strain. Many ponies were here waiting, possibly to get on, though perhaps one or two would meet the few ponies who’d taken the trip with Octavia.
She, however, didn’t see the mare she needed to meet. Amongst the sea of ponies there was no mint unicorn bouncing in place, as she’d expected. The doors slid apart with a hiss, letting the warm morning air flush into the cabin. Octavia breathed it in, treasuring the last bit of silence she’d have for a while. Then, she stepped out, into the sun, and through the ponies.
Quickly she went through the crowd, working her way between them as they all pushed against her to shuffle into the car. Eventually there was a staircase, and she soon found herself on solid, unshifting ground once more. Still no mint unicorn to steal the show. She sneered and huffed, and her belly rumbled in agreement.
This was no Canterlot, that was certain. No paved roads, they were all dirt. No sidewalks, because there were no carriages. The houses were all wood and thatch, and there was a faint smell of warm bread in the wind. That meant, of course, no audience, no parlours, no lounges, no restaurants, no nobles... nothing of importance. She swallowed and eyed the boring town over with an idle gaze.
Perhaps they banged sticks together for music, too.
“Well,” she muttered to herself as her eyes wandered around the town. “At least it’s quiet.”
And it was. Ponyville was... quiet. Simple and quiet, Octavia thought, with a root in rurality that made it almost innocent. The ponies here carried on with their days with smiles, chatting quietly to themselves, enjoying the quiet. Octavia let herself smile. Quiet would be good for her, especially since--
“Tavi!”
Her heart leapt and she scattered away, kicking up dirt with her hooves. Just behind her were a pair of sparkling amber eyes and a gleeful smile. Two firm hooves pressed against her cheeks and spun her around, bringing her face to face with Lyra, who then gave her a peck on the cheek and hugged her so tightly.
“Um, hello Lyra,” Octavia managed through the grasp.
“Tavi! By Celestia, I haven’t seen you in, what, a few years! It’s great that you took my invitation, we’ve so much to catch up on, and--” She paused to bury her nose deep into Octavia’s mane.
Octavia chuckled weakly. “Um, Lyra, what are you--”
“You smell strange.”
Octavia blinked. “W-what?”
“Like...” Lyra hummed. “Stale rosin.”
Octavia twitched. “Get off, if you please.”
“Okay!” Lyra released, backed up, and smiled wildy. “So, you must be hungry? I got some cake at home, and we can get some ice cream later if you want. Ooh, and you have to try the Apple Family cider. It’s top notch stuff.” She giggled.
Top notch. Visions of swirling red wine aged a century or so flashed in Octavia’s mind.
Cider: dirt in a cup.
“Right... can we please go... home?” The luggage on her back was beginning to weigh down on her sore spots, forcing her to shift on her hooves unsteadily.
Lyra gasped. “Of course! Let me take that from ya, looks heavy.” She gently lifted it from Octavia with her magic. “C’mon, my house is awesome. It’s tucked away in the niche over there. Well, you can’t see it from here, because of the station, but you know. Follow me.”
Without protest, but with a deep sigh, Octavia followed Lyra as they crossed the tracks. The train’s churning and huffing was soon left in the distance as they made their way down an empty street, then turned a corner. A peculiar building here caught Octavia’s eye; it looked like a cake. A big cake. Standing in the center of a large circular clearing was a cake.
“These ponies...”
“That’s Sugarcube Corner,” Lyra remarked. “Best cakes in Equestria. It’s where I got yours.”
Eloquent as she was, Octavia offered a smile to Lyra, who was scanning her face for approval. “That’s... sweet, but you didn’t have to go through the trouble.”
“Hah! Nonsense, when a good friend comes into town, it’s always my thing to do something for them. Besides, after what you’ve gone through, I thought you could use something sweet. Y’know, now that you’re single. And alone. And single.” Lyra turned away, presumably to smile to herself.
Octavia squinted, but strayed the conversation. “So then, your house. It’s... where?”
“Right off this road, down here.” They turned down a street. “See that one? That one right there? Yeah, that one’s mine. I know, she’s a beauty.”
It wasn’t much, Octavia noted. Just a straw thatch roof, two stories, a few windows and a balcony, but she’d never say anything to her hostess. Besides, it did look cozy, when she looked at it in a certain light. “It’s nice,” she said.
“Yeah, but wait ‘til you see the inside. Or don’t, actually, just come in.” Lyra pushed the door open, and ushered Octavia in with a quick slap to her haunch.
Struggling to keep her cheeks from flushing, she swallowed and stepped in. “Thank you. I admit, it’s rather homey here,” she said, looking over the room. In total, there was perhaps four pieces of furniture. A couch, two side tables, and a coffee table. A staircase cut up the back, and there was a doorway to what she presumed was the kitchen.
Which all meant this house was about as small as her Canterlot home’s dining room.
“So... have a seat, make yourself at home,” Lyra said with a wink, shutting the door behind her. Octavia was more than happy to oblige, drifting to and falling down on the soft, inviting couch. A thump from beside her was her luggage, she guessed, and she heard hoofsteps click into the kitchen as Lyra disappeared. Now, Octavia was alone. Finally.
With tenderness she rubbed her head, easing out an oncoming headache. The couch was softer than it seemed, parting for her aching back to sink deep into. Quiet was all around her. The house truly did have a nice, simplistic touch. A sigh slipped her lips as they eased into a smile. Eyes closed and breaths slow and steady, she enjoyed the warmth of the home she’d be staying in for her visit.
And Lyra was surely mature enough to not take things the wrong way, right? They were friends now, though perhaps Octavia could have stayed in contact more with her. It was rather uncouth of her to just leave. All in all, though, Lyra seemed happy to see her, and that was good.
For the first time in months, she felt truly relaxed.
“Octavia~!”
She jerked, snapping her head to the kitchen archway. The small hum of magic invaded her ears as a large, deliciously decorated cake floated out in a veil of green. Lyra followed in suite, a smile plastered on her face.
“Alright, so here’s the cake I said I got. See? Pink frosting, just like your bowtie, which is somewhere, right? I know you never leave it,” she rambled as she walked. “I bet it’s in your suitcase. So pink it was, and then I got this neat little topper for you that--”
Her eyes were focused intently on Octavia, who sank back a little. Of course, that could only mean one thing, and Octavia was well aware. “Lyra, perhaps you should--”
“Which is totally awesome,” she continued, stepping out of the kitchen. “I mean, when I found out that Sugarcube Corner actually had it, I almost flipped, I swear. And then that they could make this cake so soon, I mean--”
“Lyra, dear, eyes on your--”
“And I almost cried I was so excited. It’s been forever, and when you just left, I was so sad, so now that you’re here we can--”
Splat.
Her hooves fumbled over themselves and the cake hit the floor. Icing splashed into Lyra’s mane, and her eyes went wide. She seemed to be frozen, a statue of icing and cake.
It was quiet. A distant thrum echoed in Octavia’s ear to the beat of her heart. She watched, intently, waiting for Lyra to move. Nothing happened, not even the twitch of an eye. She simply sat there, frozen, mouth agape and eyes wide, staring at the pastry-caked floor.
Then, one, lone tear crept down Lyra’s cheek, in agony for the lost cake. It trickled down, hung on her chin, then dripped to the floor to morph with the late buttercream delicacy.
Octavia closed her eyes and conked her hoof to her face. “Oh dear Celestia.”
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Or My Roomate is a Changeling. Not really, but whatever. So, first story in a while, and I'm pretty excited about it.
Special thanks to: ABronyLife42 for helping me along with this.
1732140 Would that be a reference to one Master Dennis?
This looks awesome. I'm sorry I don't have the time to read it just yet, but READ IT I SHALL!
Until further notice
Seems good so far, it is a nice break from the usual bonlyra and octascratch shipping, i am eagerly expecting more.
Before reading... there's one view and four +1's and one -1's.
EDIT: After reading, seems good so far.
... Is he gone? Is Regidar gone? ALRIGHT! Well, that being said, your concept is awesome and I look forward to more!
... Curious....
KEEEEEEP DOOOOOING YOOOOOUR THANG
THE DUKE OF EARL AGREES
[youtube=j9PoUsRibtE]
1733612
If someone downloads the story to read elsewhere (like on an e-reader or tablet) it doesn't count as a story view, unfortunately.
This looks interesting, perhaps the first Octydl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Octavia2.png story I have read without Vinyldl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Vinyl_Scratch.png playing a major role. If the character tags are to be trusted. I will keep an eye on this.
Ah! A story from Lynked! Well, let's see what we have here...
... what? WHAT!? Octavia without Vinyl? No Bon-Bon!? This goes against every fan fiction headcanon I've ever read! OVERLOAD! DOES NOT COMPUTE!
To whit, I positively LOVE IT.
The humor is ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. Quirky-crazy Lyra smelling Octavia's hair, her reaction to the cake - I was laughing my head off!
I know very well that many authors apparently despise mere mortal posts that don't immediately denounce their work, instead wanting for the harshest of criticisms in hopes that such will lead to vast improvements. If you're that sort of author, Lynked, then... I'm sorry. I don't find anything wrong here: grammar and characterization is right on par, concept well executed and the structure is solid.
So, though a girl, I'm going to side with the neckbeards and mouth-breathers and merely offer the following - WELL DONE! IF I WEREN'T ALREADY HAPPILY FOLLOWING YOU, I'D BE DOING SO NOW. Perhaps the greatest comedy is for timing, yes? Might I be dissuaded from being so delighted if I weren't so desperately desiring a well-conceived laugh? No. This is a GOOD CHAPTER to what I believe shall be an even BETTER STORY.
I apologize profusely for not being able to rip your recent work to shreds. I wish I could - I'd happily make a nest out of it and sleep in it. Believe it or not, that was praise.
Looking forward to seeing this through - thanks so much for the laughs!
1733624
SO DOES THE COUNT OF TUSCANY
WHY ARE THE HOOVES SO BIG
WHY IS THE MUZZLE SO BIG
I DON'T GET IT
1733937
TIS OUR...LESS, CLASSY NEIGHBOUR FROM THE NORTH, NEVER THE LESS NICE TO SEE A FELLOW DUKE
[youtube=j9PoUsRibtE]
TIS NICE TO SEE OTHER DUKES SHARE THE SAME....TASTE AS WE
Awwww i wish octavia never had that figt with vinyl i love those two couples
P.s.s maybe you can read my story called my day in ponyville
Hmmm....looks intriguing. Going on my read later list, but I shall indeed read it!
1734235 OH NUTS! Dunsparce! Run!
Hmmmm, well not going to lie, there are a few other fics with lyra as a changeling. (if this IS in fact where this is going) but this take seems new and exciting.
*Grabs bowl of popcorn*
24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m9hbk3vEJ41r3k1m8o1_500.png
Very funny with the splatted cake.
tis good! write more
Oh this sounds fun
Pretty good start! Like the idea
Sanity? I didn't even know 'em.
there was no teal unicorn
we’ve so much to catch up one
1. Mint, or did you mean teal as well in your next paragraph? Oh well, we shall see.
2. On.
You made Lyra cry...
Pinkie does not approve
I don't even know what i'm doing anymore!!
Oh thank you, as a fan of Octyra - as I'm calling it - i've been hoping someone would write one for a while. I'd writer one myself, but right now, I'm working on a big ass story about a friendship between them as they go on an adventure. But I digress.
In any case, you're off to a fun start here, lil scrap for content, but hey, it's something. Please continue and let us know where this goes.
1733603 Yeah, I just hope it wasn't the USS TaviVinyl blowing holes in this story. Landed four shots so far.
1733885 Wow, and thanks for the feedback
To be honest, I haven't written in a while, so I felt a little out of my element when I wrote this. Made me a bit nervous to post it, actually. I almost didn't, for fear that the comedy was about as funny as a cinderblock, but it's good to know I've done better than that.
1735706 Yes, this chapter was a bit sparing, I'll admit. I hoped to set up the scene, characters, ideas, while leaving the strangeness of Lyra a mystery. The cake felt like the perfect end to this chapter, and next chapter should have actual sustenance.
Thanks for the comment!
1734369 Indeed there are, and I've seen a few. Hope mine proves to be a unique experience for you though
1735581 Thanks for pointing those out! I didn't have an official editor help me with this, so it's a bit raw.
1733963 Because they're obviously balloons.
1735303 Who even needs 'em?
1733714 Here's hoping I pull this off to the best of standards!
Thanks!
1733594 I would be, perhaps
1733613 Thank you!
1734222>>1734766>>1735012>>1735258 Thanks guys
You're making me pretty excited about this fic.
1737286 though i do wonder, what made you come up with that name? when i see it, all i can think is "is this a clop story?". i can't put my finger on why, but it really does make me think it is a clop story until i see the tag and discovers it is actually good.
1737328 Hmm, I thought it was witty, in a way. Figured it'd be good for a comedy story. Heh, I don't quite see clop, but perhaps others do. It would explain the downvotes, I suppose
1737449 i agree, it is a good and witty title, but it does bring associations to certain clop fic titles as they are usually the only ones to utilize those kinds of puns
If i had it, the gif saying this is gonna be good would be here. As i don't, i shall simply say.
This gonna be good.
#proceed mon ami.
1737226
Yep, looks very good, I also like how Lyra seems to almost behave like a second Pinkie Pie. A good deal of fannon seems to accept that lyra is energetic but you seem to put a bit more into it then most and I do like this.
btw I can't help but imagine "how could this happen to me" at the cake splat,
images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120405204945/mlp/images/thumb/2/21/How_could_this_happen_to_Lyra/120px-How_could_this_happen_to_Lyra.jpg
Oh and one last thing in general...
WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME OF THE EXTRA "O" IN THE WORD "popcorn" IN MY FIRST POST!
I fixed it now but geez....
1738667 Heh, that scene was the reason I wrote the cake scene
And Lyra should be energetic; it's even canon. But I like it because it works for my favor 
You'll see.
Because popcrn is hilarious.
1738767
Yay! I guessed right! Can't wait for more.
as for the mistake it didn't say "popcrn".... it said "poopcorn"... oh well. It could have been worse, could have also had my finger slip one to the right just after pressing the "w" key and thus hitting the "e" when writing "bowl" making it "bowel"
Things could always be worse, lol.
Goodbye Sanity indeed... This is really good. Have a like, a fave, and an image macro.
iambrony.jsmart.web.id/mlp/gif/mlfw1126_my-little-pony-friendship-is-magic-brony-im-with-twilight-on-this-one.gif?1347573119
ees good.
Feh! Behold the conceit of one unfamiliar with true matters of taste. The true connoisseur judges flavour not by its nature, but rather by the heights to which its nature has risen; caste over cast, if thou wilt. Then again, she is a monochromatic mare amidst polychromatic ponies.