There was a fight going on at the bar.
Vinyl would have loved to say that she wasn’t a part of it; that the relentless screeching and thump of hooves against creaky wooden floorboards had in no way been triggered by her loud, careless mouth and tendency to say what she didn’t mean.
No such luck.
The stallion threw another punch at her muzzle, most likely revenge for causing his own to leak drops of blood that even now dripped from his right nostril, making a mess of his normally smooth lilac fur. His green eyes were wild with fury and his motions driven by pure rage and nothing else.
Vinyl ducked, leaping to the next table and holding back a snide snicker as her opponent staggered, disproportioned by only standing on two legs, and stumbled off of the table, his weight causing the whole thing to tip over and smash to the ground, as well as all of the contents currently atop it. Sticking out her tongue in a taunting sort of way, she jogged in place. “Come on, big boy! You done with me yet?”
He roared and threw himself at the table; suddenly surprised she found herself thrown backwards by his bulk and was dumped unceremoniously on the ground. The lilac stallion stomped towards her, pupils nothing but dots of fiery rage and hoofsteps making the ground shake.
Vinyl attempted to scoot backwards, blowing her mane out of her face with a quick puff of air; she laughed nervously in her raspy tone. “Okay, okay. I take back what I said. I take it back. Just let me go, ‘kay?”
His nostrils flared; he leaned in real close until their muzzles were nearly an inch apart. “You don’t mean it.”
She snorted. “’Course I do! Vinyl Scratch never says something she doesn’t mean, bro.”
He stomped again, pulling back his lips to reveal bared teeth in a hideous frown. “I’m not your bro!”
Chest heaving, Vinyl felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of her head. “I promise you,” she begged in her most sincere and feminine tone possible, “I really do mean it. I take back what I said. Seriously.”
The stallion stopped for a moment, seeming to consider this as a possibility, and Vinyl struck, catching him in the cheek with a well-aimed blow from her left hoof. Always the stronger puncher – always had been, always would be. She couldn’t help it; she let a grin cross her face.
Her enemy was not amused. He charged again, pushing off with his stronger-than-normal earth pony legs and managing to give her a healthy smack across the cheek Vinyl couldn’t avoid. That would make a bruise in the morning. No time to worry about it now, though.
Suddenly everything became crystal clear.
The stomping in the background, the yells from the other ponies in the bar, had previously been just a buzz she had blocked out of her system; ignoring it was no difficulty in the heat of the moment. But now, as her head spun from getting punched and her bruise hurt like crazy, everything became startlingly clear.
There were ponies cantering towards her at top speed – two stallions and a mare. The stallions were nothing special – they practically lived at the bar, their workplace. Vinyl saw them every time she came here. But the mare? She was new. Maybe a visitor, maybe a new employee. It didn’t really matter much given the context of the situation.
The larger of the two stallions turned to restrain her lilac opponent; the smaller one got in-between his co-worker and Vinyl, like a protective wall. The mare came straight up to Vinyl, placed one hoof on her shoulder, and, without even a word of advice or encouragement, began directing her out the door.
Feelings of relentless rage bubbled up inside Vinyl Scratch like a volcano about to blow. “Hey! Hey, where are we going?” She attempted to turn around, but the mare’s hoof on her shoulder was firm and still.
“Mares that start fights are not permitted inside the building,” came the smooth reply from behind her, lightly accented and cold as ice.
They came to the entranceway; Vinyl turned her head back to see all of the other ponies staring at her, expressions ranging from disbelief to smug pride. She grit her teeth, biting her lip. She wouldn’t cry – Vinyl Scratch was not a mare that cried easily, if at all – but if she wasn’t careful, she would scream, and that wasn’t a sound her fellow bar-mates wanted to hear.
The door swung open; the mare promptly continued her brisk walk out into the cold of the night. Luna’s moon hung high above them, only halfway showing on this night, perfectly contrasting the navy blue of the sky with its shining silver. Cold air hit Vinyl’s muzzle; she took a deep breath and felt refreshment flood her lungs as they gasped, taking it all in with relief.
“There. I’m out. Now will you leave me alone?” she snapped at the mare, who, in the natural night’s light, she could suddenly see a whole lot clearer.
Her coat shone a dark, dark grey – one could almost consider it black – and her mane, curled in an intricate bun atop the back of her neck, was silver streaked with periwinkle. Her sky blue eyes were not amused as she stared Vinyl down, clearly not happy with her explosive response. She was actually very pretty, though that was a thought the unicorn banished quickly.
“Actually, no,” the mare replied sternly. “I have a question to ask you first.”
Vinyl rolled her eyes, alighting her horn with light blue magic to pluck a piece of grass from the side road next to her and tie it into a quick knot. “Alright, shoot.”
Her companion blinked. “Pardon?”
“Shoot. You know, fire away.”
“You’re not telling me to shoot you, are you?” For the first time the mare’s voice wasn’t cold or crisp – it was the sound of genuine confusion.
“Ah, you’re one of those folk who doesn’t know about slang. Gotcha. Shoot means just talk. Shoot it at me.”
The mare still looked uncertain, but she took a reluctant seat in the grass. “Why did you start the fight?”
Vinyl hadn’t expected this question.
She didn’t like it all that much.
She took a long swig from her drink and slammed it down on the counter, a little bit woozy. “Another round!” Her voice slurred, but she shrugged it off. The stallion at the bar winked in her direction and headed to retrieve her order.
That was when he sat next to her, leaning lazily against the countertop with a bored expression on his face. She smiled his way, showing teeth, making sure to take in all of the details. This was a newcomer at her bar. She knew everypony here – the ones here to party, the ones here to drown their sorrows, the ones here just for a lively time.
“Hey,” she greeted him, taking in his short blonde mane and lilac fur.
He nodded at her, only glancing her way for a second, but when he did so, he did a double-take and looked back. “Hey, aren’t you that cellist’s marefriend?”
With the drink still flooding through her system, it took her a few seconds to process what he was asking her. Surprisingly she didn’t even blush. She just laughed, a hearty laugh, before letting out a long belch. “Tavi ain’t my marefriend, man.”
“Word on the street says she is.”
She narrowed her scarlet eyes and slammed a hoof against the table. “Then word on the street is damn wrong.”
He laughed, a deep rumble that was like an earthquake. “You seem pretty defensive of her, sweetheart.”
“Am not.”
“Your face is red, look. Aw, cute. You’re blushing.”
Vinyl stood up, chest heaving. “If one more word comes out of that mouth, you’re asking for a beating.”
Did the stallion turn and walk away from her obvious might and strength?
No.
He simply laughed again. He laughed in her face.
She growled.
She sprang.
Vinyl shrugged. “Was a stupid reason, really. Seriously, it’s not worth asking me about. Now why don’t you go pry in somepony else’s secret business, lady?”
She cocked her head to the side, as if amused. “Lady isn’t a very lovely name, I don’t think.”
“Well, you haven’t exactly told me yours,” Vinyl was quick to point out, a scowl on her face. The memories had made her unhappy and she was clearly showing it.
“Harmony,” she replied, a smile playing on her lips, though it wasn’t a real smile. More like a semi-smile – a smile that was there without the feeling behind it, like a mask instead of an actual mare. “And I’d ought to go now.”
Vinyl raised an eyebrow. “I’m not stopping you.”
“You’re not,” Harmony replied sharply. “I just want to tell you one last thing.” She stopped and considered for a second. “Three things, actually.”
“Shoot.”
The mare held her head high and proud, not backing down. “One. You’re an absolutely terrible liar – I can see the red plastered all over your face. It looks like a filly painted it there.”
Before Vinyl could protest, Harmony was already onto the next proclamation. “Two. Tell Octavia I send my love.”
Panic alert flashed through Vinyl’s mind. She knows Tavi? But…but how does she know I know her? I…send her my love? Who the hay does this mare think she is? It took all of her willpower not to slug Harmony right there and then, but she wanted to know what the mare was going to say next.
“Three, you ought to consider being more like her,” Harmony finished, eyes flashing with some sort of dangerous, impossible-to-interpret warning. “It might do you some good.”
Vinyl’s mind spun; she blinked several times in rapid succession. There was so much she wanted to ask; so much she needed to know. But Harmony had already vanished inside the swinging double doors of the Canterlot bar; she could still hear the music playing inside and see the lights flashing and all she could think was: Who was that?
No answer came.
So Vinyl began the walk home.
“Tavi, I’m home!”
Vinyl trotted into the entranceway, not bothering to clean her hooves, and collapsed on the couch, mind spinning madly. Into the room entered Octavia, top class cellist and a beautiful mare who also happened to be Vinyl’s roommate.
“Home so early?” she asked skeptically, taking a seat next to the unicorn on the couch.
Vinyl shrugged. “Just wasn’t feelin’ it tonight, you know?”
Octavia narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t pry. She was nice like that. Kind of a doormat at times, but Vinyl liked her that way.
“Know if anything’s on the TV?”
“Nothing; I’ve already checked.”
“Damn it.”
They sat together in an awkward phase of silence for a few minutes more; Tavi got up eventually, claiming she was tired and needed to head to sleep, which did make sense, considering they were both awake at two in the morning. But something compelled Vinyl to stop her with one outstretched hoof. “Tavi, wait.”
Octavia turned, confusion and exhaustion in her eyes. “What is it, Vinyl?”
“There was a mare asking about you at the bar today.”
Her eyes went wide; she said nothing.
“Really pretty little girl she was. Called herself Harmony. She said I had to send you her love, but honestly, Tavi, who is she? Did you have an affair with some other mare once?” The tone was sharp and accusing, not at all how Vinyl had intended it to sound.
Octavia gave no response; she was as still as a statue.
Vinyl got up and prodded her roughly in the side. “Tavi, what’re you doing?”
She awoke as if from a dream, giving a soft gasp as her eyes flew open, fluttering several times to make sure she was awake for real. “Vinyl. Vinyl, do me a favor. Never talk to that mare again.”
A small burst of excitement vanished into disappointment somewhere in Vinyl’s stomach. “Never again? But hey, she was really pretty…”
Octavia bared her lips in a snarl. “Never. Again. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to sleep! Because some ponies actually need it!’”
She turned and stormed out of the room without a second thought.
After a few minutes of confusion, Vinyl decided to follow her example. After all, what Octavia had said was true. Ponies did need their sleep. And she, Vinyl Scratch, most successful DJ in all of Canterlot, needed to sleep on Harmony’s words. She’d figure out what to do in the morning.
You ought to consider being more like her. It might do you some good.
This was the part that had confused her the most.
Be like Octavia? The doormat that occasionally stood up for herself, who loved to be fancy and play her cello, who was a social butterfly at fancy events that she herself never even dreamed of attending? She didn’t have any troubles at the bar, or come home drunk and covered in bruises from fighting yet another pony. She never got confused over nothing, or wanted to hit on any pretty mare that she saw. She was just…Octavia.
Why did that sound like such a good idea all of a sudden?
Vinyl sighed. She did need sleep. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to drift away to the world of no dreams, restless tossing and turning, and relentless indecisiveness.
Her decision had been made in her sleep. It wasn’t a smart one – it was very rash, very Vinyl-ish, very poorly timed to spring upon poor Octavia as she sat at the morning table casually sipping her coffee. She looked up as her roommate approached and waited for Vinyl to speak.
“Is it alright if we mind-swap personalities for a day?”
Octavia did a spit-take there and then.
There’s a saying spoken throughout most of Equestria. Manehatten can be vibrant, filled with life, the luxurious dream of an upper class pony. But if you’re not on that scale, well…you can get pushed into an alleyway with the blink of an eye.
It was this saying a young Octavia thought of as her adversary approached her. The mare was unsteady on her long legs, like they were too tall for her only recently grown body, but her eyes showed none of this. They were cold and unforgiving.
Tavi took a hoof-step backwards and bit her lip as her small hoof splashed into a puddle, chills running throughout her whole body. “Please,” she begged as the older mare approached. “Please. You can’t, you never have –”
The mare cut her off, scorn evident in her voice. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”
Octavia shut her eyes, dreading the inevitable, and wished for home. She wished for luxuries and silks and fancy items surrounding her. Not this. She never asked for this.
It began to rain.
Vinyl levitated a napkin towards a still shell-shocked Octavia. “Tavi, so sorry, I had no idea you’d react this way…well, technically, I did, but, hey, it was worth a shot, right?”
Octavia took the napkin and dabbed at her mouth delicately, ignoring Vinyl’s half-baked excuses at an apology – for good measure she began to clean the area that she had spat at as well, including the cup – no drop could be left untouched.
“…I mean I know you didn’t want me to talk or even think about it but I really couldn’t stop, and you know, it could be a changing experience for both of us, even if it’s only for, like, a day!”
The earth pony blinked and held up one hoof. “Slow. Down.”
Vinyl’s white cheeks flushed a pale, rosy pink. “Sorry.”
Tavi didn’t reply, scrubbing at a particularly irritating smear on the table she conveniently hadn’t noticed before.
“So what I was saying is that—”
“No need to say another word.” Octavia’s purple eyes were stern; her gaze unwavering, her expression cold. “You want me to trade my personality, what truly makes me…well, me, with your personality? Trade quiet, fancy, respectable, for loud, slob-like, and wild?”
Vinyl winked. “Only for a day.”
Tavi groaned. “You’re missing the point.”
“I’ve had the right point all along.”
“If that’s what you want to think, fine.” Octavia turned her nose away. “But we’re not swapping personalities.”
Vinyl’s ears lowered. “But…but…I thought it might be good for me. You know, to maybe behave better in the future and make you happier to live here?” Her scarlet eyes twinkled with stars, growing large and hopeful. It wasn’t often one saw the most successful DJ in Canterlot using puppy dog eyes, and Octavia hesitated, if only for a split second.
What would she be like, with Vinyl’s brash, wild mind? What would she do differently? What could she do differently?
Last night’s conversation burst into her mind like a firework explosion, and she knew. She knew what she could do. She supposed the question was, however, would she do it? But that answer…that answer was obvious.
Octavia bit her lip, convinced her mind was made up yet not convinced simultaneously. “Only for a day?” she managed to squeak, voice barely louder than a whisper.
The smile of Vinyl Scratch grew bigger than the moon. “Only for a day.”
Her horn began to glow, the light bright, the light intense.
The rain got in her eyes.
Octavia trembled, squinting to see through the flurry and mist, horrified to find she was failing. Her opponent was nowhere to be seen, and on clumsy filly hooves she couldn’t take a few steps in any direction without falling. Lip trembling, she didn’t dare call out, in fear of being heard. Anywhere, the mare could be hiding. In the fog she could be standing, smirking at Tavi’s uselessness and confusion, toying with her. She should give up now. After all, she would never be brave. She could never fight back. She would never be strong enough, never ever, never ever ever.
Her opponent was bored now, and Tavi could feel it as she struck.
The filly was barreled over by the force of the kick that slammed her against a wall and causing her nose to bleed and her muzzle to bruise; tears streamed from her face as she lay limply against the ground, not even bothering to get up.
The mare approached her slowly, mouth curved in a smile of pure excitement. Octavia stared up at her, eyes pleading for mercy.
They stared at each other, mare and filly, and in that moment, a decision was made.
“I am going to kill you,” said the mare.
Octavia closed her eyes, her tears mixing with the rain.
It only took a second, and then it was over. Octavia didn’t even feel anything, not really. Just a horrible, searing heat on her temple, then absolutely nothing, like a blankness had swept through her mind and washed it clean.
Once she presumed nothing more was going to happen, she bit her lip and opened her eyes.
For a moment, nothing at all seemed to have happened overall. Vinyl looked at her, clearly just as puzzled as she was, when Tavi felt a searing pain in the back of her mind. Not being able to help it, she let out a horrified yelp. The high-pitched buzz rung in her ears incessantly, never once pausing. From the way Vinyl was clutching her hooves to her ears in shock, Octavia could tell she was experiencing the same difficulty.
Then, suddenly, it was over.
And the whole world was fuzzy.
It was like her mind had been walking along a nice clear path with lots of bright light and happy birdsong and other nice things and all of a sudden it had entered an incredible fog. It blundered around, making a mess and making stupid decisions, and…
…and she liked it…
Octavia grinned, but the grin was slightly lopsided and her next words were scratchier and more blurred, almost incoherent at times. “Scratch?”
Vinyl looked up, and by her widened eyes and her rapid breathing, Tavi knew she was experiencing something similar. “Y-Yes?”
“I am going to go out there,” the cellist proclaimed, smiling like an idiot, “and kick some ass.”
Vinyl rolled her eyes and sighed. “Good luck with that.”
Octavia winked and turned towards the door, having the full intention of slamming it open and calling to the whole word that she, Octavia, felt so absolutely alive that it wasn’t even funny, when she felt a hoof on her shoulder; she turned to see the unicorn staring at her. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“Going out to the world.” Tavi made a sweeping gesture with one hoof and giggled maniacally. It felt so good just to let everything out like this. “Going out to show the world who its master is.”
Vinyl’s gaze lowered. “I don’t usually act like that, do I?”
Octavia gave her a deadpan stare. “Course not, Scratchy. You’re normally worse.”
“Ha ha, so funny.”
The sarcasm translated right into a genuine compliment. “Thank you!” Tavi beamed, showing her full smile. “I try.”
Vinyl bit her lip. “It’s nice being you and all,” she began, but the thing is, I’m not sure that I really do like this. It doesn’t seem right to me. You know, I don’t think I’m usually that loud. Or brash. Or…” She visibly winced. “…so stupid.”
“It’s great,” Tavi assured her. “And it’s only for a day, right? That’s when the spell’ll wear off, right?”
“I think so.”
“Then it’s fine!” Octavia snickered and hopped a little up in the air. “I’m off to go kick the world’s ass now.” She winked. “Bye!”
Before Mopey Vinyl could utter another complaint, Octavia clicked her tongue and slammed the door shut behind her, relishing that her mind actually wanted to go run through mud puddles and scream and that her body could follow suit. It was just so easy and wonderful and excellent. Why would Vinyl ever like her own mind better than this?
Octavia shrugged and headed along the streets of Canterlot.
There was somepony she had to find.
Octavia’s eyes were closed, but she was not yet dead; she didn’t dare to open them any further in case that would jinx it. Her small body trembled pitifully in a ball, chest heaving as she awaited what was sure to be certain doom.
But instead of bringing down the fatal strike, the opposing mare spoke again, voice wavering slightly. “I am going to kill you.”
Tavi sucked in a deep breath and dared to open one eye partway.
What she saw made her gasp.
Her opponent was crying.
Tears streamed down the mare’s face as her chest heaved horribly; she bit her lip and shook her head, closing her eyes to try to stop the filly from seeing them flow. “Don’t look at me!” she snapped. “I am going to kill you!”
Octavia simply stared up, eyes as wide as the moon, as the older mare wiped away the tears and inhaled, though shakily. “I’m going to kill you,” she repeated over and over again, like a broken record player. “I – am – going – to – kill – you.”
Tavi shut her eyes and allowed herself to say the first words she had in quite a few minutes. “But…how come?”
The reply was made up of sniffles and sobs, making the words almost incoherent. “Because she’ll throw me out of the house – you know she will! She told me so!”
“So you have to kill me?”
The mare opened her eyes, still shining with tears. “I…what do you mean?”
Octavia got to her hooves shakily, still at least a head shorter than the mare she spoke to, but it didn’t matter. “Can’t you just let me run? I’ll go somewhere else – find an orphanage or something. I’ll be fine, okay? I know you don’t want to kill me, and I promise you…” She smiled weakly. “I don’t want to die.”
The reply came quickly. “I guess you could go…”
Relief washed through Octavia like a tidal wave.
“…but you can’t.”
It vanished just as fast.
“W-What do you mean?”
Though her opponent’s eyes shone with hurt, they were still set solidly in stone, the gaze cold and cruel, unforgiving and upsetting. “She’ll know you’re alive, and she’ll put the blame on me. And if she does that, well…you know what’ll happen.”
Octavia couldn’t process it for a moment.
But as soon as she could, she ran.
The mare straightened up, gritting her teeth. “You little bi – get back here!”
The chase began.
Octavia could have sworn she had never, ever felt more alive as that lovely day when she pranced throughout the streets of Canterlot without a care in the world.
Ponies would stop and tip their hats at her, greeting her as she trotted by, then eat their words as they realized something wasn’t right with the famed cellist of Canterlot. Octavia would simply smile and snicker, occasionally clicking her tongue at a pony or two, which made them stop dead in their tracks for a second to consider if they were losing their minds. This was not Octavia! This was not the Octavia they knew!
Once, a couple actually attempted a conversation – they were infamous among the Canterlot hierarchy, called Jet Set and Upper Crust. They circled the oddly behaving mare like two Timberwolves closing in for the strike.
“I do say,” Upper Crust snorted, “Something seems off about your attitude, Ms. Octavia.”
“I must agree,” Jet Set nodded like he was the wisest pony in the world. “You seem to have been acting…most inappropriately.”
Tavi rolled her eyes. “Ah, lighten up, tight-strings.”
Both mare and stallion visibly gasped. “Did you just…just…?” Jet Set stammered, attempting to place a hoof on what it was exactly he had just taken major offence to.
“You bet I did,” Octavia replied. “Shame it’ll only be for a day. You two deserve it. You’d rather stick your heads into the sun then become loose.” At this she snickered wildly. “Like me!” before continuing on her way down the street, leaving a very confused pair of ponies debating whether they would, in fact, stick their heads in the sun, and if they were to do so, how they would get their heads there in the first place (“I say we request a private coach from the princess” or “I say we request the princess herself!”)
Octavia did not stop walking after that until she reached her destination.
She had never actually been inside a bar before, but she didn’t have to shield her eyes from the flashing lights or cover her ears due to the loud screams and cheers, whoops and laughs. It came naturally to her; she strolled casually to the front table and took a seat, winking at the stallion who arrived to see her.
“Hello, Ma’am. Don’t think I’ve seen you ‘round here before.”
“And I don’t intend to stay.” Octavia’s voice, for the first time that morning, became deadly serious. “I’m looking for somepony. My sister, actually.”
Run. Run, run, run, run, run.
She didn’t know how she did it. How she kept on running and her opponent didn’t. Be it determination, perseverance, or just sheer luck, she didn’t quite care. But finally, finally, the mare behind her stopped the chase, collapsing in the mud created by the rain. Octavia dared to slow to a trot, hiding behind a building so as not to be seen and to catch her breath.
The last words the mare screamed at the sky chilled her to the bone.
“I…I hate you! You may be my sister, but you’ve destroyed me! Do you realize what you’ve done, you little liar? You little bitch? You’ve condemned me! You’ve…you’ve…”
As her sister burst into tears, lying on the boundary between Manehatten and who-knows-where, Octavia turned away, towards the forest, running so that the rain would hide her distraught face.
She thought she would never hear from her again.
And she didn’t.
Not until now.
“I think you’d know her as Harmony.”
