And Don't Ever Touch That Off Switch
Play My Track, Vinyl
By iDash
“I think it’s funny how one of our worst fears is the thought of settling down, and yet, the thing we strive for the most is that one place where we just fit in.”
-iDash
All was quiet and complacent as Celestia’s sun set over the city of Manehattan and its residents finally winded down for the evening. It was almost too quiet, unnerving actually. I never particularly liked this part of the day, this evening twilight. For some reason, it always felt like the world simply stopped at this time, like all was still.
I’ve always hated ‘still’.
Vinyl would always call this time the “twilight zone”. I chuckled to myself as I continued trotting along, the cello case strapped on my back shifting slightly back and forth with each step. The streets of the busy city were finally starting to clear out. Store owners were starting to close shop for the day, a jolly bag of bits in their grasp, and workers were letting their shoulders relax with a content sigh as they opened up their front doors to be welcomed home.
I smiled and waved to those few that I passed on street. As I witnessed the city begin to rest, I felt my own body seem to grow heavier, along with my urge to be at home where I could unwind. Well, no matter. I was almost there.
Gradually, the brick walls and buildings began to dissipate as I reached Manehattan’s more residential area, and then even more so as I reached the outskirts of that. The cobblestone road quickly faded to grass as I got closer. After a few more moments of walking and enjoying the soft, warm feeling of grass under my aching hooves, I came upon a small hill. I looked up, and there it was.
Home.
I gazed up the two story complex, taking in the relief. My gaze shifted to the garden in front of the house, and to the neatly trimmed bushes, whose leaves were flushed a golden yellow from the coming of Autumn. The way the fading sunlight reflected of the the dull white wall almost seemed to make it glow with effervescent light.
‘Ah, home, sweet home,’ I thought.
Smiling to myself, I resumed my trotting until I soon reached the plain white front door. Taking a satisfying breath, I lifted a hoof and gently pushed the door open. It seemed to open wide with just that gentle push, almost as if it were gladly welcoming me inside. I stepped over the welcoming mat and onto the wooden floor of the house.
I took in the familiar setting of my home. Large, clear glass windows covered the entire wall in front of me. I had a perfect view of the sunset and the gold and scarlet hued clouds that drifted lazily in the sky. My eyes moved over to the living room. It was rather simple. A few seat cushions rested on the floor in the center of the room. Off to the side of that was a record player that was hooked up to a couple of speakers. A single poster decorated the wall to the left, and under it stood a small shelf lined with vinyl records of various artists.
I chuckled to myself. That was our prized collection.
I took another breath and watched as the warm, golden sunlight washed over the entire room, basking it in its wonderful glow. I stepped out of the doorway, closing the door quietly behind me, and walked into the living room. I looked around for a minute, then called out, “Vinyl, I’m home!”
A moment of silence rang throughout the house before I heard a loud bump from upstairs, then the scuffling of hooves across the wooden floor. A second later, an alabaster mare came bounding down the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of me. Vinyl Scratch looked at me, the joy sparkling in her ruby red eyes that stood in stark contrast to her electric and cyan blue mane. The grin on her face stretched from ear to ear.
“Tavi! Welcome Home!” she exclaimed before jumping at me a wrapping me in one of her hugs, which, despite its lung crushing tendencies, I gladly accepted. If there was anything ever worth coming home for, it would be that jubilant shout and the hug from Vinyl I got every time I opened the door.
Vinyl broke the hug eventually, the smile still on her face, and began to trot off towards the kitchen. As she did her horn began to glow with a pale blue aura. The same aura enveloped my cello and lifted it off of my back, setting it down in one of the corners. I gave a sigh of relief as the weight was lifted from my shoulders.
“So, how’d your recital go in Canterlot? You have fun?” Vinyl spoke to me from the kitchen.
Instead of answering, I cantered into the living room and collapsed onto one of the floor cushions. I tucked my hooves under my head and finally let my muscles relax. I breathed in deeply through my nose taking in the dusty, yet refreshing scent that was home. After that moment of content silence, I replied to Vinyl’s question.
“Honestly? It was... exasperating,” I chuckled. As I spoke I dropped my Cantish accent and instead, spoke in my normal Faustralian accent. I always did this when I came home, when it was just me and Vinyl. She’s always said that she loved my accent. In fact, she and my family are the only ones that have ever heard it. Sometimes I wonder how all of those Canterlot nobles would react if they knew that this was my real voice. As Vinyl once said, it would probably be really funny.
Oh well. It’s nice to be able to be myself at home. Vinyl always says that I should starting talking like this more and in public, but the truth is, I actually like having something about me that only the ponies closest to me know about. Just makes it that much more special.
Vinyl giggled. “I told you those fancy snobs would wear ya down eventually.”
I shook my head. “They’re not snobs, they’re just... refined,” I argued, but smiled nonetheless.
“Refined, snobbish, same difference,” Vinyl said, eliciting a giggle from myself. Vinyl trotted back out of the kitchen, two steaming mugs floating in her magical grasp. My face lit up as I saw the coffee and its scent wafted over to my nose.
I loved coffee. I drank tea quite often, but only to impress those wealthy elites that I always played for. Coffee was my true favorite. If it were possible, I would live off of just the wonderful caffeinated drink.
I smiled to myself. ‘Ah, this mare knows me so well,’ I thought.
One of the mugs floated over to me and I gladly took in my hooves and began sipping away at the delicious, steaming beverage. Vinyl sat on the cushion next to me, resting her cup in front of her. “So, not too good, huh?” she said.
I looked at her, then turned my gaze down to my cup. I just shrugged. “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “It’s just... the same. The same stage, playing the same songs, for the same... elitist ponies to listen to, and the same quiet applause afterwards.”
I took another sip from my cup, set it down, then sighed. “You know, sometimes I think that the only reason some of them come to my performances is so that they can look rich and sophisticated. Like they don’t really care about the music or the culture.”
Vinyl looked at me with a raised brow like I was crazy. “Are you kidding me?” she said. “‘Tavi, I’ve heard your... band-”
“Ensemble.”
“Yeah, that. I’ve heard you guys play, and you sound amazing! I’m pretty sure even those snobs can tell you guys sound great. Everypony in your audience loves you ‘Tavi.” Vinyl finished. I smile at her. She’s always been sweet like that.
“Thank you, Vinyl.” I turn back to my drink for a moment, moving the mug around and watching the coffee splash around inside its container. “Sometimes...” I spoke up, still smiling. “Sometimes I just wish I had your crowd. Ponies that would go wild every time I played and scream about how much they love my music.”
Vinyl snorted. “You say that now. Just wait ‘till ya got drunk stallions trying to climb up onto your stage and play your cello.”
I giggled and punched her lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, you know what I mean.” She smiled and took another sip from her drink. For a few minutes, we just sat there quietly, just enjoying the comfortable silence and the feeling of home. It was a perfect moment, but then, that awful feeling of 'still' came creeping back into my mind. Why couldn't it let me enjoy this moment just a little bit longer? And then I had an idea.
"Vinyl," I said as I turned to my friend. She looked back at me with those ruby eyes. "It's awfully quiet. Why don't we put on some music?"
She grinned at me, then stood up and trotted over to the shelf full of records. "Sure thing, 'Tavi," she said and began flipping through the records. "What do ya feel like? We got Bach, Beethoven,-" she began listing the names of artists and songs that I often listened to, but I stopped her before she continued. None of them were what I was looking for.
"Vinyl." She looked up. "Play that song," I said simply.
Vinyl blinked a few times before a hint of recognition appeared on her face. "Ooh, I gotcha, 'Tavi." She smiled as her horn began to glow. A plain black record case surrounded in her blue aura came floating out of the shelf. Delicately as she always was, she slid out the record. It drifted through the air and landed on the player, locking in place. Vinyl set the needle down and let it spin. She trotted over and laid down next to me, gently leaning against me.
Smiling, I rested my head on my hooves and whispered, "DJ, play my song, and don't ever touch that off switch."
And the song played.
I listened as the sound of a violin played in my ears, followed closely by the steady drum beat. The music escalated, then faded back into a smooth melody, all blending perfectly together. The harmonious fusion of serenity with a touch of flare.
This was the first song I ever made with Vinyl. Our very first collaboration. It took her quite a while to convince me to play the violin, saying my cello would create a conflicting bass that would ruin the song, but eventually, I consented. And it turned out beautifully. The song was truly wonderful, two different styles coming together to create something amazing.
I found it a common misconception about what ponies believed my opinion to be about Vinyl's music, and a rather unpleasant one at that. Most believed that I hated the DJ's music.
That couldn't be farther from the truth.
The fact was that I absolutely adore Vinyl's music. It amazes me, the things she can make. I don't hate her music, I just prefer my style a bit more. And the same goes for Vinyl. You would be surprised by how well versed she is in the classical arts.
Sometimes, I wonder how all those nobles would react if they knew that I associated myself at all with Vinyl’s music. Likely, not very well.... Hmph, well, they can shove off. How dare they say that her music is any less wonderful than mine. I swear, I am going to punch the next aristocrat that says her music is ‘headbanging garbage’ right in their snobby little face.
I quickly shake my head to clear of those thoughts. None of that matters now. What does matter, is that I’m here with her, and right now, we’re happy. I rest my head again and close my eyes. I lean in closer to Vinyl and take in her warmth. The song is still playing. I love this song, and right now, I just want to hear it through to the end, with her by my side.
Right now, everything thing is perfect, and for just a moment, it all stays that way, perfectly still.
...
Huh, maybe it’s not so bad.