When Vinyl Scratch is raped and badly beaten, it's Octavia that comes to her rescue. This a new take of the relationship of the two musical ponies, and how they deal with pain, life, and love.
Vinyl Scratch's entire world, and self-respect and confidence, are shattered after she is raped in Canterlot. Saved by Octavia Philharmonica, the two mares struggle to make it through the pain of life with the memories of the past.
Set in a close-to-modern Equestria, in the same storyline and universe as Rekindling. Both stories will be entwined.
P.S. Wow! I certainly was not expecting such a big response in such a short time to this story, but I am immensely grateful! This is giving me a lot of motivation to keep on going.
If anyone would like to edit, or give ideas for the story, feel free to PM me at any time!
Octavia Philharmonica, lead chair cellist for the Canterlot Symphony, smiled happily as she trotted down the main avenue of Canterlot, ignoring the setting sun’s light that seemed determined to beam straight into her violet eyes. There was quite little that could dampen her mood now. Her ensemble had played for a private party at Fancy Pants’ estate and, if the standing ovation was anything to go by, they had surpassed expectations yet again. Ever since the disaster that was the Grand Galloping Gala, the Canterlot Symphony had had to work hard to win back their reputation as Equestria’s foremost classical ensemble. Everypony, from Harpo to Frederic to Beauty Brass, had given their heart and soul to their performances. Octavia could not be any prouder of her friends.
Canterlot during the day was a wonderland of magical and cultural delights; high-society ponies trotting to and from their important businesses, or nobles on their way to parties and matters of state. Some days, Octavia had even seen the Princesses mingling with the common ponies in the market, treating them like the beloved subjects they were. A ghost of a smile graced Octavia’s muzzle as she remembered a smile she had received from Princess Luna. Perhaps one day her ensemble could once again play for the royals of Equestria. One could only dream.
But Canterlot at night was a different story. Like many cities, the darker elements came out to at night to conduct their business, and even at sunset Octavia could feel the eyes on her back… and flanks. And while it made her uncomfortable- extremely so, in some cases- she was not overly concerned for her safety. Despite not consciously feeling it, Octavia was well aware of the Reserve Guard badge stashed in her cello case. It was not something one expected from the slight, sophisticated mare, but she had taken those three years of her life quite seriously before discovering her way in music.
A shaky cry caught Octavia’s trained ears, and her quick-moving gait slows, ears swiveling to catch the sound again. It’s a mare’s voice, though scratchy, and another cry immediately has Octavia trotting to find its source. Somepony could be hurt- in a magical city like Canterlot, odd drop-offs and spinning staircases were not uncommon, and neither were injuries associated with them. But this voice wasn’t coming from a staircase, or the bottom of a wall. To Octavia’s surprise, it seemed to be coming from a dilapidated warehouse, hidden behind a nicer, brighter store complex. A light was on in a window. The cellist was… not liking where this was leading.
Too curious for her own good, especially after another, louder cry, Octavia quickly trotted up to the window, peeking in slowly and cautiously. Surely it was just a game, some kind of Nightmare Night-esque scaring game, or a pair of amorous ponies in a private… setting… Octavia could not have been more wrong. To her quickly horror-filling eyes, Octavia could see a small, white unicorn with a shock of electric blue hair laying on the dirty floor, surrounded on both sides by a pair of stallions, both with malicious grins. The mare was trembling and sobbing openly, her flanks bruised and bloodied. A stallion’s hoof was pressing her head to the floor, while another…
The mare’s scream drowned out Octavia’s sob of anger as the stallion stomped hard on the unicorn’s horn, clearly trying to snap it off. The ivory point was chipped and bleeding out golden blood, and the base was a worrying shade of bruised blue. As the pain faded, Octavia could hear the mare pleading in a hoarse, scratchy voice.
“P-please, stop, I-I-I won’t run, I w-won’t y-ye-AAAAH!”
Another stomp, and Octavia was seeing red. Her cello case thumped lightly to the ground, and the ash-grey pony quickly opened it up, tugging out her badge and clipping it to her bowtie collar. This had to stop now, and if she ran to find an on-duty Guardpony… that unicorn could lose her horn. While not a deadly or permanently crippling injury, her Reserve classes had taught her that a snapped horn took years to grow back to full potential, and was an exceedingly painful process.
Octavia’s hooves were an interesting case in earth pony hoofdom. While her forehooves, accustomed to being used in lovingly tending to her cello and playing, were soft and finely-cared for, her hind hooves were far different. They were tough, and strong, more like a farmer’s hind hooves. Used to standing on her hind legs, and well-trained from her days in Guard training, Octavia tended to let her powerfully strong hind hooves be, only making sure they looked presentable. The poor warehouse door never knew what bucked it in half.
Three sets of eyes shot up- two in surprise, one filled with half-mad, delirious pleading- as Octavia stormed in, the light from the magical lights in the ceiling glinting off the golden badge at her neck.
“In the name of the Guard of Equestria, step away from her, now!” Octavia’s trained voice snapped, one forehoof pawing the dusty wooden floor beneath her, “Lay down on your stomach and put your hooves behind your heads!”
And for several seconds, nopony moved, giving Octavia time to size up the criminals. One was a Canterlotian unicorn, judging from his size and sly, superior smirk, with a dark brown coat and white mane. He had wrapped his cutie mark in linen, likely to make himself harder to identify later. The other pony was not nearly as smart, or sly. He was a pegasus, coat a soft blue and mane a short, bright red. His cutie mark was a dark thundercloud. Unlike his partner-in-crime, however, he was far more nervous… and sped out the window with a crash and zoom. That was no bother to Octavia. The Guard would find him… and he had not been the pony stomping on the unicorn’s horn.
“Stand. Down.”
“No.”
To any other pony, the unicorn’s magic would have thrown Octavia across the room to slam into the far wall, likely knocking her out and leaving her at the mercy of the sadistic pony. But the enchanted Guard badge dispersed the wave of magic as soon as it entered its field, leaving the unicorn blinking in surprise. There was a reason Octavia left the artifact in with her priceless cello most days. Octavia, unharmed and smirking, kicked her hooves into action, charging forward quickly, lessons coming back to mind.
Unicorns do not have the physical strength of earth ponies and pegasi, but their magic can make up for it quickly. Divide their attention, and attack the horn if you can. Remember, it is sharp; come from the sides.
Flipping around, Octavia’s back hooves bucked out, slamming into the side of the stunned unicorn and flinging him into the side of the warehouse, shaking the dilapidated building. His horn glowed a soft red as he stood, and several loose pieces of wood flung themselves at Octavia; her badge could not interrupt telekinesis on foreign objects. Hot pain slashed up Octavia’s side, but she ignored it, kicking a loose stone towards the unicorn’s head. The resulting crack and pained cry made both mares wince; the white unicorn was crying softly, curled tightly in on herself. Octavia sighed softly as she watched her, giving her mane a soft pet before moving to tie up the writhing stallion with some spare strings from her cello case. And she had been having such a good day… *************************
The Royal Guard had arrived on the scene soon after Octavia finished tying up the downed unicorn, much to Octavia's relief. She had magic nullifying horn ring in her case, but she had not looked forward to lugging both ponies around while she looked for a Guard. When the Guard, spears lowered and magic crackling, had burst into the warehouse, Octavia had quickly stepped to one side, Badge hanging from her chest.
"Reserve Guard Octavia Philharmonica," she told them immediately, standing perfectly still as one of the unicorns scanned her with a quick spell.
As amazing as magic was, it always was a tad... off for Octavia. She had been working her hooves off for everything she had since she was a filly. To stand and work the cello like she did, or her violin... to be able to do the same with magic would have made things so much easier. And she would have learned nothing. Octavia suppressed a small chuckle, stiffening and saluting with one hoof as a new group of Guards entered the building. Where most Royal Guard armor was gold, Officer and Detective armor were both silver and light blue, built to hold many different arcano-tech devices to help in their work. Two detectives quickly rushed to the fallen mare, horns flashing as they scanned her injured body, while a pegasus mare turned to stand before Octavia.
"At ease, Philharmonica," the detective (a quick glance down revealed Quick Shot emblazoned on her breastplate) barked, ears laying back as she looked her over, "Give me a report. The hell happened here?"
"I heard screams coming from this structure, ma'am. As per my off-duty mandate, I went to see if I could give assistance. When I arrived, I witnessed two stallions..."
Octavia winced, just a bit, before continuing, "Assaulting this mare. They were in the process of breaking her horn off."
She nodded grimly at the paleness that swept over the light blue pegasus mare, "There was no doubt that that was their intention, ma'am. I... believe they already had sexually assaulted her before I arrived..."
Quick Shot glanced back at the two unicorn guards, who each gave her a sad nod. Octavia's heart twisted. She had already assumed, given the blood and bruises, but the confirmation... Her ears laid back sadly as she looked the unconscious mare over. The poor thing...
"Ma'am, I... I will not mind accompanying her to the hospital," Octavia offered softly, her tail giving a few small swishes, "After stopping her attackers, I... would personally like to apologize for not arriving sooner."
One of Quick Shot's eyebrows rose, just slightly, "Reservist, I doubt she'll mind that. It's lucky you were around to arrive at all. Do not beat yourself up over that. That's an order. ...and yes, you may accompany her. Just come by my office within the next few days, to fill out a statement and some forms."
The unicorn guards were carefully loading the mare as Octavia hurried over, and she was careful to set the torn saddlebags up beside her. Whimpering quietly, the snow-white unicorn curled in on herself, and Octavia gave a soft sigh, patting her shoulder carefully.
"Don't you worry," she whispered sincerely, "It's all going to be okay now."
*************************
Vinyl Scratch woke up with a loud gasp, crimson eyes snapping open. Pain. Everything hurt. Her sides, her flanks, her… her plot… and her horn. Especially her horn. When that pony had stepped on her horn… the crack… she had felt it through her entire being. Tears leaked from Vinyl’s bloodshot eyes. She wanted to reach up, to feel her horn and know it was there and safe. But if it was gone… Her life. Her music. She knew she could play with just her hooves- she had done it before, during a bad case of Poison Joke exposure- but it had been a lackluster performance at best. And Vinyl hated to be lackluster. She was DJ Pon-3! The Mistress of Wubs, the Maestro of Dance and Hype! To be mediocre… she’d rather be de-
“Oh good, you’re up.”
The Canterlotian voice was soft, and relieved; definitely a mare’s. And very familiar. Despite the spike of nearly nauseating pain, Vinyl turned to her head to the left, and her eyes finally took in where she was. An IV drip pole rested above her, and a lance of sunlight shined through the blinds of the large window, illuminating the stark whiteness of the hospital room. And the voice… Vinyl’s breath caught in her throat. It was the Mare. Tall, with ash-grey fur and straight, charcoal hair. Violet eyes met Vinyl’s crimson, and the mare gave her a gentle smile. With the sun at her back, she was radiant.
“I-I… y-you’re…”
“My name is Octavia Philharmonica,” her savior whispered, still smiling, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss…”
“S-scratch,” Vinyl whispered, her voice sounding like its namesake, “V-vinyl Scratch.”
Recognition seemed to spark in the eyes of both.
“The DJ?”
“The c-cellist?”
Both mares blinked and gave a laugh- a soft, sophisticated giggle from Octavia, and a weak, hoarse chuckle from Vinyl.
“D-didn’t think… a c-classy pony like y-you would know about the club scene?” Vinyl teased, waving a hoof weakly; it was wrapped tightly in bandages, and she couldn’t help but wince at the memory of the pegasus who had slammed it into a wall.
“Oh, I know just a… little,” Octavia assured her, oblivious to Vinyl’s bleak thought, “You’re quite popular, and I’ve heard a few of your songs on the radio. I’m surprised you’ve heard of me, to be honest!”
This drew Vinyl’s attention quickly back to the mare across from her, and she gave a weak smile.
“I-I like some classical s-stuff,” she admitted sheepishly, “It w-works really well in remixes, I-”
The hospital door suddenly clicked open, and a white-furred, black-maned nurse peeked inside with an apologetic smile.
“Miss Philharmonica? I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over.”
Octavia sighed softly, nodding and getting to her hooves, not spotting the sudden tenseness that shot through Vinyl like lightning. She was leaving? No… No, no, no, she couldn’t leave, they’ll come back! She was only dimly aware of the heart monitor spiking loudly, or Octavia’s confused questions. She blindly reached out with her forehooves, tears filling her eyes. Screw looking like a filly.
“P-please don’t go, please! T-they’ll come back, I-I can’t… p-please…” she begged pitifully.
She tried to reach out with her magic to tug Octavia back, but a single spark from her cracked horn (at least it was there) sent a bolt of pain down her spine. No! No, she’s going to leave, she’s going- A shadow blotted out her vision, and a warm body pressed firmly against her. Vinyl took a tentative sniff; it smelled of instrument oil, vanilla, and a soft, earthy tone of earth pony sweat. Octavia. “I think… we can make an exception, this time.”
Waking up hurt. Octavia groaned faintly as she came to, slipping out of her dreams of sneering stallions and face-kicking. It was night-time, though the sleep completely threw off her internal clock. It’d take days to get back that back in working order. But any grousing the cellist might have done was quickly banished when she looked down at the little white unicorn. Vinyl was holding tightly to one of Octavia’s hooves; her face was peaceful in sleep, but it was easily to see the tear tracks coursing down her slim muzzle. Honestly, Octavia was surprised Vinyl got any sleep at all, considering the wreck she was early. It had taken several minutes of cuddling- and a shot of sedatives- to settle her down at all. It was… nerve-wracking, to say the least.
A soft hum and vibration from her cello case made the cellist start in surprise before hurrying to fumble for it with her free hoof. The little screen at the front stopped her cold. Thirty-eight missed texts, and dozens of calls. What in all of Equestria…
Octavia, where are you? Fleur’s party?- Frederic. Octy, this is bad- Beauty Brass
We saw the news, are you okay?- Frederic
Oh. Oh dear. Octavia gave a faint sigh as she set the phone aside, reaching back up to wearily rub her eyes. Oh course the news caught wind. Knowing the paparazzi, they probably saw and caught the entire thing on film. In the end, however, that was immaterial, as long as they left Vinyl alone. The poor thing certainly did not need to be hounded by the newsponies after such a trying time.
“O-octavia? Still h-here?”
The cellist chuckled softly at the sleepy voice, smiling at the little mare. Vinyl’s crimson orbs were locked on Octavia, wide with a mix of awe and utter relief.
“Of course I am, Vinyl. You asked for me to stay, so I’ll stay. I believe they’ll let you go home today!”
The DJ, however, did not look exactly… thrilled. Terrified would be a better word for the sight. Her grip on Octavia’s hoof tightened, and she scooted closer.
“The other one’s… s-still out there, t-though,” she whispered faintly, “What if… he knows where I live?”
Octavia blinked slowly, and frowned. That.. is a legitimate concern, actually. Her mind flicked back to her Criminology class. More often than not, criminals tended to disappear after something like this. But rapists could be… different. Crafty. And as a pegasus, he could quite easily spirit Vinyl away if he got his hooves on her again.
“I suppose the solution is quite simple, Miss Scratch,” Octavia replied, smiling soothingly at her, “You will stay with me.” ********************
Since their inception, the Canterlot Symphony had rented out a series of suites in the Maritrot Resort of Upper Quarter Canterlot, in case they needed to stay together for several days during arduous practice sessions. It was also Octavia’s ‘home,’ as it were. Most of her paychecks went into cello adjustments or repairs, and she maintained a sizable savings account with what she did not spend. One day, that would be enough for Octavia’s dream home. For now, however, some of those savings could be spent on her new friend.
The rapists had smashed her saddlebags to bits, which included her beloved headphones and music player. While Octavia could not replace the hundreds of songs the magical machine had saved on it, she could replace the machine and its accessory itself. This had earned her a rather tearful hug in the middle of the marketplace. And, to Vinyl’s relief, she had gotten a new set of glasses and a hoodie to help cover herself.
“One of my great, great, greeeeat ancestors was from Trotsylvania,” she had explained to Octavia, when asked why she wanted to hide her unusual eyes, “I got the eye color from him. Heh, the story actually makes it worse. A buncha ponies always asked if I was a vampire when they saw them so… decided to keep that from happening, I guess.”
At the suites, Octavia was met by her best friends in the ensemble- Frederic and Beauty Brass practically tackled her onto the ground, while Harp just chuckled and waved in relief.
“We were so worried!” Beauty gushed, wiping her violet eyes with a fetlock, “When we saw the news, they were carting that pony off…”
“And the Guard would not answer our questions,” Frederic answered with a little more calm, though his eyes betrayed his frustration, “All they told us was that you were in the hospital, and could not see visitors. We believed you were hurt!”
Octavia quickly picked herself off the ground, chuckling softly and waving them away.
“Easy now, everypony. I’m alright.” She turned towards the doorway, “Vinyl? It’s alright. These are my friends.”
Vinyl’s entrance was slow, her body tensed and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Octavia stepped to her side, giving her a gentle nuzzle along her ear.
“I’ve known all of them since I was a teenager,” she explained softly, “They won’t hurt you, I promise. This is Frederic, Beauty Brass, and Harpo.”
“A pleasure.”
“Hi there!”
“Hello, Miss Scratch.”
Vinyl’s throat bobbed from a large gulp before she gave a small smile, waving a hoof, “H-hi!”
Octavia beamed. Progress? At least somewhat. Though Octavia believed that it would be best to keep Frederic and Harpo a safe distance away from the traumatized mare. During their market walk, the poor thing had physically flinched away from any male that remained close to her, and she could see her horn spark several times from defensive magic. She would really need to see about a nullifier ring, and soon. She knew the pain magic caused to Vinyl had to be excruciating. With another gentle nuzzle, she guided Vinyl into the suites, and to her private room.
It… was not exactly modest, to Octavia’s chagrin. It was certainly comfortable, with such a large bed, made of the softest Saddle Arabian fabrics, and sported a large radio set off to one side. The bathroom was one of Octavia’s favorite things; a large shower, a Whirlpool tub…
“Would you like to use the bathroom, Vinyl?” she asked softly, nodding to the opulent, glorious porcelain room.
The cellist was mildly unprepared for the loathing look Vinyl gave herself, or the vigorous nod, and subsequent bullrush into the bathroom, but she could understand it. She was wholly unprepared, however, for Vinyl when she returned, great patches of fur scrubbed clear off, her pink skin bright red in irritation, and tears trailing down her face. “I-I’m sorry,” she murmured at Octavia’s stunned look, dropping to her stomach and shaking, “I-I could feel t-them and… I-I’m sorry…” The two slept together in the bed that night, Octavia’s forelegs wrapped tightly around her friend, her own tears mingling with those of her friend till Vinyl thankfully passed out. She sniffled, her muzzle gently nuzzling into her mane. Professional help might be best… though she would definitely need to speak with Vinyl first. ...and her ensemble. The cellist winced as upcoming dates and parties rose up in her mind. Leaving Vinyl alone would… not end very well, she was sure of that. The poor thing did not have her music, a home of her own that was safe, or other friends. At least not in… this town… A slow smile spread across Octavia’s muzzle as a new idea sprang up, focusing in on two upcoming performances. One in the hamlet of Ponyville, and the other in the great metropolis of Manehatten. Getting Vinyl away from Canterlot may just be the best… possible… thing. And with a plan of action in mind, Octavia snuggled her charge close, and drifted off to the smell of Vinyl and cotton.
The train ride was, thankfully, nice and quiet. Vinyl was snuggled firmly against Octavia’s side, eyes glued in awe to the brochure in front of her. The Lunar 2380 Magi-Sonic System. The best table on the market… and the Canterlot Symphony was buying it for her. She looked up shakily, blushing at the grins the other members were giving her.
“Guys… y-you really don’t have to do this for me,” she whispered sheepishly- for the tenth time.
And for the tenth time, they all just chuckled. Vinyl knew quite well that she had become something of a mascot and friend to the Symphony in the past week. Beauty Brass was just as wild as she… used to be. Frederic was nice, but getting close to him, or Harpo, tended to bring bad memories up fast. She felt really bad about it, and had said so every time she burst into tears.
Vinyl hated this. She felt weak, and constantly on edge. Every time she closed her eyes… He was there. The unicorn, the pegasus. Laughing, mocking, hitting… She curled her legs underneath her barrel, laying her head on Octavia’s side. Her scent was calming. Vanilla and oil. A slight smell of freshly tilled garden soil- they had had to run to make the train on time, working up a sweat. She peeked up past her purple shades at her Angel.
Octavia was settled lightly against the side of the couch, her eyes closed in a peaceful nap. Her barrel rose and fell slowly, charcoal mane framing her face against the light of the rising sun like a reverse halo. Vinyl’s movement caused Octavia to shift a bit, laying her head down by Vinyl’s, ears twitching lightly in her sleep. The DJ smiled faintly, closing her eyes after a moment. And with Octavia’s scent in mind, she had no nightmares that trip. ****************
“Vinyl! Oh thank Celestia!”
The mint-green unicorn slammed full speed into the shaky DJ, hugging her neck tightly. Lyra Heartstrings had met the ensemble at the train station, eager to see her long-time friend. She sniffled softly, nuzzling Vinyl’s straight mane. Vinyl hadn’t had much time, or motivation, to gel it back to its old spiky self. Besides… Octavia kept her’s straight, why shouldn’t she?
“How’re you doing, Wubs?” Lyra asked softly, dainty hoof ruffling her mane.
Vinyl shrugged slightly, but leaned appreciatively into the hug. Lyra had always been one of her more touchy-feely friends and, while it used to be somewhat annoying- especially during the more arduous sets- it was very much welcome now. Lyra would never hurt her.
“Miss Heartstrings?”
Octavia was smiling softly as she shook Lyra’s quickly offered hoof, “It’s a pleasure to see a friend of Vinyl’s.”
Lyra grinned softly, “And it’s good to see the mare who saved my best friend. Come on, I have a cab waiting to take us to my house.”
This caught the ensemble off-guard, Octavia in particular.
“Oh, Miss Heartstrings, you don’t… we were going to get a hotel, and-”
But the minty unicorn merely smirked; her golden eyes set.
“Oh no, Miss Society-Pony,” she butted in, winking, “You saved my best friend, took her in when you didn’t have to, and now you are staying at my place for free!”
Vinyl chuckled faintly at Octavia’s hounded look, shaking her head.
“T-trust me, Octy, you c-can’t change Lyra’s mind once it’s settled. It’s like t-trying to move a damn m-mountain by hoof.”
“Exactly!” Lyra chirped happily, horn glowing golden as little balls of solidified magic pushed the ponies along to the extra-sized carriage.
As Vinyl climbed inside, she let her eyes wander, taking in the sights of her childhood home. Massive skyscrapers jutted high into the sky; the enterprising weather teams had even wrapped some clouds around the buildings, making them appear to pierce the very heavens. Ponies of all shapes, sizes, colors, and races walked on or flew above the streets, their clops and wingbeats mixing in with the cacophony of laughing, shouting, and talking voices to create its own chaotic, yet wondrous music. A small smile curved Vinyl’s muzzle. It had been this very noise and thought process that had brought her into making her own music in the first place. Maybe when she got that mixing table…
************************
Lyra smiled cheerily as she led the group up into her home. It was a modest affair, two stories tall and settled down by the large park in the center of Manehatten. Out front spun a glowing candy cane, and a little sign on the door read “Bon-Bon’s Sugary Delights.” Every time she read that Lyra had to giggle faintly. And speaking of her marefriend…
“Bons! We’re home!”
“I’ll be right down!”
She led the group into the living room, tail flicking towards the couch invitingly.
“Bons and I will get dinner started,” she explained with a grin, “You guys just get settled in.”
Dinner was always fun. Bon-Bon tended to add sugar into just about everything and, while Lyra was an admitted chocoholic, it was usually up to her to add some of the more savory components. And tonight was definitely going to be a salt night. Poor Vinyl needed some way to relax. By the time Bon-Bon galloped into the kitchen, Lyra had the stove going, a tray of large mushroom steaks settled in the oven while their salty glaze bubbled on the burners. She gave her marefriend a sheepish look, rubbing a forehoof over the other.
“Uh, sorry, love. I know you were saving those mushroom steaks, but I thought Vinyl could use- mmm!”
Bon-Bon was smirking as she leaned back from her “shut-up” kiss, rolling her eyes.
“Do you really think I’d give her anything less than our best?” she asked softly, making sure her voice didn’t carry into the adjacent room, “I’m proud of you, Lyra. ...did you get out the salt cubes?”
Lyra’s cheeks instantly colored, “What? They need to relax! You should have seen Vinyl at the station, with all those other ponies… I thought she was going to explode.”
“And I’m sure being in a home with loving friends will work wonders on that,” she replied with a smirk, “Not getting saltdrunk. Trust me, self-control is what she needs right now. Control over her thoughts and actions.”
Lyra nodded, peering over Bon-Bon’s shoulder into the living room; Vinyl was settled between Octavia and Beauty Brass, staring wistfully down at a paper of some kind. Harpo and Frederic had retreated off to one side, speaking quietly into a cellphone. The harpist smiled faintly, leaning lightly against Bon-Bon’s side.
“Don’t you worry, Lyra,” she was saying, smiling warmly, “We’ll help her get through this. She has quite the support group here.”
“I know, Bons… come on, let’s finish up dinner. How about hot cocoa, instead of salt cubes?”
Holy Lunar Nights, it was beautiful, Vinyl thought giddily as she looked the table over, slowly running her hooves over the sleek, dark blue surface.
The Lunar 2380 was easily the most expensive mixing table on the market, coming straight out of the new Lunar Technical Institute in Canterlot. Even if Vinyl had pooled all of the money from her savings account, it would not have come close to being able to afford the piece of state-of-the-art magitech. The Symphony had to be loaded!
She would have to pay them back someday, Vinyl decided firmly, peeking shyly back at her friends.
Friends. It was an interesting concept for Vinyl. While she had always been the undeniable raving master, and had fans somewhere in the thousands, Vinyl had rarely made much in the way of lasting friends over the years in Canterlot. The place had been great for business; high society ponies had a tendency to throw off their stuffy outer selves and indulge once the sun went down and the bass started spinning, but the second that music ended, Vinyl became just another “ruffian” to the upper class. To say the response that the Symphony, and Octavia, had been shocking would be… something of an understatement.
A soft hoof settled on Vinyl’s shoulder. Adrenaline and fear spiked as she spun around, but only for a moment. Just Octavia. She was safe. She gave a weak smile in apology.
“Sorry, Vinyl,” she whispered sheepishly, getting rubbing the unicorn’s coat, “Didn’t mean to frighten you. What do you think of the table? We can collect your records from your home when we pass back through Canterlot, or maybe can find some here in Manehatten…”
Vinyl’s ears immediately splayed, eyes wide at the thought of her friends spending even more bits on her.
“N-no, no!” she replied, quickly holding up her hooves, “Y-you don’t have to b-buy anything else, Tavi! Really!”
Tavi? Oh crap, that was too forward. Vinyl’s eyes flicked around for something to distract Octavia before she could think about it. Over her some food? No, that was Lyra’s, not her’s to offer. Try to play something? Damnit, she didn’t have any records! Trembles started to run through her tiny form, increasingly bad scenarios burning through her mind’s eye. Octavia was going to freak and realize just how lowbrow Vinyl was, and toss her out. She would send her home, and the pegasus would be waiting, or the unicorn would have broken out of jail with some kind of magic and-
“If you’re certain, Vinyl,” Octavia went on, grinning softly, “Come, it’s time for your shower next. We have to be presentable to get into the Hard Trot Cafe, at least.”
“...w-what? We’re… g-going to the Hard Trot? But, isn’t t-that kinda… well…”
“Uncivilized?” Beauty Brass interrupted, giggling softly as she toweled her head off with one of Lyra’s mint-green towels, “Trust me, Vinyl, even we can enjoy some time to let our manes down!”
“And the food at the Hard Trot Cafe is exquisite,” Frederic added cheerfully.
“And the booze! We can’t forget-”
“Oh hush, Harpo. We’re not carting your flank home like we did in Trottingham.”
A gentle nuzzle on her side got a sheepish Vinyl moving up the stairs, Octavia close behind.
“Are you going to be alright, Vinyl?” she asked softly, keeping her voice underneath the laughs and snarkiness of her friends downstairs, “I can get out some clothing, just in case.”
The DJ winced, glancing back at herself. Her fur was still coming back in patchily from her… freakout in the Maritrot; the Symphony had been very supportive thankfully, and her white hoodie could usually hide the worst of the bad spots.
“U-um… the… the h-hoodie, please,” she mumbled, glancing down at the floor.
The shame felt like a lead ball in her stomach, weighing her down with each step towards the bathroom. She should be better than this. They were just memories, the Unicorn wasn’t there. Not really. ...right?
“Vinyl?”
The tone was soft, and worried. Vinyl winced; she must have spaced out again. Damn thoughts, making her look like an idiot. She quickly turned to Octavia, smiling as widely as she could force herself too.
“S-sorry, sorry! Just a little s-sleepy. I-I’ll be out soon, Octy, and we can g-get some lunch.”
The cellist did not seem entirely convinced, but nodded after a few moments of searching Vinyl’s expression, hurrying down to the guest room. A faint sigh wheezed out of Vinyl as she allowed her face to drop back into its pensive frown before galloping into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror was not pleasant. Her horn, while wrapped in a soft linen, gave a faintly golden glow, which any unicorn would see as a crack. Her face was still swollen, and one eye was bruised, visibly even with her shades on. The bruise at the bottom of her horn was still visible, staining her fur a dark, angry blue. Wincing, Vinyl quickly turned away, undoing the rest of the bandages around her body with a few quick tugs of her teeth. Her left hoof was healing, if slowly… she would likely have the long, jagged scar near the lower ankle for the rest of her life. She glanced hesitantly back at herself in the mirror, tilting her tail to one side. Bruises ran all over her flanks… teeth marks on her right cutie mark… a hoof mark right-
“No!” Vinyl snapped at herself, jerking her head away from the treacherous mirror and quickly stomping into the shower-tub.
She had to stop thinking about it. Had to stop reliving the moment in her mind, what she could have done… What she should have done… It took a long moment before she could build up the strength to turn the knobs for the shower head, sighing faintly in relief as the scalding water cascaded down on her back and head. It was a cleansing pain; Vinyl wouldn’t need to scrub herself bald this time. Glancing through the misty haze of the shower, her ruby eyes settled on a small bottle. Vanilla shampoo. Her muzzle turned up in a shaky smile. ********************
The Hard Trot Cafe was packed to bursting by the time the group made it downtown, but Octavia wasn’t worried. They would get in eventually, and the gift shop outside might be good for Vinyl, to take her mind off things! She smiled back at her little friend, giving her a soothing hug. Vinyl had decided to wear her white hoodie, with a white-blue beanie settled over her horn and straight hair. Octavia really needed to get Vinyl some hair gel. She didn’t seem… right, with her hair hanging around her eyes.
Frederic nudged Octavia lightly, motioning over to a side wall. It was painted a sky blue, with white eighth notes plastered across it. It had a great deal of… Vinyl! In a way at least. To Octavia’s surprise, it was almost entirely rock music, with many of the album covers featuring Vinyl with a guitar or drum set. The wide, almost mad grin splayed across her muzzle was such a far cry from the shaky, pensive look the unicorn wore now that Octavia couldn’t help but wince, ears laying back sadly.
“Heh, t-that was my r-rock tour. Before I-I was Pon-3.”
Octavia squeaked, whirling around in surprise. Vinyl gave a sheepish grin, sitting on her haunches beside Octavia.
“I-it was fun! But… I-I liked dubtrot, and house music more.”
Octavia smiled faintly, moving to nudge a few of her albums onto her back, “I’ll get a few of these then. Something to work on with the Lunar, right? Besides… I’d love to hear more of your music.”
The smile that brought Vinyl was more than worth the fifty bits. Not long after, the host arrived to bring them out to their table- Octavia had to quietly apologize to the poor stallion later, as Vinyl had practically hidden behind Lyra and Bon-Bon when he approached- and thankfully let them have a private booth at the back of the restaurant. The atmosphere was phenomenal, and once Vinyl was able to relax, she seemed to relax back into the music, a lazy smile curling up her muzzle, head nodding to the beat.
“This was a good idea,” Lyra whispered, her golden eyes bright with happiness, “She always loved this place. The music, the food…”
Octavia smiled faintly, nodding to the bouncy unicorn. She wasn’t all that surprised that Lyra had been Vinyl’s friend; she was hyper and smiling and just like the Vinyl Lyra and Bon-Bon told stories of. It… could be a place to leave Vinyl to heal. The candy-making pair certainly cared about her, and had room to spare for the poor mare. It would definitely be something to bring up with them, before she brought it up with Vinyl.
When the time came to order food, Vinyl surprised the entire Symphony by ordering, on her own mind you, a platter of fried grouper and hay fries. When the server turned to the others, the DJ peeked nervously around the table, hooves gingerly fidgeting with her napkin.
“I-is that okay, guys?” she asked softly, “I-I know fish is a b-bit… odd, but-”
“Yes ma’am, I’ll have what Vinyl is having, actually.”
“And I’ll have the crab cakes.”
And as each one of them ordered something from the seafood section, flashing Vinyl grins each time, a knot twisted in her heart. She smiled up at them, little tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Friends. Her right hoof quested a bit to her right… and Octavia gently took it, a smile answering Vinyl’s questioning gaze. And for the first time in weeks, a trademark Vinyl grin was brought to the surface.
“And miss? A r-round of martinis for my friends, on me.”
The music was life itself. As Octavia drew her bow across the strings of her cello, a soft smile graced the corners of her slim muzzle. She often played with her eyes closed, and this performance at the Grand Hall for the Performing Arts was like most. Somewhat. The energy was different tonight, and each member of the ensemble could feel it. As Octavia’s cello led the beat, they found themselves begin to play a tune more lively than they had played in any concert before. An improvised piece that left those music aficionados in the audience dumbfounded. Harpo’s hooves tugged mercilessly at the strings of his harp, and a small chuckle left Frederic as his skilled hooves rippled across his piano. This was different than their usual pieces. This was… soulful, alive.
And as Octavia ended the piece, she opened her eyes, glancing up at the front row of the balcony. Crimson eyes met violet. An open-mouthed look of awe met a spreading smile of giddiness. And the audience erupted in a roar, hooves clapping frantically and cheers ringing out as, just for a moment, the high-society ponies remembered themselves once more. The ensemble rose to their hind hooves, bowing warmly to their fans. And in an act of confidence, Octavia gave a spinning flourish of her bow, which only redoubled the applause and cheers from the audience. It crashed over them, and they drank it in. And never once did crimson leave violet. ************************
“T-tavi… that was amazing!”
“Holy Luna guys, that was freakin’ unreal! I thought I was going to explode from the shivers!”
“I’ve never heard a crowd clap so long!”
Octavia chuckled softly as she approached her friends up in the balcony row, eyes lit up with an inner fire of a successful performance. Lyra and Bon-Bon were smiling cheerily, gushing about bits and pieces of the songs they loved most. But, while she would not admit this at the time, the cellist was more focused on the reaction of her, and the rest of the ensemble’s, muse. Vinyl had sat back heavily in her seat when the piece ended, and now she stared up at Octavia with undisguised awe. A shaky smile split across her muzzle.
“D-damn Tavi,” she breathed, “That was intense. A-and I thought I-I was the master of intense beats.”
There it was, Octavia thought happily, That spark of life. Vinyl was smiling again, she was talking louder, her old accent beginning to shine through. That night, Octava had managed to convince her- and it stilled stunned Octavia herself that she was suggesting that someone make themselves look so… uncivilized- to style her hair again into its wild, uncontrolled mane. Seeing the light in Vinyl’s eyes when she had looked in the mirror blew away any trace of doubt from Octavia’s mind.
The cellist leaned down to happily nuzzle Vinyl Scratch’s right ear, giggling softly. The DJ’s shy squeak was rather endearing, she had to admit.
“Thank you, Vinyl,” she replied warmly, blushing faintly as she felt her tail begin to wave, “I’m glad you liked it.”
“Totally!” Beauty Brass exclaimed, a cheery grin plastered across her face, “The song was for you!”
“Wha…”
“Indeed, Miss Scratch. Your struggle inspired all of us. And it was time for a change from our tired old routine.”
Octavia smirked, bumping Frederic and Beauty Brass with her flanks. They had broken Vinyl, who was staring up at the three with wide, stunned eyes. The ensemble had made the choice to keep the last minute changes from Vinyl, in order for the surprise to achieve its full effect. Now, for the coup de grace. Octavia slowly sat in front of Vinyl, a hoof reaching up to brush an errant lock of slicked hair away.
“Vinyl? We’d like you to join the Symphony.” **********************
The music was absolutely sublime. It was deep, it was powerful, it was moving. And by the Celestial Sisters Vinyl had missed it so much. Her new headphones were fitted snugly to her trained ears, and the music filled every inch of her being. While her crimson eyes were wide open behind Vinyl’s shade, they were unfocused; every bit of her brain power was devoted to the music, her hooves subtly twitching to adjust the beat and tempo as needed. When the bass needed to be dropped, she would slam it down. She was back in her element, and deeper than ever before, thanks to Octavia and the Lunar.
Vinyl had toyed with mixing classical and electronic before, usually small collaboration pieces with small-time, just-starting classical musicians. But with a full Symphony at her back, Vinyl had far more to work with now, and she was going to take full advantage. Octavia’s plan was as crazy as it was awesome. They had a big show planned to end their Manehatten tour- a several-piece concert at the Grand Golden Concert Hall, to (supposedly) debut their new styling of music. Indeed they would be. Vinyl’s work would be showcased at the end of the concert, heralding her return to the music scene. Nerve-wracking? Vinyl had fainted at the first proposal.
She wasn’t sure she was ready! Sure, she had regained the use of her magic- small increments at least, enough to work the tables- but it was in front of thousands. Thousands of screaming mares… and stallions. Vinyl was vaguely ashamed at her fear of the larger sex, but it wasn’t exactly like she could help it. In every stallion, she could see some part of… Them. The smile, the eyes… Just thinking about it made her shudder, and her hoof missed a tune, though she quickly managed to correct it. But Octavia’s smile… her savior believed in her. She had said so herself, several times over, as had her new friends. They took a look at the pathetic, mewling mare… and smiled, treated her like one of them. Like a true friend. For them… and only for them… Vinyl could try.
“Alright, guys,” she said suddenly, grinning faintly as the Symphony jumped in surprise- her headphones were GOOD, and the recording room had been eerily silent while the artist worked, “I think I have this down. Want to listen?”
“Of course!”
“Yes, yes, please!”
“That would be delightful, Vinyl.”
Alright, here goes. Letting out a shaky breath, Vinyl carefully removed her headphones, unplugging the soundproofing magitech and flicking the music to play from the start. Her friends were- in a word- stunned. Wide eyes stared over at a sheepish Vinyl and her Lunar table as a slow bass beat suddenly warped into a masterful cello solo. The energy of the piece was magnificent, almost better suited to a dance club than the Concert Hall. With a breath, Vinyl suddenly jerked a hoof across an array of gleaming dials. Waves of blue and violet light poured from the Lunar, coalescing into vaguely organic shapes of starlight just above their heads, twisting and writhing to the music. As the cello picked up once more, the violet became more pronounced, a vaguely pony-like shape dancing in the air. And as the song began to end, the blue, violet, tan, and teal lights of the show spun to the sky, forming a brilliant, multi-colored treble clef.
Vinyl gulped thickly, “So uh… what… w-what do you guys- eep!”
The tension evaporated like the mist before the sun as the five friends hugged it out, giggling into the music-radiated sound room. ************************
“I can’t wait to see the faces of those stuck-up ponies when Vinyl gets on stage,” Beauty Brass was gushing, giggling softly and positively bouncing up and down as the group exited the recording studio, ready to make the long trip back to Lyra and Bon-Bon’s home.
Octavia had been standing near Vinyl since the light show, and that… made her both elated! And extremely nervous. What if she was waiting for a chance to wring her neck for the figure she had made? Maybe she had been way too forward in that regard. She chanced a glance at her eyes, and that didn’t help. Octavia had a thoughtful look, and that terrified Vinyl beyond reason. What if she was re-thinking everything? Maybe she didn’t want to do the performance, or maybe she even wanted to dump Vinyl back in Canterlot!
“O-octavia, I-I…”
The small unicorn had little warning before pain shot through her armpits, and she had the feeling of weightlessness. She was being carried into the sky! A panicked look down allowed her to see a pair of light blue-furred forelegs wrapped around her barrel? Blue… Her eyes shrunk to pinpoints as memory, and utter panic, set in. Nononononononononono!
“NO, PL- YAH!”
Her scream was cut short as Vinyl was suddenly dropped, landing hard on a slate roof. Fiery pain, and a sickening snap, told her one, or more, of her damaged ribs had broken again, and her head slammed into the slate with a thud. It was hard for Vinyl to see, her eyes and horn blazing with pain as she turned her head about frantically. The silhouette landed softly in front of her, feathered wings framed in the light of the full moon. White teeth gleamed as the pegasus grinned darkly.
No, no, no… Octavia galloped through the hallways and staircases of the apartment building, panting heavily with each flight of stairs and locked door she had to buck off its hinges. The pegasus had grabbed Vinyl so quickly that none of them had had much chance to get a description of it. But Octavia had had just enough of one to know just who it was. A dark thunderhead cutie mark. The pegasus rapist. And with her friends scrambled to alert the Guard, Octavia had darted into the apartment building the pegasus had dropped Vinyl on.
A fierce scowl ripped across Octavia’s features, and she angrily bucked a door out of the way, galloping harder. They had come too far for this to happen! Vinyl was smiling again! Smiling! When she got a hold of this trash… Octavia had always thought of herself as a moral pony. A firm believer of Celestialism, she had always tried to follow the tenets of Harmony to the best of her ability. But these… animals, were well past even her deeply entrenched beliefs of ‘right to life.’
With a flick of her back left hoof, Octavia slammed open the door to the rooftop, eyes scanning about alertly. The roof was criss-crossed with air conditioning ducts- a clumsy Earth Pony invention- and had several large vents jutting up. Vinyl was tied tightly to one of these, her barrel covered in fresh bruises and spattered with blood.
“Vinyl!” she yelped out, worry obliterating caution as she darted out to her injured friend.
Vinyl’s head had been tied back to the vent, and someone had replaced her goggles over her eyes. As Octavia rushed to untie her with her teeth, a loud mewl rumbled out of Vinyl’s chest, and she reached out to rip off the gag and the rope around her head.
“What is-”
“HE’S BEHIND YOU!”
Adrenaline kicked in as Octavia began to turn. The moonlight glinted off steel and bared teeth; the blade was a thin stiletto, attached to an iron horseshoe-gauntlet. Not military-issue, but civilian. Underworld. She wasn’t fast enough to block it, and didn’t have enough time to dodge it. Once she was dead, the pegasus would have easy access to Vinyl. She could only pray to the Sisters that her friends and the Guard would arrive in time. Agony arced through Octavia’s face, seconds before blissful darkness could take her. **************
The pegasus was fast. And very strong. The first hit dropped Octavia to the ground, and spattered Vinyl’s coat with her blood. Vinyl’s entire world dropped away as her Savior collapsed in a heap, blood gushing from the gash in her head, staining her ash-grey fur black. The pegasus dropped down above her, snarling and cursing hatefully as he stabbed down again and again. Vinyl wasn’t aware of his words, just his actions. Each blow drew more and more blood; one even pierced her right cutie mark, neatly bisecting the treble clef with a thin red line.
Everything was collapsing in on itself. Her body was numb, mouth dropped open. He was going to kill her. The pegasus- the stallion that had helped ruin her life- was going to kill Octavia, and then probably kill Vinyl too. His foreleg was coated in blood, his light blue fur nearly black. The blade wasn’t gleaming anymore. Octavia…
“T-tavi… p-please…”
The pegasus paused, glancing back at Vinyl slowly; his eyes seemed dead to her, a dull green, little emotion in them but rage. His smile was flecked with blood and tired foam.
“Your friend put mine in jail,” he growled out, “She should’ve left well enough alone.”
“J-just stop… please…”
Vinyl was desperate. Whatever happened to her happened; Octavi didn’t deserve this. Nopony deserved this. Tears ran in rivers down her cheeks, eyes glued to Octavia’s prone body.
“T-take me, just don’t… don’t hurt her anymore. D-don’t kill her…”
“Kill her? Oh no, Vinyl.”
No.
The pegasus chuckled faintly, taking bandages out of his saddlebags and wrapping up Octavia’s worst wounds.
“Killing her would be a waste,” he continued blithely, “I’m gonna take her with us.”
No, no…
“Have some fun, maybe take a boat to Minotaur country… I hear brothels pay well for high-born ponies.”
Sisters, please…
“Or maybe I’ll just have some fun with her myself, and-”
And Vinyl’s sight went white. *******************
Crimson Storm was many things. A rapist? Yes, he’d admit to that. A sadist? Of course. Sexist? What do you think drove him and Gold Coin? Vinyl Scratch had been an uppity, base fillyfooler, parading her gender-role bending lifestyle all over Canterlot and greater Equestria. It had been up to them to stop her! And the sex had just been an added bonus. So yes, he was sexist. But if there was one thing would not count himself as, it was a coward. Fleeing in Canterlot had been a strategic move! Coin would need somepony on the outside to follow their targets, and get a way to get Coin out. He was no coward.
Which was why Crimson could honestly say the feeling of pure terror when Vinyl Scratch’s cracked horn began to glow, was new to him. Her horn had a sizable chip missing at the top, and had a dull golden overglow down its length. The pain she had to be in, trying to cast anything, had to be enormous.
“Leave… Octavia… alone!” Vinyl snarled desperately, voice choked in pain and thick tears.
Just great, Crimson groused, turning back to Octavia. The Earth Pony was still sprawled limp, her barrel barely rising up and down. Perhaps he had struck too many times. No matter. Her presence made Vinyl too volatile, and he already had precious little time before the Guard no doubt arrived. A pity really. This Octavia mare was as prim and proper as expected, though the violent protection was definitely odd.
Too late to wonder, he thought with a smirk, raising his bladed forearm high and slamming it towards the throat of the downed earth pony. Or at least, that was the plan. With a wrenching pop, Crimson’s arm dislocated as he attempted to swig down, only to be held tightly aloft by a glowing, blue magical field.
“BUCK! What the-” he asked blearily, glancing up slowly.
The gaze was… horrific; crimson eyes, boring into Crimson with an intensity like a goddess herself.
“You… will not… do the same to her,” she growled thickly, sounding far more primal that any pony Crimson had ever come in contact with, “You won’t ruin her too!”
Crimson stared at her in horror, struggling frantically to escape the mad mare’s grip.
“Let go of me, you stupid whore!” he yelled back frantically, “I’ll let you and the bitch go, just let go of my damn hoof!”
Crimson did not have long to dwell on his poor choice of words. Twin yells filled the night- one of pain, rage, and loss… and the other of agony. The bladed hoof was ripped from his forearm and spun, the thin, sharp blade hacking across his primaries and scoring both shanks. The bolt of force slammed into Crimson’s gut, and he flew, once last time, over the skies of Manehatten. Bloodied wings tried to catch a current, something to slow his fall, but to no avail. The last thing to pass through Crimson’s mind… was a parking meter.
The blade flicked across Vinyl’s bindings, and she dropped heavily to the cold, blood-stained roof. Sobs tore out of the injured pony; her horn was a mass of nerves practically on fire, and she was soaked in the blood of her best friend. She weakly drew Octavia into her arms, nuzzling her muzzle into her mane.
“P-please, Tavi… please…”
The Guard arrived less than two minutes later, greeted by heart-rending sobs, and the first thunders of a rainstorm high above, obscuring the moon above.
Lyra hated hospitals. The stark white interiors, the smell of chemicals and bodily fluids, the overall somber mood… She shuddered from her seat in the waiting room; they needed something to cheer them up! As she pondered various ways to do this- most of her ideas having to do with live music and paint- a quick series of hoofbeats drew her eyes, and the rest of her gathered friends’, up to the doorway. A dark-coated, pink-mane nurse peeked inside, smiling warmly at the nervous gathering.
“She’s awake,” she explained, “You can come see her for a little bit.”
Cue mini-stampede into the ward, soft curses breaking out as the ponies fought their way into the hospital room. And upon spotting Octavia, Lyra couldn’t help but wince. Octavia’s forehead and cheek were tightly wrapped in bandages, as was a good portion of her barrel and right leg. Her muzzle was darkened with a massive bruise, as was most of her un-wrapped barrel. The rest of Octavia was covered by a whimpering, sniffling Vinyl Scratch.
Octavia blearily looked up at the group, one eye swollen shut; her right hoof was slowly stroking through Vinyl’s mane.
“H-hey…”
It took everything Lyra had not to whimper at the pained, scratchy voice that had replaced Octavia’s smooth, sophisticated one, instead rushing over to hug against her and Vinyl. The little unicorn looked up at her blearily, eyes blood-shot, lips trembling. She had a rather hefty bruise across her own muzzle, but the deepest pain was inside. It didn’t take a mare with a master in psychology that Vinyl Scratch unequivocally blamed herself. And that was something Lyra could not have stand.
“Hey filly,” she whispered softly, making Bon-Bon do a surprised double-check as her marefriend sat next to Vinyl, petting the other side of Vinyl’s mane, “How’re you two holding up?”
Lyra smiled, meeting Vinyl’s eyes as they rose to meet Lyra’s once more.
“I-I’m f-fine… Octavia was-”
“Being foalish and didn’t check my location,” Octavia butted in with a weak smirk, her hoof weakly flicking to silence Vinyl as the DJ’s face began to scrunch in self-loathing, “Vinyl, no.”
There we go, cellomare, Lyra thought with approval, noting the diamond-hard core of Octavia’s eyes.
“L-listen to me… Vinyl,” she whispered, her dainty hoof gently tracing the ragged outline of Vinyl’s ear, “I chose… to go after you. I knew I-I could be hurt. I didn’t care. My friend needed m-me.”
Her muzzle split into a shaky grin, “ ‘sides… he hit like a filly.”
The snrk was loud; it was undignified, and it opened the wellspring. Lyra could only beam as the old Vinyl Scratch broke through in that moment, and draped over Octavia, helpless giggles and tears bubbling out. Octavia giggled back, her fetlock rubbing down Vinyl’s back. Lyra merely grinned at the display, turning to wave back at a bewildered Frederic and Beauty Brass, quickly galloping out of the hospital room. The two needed some privacy, and she was not about to ruin the moment with future plans.
“But what about the concert?” Beauty Brass hissed, her lower lip worried between her teeth.
Lyra could only sigh. What indeed? *******************
When the rest of the ensemble returned, several hours later, Vinyl was waiting for them on the cushions outside, eyes closed and head bobbing slowly to an unheard beat.
“She’s sleepin’,” she replied softly, looking up at the group with a soft smile, “Finally got the painkillers, been out like a light. ...guys, we gotta talk.”
Vinyl’s hoof pawed the linoleum floor beneath her. To say she was nervous was an understatement. What she planned to do… she hadn’t had a gig since the incident. To be honest with herself, Vinyl Scratch wasn’t entirely sure she could conjure up the energy and… life, needed to play her part in the ensemble. Not to mention…
“Octavia can’t play,” Beauty Brass said with a heavy sigh, “There’s no way. We have to cancel the per-”
“No way.”
The DJ did her best to hold in her wince as the musicians looked back at her incredulously. Come on Vinyl, it was do or die time.
“We gotta do the concert, guys,” she whispered, running a hoof through her unruly mane, “For Tavi. For us… heh, for me.”
Vinyl grit her teeth, glaring down at the ground as tears threatened to spill over. And she… absolutely… hated it. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t DJ Pon-3, the sickest disk jockey to hit Equestria since her pal Neon Lights. Hell, she probably couldn’t even stand near Neon now without thinking… he’d… Vinyl’s hoof smacked the linoleum loudly; she ignored the faces of the glaring nurses from the desk. No.
“We can’t let win, guys,” she explained finally, closing her eyes tightly, “They… wanted to break me. And they did.”
She jerked a trembling hoof back at the hospital door.
“Octavia did all she could to bring me back. She risked her freakin’ neck for me, when she didn’t have to, twice.”
The nervous energy building in Vinyl’s limbs was too much, and she quickly began to pace back and forth. The cadence of her hooves on the hard surface helped her think.
“Now, she needs us,” she told the ensemble firmly, looking back up with firm, crimson eyes, “We’ll dedicate the show to Tavi. Might not be as formal as some ponies want, but we’ll open the gig to anypony.”
A thrill rocketed up Vinyl’s spine as an idea formed, and she grinned widely at the nodding, agreeing musicponies.
“Let’s get back to the recording studio. I… have an idea.” *********************
Were they really this popular? Octavia had been quite stunned to see the size of the crowd packed into the stadium stands; thousands of ponies, screaming and cheering with excitement. High above, cloud seating had been set up for Manehatten’s pegasi population, and by squinting, the injured mare could see even those were packed to capacity. Wow. With a soft smile, Octavia carefully walked to the specially reserved box arranged for her, Lyra, and Bon-Bon. It had taken a good deal of pleading, cajoling, and threatening from all of them to get the doctors to allow Octavia to leave, but they had acquiesced after a time, as long as Octavia continued to come back for physical therapy, and use a wheelcart. The cart was shockingly comfortable, Octavia had to admit, with her hindlegs settled into the plush back of it. The wheels took some getting used to, especially on stairs, but determination had seen the earth pony through. Vinyl was doing this for her, the least she could do in return was make it up some stairs.
Peering over the balcony. Octavia had see the stage set up on the field quite clearly. Vinyl’s table was settled in the center, and… that… was it. The cellist tilted her head uncertainly. Where were the seats for the rest of the ensemble? Surely they would drag them and their instruments on at once… they had done that once in Trottingham, and the resulting pile of pony and instrument had been quite… painful. Glancing questioningly at Lyra, Octavia was not at all mollified by the sly grin on the mint-green unicorn. A surprise was coming. She certainly hoped it was better than the last one.
“This is gonna be great!”
Octavia’s mane practically blinded her as she whipped her head around, eyes widening at the trio quickly trotting inside the box.
“Beauty, Fred, Harpo, what are you doing up here!?” she squeaked, “The show is about to start! You can’t just leave Vinyl up there high and dry!”
“Calm down, Octavia,” Frederic replied in his high-class, soothing tone, “This is apart of the show and, amazingly enough, Miss Scratch’s idea.”
Part of the show? As the lights dimmed, Octavia turned her head back towards the stage just as an eager cheer went up from the audience. It was Vinyl. The little white mare was swiftly making her way towards the table, her trademark glasses settled over her lovely eyes. Octavia couldn’t see her expression from her spot, but Vinyl’s walk seemed… confidant. What was she up to?
“Goooood evenin’, Manehatten!”
The magically amplified voice rumbled through the stadium, the renewed cheers were practically deafening… and Octavia’s smile was near blinding. Vinyl was doing it. She was back in her element, and she could practically feel the energy pouring off her.
Vinyl chuckled softly, waving a hoof to calm the crowd.
“Aight everypony, calm your hooves. The show will start here in a moment. But I gotta say somethin’ first, ‘kay?”
The sigh was soft, but the emotion held in it made Octavia tense back up. Was she getting cold hooves? Was this too much stress? She should get down there, try to-
“A couple weeks ago… I went through a real bad place in my life. I’ll spare ya the details, ‘cause this ain’t the time or the place. But suffice to say, there is no way I’d be standing here, ready to play for you tonight, without one very special pony.”
The crimson eyes bored into Octavia from the stage.
“This concert is dedicated to one of my best friends in Equestria, my ponies. Octavia Philharmonica has stayed by my side through all of this, and to say I’m grateful… ain’t enough.”
White flashed in the lights of the stage as the little mare suddenly beamed, a chuckle bubbling out.
“Alright, my ponies, sorry to get sappy on you there. Are you ready to hear some music?”
The cheer was long, loud, and eager. Hell yes they were ready, but Vinyl was being quite the showmare.
“Are you guys sure?”
But Vinyl was already moving to stand behind the stage, silently laughing as the crowd screaming back, thousands of voices practically pleading with her to start the show, Octavia’s right there among them. She may have ear damage later, but it would be a small price to pay.
“Then let’s get this started, folks! Yo, Tavi! Watch this!”
The lights dropped suddenly, leaving the crowd in darkness. As the cello and violin began to play, Octavia’s eyes widened in surprise. Oh… oh my. The initial start was deceptive, as quick, light beats from Vinyl’s table began to intermingle with the playing, bringing up the speed and power of the piece. Up above, lights, like a multitude of auroras, began to swirl about. Light grey, light blue, yellow… as Octavia looked on, stunned, it was the dark blue and grey that overtook the others, each growing larger and intermingling as their respective instruments played on. The atmosphere was practically electric, and Octavia let out a squee as the violin suddenly burst into a brilliant, fast-paced solo.
She remembered doing this! Vinyl and her had practiced the solo for hours in the studio, before the… incident. She had loved the strength and speed of the piece, and it had left Vinyl nearly drooling as she remixed it in the machine. This… had to be what she had been working on the past few days. The lights were going larger, swirling about each other in time with the beats. The following song turned out to be another major classical piece- one of Beauty’s favorites, with the ensemble playing just behind Octavia as she ‘stole’ the show with her cello- only this time, Vinyl’s beats and magical sounds coaxed it along. The lights were quite grey now, with the yellow, light blue, and purple of her ensemble mingled in, but all encased in a swirling, nearly dizzying cloud of dark blue. It was… magical.
“This is gonna be awesome,” Lyra giggled out, and Octavia blinked back at her in surprise.
What was? This already WAS awesome She-
The tone of the music suddenly changed, harking a change of song, and Octavia quickly looked back down at the stage. Vinyl was flipping a record onto the table with a spin of her hoof, and her tail was flicking eagerly. She looked excited. So why was Octavia nervous? The beat at first, was simple. Small twirls and bass beats as it started, repeating itself a few times, before-
“Hmph. How uncouth.”
“Oh buck me,” Octavia muttered as her own, cultured voice rang out over the stadium.
Not the versus song. That had just been to bring Vinyl’s self-confidence around the ensemble back-
“Some ponies prefer stringed instruments.”
Oh, she was. Octavia had to admit, the solo was very well-played, and she had had fun when Vinyl overlayed another piece of Octavia’s over the original… and then a third, backed up by soft notes from the table itself. The lights above had formed a light blue eighth note, and a swirling, grey-and-pink treble clef. As the cello played, the clef grew to encompass the eighth note. A smile split across Octavia’s muzzle at the sight.
The song roared on, the cello and Vinyl’s table battling playfully back and forth. All around the box, Octavia could see ponies dancing or nodding their heads in beat, having the time of their lives. And from the way the little white mare on stage was bobbing about and waving her hooves, she was too. It was amazing to watch, and a few tears came unbidden to her eyes. This was the Vinyl she wanted to know more of. The self-confidant DJ; the life of the party, of the concerts. She spared a glance back at the lights. She wasn’t entirely sure if Vinyl had meant to do it, or if the magical sparks had drifted closer with the wind. The clef and eighth note were fully entwined, blue and grey swirling together, like two lovers in the sky, putting on a show for the world.
And as the music died down, Octavia lifted herself onto the balcony with her forehooves, even as Lyra and Beauty rushed over to keep her stable. The cellist didn’t care. She didn’t mind her voice dropping its careful groomed Canterlot accent, nor how she might look to the ponies around the box or around the stadium itself. She only cared about her voice carrying down to her best friend on stage.
Vinyl’s world, only hastily pieced together with wubs and the love of a group of amazing ponies, was crashing down around her. Her hooves held her head tightly, and Vinyl was only vaguely disgusted at being curled up on Lyra and Bon-Bon’s guest bathroom floor, the acrid scent of vomit and floor cleaner mixing in her nose. She had only just made it to the porcelain throne in time. When the first wave of nausea had hit, the sleepy DJ had thought it had just been a case of bad food from a food cart. But one little diagnosis spell…
“No, no, no,” Vinyl chanted over and over, desperately willing the magical light over her belly to change colors, “Not gold. Anything but gold.”
Gold. The magical indicator of life. Life. Pregnancy… From them. Her emotions were a typhoon, swirling and destroying her brain. Tears flowed like rain, and as the pain grew, Vinyl’s raspy voice screamed a denial. Dimly, she could hear a scrambling of hooves, and the DJ curled in on herself even tighter, self-loathing only growing. Great, now she had woken up the others, and would make them worry.
“No,” Vinyl whispered again, strength flooding her stubby limbs as she tried to rise to her hooves.
She had to stop worrying them all the time, especially not… Octavia. A small sob tore out of her muzzle at the thought of the mare. The cellist who had saved her life. How would she react to this news? She would either be disgusted, or… or… Sudden panic seized her heart. Octavia would want to help her! She would want to get her a house, or throw all of her money and her ensemble’s money at her to ‘take care of it.’ Considering all Octavia had done so far… she had to get out of there before she ruined everything!
With a flash of pain, her magic reached out to grab the doorknob, only for the telekinetic field to be blasted apart as the door flew open. Grey fur, wide purple eyes swimming in concern… Oct- Before Vinyl could scarcely move, strong forelegs locked around her neck, pulling her firmly to her slim chest. The dam she had hidden her emotions behind in the panic quickly cracked, broke apart, and flooded the hapless town of Heartsville. Wracking sobs wrenched out her Vinyl’s throat, and she buried her face deeply into Octavia’s neck. Octavia’s muzzle rubbed against Vinyl’s ear, and the gentle whispers sent shivers down Vinyl’s spine.
“Just breathe, Vinyl,” she was pleading softly, tilting Vinyl’s head around so she could peer into her violet orbs, both a sea of confusion and worry, “What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”
If only it was just that. A weak whimper bubbled out of Vinyl’s lips, and she could feel herself starting to lose control once more. If she was going to tell her, she had to do it at that moment.
“I-I’m pregnant,” she whispered in the soft, weak voice of the utterly despondent.
The dumbstruck look on Octavia’s face, and the chorus of stunned gasps from outside, shattered any control Vinyl had left, and she sunk against Octavia, screaming and sobbing her eyes out till darkness mercifully descended. Maybe this all was a nightmare, and she could wake up, safe at home, nursing a hangover… *******************
“Are you sure Ponyville will be the best place for her right now, Octavia?”
Beauty Brass had always been the worrier of the group, Octavia remembered with a faint smile.
With a small nod, Octavia grunted as she shoved the last of Vinyl’s gear into the taxi’s trunk. It had taken several hours work to get it all into a carriable size, but they had managed. Vinyl was curled up in a ball of blankets, still asleep since her early morning panic attack.
“I do, Beauty,” she replied softly, jumpy about any noise that could possibly wake Vinyl from her very-much needed rest, “I stayed in Ponyville for a summer break with my cousin. It’s a beautiful village, very quiet. I’m very sorry about missing the tour, but-”
“Don’t say a word, Octavia,” Frederic interjected, smirking faintly, “We can manage the next few shows without you. Just worry about taking care of Vinyl.”
Smiling softly in relief at her friends, Octavia nodded, quickly darting forward to give them all tight hugs. She would miss them greatly, but Vinyl still needed a good deal of healing, and she had made a promise to the mare. And with this new wrinkle to the plan… what would she do? Slipping into the taxi and glancing over at the sound asleep mare, Octavia let a sliver of doubt creep in. For just how long /was/ she willing to take care of Vinyl? Would she stick around and help with the foal too? Octavia did have a life of her own… but of course, if that were completely true, why had she stuck around so long in the first place?
Was it duty to the little mare Octavia had found in that warehouse? Octavia reached a hoof to rub her chin, thoughtful eyes peering out at the cityscape as they rode by. Possibly, to an extent. But if it was simply duty, she could have left at the hospital, leaving Vinyl in their capable hooves. Affection? That was certainly possible. Vinyl was a good mare at heart, Octavia could see that plain as day. A little crass, possibly, but she hardly a ruffian like some in her line of work. What Vinyl had done at the concert was… Startled, Octavia watched herself blush in the mirror of the enclosed taxi, and she nervously bit down on her lip. Surely this affection was just platonic, a friendship… yes?
A little pony in the back of her head smirked, and Octavia could practically feel a dainty hoof smacking the back of her head. Friendship was going through a concert at the urging of your friends because it will help you. It became more when you do… well… The blush only grew hotter as she remembered the two magical musical notes in the sky, the colors of Vinyl’s and Octavia’s cutie marks swirling together in the light breeze of the night, and the steady thumps of the bass and cello. Had that been Vinyl’s not-so-subtle message of her thoughts on their relationship? Was that a good thing… or not?
A jerk in the taxi yanked Octavia clear out of her thoughts; they had arrived at the train station. Bemused, Octavia remembered why she had always enjoyed the rides in the enclosed chariots: it was so much easier to think in the quiet. Purple eyes flicked over to Vinyl; the little white mare was struggling back to consciousness, mouth stretching into a yawn, ears flattened and tail raised. Sweet Celestia she was adorable. With a small sigh, Octavia hopped out of the taxi, hissing at a faint bite of pain down her back and hindlegs. She would think more on their relationship on the train ride. And maybe… Ponyville will be good for both of them. *********************
It always seemed to stun ponies that Octavia could be related in some part to the gigantic Apple family, the founders of both Ponyville and Appleloosa. Not that the prim cellist could entirely blame them, considering her strong Canterlotian accent and her ties to the nobility. But Octavia was not one to deny her roots, and had often stopped by Ponyville to visit her cousins; indeed, for one memorable summer, she had stayed with fellow musician Fiddlesticks, and had learned much in the way of folk and blues music. It wasn’t something that Octavia believed she would ever forget. What she had forgotten, however, was that Fiddlestick’s cottage was rather… cramped. A single bedroom, a living room with no couch to be found, and a small kitchen, Fiddlesticks and Octavia had rarely spent much time there, preferring instead to play among the budding orchards of the Sweet Apple Acres, or around town to entertain the ponies and perhaps make a few bits for a stop at Sugarcube Corner. But with two injured mares now living in it, Octavia realized that she may just be getting a bit closer to Vinyl during this than she had realized. Paying the two kind stallions who had brought their luggage from the station, Octavia allowed herself to slump against the foyer wall. Exhaustion was clawing at her insides, trying to drag her down into blissful sleep. She, unlike Vinyl, had slept very little during the train ride, her mind far too occupied with an ever-increasing worry. The concerns on her career had eaten at her for quite awhile, though the knowledge that the rest of the ensemble stood beside her decision did much to salve over that particular wound. A new worry, however, had been that of her parents, whom she knew had to be becoming increasingly more worried as her letters grew less and less frequent. And while Octavia prided herself on her own open-mindedness and tolerance, her parents were far less so. Finding out that Octavia had let her career slip by taking care of some “degenerate” pony… Octavia was startled at the sudden rush of heat and anger that flared through her core, like a nova of Celestia’s sun. Degenerate. No. The stallions who had hurt Vinyl were the degenerates, not Vinyl. Never her.
“O-octavia?”
The cellist’s head snapped up, and her heart nearly stopped. The cabin had one large bay window in the main living room, and the sunlight from it shone just behind a sleepy-eyed Vinyl Scratch. Her mane, bedraggled and fluffed from her flip-flopping sleep, glowed like plasma, and her white mane shone radiantly. Her eyes, no longer blocked by glasses and filled with a soft shyness, peeked up at her. Octavia blushed as her more primal mare mind demanded she glomp the adorable pony in front of her, but she overrided it quickly. Now wasn’t the time for that, nor would she risk scaring Vinyl.
“Vinyl,” she replied instead, giving a soft smile as she pushed off the wall, ignoring a stab of pain, “Are you okay? How’re you feeling?”
The DJ gave a small shrug, looking down at the hardwood floor. Octavia bit her lip faintly. While Vinyl wasn’t as destroyed as before, the unexpected pregnancy seemed to have still left quite a bit of damage in its wake. After a moment of quick thought, Octavia darted forward, giving Vinyl’s cheek a soft nuzzle, grinning at the surprised look and blush. Keep her thoughts off it.
“Why don’t we go out and let you see Ponyville?” she asked her softly, “It’s a beautiful hamlet, with very friendly ponies. I’m sure you’ll make more friends in no time, and I can show you some of my own favorite spots!”
For a moment, Vinyl’s blank stare and faint tremble worried Octavia. Had she sprung too much on her at once? Perhaps staying with Lyra and Bon-Bon would have been more prudent at the time. But before Octavia could open her mouth to apologize, relief flooded Vinyl’s eyes, and the smaller mare darted forward, hugging Octavia’s neck and sobbing faintly. Tears flooded across Octavia’s fur, and she quickly hugged Vinyl back, nuzzling an ear soothingly.
“T-that sounds a-awesome, Octy,” Vinyl whispered softly, a bit of life returning to her voice and her body, “I-I could k… ki… ..f-fight, for some pie.”
Vinyl closed her eyes as they trotted down the beaten path leading to Sweet Apple Acres, a smile crossing her lips as the scent of apples reached her nose. The day was very sunny, and the sky had been cleared the night before, revealing the brilliant sky blue. It surprised alot of ponies to find that Vinyl Scratch really did like the daytime, despite her mostly nocturnal job. What did they think she did between gigs? Bird-watching, thinking over her music schedules, daydreaming… The DJ gave a small sigh. At least, she used to do that.
“Look there, Vinyl,” Octavia chirped up suddenly, making the morose pony glance up in surprise.
Several ponies were sitting around a picnic table, their laughs and chatter blowing in on the light breeze through the orchard. An orange and blonde mare sat beside a massive red stallion, the pair of them sporting the rough, weather-beaten features Vinyl expected from Apples. On the other side of the table sat a pair of pegasi: a tall, somewhat older mare in what appeared to be, after Vinyl thought about it for a moment, a Wonderbolts’ uniform. She had a wing wrapped firmly around the smaller mare to her side, a cyan-coated pegasus with a brilliant mane of every color of the rainbow spilling down her back. Recognition flashed in Vinyl’s eyes.
“R-rainbow Dash?” she blurted out, surprise arcing through her like lightning.
All of Equestria had heard the news of the death of the beloved mare, the Element of Loyalty. Some kind of break in gone wrong, most said, but no one had ever found the body. The story had saddened Vinyl as soon as she heard, and her set that night had a bit of a subdued feel to it. Vinyl had heard of Rainbow Dash’s exploits, and felt she was something of a kindred spirit. Living life to live, pushing herself to new heights…
But when this mare turned towards the newcomers to their picnic, and her magenta eyes flicked up to meet ruby, time seemed to stop. The pain shining in Dash’s eyes was the same that Vinyl saw in the mirror every morning and night; the hint of self-loathing, the slight panic at a newcoming pony. The slow realization that said newcomer knew her pain in a far more intimate fashion than the others around her ever could, bar horrific circumstances.
“Y-you’re… Vinyl S-scratch, right?” Rainbow asked softly, causing the orange mare beside her jerk, seemingly in surprise, “The DJ?”
“Yeah, that… t-that’s me,” Vinyl replied lamely, eyes having been drawn down to the gravid belly of the rainbow mare.
Pregnant. A hoof slowly lifted to her own barrel, and she blushed at the understanding that flowed over Rainbow Dash’s face. Was she truly so easy to read? A fair amount of shame clouded Vinyl’s mood. Here she was, moping and hating herself, and this mare was definitely going through it worse than she. Had been, most likely. She looked… what? Six months along? She struggled to remember some of the old lessons about anatomy from her high school classes. It was… difficult, and the feeling of self-loathing started to return. Some cool mare she was. One stupid night, and now she couldn’t even keep her thoughts straight.
Vinyl spared a glance back at Octavia before drooping slightly, closing her eyes again. She didn’t deserve her. Not that smile, not those beautiful amethyst eyes, or her badass skills. Everything she had done for Vinyl… for a stupid, idi-
“D-don’t… don’t do that.”
“W-what?” Vinyl asked in surprise, wincing at her own tone and opening her eyes; the interjection had come out a little sharp.
Rainbow Dash was watching her sadly, one corner of her lip being worried by her teeth. After a moment’s thought, she trotted away from the orange pegasus’ protective wing, slowly approaching Vinyl and Octavia. A slim, warm hoof slid over Vinyl’s withers, and she gave the tiniest of trembles, leaning back against Octavia. Her rock. Her anchor when everything was spiraling away. She closed her eyes, ears splaying at how she must look to Rainbow. A second hoof, somewhat larger and trembling ever-so-slightly, rested on her shoulder.
“D-don’t e-ever let go, M-miss Scratch,” she whispered, though the conviction in her tone was clear and heated, “F-friends are the best thing w-we have. ‘specially when they want to t-take care of us. But… but it’s r-really hard for them to help us… i-if we can’t help ourselves. Trust me.”
Vinyl opened her eyes. Rainbow was smiling softly, left ears folding slightly towards a proudly smiling orange pegasus. Lover? Maybe. Or maybe just a great friend, like Octavia was to her. That was all. Right?
“B-but she’s a-already-” Vinyl began, only to blink as Rainbow shook her head, just once.
“W-when they decide to stick around with p-ponies like us, it’s…. it’s special,” Rainbow explained, shyly looking down, “They c-care. If this o-one’s-”
“Octavia,” Vinyl replied immediately, blushing at how ingrained it was, wanting to hear that name.
“If Octavia has stuck around this long… and through t-that…”
A flash of a smile crossed over Rainbow Dash’s muzzle, and she reached to bump hooves with the thoughtful DJ.
“Then n-never let her go, Miss Scratch.” *****************
Well. That was certainly unexpected! Octavia thought with a faint, inner chuckle, But quite welcome.
Directly after Rainbow Dash’s pep-talk, a delighted Applejack had invited the pair of mares to join them for dinner.
“Nonsense!” Applejack interrupted as Octavia had begun to protest, “Ya’ll’re family, Tavs! Been too long since ya come around, and we’d be delighted ta have ya. Still like the pie?”
Pie. Well, Octavia was trapped. Three hours, and two pies later, Octavia was settled warmly down on her side in the soft grass of the Apple Acres carefully manicured lawn, pleasantly surprised to see Spitfire taking an acoustic guitar out of a previous hidden case.
“I didn’t know you played music, Spitfire!” she had exclaimed cheerfully, grinning at the embarrassed blush on the Wonderbolt’s captain’s face.
“Yeah, learned how a few years back,” she sheepishly replied, running a hoof through her slicked back mane, “Good for when you’re out in the field, to keep the spirits up. You should see Soarin’ on the bass, or Fleetfoot singing.”
“Ya’ll should put on a concert!” Applejack called out from the barn, currently rolling a now-emptied cider barrel back into its holder, “Got the whole unit here, don’tcha?”
That… was certainly news to Octavia.
“The Wonderbolts are all in town? Why?” she asked curiously, tilting her head.
Spitfire’s eyes… seemed to darken a bit, and tenseness ran through Octavia as she watched the mood in her and Rainbow change. Something bad was going on, here.
“Protection,” Spitfire answered after a long moment of seemingly deep thought, “Some… things are looking for Rainbow, and the Princesses thought it would be best to keep a guard unit here, to protect everyone.”
She gave a tight, proud smile, “Best of the best, we Wonderbolts.”
Octavia raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly, “Oh, is that so?”
With a small giggle, she carefully slid the Guard Reserve badge from her saddlebags, clipping it to her bowtie. When the cellist looked back up, she was pleased to see the stunned faces of Spitfire and Rainbow, while Applejack and Big Mac merely smiled proudly at their cousin.
“Knight Errant Octavia Philharmonica, at your service,” she explained cheerily, smiling broadening as she felt Vinyl’s warm weight settle on her side.
“Knight Errant?” Spitfire breathed, shaking her head and chuckling softly.
When she met Octavia’s eyes again, they held a fierce light of comradeship.
“Noble and an officer? I bet you can kick some serious flank.”
Vinyl snrked, a hoof over her muzzle when they all looked to the previous quiet mare. The attention had her blushing quickly, but it didn’t lower the smile, nor the proud, devoted look she gave to Octavia. Octavia’s heart, just for a moment, soared.
Sweetie Belle sighed heavily as she trotted down the path to Sweet Apple Acres, head bowed in deep thought. It had been a rough week for the teenage mare. With the return of Rainbow Dash from slavery, Scootaloo had been practically inseparable from her idol. Which definitely not a bad thing! Her ears flattened in shame at the thought. Of course it wasn’t a bad thing. Rainbow Dash had practically been her marefriend’s big sister for years, coaching and watching over her. Heck, her supposed “death” had sent Scootaloo into a depression that had taken Sweetie Belle a… lot of work to drag her out of. Work and love.
A smile tugged at the corners of her muzzle. Love. Three months ago, Sweetie Belle wouldn’t have given love a second thought. School was far too important, and working on her singing voice… Rarity thought she should work at it, and if Rarity thought it was a good idea (and it didn’t involve fashion), weeeelll… But when Scootaloo had started to drop into depression, the feelings had started to hit. Every glance at her orange friend, just to see hopeless eyes; every meeting that didn’t start because Scootaloo didn’t show up… Sweetie closed her eyes at the last memory as it clawed its way forward.
A thunderstorm, one of the powerful ones scheduled by the Weather Team to water the entire town in one night. Rushing to Scootaloo’s house, only to find the door ajar, her parents off on a vacation. Scootaloo’s room empty of all our her clothes, and her scooter. Following her scooter tracks hadn’t been hard, due to all the mud, but Sweetie Belle wasn’t an athlete like her friends. By the time she had followed the tracks to their terminus, Sweetie Belle had been panting heavily, practically dead on her hooves. Till she had seen Scootaloo.
In the dark and the rain, Scootaloo had slammed hard into a jutting tree root, flinging her and her scooter over the side of the path and down a rocky hill, leaving her bloodied and sporting a broken leg. Getting her home had taken a miracle of its own: her levitation magic spiking just enough to drag Scootaloo back up the hill, then carting her home on her back. At the time, Sweetie Belle was fairly certain it was rage that was giving her the strength. After that night, Sweetie Belle knew the true reason: it had been love.
It had been love that let them get home. Been love that had given Sweetie Belle the strength to confront Scootaloo about her actions. It had been love that had uncovered their feelings for each other: just a simple kiss, a small, tiny thing… that had started something beautiful. And now… just maybe she was-
Sweetie’s ears suddenly perked. Floating along the apple-scented breeze of the Acres was… music. Piano, if Sweetie trusted her ears- which she did, more than anything or anypony. Hesitating a few, thoughtful moments, the little unicorn turned off the path, ears twitching in time with each dulcet note. Whoever was playing was skilled, but… hesitant. The tone was almost scared of being heard, and Sweetie Belle blushed as she found herself wanting the tempo to pick up, to give some beat and vibrancy to the calm air.
To Sweetie Belle’s surprise, the sound was coming from Fiddlestick’s cabin. Her expression brightened considerably. Had Applebloom’s cousin stopped by for another visit? The last time she had stopped by, she and Sweetie Belle had hit it off quite well, with the violin-playing pony giving the filly a few pointers on music, all the while describing her trips around the whole of Equestria. But… she hadn’t known that Fiddlesticks played the piano too. Glancing around, the filly spotted the open window along the left wall and smiled widely, darting over to peek in eagerly and discover the source of the music. It… definitely wasn’t Fiddlesticks. A small white unicorn, larger than Sweetie Belle but definitely smaller than Rarity, was seated in front of a large keyboard… thingy, covered in flashing lights and dials that rested just above the more traditional ebony and ivory keys. Dainty hooves gingerly worked over the controls, and from Sweetie’s angle, she could see the nervous, pensive look on the mare’s face, sweat sticking to her bright, neon blue mane. She hunched over after a moment, and the notes began to play again; at this range, Sweetie Belle could tell what was wrong: the player was far too nervous. She was letting her nerves get the best of her, playing too formally and not letting the music… take her.
Interrupting the mare would definitely be rude, Sweetie realized, biting her lip slightly, But not helping her would be tantamount to music… evil.
The mare was definitely familiar to the filly, but a name was unplaceable, just floating off in the ether of her mind, out of reach of her mental feelers. Sweetie Belle, used to spotting injuries among her friends, was quick to notice the signs of recent hurts: bruises along her flanks and sides, a large purple knot just behind one ear and, the one that made Sweetie Belle wince the most, the fading signs of a massive dark bruise around her horn, creeping past the line of her mane. Whatever accident the mare had been in had to have been terrible, and very painful. She had heard Princess Sparkle talk about a thing called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and that sometimes it made ponies act in strange ways, very much unlike themselves. Indeed, it was what Sweetie thought Scootaloo had gone through after bribing Cloudkicker to bring her up to Rainbow Dash’s torn-up house.
“C-come on, Vinyl,” the mare suddenly muttered, and it was all Sweetie Belle could do to keep from crying out in startlement, “Y-you can do this. Tavi’ll like it… c-come on, you’ve done this before…”
Again, her hooves began to work across the keys, and Sweetie Belle winced in sympathy at a flurry of inaccurate notes. She wasn’t sure why she started singing- it was quite possible that the sudden realization that she wasn’t alone would send the traumatized Vinyl into a panic, to stunned to continue along with the strange unicorn filly perched up on a windowsill. But it just felt… right. The piano faltered for a few beats as Sweetie began, her voice clear and pure as she began to sing about hope and love, a small smile spreading across her lips. It wasn’t a song she had sung before, but one that came to her heart as she went, one that captured her in the swirl and majesty of the music. And then… the piano joined… and the harmony was complete. For both musicians, and Sweetie asked Vinyl Scratch this many weeks later, the feeling was utterly euphoric and perfect, just what she had been missing. ****************
Wielding weapons was never Scootaloo’s strong suit, and not just because of her smaller size than most hopefuls for the Aurora Guard. Her stubby wings simply did not have the wing-strength to balance a pike or glaive, and she had no magic like unicorns to wield the Aurora Guard swords. So, like Scootaloo had always done, she improvised. As she buzzed down the road on her scooter to the Training Fields, the pegasus filly double-checked her custom made horseshoes: designed by Applebloom, they fit over her hooves and were secured around her knee by leather straps. Straightening her hooves was the trigger for a pair of sharp blades to slide free, long enough to count as daggers, and able to be punched forward or sliced. Applebloom had found the project rather morbid, but for Scootaloo, it had been perfect.
Usually the Training Fields were rather empty, as the Ponyville Aurora Guard tended to be either unicorns or pegasi, who practiced in Twilight’s library and the clouds, respectively. But as Scootaloo scanned the Fields, she spotted a grey mare standing among the Group Attack Station, which had four pony constructs coming at the trainee from four different directions. The mare standing on her hind legs without a hint of pain or strain, already an impressive feat, and balanced a spear with her hooves. That… was different. Scootaloo skidded her scooter to a stop on an overlook, eyes widening as the attack began.
The constructs were created by Princess Sparkle herself; made of pure mana, they looked like purple, blank featureless versions of the creatures the trainee wished to face, and moved exactly as they could in “real life.” Oddly, this mare had decided to face unarmed pony opponents, instead of the usual minotaur or griffon opponents that alot of Guards preferred to train against. Two pegasi and two unicorn constructs shimmered lightly as they activated, and launched themselves at the unarmored mare.
“Holy buck.”
The unicorns’ horn lit with a bright purple at roughly the same time as each other, and their pegasi counterparts dived pummel the spear-wielding pony, only to slam into empty air. With a grunt the mare, using her own neck as a balance, had spun her body and the spear like a top, launching it towards the left unicorn like a dervish’s blade. The sharp metal tip of the spear deftly slammed into the unicorn’s horn, shattering the illusion with the “disabling” attack. In the same movement, she leaped off one hoof, rolling over the back of the attacking “pegasus” just in time for the other unicorn’s stun beam to strike it full in the face. Landing with no small bit of grace, the mare twisted and swung her forelegs forward, using the momentum to bring her body off the ground and side-kick the remaining unicorn directly in the horn, shattering it as she landed back on all fours. The last pegasus had recovered from its diving miss, cork-screwing through the air to launch itself at the mare.
To this day, few ponies believe Scootaloo when she says that a mare, unarmored, turned and bucked the construct clear across the Training Fields, taking out a hundred year old oak tree in the process. “Holy… buck.”
Octavia was… nervous. While she was certainly happy that Vinyl had asked for a little alone time working up to meeting at the Ponyville Coffee House that night, the fact that she had also wanted “alone” time several times in the past week had begun to eat at the cellist. Had Vinyl finally gotten sick of her presence, her overbearing stuffiness? Octavia did have to admit that she was probably getting a bit… stale, especially since Vinyl’s personality was coming back more and more. She was louder, smiling brightly even, and the stutter had begun to fade when she was around ponies she had taken a liking too, like Rainbow Dash.
It… weighed at her, and the surprise of the revelation stopped Octavia in her tracks on the dirt road, her brow furrowing in thought. Why should it? Sure, they were friends, but even friends need time away from each other, right? So why in all of Equestria was she getting depressed at that?! With an irritated groan, Octavia stalked into Fiddlestick’s house, looking around alertly.
“Vinyl?”
But Vinyl was gone, as was her keyboard; alarm shot through Octavia’s heart, only to quickly fall away when she spotted the white card by the door jam, her and Vinyl’s sign for each other that they were going out. ...but going out where? Sighing a bit, Octavia trudged into the kitchen, trying to keep her ears up… and failing. She shouldn’t feel down. Vinyl was getting better! That was the whole point of it! So what if she wouldn’t need a cuddle partner in bed… Or a pony to lean against when they went walking. Probably wouldn’t need a pony to be with her when she gave birth to her foal.
With a plop of generous flanks, Octavia gave a deep-hearted sigh as she sat down on the linoleum, angrily scuffing a hoof as the revelation burned into her mind. She was falling in love with the pony she was trying to heal. A still semi-broken mare who likely wouldn’t want anything to DO with love or companionship, not after the horror she had been through.
Great going, heart, Octavia thought gloomily, Thanks for making life complicated once more.
Octavia had known since graduating from university that she had enjoyed the fairer sex far more than she did stallions. Where stallions made her think uncouth and unrefined louts, other mares stuck with her like beautiful chords of light and music. A hug from a stallion tended to make her tense, while a hug from a mare could make the refined cellist all but melt (something Fleur-de-Lis had found out firsthoof). And a kiss… Octavia’s legs quivered a bit at the mere thought, and to kiss Vinyl…
With a frustrated groan, Octavia spun back to the refrigerator, quite ready to drown her confused mind in a veritable tide of apple cider, one that would block out the sight of land for years to come, one that would- And standing, shining like gold in a setting sun, in the fridge… was bottle of brandy. And not just… any brandy. THE brandy. Aged Prench brandy. It was practically one of the few alcoholic drinks in existence that Octavia would tear somepony in half to get it… and here it was, a full bottle of that glorious ambrosia. With suddenly teary eyes, Octavia managed to notice a small note attached to the bottle, and she carefully- oh so very careful- turned it about to see it.
“Happy two month anniversary of saving my flank. I heard you like this kind of booze. Can’t wait to see you tonight!”
Who was cutting a thousand onions in the room? With trembling hooves, Octavia reached it to take the bottle, slamming it against her chest in a tight hug. The rich amber of the brandy glowed under the lantern light above, and a tiny smile tracked across the reflection.Perhaps she had overreacted a bit. They would stay friends… going through what they had together had cemented that. As for Octavia’s feeling…
Sighing again, a twist of teeth separated the cork from the bottle, and Octavia tugged a shotglass over. There was no need for her to complicate things any further between herself and Vinyl. Her DJ just needed a friend to help her through recovery, not some kind of… silly, pining fillyfooler. Her teeth grit at the instinctual name, grown into her mind by years of spiteful Canterlotian upbringing and taunts against those ponies, like herself, who loved those of the same sex. Vinyl didn’t deserve to apart of those hateful jokes. She deserved better than that.
“Besides,” Octavia mused absently, knocking back the shot with a faint sigh of satisfaction, “I don’t even know if she likes mares as I do… best not to mess up a good thing…”
She glanced up at the ceiling, biting the outside of her lip, “...r-right?” ****************************
The coffeehouse had a surprising amount of visitors that night, and Octavia definitely had to worm her way through to find a seat in the back. The PCH was a home-y establishment, with a crackling fireplace to one side giving off much needed heat, and the smell of coffee was so intense it made Octavia’s stomach rumble… for coffee. Two mugs of dark roast (no creme) later, Octavia was comfortably settled back against the wall, a warm smile stretched across her muzzle as she watched the rest of the patrons file in.
The stage was fairly small, with a “backstage” exit off to the left. The first performance of the night was, surprisingly enough, a griffon. Thin enough to almost be described as reedy, the white-and-brown feathered male smiled out at the crowd, and Octavia was even more surprised to find the crowd smiling back, some even giving friendly cheers. The tense relationship with the Griffons must not have reached Ponyville yet, or they didn’t much care. She always remembered Ponyville being quite friendly to visitors, if they understood them. The Griffon introduced him politely- Gor Fireclaw- before producing an acoustic case, cleverly hidden behind the stage, and drew his guitar with a proud flourish.
The music wasn’t exactly Octavia’s style- an energetic piece about flying that had several pegasi in the room cheering by the time it was over- but she had to hand it to the Griffon, he was hardly a slouch with his music, and knew what he was doing. She was quite happy to lend her hooves to the applause. The next performer was a teenage unicorn with a bright white coat and a periwinkle , dual toned mane. Her smile was bright and beatific, and quite infectious. To Octavia’s delight, a little orange pegasus mare practically jumped in surprise, eyes wide in awe as the filly began to sing. Her voice was brilliant, and Octavia could easily see the filly becoming a star if she focused on that wonderfully loud, carrying voice. But Octavia couldn’t help but stare at the little, practically vibrating pegasus in the front row, a giggle of delight leaping out as the unicorn darted during a particularly soft portion to trail a tender kiss across the pegasus’ lips. The crowd practically exploded with cheers, and when the song ended, the partners darted out with each other, tails tightly entwined and raised.
It was one of the most adorable things Octavia had seen in quite awhile, so she was still slightly giggling when… Vinyl!? The little unicorn was carefully maneuvering her keyboard onto the stage with her magic, light blue aura carefully fixing the wires and her seat. Octavia was… stunned. Vinyl was dressed in a black dress jacket, a purple tie and purple handkerchief gleaming in the overhead lights. On her head, lightly crushing her spiky blue hair, was a black fedora, a grey-purple fabric running along the outside. Her glasses were, surprisingly gone, and her gorgeous ruby eyes were on display for all to see. When they peered into Octavia’s own, and the little unicorn smiled, Octavia’s heart leaped into her throat. Vinyl was making it very hard to forget her feelings.
“Thank you all for coming,” Vinyl told the crowd softly, giving a soft smile that made the smallest whimper rise out of Octavia, “My name is DJ… uh, no, no. My name… my name is Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch.”
The first notes stole Octavia’s breath. They weren’t the electronically enhanced tones from their first concert; these were simple piano keys, but the melody they weaved was anything but. The tone and pitch wove an aching sing, one that gently gripped at the mind and pulled the listener in. Heart-breakingly beautiful, and Octavia knew she’d be crying by the end, no matter the lyrics or message of the song itself. She was a sucker for musical beauty. And as the tone rose and rose, leaving Octavia on the edge of her seat… it dropped. And Vinyl began to sing.
“Oh there's an ache in my heart.
I'm so glad I'm not tone deaf.
A desire, I can't speak it's name.
My soul belongs to the treble clef.” Octavia’s world had stopped around her, the only thing moving were Vinyl, and the pounding in her heart. She couldn’t look away; her ears were practically tearing themselves to lean forward more, and her mouth was drier than Appaloosa. As Vinyl’s voice whispered the last line, her eyes bored into Octavia, and all she could do was mouth a word. Her word. Her whole world in that time. Vinyl.
"Without my my love, my mind finds no tune.
Discs have no meaning, and music is mania."
Vinyl’s jaw and eyes clenched together, and Octavia gave a mewl of protest at the tears leaking down Vinyl’s cheek. She wanted to charge the stage, kiss the treacherous liquid away, but she was rooted to the floor. Vinyl’s hooves danced over the keys, and when she sang again, her voice sounded near broken, alto and broken and beautiful.
I dare not look at its source, or the love will find bloom.
Ruby eyes glanced across the silence-struck room, and magenta rose up to catch them, to cherish the pony behind them. A tremulous smile bloomed, and Octavia’s body quivered in response.
I want to be your instrument, you're an artist Octavia.
Octavia was quite the fast pony, and her agility was second to none in the room. The second Vinyl’s hooves left the keys, and the roaring cheer and applause broke out in the suddenly packed coffeehouse, the cellist was practically sprinting and vaulting over and under tables. Despite the pain from her old injuries, she launched herself up onto the stage, tears blurring her hooves. She had to slow down, or she would scare Vinyl. Vinyl would want it slow, or she might just shove her away, Octavia had- Octavia had to shut up. Vinyl’s lips, soft and quivering and eager, pressed firmly to Octavia’s, and the desperate, sobbing mewl the “fancy” pony had been holding in burst out with a vengeance.
Neither pony cared about the thunderous applause behind them, nor the cheering, nor even the silent glares from a few. Their worlds were simply each other at that moment. Vinyl pushed forward a bit, and Octavia let out a squeak as she was pressed against the wooden wall. Vinyl’s tongue darted in, and Octavia rose to challenge with need. They wrestled and fought, barely pausing for breath, relying only on their love and their friendship to sustain them, ears still ringing with the music of a mending heart.
