A desperate cellist is in over her head when she takes a job at a nightclub.
Octavia Philharmonica is a desperate mare. Her involvement in the ill-fated "pony pokey" at the prestigious Grand Galloping Gala has left her blacklisted among the elite of Canterlot who form her clientele. Faced with the possibility of being evicted from her apartment for inability to pay rent she decides to take a temporary job at a local nightclub. Of course, she's never set hoof in a club before and has no idea what she's getting involved in . . .
“But what do you mean there are no openings available?” demanded the light gray mare with more desperate whining underscoring her words than she had intended. “There are always openings! I am—“
“Octavia Philharmonica,” the beige stallion interrupted curtly, eying the mare across the wooden expanse of his desk. “Currently known through all of Canterlot as the pony who aided and abetted the ruination of the Grand Galloping Gala by participating in the rendition of, of all things, the 'pony pokey'.”
“But that wasn't my fault,” Octavia objected, her lilting and cultured voice overshadowed by an element of pleading. “I was just doing my job and playing ponies' requests. I can't possibly be held responsible.”
The stallion sighed, massaging the furrow between his brows with a hoof. “Miss Philharmonica, it is true you cannot be blamed in any litigious sense. However, you know these upper-class Canterlot types as well as I do. I'm afraid you are very much persona non grata amongst those who form your usual clientele. There is simply no one interested in reserving your abilities as a cellist at the moment.” He forestalled her interruption by continuing without pause. “Of course, this will pass soon enough. It's simply a matter of patience.”
“Patience is all well and good Mr. Bookings, but I believe my landlord is in short supply. I have bills to pay! Surely there is something I could do in the meantime? Some smaller commissions I could take on?”
Elite Bookings shook his head. “I'm really quite sorry, but there's nothing even remotely in your field that I have available at the moment. I'm afraid all I've got is an opening at a new nightclub that's opened up, looking for an assistant for their DJ.”
Octavia gently snorted, shaking her head in denial. “No, I can't say that sounds like something suited for me. Could you imagine me in some nightclub?” An image briefly took shape in the recesses of her mind of herself, glowing plastic jewelry gracing neck and forelegs as she tried to blend in with a frantic crowd moving erratically to an unheard beat, signature pink bow tie and elegantly styled mane clashing with the spiked and dyed styles around her. She chortled slightly at the ridiculous idea.
“Well, if anything comes my way I'll be sure to let you know, Miss Philharmonica,” the stallion said.
Octavia knew a dismissal when she heard one. “I'd appreciate it. Thank you very much.” Rising, she excused herself from the room, head held high. She was a disciplined and professional musician whose skill made her valued through all of Canterlot. She would endure this challenge with dignity.
Octavia lay on her couch, tail hanging listlessly and ears flat, wondering where her dignity had gone.
Wherever it went, I believe it took my pride and self-worth with it.
Her light purple eyes tracked wearily over several letters from her landlord that were strewn across the floor; she didn't particularly want to find out what homelessness was like firsthoof. Her stomach rumbled loudly; the last bit of food she owned or could afford had gone into her mouth several days ago. Her daily phone calls to her agent had increased to thrice-daily frequencies over the course of the last month. No work had been forthcoming. She sighed resignedly. That opening at the nightclub had hovered in front of her after every phone call, offering her salvation for the low price of her painstakingly constructed image as a refined and sober cellist. The possibility of a paycheck had been increasingly hard to resist, but she had marshaled every ounce of stubbornness she commanded to fight back against the impulse to give in to something so alien and lowbrow. Still, the very real prospect of eviction and hunger are great equalizers amongst ponykind. Sighing, she reached out for the phone; the number she sought was ingrained habit by now. She listened keenly as the number dialed and steeled herself to her task as her agent answered. “Mr. Bookings, if that position at the nightclub is still available, I'm interested in it.”
Octavia stood uncertainly outside an unfamiliar building in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Even from here she could hear, or rather feel, the pounding of bass and the muted cacophony that apparently constituted “music” to some ponies but to her was more akin to the sounds of the damned in Tartarus. She shied from hoof to hoof, trying to work up the courage to brave this alien environment in pursuit of the pony she was supposed to talk to about this job, one Vinyl Scratch.
A glance to the sky confirmed that it was still early evening; far too early for “nightlife”, or so the cultured mare presumed. There certainly didn't seem to be a queue of ponies trying to get inside. She swallowed a sudden lump that formed in her throat.
Come on, Octavia. It’s a job interview, not a criminal endeavor. There's nothing to be so worried about.
Being so advised she trotted forward and nudged the door open, considerably relieved when it swung inward at her touch. Immediately she was paralyzed, overcome by a petrifying onslaught of rhythm and bass that reverberated in the marrow of her bones. Her eyes were dazzled by hypnotic pulses of neon color that surged and throbbed through the near-darkness. She simply stood, slack-jawed, struggling to process the sudden sensory overload. Slowly, though, her eyes began to take in something more than a spasmodic artist's creation in a medium of light and color. Her eyes were inexorably drawn to the far side of the room where a blindingly white unicorn towered over an array of consoles and audio equipment that stood on an elevated dais in the midst of the expansive dance floor. Opaque purple lenses obscured her eyes from sight but a translucent blue aura enveloped her horn, the same light infusing her equipment. Octavia watched, enthralled, as the whirling colors cast themselves over her pristine coat, lending it a kaleidoscopic and pearlescent quality. A two-toned tousled blue mane bobbed with her head according to the noise currently filling the room. Octavia refused to dignify it as actual music.
After a few more moments of entranced staring Octavia finally shook her head clear and advanced several more steps into the club. The DJ noticed her then; the head-bobbing stopped and those purple glasses swung to regard her. Sound and light died away, leaving Octavia and the other mare staring at each other. She cocked her head to the side, a small smile taking shape. She was obviously waiting for Octavia to say something. “I'm looking for Vinyl Scratch. I'm supposed to speak with her regarding a job opening here,” the cellist said, trying to sound as confident as possible as she approached the unknown pony.
The unicorn's grin broke into a wide smile and she hopped easily down to land beside Octavia. “Well, you found me; Vinyl Scratch, also known as DJ Pon-3. What can I do for ya, Treble Clef?”
Octavia's eyes narrowed. She wasn't thrilled about being assigned a nickname by a pony she had just met, let alone one based on something as personal as her cutie mark. Still, her voice was controlled and polite as she answered. “I heard from my agent that you need some help at this, erm, establishment. I was hoping you would take me on.” Vinyl’s eyebrows rose quizzically. “Oh really? What's your deal?”
Octavia stared blankly. “Um, come again?”
“What do you do that makes you want to come and work here? Are you a DJ like me, a composer, an audio engineer, what? What makes a club somewhere you wanna work?” Vinyl asked.
“Oh! Um, actually, I'm a . . . well, I'm a cellist,” Octavia admitted with an uncertain scuff of her hoof.
For a beat there was no response then Vinyl Scratch broke into gales of laughter. The hysterical unicorn tried to get a word in edgewise around her own mirth and failed miserably. She thumped solidly down onto her haunches, sides heaving.
Octavia herself was torn between indignation and shock at this uncivilized outburst. As if she needed further proof she was no longer amongst her familiar peers, this uncouth and plebian behavior was it. Her voice was icy and precise as she spoke, struggling to make herself heard to the histrionic mare. “I fail to see what is so funny about my profession,” she observed sparsely.
Waving a hoof as if to stave off her words, Vinyl finally brought herself back under control. “No, no, it's not funny that you're a cellist,” she said with a tremor of laughter still underscoring her words. “It's just funny that a cellist is applying for a job in a nightclub. Most raves don't feature a string section, you know. Are you sure you didn't get lost looking for the concert hall, sweetie?”
“Don't patronize me! And no, I didn't get lost. I am precisely where I wanted to be,” Octavia replied, a hint of annoyance entering her tone.
Above the impenetrable lenses that concealed her eyes, Vinyl's eyebrows quirked inquisitively. “Oh yeah? Tell me this, Treble Clef; what's the difference between techno style music and house style music?”
“Oh, um, I don't actually know.”
“What's the difference between mixing and scratching?”
“I don't -”
“What's an upfader?”
'I don't see how I should -”
“What does an equalizer do?”
'I have no idea!” an exasperated Octavia finally exclaimed.
“Then what are you doing here? What does a classical musician like you think you're gonna do at a club like this? Ponies who come here wanna get drunk and dance like maniacs, not appreciate the subtle grace of a cello,” Vinyl retorted.
“I need a job, thank you very much. This is the only opening my agent knew of, so here I am. I'm aware I'm out of my depth here, but I assure you I can manage whatever you need done.”
“Yeah, I'm sure you think so. How about you just go find somewhere your talents will be better appreciated, Treble Clef.”
Octavia stood in stunned horror.
But this was my last hope. I never thought I wouldn't be able to get this job; I just didn't want to stoop so low.
She opened her mouth to protest this callous mare's judgment then clamped it shut.
No; I won't degrade myself further by begging.
“Thank you very much for your time, Ms. Scratch. I'll show myself out.” She turned to go quickly, but not before the crushing weight of her imminent homelessness and ruination forced a misty quality to enter her eyes.
I wonder if all my possessions could fit into a cardboard box in an alley?
She could only take consolation in the fact that she was fairly certain her display of weakness had gone unnoticed.
Vinyl watched her out-of-place interviewee go. Her shades concealed her face, leaving it an impassive mask. She had noticed the tears just before the discomposed musician had turned to leave. With every one of the grey mare's receding hoofsteps Vinyl cursed her growing sense of altruistic imperative.
I don't even know this filly. Why the hay should it matter to me if she's upset that I told her to get lost? She said herself she only came down here 'cause she needs a job. Some snobby, upper-class classical musician who probably never set foot in a place like this before. Probably thinks she's better than me and my music.
She grimaced then, as the aggravating filly in question had already reached the door. One perfectly white hoof whipped up to lie across her face in frustration before she resigned herself to being a nice pony to someone who likely regarded her as a stain on the fabric of society. “Hey, Treble Clef, wait a sec,” she called out across the empty club.
A clipped “What?” was all the reply she got back.
“I noticed the waterworks, so come back over here and tell me about it,” Vinyl demanded.
“Why do you care?” the obstinate Octavia retorted.
Vinyl Scratch rolled her eyes, though nopony could possibly see. “I'm not freaking Discord over here. I don't make it a daily goal to make somepony cry, especially when I don't even know why. Now get back over here and tell me why a cellist is so hung up on working in a nightclub that she starts crying when I tell her to get lost.”
Octavia couldn't help the small grin that imposed itself on her at this mare's carefree forthrightness. “ 'Get lost,' you say? Not very subtle in your word choice are you, Ms. Scratch?”
Vinyl snorted in derision. “Filly, I'm about as subtle as a lunar eclipse.”
The out-of-place cellist trotted hesitantly back over to where Vinyl still sat on the floor as a product of her earlier fit of laughter.
The DJ rose to her hooves and nodded to a bank of tables situated next to what was obviously the bar. “C'mon, Treble Clef. Let's go discuss this like the grown mares we are.”
The two mares eased themselves into their seats, facing each other across a small circular table. The dim overhead lights provided some relief from the yawning darkness of the expansive interior of the club. They examined each other in a moment of awkward silence before Vinyl spoke up, her tone oddly inviting. “So, wanna tell me about it?” she asked.
Octavia sighed deeply before responding, “It's a long story. But the gist of it is that my reputation is in ruins right now and no one will hire me. I normally perform at concert halls and recitals and sometimes for some rich pony's party or black-tie affair, but nopony will hire me right now. I haven't had a paying job in a month and I'm only about a week away from getting kicked out of my apartment. This is the only opportunity my agent had for me. It’s the only musical employment open to me at the moment but I've been avoiding it because it's so different from what I normally do. Obviously I don't know anything about this type of music but I kept holding on to this job opening as my last resort. So when I came down here and you told me to go somewhere else I guess I lost it a little. Actually, as I was walking out I was wondering if I could fit all my possessions into a cardboard box in an alley somewhere, because that's where I'm headed. So you'll have to forgive my little tears earlier, Ms. Scratch; homelessness is a rather depressing prospect. I hope you can understand.”
Vinyl listened to Octavia explain her position, her concern growing with every word. The cellist seemed oblivious but her tone had become more dejected with every sentence. “That's . . . um, wow. I don't know what I was expecting, but that sure wasn't it. So, unless you can make some bits fast you're gonna be out on the street?” Octavia nodded. “Ok. Well, to be honest I had wanted another DJ to help me do my sets at night. I don’t think you’re gonna be very good at that, so how about this; you become my manager and take care of the other stuff so I can focus on the music that draws ponies in here,” Vinyl offered.
Octavia was once more conscious of her lack of familiarity with this environment. “What sort of ‘stuff’ does this entail?” she asked suspiciously.
“Well, as my manager it’ll be your job to supervise my other employees and to take care of their questions and problems as best you can. You keep an eye on the crowd and watch out for trouble. Make sure everypony does their job right. Serve as an intermediary between the owner and everypony else. That sort of stuff.”
“And just who exactly is the owner?” Octavia demanded.
“What? You didn’t figure it out already?” Vinyl asked. “I’m the owner. I kinda thought it would be obvious what with me talking about ‘my manager’ and ‘my employees’. And talking about hiring you and all.”
“Forgive me; it just didn’t occur to me that you could be the owner,” Octavia said.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Vinyl demanded.
“Nothing, nothing!” Octavia hurriedly explained. “You just don’t look like a businesspony.”
“That’s ‘cause I ain’t no businesspony, Treble Clef,” Vinyl explained with a smirk tugging at her muzzle. “I’m just a DJ with a dream. I’ve wanted my own club where I could mix and scratch to my heart’s content ever since I started making a living spinning my tracks. It’s taken me years but I finally scraped together enough money to get this place set up. Counting you, I’ve got enough ponies to help me run this place. Just in time; tomorrow is our grand opening.”
“Wait, you mean you’re not even open for business yet?” Octavia asked, perplexed.
“Not yet. I only just finished wiring the lights and audio equipment the other day. The bar was just installed last week and the dance floor had to be surfaced before all that.”
Octavia was taken aback by the other mare’s earnestness. She decided to change the subject back to her presumed responsibilities. “So who else have you roped into this carnival sideshow besides myself?”
“Hm?” Vinyl replied, still lost in her dreams. “Oh, who else works here? Not too many, actually. There’s you ‘n me and a barcolt and a couple of bouncers. And the strippers, of course,” she added nonchalantly.
Octavia’s eyes constricted in horror as the bottom fell out of her stomach. “Strippers?” she whispered in disbelief.
“Nah, I’m just messin’ with ya. No strippers here. Not unless you wanna volunteer; you’ve got the flank for it,” Vinyl finished, cocking her head as if pondering the mare across from her.
Octavia gaped, torn between outrage and embarrassment at the mental image of herself, dancing on some stage like a degenerate showmare. A sharp retort died on her tongue, though, as she saw Vinyl’s barely contained laughter. “This is sexual harassment,” she replied deadpan. “I’ll sue.”
“I haven’t formally hired you yet so it can’t be harassment. This is still considered flirting,” Vinyl replied easily.
As an elegant counterpoint Octavia settled for an unimpressed snort. “If you’re going to flirt with me you could at least buy me dinner.” An ill-timed rumble from her empty stomach turned a mortified Octavia’s sarcastic rejoinder into something a little more literal.
Vinyl’s face and voice lost its playful quality. “When’s the last time you ate?” she demanded suspiciously.
Caught off-guard, Octavia couldn’t fabricate a decent lie. “Oh, well, it’s been a few days. I guess.”
Vinyl said nothing for a long moment, simply staring at Octavia for long enough to make her uncomfortable. “You're about to get evicted from your place; don't tell me you've been going hungry too,” she finally said.
Octavia squirmed guiltily; she was ashamed to admit how low she had fallen but she also didn't want to lie to the pony who was offering her the job that would save her from her predicament. She compromised by saying nothing, suddenly finding the surface of the table fascinating.
Without warning Vinyl heaved herself out of her seat. The sudden sound of her hooves striking the polished surface of the floor jarred Octavia from her contemplation. She looked up in time to see Vinyl's blue tail swishing purposefully behind her as she trotted towards the door. Glancing back over her shoulder, she called back, “Hey, you comin' or not?” with her usual light and easy tone.
Octavia hurriedly followed after the other mare. After a few hastened steps she fell into step alongside her. “Um, where are we going, Ms. Scratch?” she asked.
“We're going to grab a late dinner. My treat.”
Octavia was torn by a conflicting mixture of gratitude and revulsion. She didn't want to have to rely on a mare she had just met to feed her, but the gnawing ache of hunger made her decision a foregone conclusion. With a heartfelt “thank you” that Vinyl promptly disclaimed, the two musicians made their way out into the crisp air of newly-fallen darkness.
Under the light of the stars and moon their hoofsteps synchronized as they struck against the surface of the paved roads. Octavia resisted the urge to stare at Vinyl out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t resist being intrigued by the generosity of the mare she trotted beside. The swell of her gratitude buoyed her spirits, leaving her outlook rosier than remembered it being any time in the last month. “Thank you again, Vinyl. I don’t know how to fully show you my gratitude, but this may well be one of the kindest things anypony has ever done for me,” she said, interrupting their silent trek.
Vinyl gently snorted. “For like the fifth freaking time, don’t mention it.”
“I’m being serious,” Octavia objected. “I know it’s not much, but my thanks is all I have to offer you right now.”
“Oh, really?” Vinyl questioned, a huge grin spreading over her face. “Is that all?” The erratic flicking of her tail behind her was just energetic enough to lead it to softly brush against the side of Octavia’s flank, leaving a streak of warmth behind it that bloomed into a radiant blush on her face.
“I . . . I don’t –“ Octavia began, fighting against the sudden pattering of her heart.
“Oh look, we’re here,” Vinyl announced gleefully as the brightly-lit windows of the destination came into view, casting welcoming illumination in pools on the darkened streets. “Come on.”
Wordlessly, Octavia followed Vinyl into the restaurant, doing her level best to look at anything other than perfectly white flanks adorned by a barred eight note and a tail of luminous blue.
Few of the restaurants Octavia was familiar with would be open so late. Fortunately, Vinyl had situated her nascent club in the heart of Canterlot’s nightlife. There were a hooffull of diners and small establishments that catered to the appetites of late-night revelers and Vinyl knew them all. The cellist and DJ found themselves comfortably ensconced at a candle-lit table on the outdoor patio of one such locale within moments.
The twinkling of stars provided effervescent background to their silent contemplations. Octavia focused on the admittedly simple fare on offer with a fervor usually reserved for religious zealots, nearly enraptured in holy ecstasy by the prospect of actual, real food.
Concealed behind her unrevealing purple shades, Vinyl regarded her companion. She was a mystery and she intrigued her. Her elegant and slightly formal (and Vinyl had to admit, very cute) bow tie and cultured accent, coupled with her refined demeanor and status as a classical musician marked her as, if not one of Canterlot’s elite, then at least a close companion to such lofty circles of society.
On the other hoof, none of the upper-crust snobs Vinyl had known would have ever dared to brave the interior of someplace as uncouth as a nightclub. She could only conclude that the cellist had been in straits as dire as she claimed. But that left the question of what exactly this mare could have done amongst her peers to leave herself in disgrace.
Vinyl thought carefully and formulated the most tactful way she could imagine to investigate the matter. “So,” she asked the unsuspecting Octavia, “who’d you sleep with?”
Octavia’s eyes snapped up to regard the mare seated across from her. Too shocked to come up with a witty reply, she stammered out, “Wha- what are you talking about?”
“Well, I figured that in order for you to be so unpopular with the rich ponies you had to have gotten caught in the wrong bed or something,” Vinyl explained in nonplussed fashion.
“You figured wrong,” Octavia replied tersely. “I played at the Grand Galloping Gala last month and this pink nightmare of a pony talked the ensemble into playing, ugh, the ‘pony pokey’. I don’t really know what happened after that, but there was a stampede in the ballroom and some klutzy pegasus knocked over a statue and Celestia alone knows what else went wrong. We got blamed for it and since I was involved no one has been willing to hire me to play for them.”
Vinyl’s mouth turned up in a huge grin before she said, “Wow, you were involved in that clusterbuck? Ponies were talking about it for weeks.”
“It’s not funny! My career and reputation are ruined. I’ve come perilously close to poverty and homelessness,” Octavia snapped back. “And where’s that waiter? I’m hungry . . .” she added petulantly.
“Heh; yeah it’s not funny about all that. But it is kinda funny that you played the pony pokey at the Grand Galloping Gala, you gotta admit. All those worldly and sophisticated connoisseurs of the finer things in life, and there you are playing a foal’s song on your cello.”
“Well, when you put it that way I suppose it is a little funny,” Octavia replied, a little of Vinyl’s easy humor wearing off on her in the form of a demure smirk.
“That’s the spirit! You’ve got a job; you don’t have to worry about losing your apartment anymore. Lighten up, Treble Clef. And I hope you know what you want, ‘cause here comes our waiter.”
Under other circumstances, Octavia might have been embarrassed at the speed at which she had devoured her tulip sandwich, rose petal salad and double order of hay fries. She had contemplated ordering more but respect for Vinyl’s charity had stopped her from doing so. She had already dined far too lavishly on her generosity to indulge herself further.
Instead she settled for patting daintily at her mouth with a napkin before laying it down on a plate devoid of even crumbs.
“That was truly delicious, Ms. Scratch. I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am. For everything.”
“Please, it’s ‘Vinyl’, not ‘Ms. Scratch.’ And don’t worry about it. That’s what friends are for, right?”
Octavia stared back at the mare she had just met. Her upbringing and socially-correct demeanor demanded that she remain aloof from such a new acquaintance, especially one so far removed from her usual circles. That impulse was in stark conflict with the reality of a pony who had offered her both friendship and generosity without hesitation.
Octavia smiled back, genuine warmth filling her voice as she replied, “Yes. Of course, Vinyl.”
They trotted side-by-side in comfortable silence down the largely empty streets. The night air had grown chill and the darkness was enough to make Octavia glad for the company Vinyl provided. The play of soft moonlight amongst the electric colors of the pearly mare’s mane was enough to tease hypnotizingly at Octavia’s peripheral vision. She, for her part, found herself dwelling on the pony beside her.
Once I get paid I will have to recompense Vinyl for her kindness. I will need to take her out to dinner. Or several dinners, maybe.
A sudden return to lucidity as she stumbled slightly over an uneven paving stone caused her to realize that her eyes had been dwelling on her for far longer than was acceptable in polite company.
Vinyl isn’t really polite company, though, is she? I bet she wouldn’t mind . . .
Hurriedly Octavia silenced her inner voice with a strong imperative to keep such suggestions to itself. Still, she had to admit that the prospect of spending more time with her new . . . friend was a surprisingly pleasant one. The mare was nothing like the criminal degenerate she had half-feared to find at someplace as foreign to her as a nightclub. Really, the eccentric filly’s playful teasing and unconcerned forthrightness were refreshing compared to the stuffy formality she usually dealt with.
Their pace soon brought them back to the darkened exterior of Club P0n-3. They parted ways with a few quiet words, Octavia to her newly-safe apartment and Vinyl to the interior of the club where she claimed to still have work to do wiring the audio equipment for the forthcoming grand opening. Octavia’s offer to assist her was quickly declined, Vinyl apparently certain it would only take a few moments.
The brief walk back to her apartment passed quickly, illuminated by streetlamps that cast small oases of light that guided her way. The slight echoes of her hoofsteps cast by the surrounding buildings kept her company, almost forming a rhythm as her thoughts dwelled on matters that threatened to make her blush with fillyish embarrassment.
The lateness of the hour surprised Octavia as she climbed into bed and she resolved to fall asleep quickly so that she would be on time for her first day as Vinyl’s manager. As her head sunk comfortably into the embrace of her pillow the colors white and blue began coalescing into specific forms within her mind, bringing a slight smile to her face that persisted even as her slumber deepened.
Midday brightness suffused the room as Octavia slowly stirred. Cursing under her breath at the sheets that wrapped around her limbs like treasonous vines, the grey mare finally won free of her mattress. Wincing at the late hour of her rising she hurried into the bathroom, intent on making herself presentable for her first day on the job.
Steam filled the room as she stepped out of the shower, grey coat and black mane dripping wet. The quick application of a towel solved that issue. Afterwards she was left regarding herself in the mirror. She eyed her styled jet mane, flowing down her back as well as her signature pink bow tie on its white collar. Her appearance bespoke sobriety and respectability. She would stand out like a unicorn amongst earth ponies at the club tonight. She sighed in resignation; even if she wanted to try and alter her look to ‘blend in’ she had no idea where to start.
I only hope I’m equal to this. I knew I was out of my depth before but what if I really mess up? This is Vinyl’s dream. She trusted me enough to make me a part of it even though I have no real idea what I’m doing. What if everything is a disaster because of me? What will I do then?
Her gaze moved to the uncovered window. The angle of the sun assured her that she still had several hours to kill before she needed to report to work. Her regard turned to her cello, safely resting in a corner. She had hardly touched it recently. Her lack of practice became a sudden stab of guilt twisting at a lifetime of diligence and dedication to her craft and she suddenly yearned for the confidence and surety of her familiar talent.
As she reared up on her hind legs, her weight and that of her cello counterbalancing each other, the sun seemed to grow a little warmer against her coat. She cradled the bow in her fetlock, reveling in the rhapsody that filled her as she sounded the first notes. Closing her eyes to the world around her, she played.
Octavia opened her eyes as the final resounding notes died away, the spell broken. She sighed in relief as she returned to four hooves, taking the pressure off her back and legs. She reverently returned the cello to its place in an uncluttered corner.
Some mental arithmetic assured the cellist the she still had plenty of time to arrive at Club P0n-3 at the instructed seven o’clock. She would, however, have to leave straightaway. With a last self-conscious tug at her bow tie Octavia headed out into the early evening, still uncertain as to her place.
Octavia was startled to see that despite the early hour a sizeable crowd of younger ponies had gathered outside the club. She came to a halt, warily eying both the milling throng of ponies with their multi-hued manes styled into odd spikes, curls and spirals and the truly formidable earth pony guarding the door. The longer she stared, the more apprehensive she became; his size was enormous, nearly twice her own height. Huge, sinewy muscles defined every inch of him and his glare, focused at once on everything and nothing, was downright hostile. The grey mare couldn’t help but notice that the front of the line had formed well away from him.
Come on, Octavia. You are supposed to be here. You are an employee and friend of the owner. There’s no cause to be apprehensive.
Swallowing her fear, she approached the living behemoth. The enormous stallion’s shadow engulfed her as she drew near. Her presence drew his attention and he turned his gaze down to regard her.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” came the question, his deep and rumbling voice more felt than heard so near.
Forcing a smile onto her face and some confidence into her voice, the quakingly nervous mare replied, “Yes, my name is Octavia Philharmonica. Vinyl was expecting me; she hired me last night.”
“Octavia . . .” the stallion pondered, obviously uncertain.
“Um, Vinyl kept calling me ‘Treble Clef’, if that means anything,” she added helpfully.
The bouncer’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh, right, the boss said you’d be coming. Go on in.”
With a quiet ‘thank you’, Octavia slipped past him and into the interior of the club. Like before, it was dim. The only illumination came from the small islands of light that were the bar and Vinyl’s DJ platform.
Clustered around the bar Octavia spied Vinyl sitting with two other ponies, a golden-coated earth pony stallion and a unicorn mare with a light green coat. The DJ herself spied the new arrival immediately and began waving her energetically over.
Octavia hurried over and sat gingerly down, trading friendly nods with the ponies she didn’t know. “Good evening, Vinyl. I hope I’ve not kept you waiting.”
“Not at all! I was just indulging in last-minute briefing with my other employees. Let me introduce you. This is Fresh,” she said, gesturing to the earth pony. “And this is Cadia, my other bouncer,” she continued, indicating the unicorn. “I’m sure you already met Heavyset outside. Everypony, this is . . . um, this is . . .” she trailed off, shooting a confused glance at Octavia.
Sensing Vinyl’s hesitance, the cellist leapt to her rescue. “I’m Octavia. Pleased to meet you all. Vinyl, I guess you were so content to call me ‘Treble Clef’ you never got my actual name, eh?”
“That I was . . . Tavi,” Vinyl said with a mischievous smirk.
“Oh, for the love of Celestia! I should have known better than to think you would use my real name like a civilized pony,” Octavia groaned with a roll of her eyes.
“That you should have, Treble Clef. Or Tavi, rather.”
“Oh well. I suppose there are more important matters to attend to at the moment,” Octavia said with a level tone. “Firstly; Vinyl, I’d like you to tell me exactly what you want and expect me to do. You know I’m not familiar with this sort of environment and I’d rather not be the single reason this club, which is apparently the culmination of your life’s dream, is ruined.”
Vinyl leaned forward, her expression and tone suddenly more serious and businesslike. “You won’t be, Tavi. I have faith in you. Here’s what it all boils down to; I’m the DJ here. My place is at my console, keeping the customers happy and entertained. I can’t spare the time to supervise, help or deal with problems for Fresh, Cadia and Heavyset. That’s where you come in; if Fresh needs a hand mixing drinks or needs to order more supplies, you take care of it. You watch the crowd and tell the bouncers whether or not to let more ponies in. If someone needs thrown out, you make sure it gets done. Come the end of the night, you help me figure up what we spent and what we earned. You help us clean up and get things ready for the next night. In a sense, you let the others focus on their jobs while you pay attention to the big picture and pitch in a hoof when needed. You’re my number two, my deputy. You handle stuff unless it’s important enough I need to get in on it. Really, that’s it. I know it sounds like a lot, but I’m sure you’re up to it.”
As Octavia listened, her self-consciousness and worry rose up with every word. “But Vinyl, I don’t know how to do most of those things. There’s just no way I can do this,” she said, hanging her head. “Maybe you should get somepony else. I’ll just ruin everything.”
“Tavi, don’t be like that,” Vinyl said, laying a hoof on the doubting mare’s shoulder. “I didn’t pick you at random, or ‘cause I felt bad for you or anything. The job I want you to do requires intelligence, precise attention to detail and focus. I felt that you, as a pro-level classical musician, had those requirements. Everything else is just learning a new set of skills. I know you don’t know all of this; I don’t mind that we'll have to show you the ropes. I’m confident that once you get your hooves under you, you’ll be perfectly fine. Relax a little, have fun and try your best. That’s all I ask. Remember, I’m new to owning and operating my own place. I’ve got stuff to learn too.”
“Thanks, Vinyl. If you think I can do this then I’ll believe in you, even if not myself. I’ll do my best,” Octavia said, shooting a grateful smile at her employer and friend.
“Well, if that’s all of that, what say we get this party started!?” Vinyl exclaimed, heading for her place amongst the musical controls. “Tavi, go tell Heavy to start letting ponies in, 30 or so at a time every five minutes till he hears otherwise.”
Nodding to signal her understanding, Octavia set out on her first mission. Behind her Fresh took up position in the bar and Cadia faded into the shadows as an unseen observer.
As the newly-minted manager laid her hoof on the handle of the entrance to give her orders to the bouncer the synthesized electronic sounds and pulsating lights she had been expecting came to life, filling the club with energy as the first ponies trickled in.
Countless ponies thronged the dance floor of Club P0n-3, spellbound by the whirling patterns of neon lights that somehow pulsed in time to the riveting bass and electromagical distortion presided over by the club's namesake, DJ Pon-3 herself. The chaotic music and the incessant clacking of innumerable ponies' hooves enfolded each other into a bizarre soundscape with a subtle beauty appreciated only by those who could perceive it. Though they knew it not, these revelers were truly the modern incarnations of the ancient devotees of Luna who celebrated the sacred night with sacraments of music and movement.
Every bit of this was lost on Octavia. Her attention was focused on the young pony in front of her and the dozen or so behind him, who were impatiently waiting for her to decipher the arcane instructions being shouted at her by the equally besieged Fresh. She was regaled with the proper ratios of the different types of alcohols that comprised a truly vast number of drinks the sophisticated cellist had never even heard of. She grasped the bottles clumsily in her hooves and mouth, unfamiliar with the entire process and envying the ease with which the more seasoned barcolt beside her handled the honestly ridiculous amount of alcohol being served. She watched as the glass in front of her filled shakily with a sickly green liquid, spilling over the modest amount of ice resting in the glass. Relieved, she put the bottle down and pushed the drink towards her customer. She received his bits and automatically dropped them in the till, already listening to Fresh telling her where to find the necessary components of the next customer's request. When she had completed that order and glanced again at the line she saw that two more ponies had joined it. Sweat began to bead along Octavia's face as she tried desperately to keep pace, her movements as she fetched, mixed and replaced the various drinks hardly ceasing.
The only good thing about this is that I don't even have time to think about how totally bucked I am.
Chilly night air washed over Octavia as she pushed against the club's outer door. She sighed in relief; despite the constant efforts of the building's climate control system it was still uncomfortably warm inside from the sheer press of bodies. Her eyes blinked in mild disorientation; she had become so accustomed to the incessant maelstrom of light that the honest and steady darkness of the night sky, broken only by the twinkling of stars, seemed to quaver maddeningly in the corner of her vision.
She shook her head slightly to clear her sight, her long black mane falling out of place to follow the brisk motion. Instinctively, she tossed her head to return it to its proper place. Only then did she step forward to stand beside the looming bulk of Heavyset, whose attention was focused firmly on the much-increased crowd waiting to be admitted.
Her breath caught in her throat at the simple size of the hundreds-strong line. A less dignified pony might well have made some embarrassingly high-pitched squeak to express the sudden cold rush of fear that filled them at the sight of so many antsy ponies who wanted admittance to an already-full club.
Instead, she asked the stolid bouncer (in a voice that definitely didn't tremble slightly), “Has the line been this long all night?”
Heavyset didn't turn his attention away from the crowd to answer in his low-pitched rumble, “No, Miss Philharmonica. We've been admitting about 30 or 40 ponies every half hour; the same number as have been leaving. However, 50 or 60 ponies have been joining the queue in the same time frame so that gradually it’s gotten this long.”
The gray mare frowned. “Are you worried about them getting violent or anything of that nature?”
The enormous stallion shook his head in denial. “No, I'm not. There don't seem to be any troublemakers.”
“Very well. I'll see if anything can be done to increase the number we're letting in and reduce this crowd some.”
With that, Octavia turned and slipped back into the club. She winced at the sudden resumption of pounding rhythm and blinding light as she eyed the already-filled-to-capacity club's interior.
How in Celestia's name am I supposed to get any more ponies in here?
Octavia watched, slack-jawed, as Cadia's blue aura grasped an unruly and very drunk colt who mere seconds ago had begun dancing a little too wildly for the safety of those around him. Now several ponies were nursing what would likely be bruises as they stepped irritably away from the crowd of those still dancing. The colt in question was unceremoniously levitated off by the impassive bouncer to be deposited outside.
Hoping to save face with the couple of ponies who had run afoul of the drunken colt's flailing, Octavia walked forward with the most winning smile she could manage plastered on her face.
“Gentlecolts,” she began, her heart pounding nervously in her chest. What if they get mad or threaten to sue or want him arrested? “I'm sorry your night was so rudely interrupted. Can I offer you a drink on the house?”
Thankfully for the ever more frazzled mare they graciously accepted her offer of recompense and followed her over to the bar so Octavia could instruct Fresh that their orders were gratis.
Oh Luna, I hope Vinyl doesn't get upset with me for giving out free drinks.
She left them happily sipping away at their beverages of choice to find Cadia and ensure nothing else had gone awry. And to get another case of Sweet Apple Cider from the storeroom for Fresh, who was quickly running out. And to see if there was rioting in the street yet amongst those who were waiting to enter.
Finally, Octavia had a moment to herself. A quick glance at the clock hanging behind the bar showed her that the club had already been open for three hours, as it was now eleven o'clock. Vinyl intended to remain open till one in the morning, so at least the beleaguered mare had the comfort of knowing that the night was more than halfway over.
For her part, the DJ was exactly where she had been all night; up on her raised console amongst the dancing ponies. Octavia watched, fascinated, as Vinyl's head bobbed carelessly in time to the music, causing her electric two-tone mane to fall rakishly around her face. Her eyes couldn't be seen through the lenses of her trademark glasses but her face was pulled up in an unmistakable smile. Her hooves fairly flew across the vast expanse of dials and switches, sometimes switching records with a deft movement that didn't interrupt the flow of music in the least. It was obvious the DJ was in her element, that this was her bliss. Octavia couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her own face at the sight; even though she didn't particularly care for the music she couldn't help but appreciate the other mare's obvious passion and happiness.
If anypony else had any thoughts on why she was staring at Vinyl so intently with a goofy smile on her face they kept it to themselves.
Octavia was serving drinks again. Vinyl had just played a number of faster-tempo songs and now a large influx of ponies had headed to the bar to seek refreshment and to allow their tired bodies to rest. An equal number had apparently decided to call it a night after that round of rigorous dancing and had already left to be replaced by a fresh wave of party-goers from outside. As she mixed and served an idea was taking place in the manager's mind. As soon as the crowd died down around the bar and Fresh could survive by himself again Octavia ventured out onto the dance floor herself. She walked calmly and reservedly through the writhing crush of dancers, most of them politely stepping out of the calm and focused mare's path and allowing her to approach Vinyl herself. Her sudden presence caught the DJ's attention and she leaned down to hear the grey mare as she spoke directly into her ear. Smiling, Vinyl pulled back and signaled her understanding with an ironic salute before adding a new record to her table. As Octavia made her way back to the bar she heard the music segue into a much faster and more energetic track as the ponies around her broke into even more active dancing. She smiled in satisfaction at her own craftiness.
Octavia was relieved to have solved the problem with the huge line outside so easily; after she had asked Vinyl to keep playing music that ponies would quickly get tired dancing to, the number of ponies leaving the dance floor had rapidly increased which in turn allowed Heavyset to let more of those in the queue inside and got things moving again at an acceptable rate.
She glanced again at the clock and saw, to her immense relief, that it was very nearly time to close. Fresh had stopped serving half an hour ago and by the sound of things Vinyl was winding the music down.
The other ponies all seemed to sense the changing mood and began to drift off on their own. By the time the hour hand landed on one o'clock precisely the door had closed on the last guest.
The music died and the lights cut out. Octavia sighed in relief and hung her head in sudden exhaustion. She hardly even noticed Fresh, Cadia and Heavyset gathering around her until Vinyl appeared and pulled them all into a group hug. “Ack! Vinyl! Can't . . . breathe,” she sputtered.
The overly-enthusiastic DJ released them with an apologetic, “Heh. Sorry. I was just so happy that everything went well. Thanks, everypony. This wouldn't have worked without all of your help.”
“Don't worry, Vinyl. It was our pleasure,” responded Fresh.
Everypony else nodded assent.
Glancing around, Cadia continued, “Well, Vinyl, if you don't need us anymore then I'm out of here for the night.”
“Sounds good, guys. I'll see you here tomorrow at seven to clean up a bit and make sure everything's ready for another night.”
With that, bouncers and barcolt departed, leaving Octavia and Vinyl alone together. Turning to regard her companion, the DJ said in a quieter tone, “And I especially wanted to thank you, Treble Clef. You did a great job keeping things under control. Especially getting me to tire the ponies out and getting them to leave to make room for more; that was brilliant.”
Suddenly bashful, Octavia drew her hoof slightly across the ground in an unconscious gesture of embarrassment. “Oh, well, it was just an idea. I wasn't even sure it would work.”
“But it did work! And it proves you've got a head for this kind of stuff. I'm really glad I hired you, now.”
Suddenly playful, Octavia batted back, “Oh, you're only glad you hired me now?” in mock hurt.
Taken aback, the DJ inelegantly verbally backpedaled, “No no no, I was glad I hired you before, but now I'm even more glad! That's what I meant!”
“I know what you meant, Vinyl,” Octavia replied, gently snorting in laughter.
“Hey, even if it hadn't worked out there was the always the option of you filling space as an exotic dancer.”
A flat “no” was her only reply.
“Ah well, a mare can hope,” Vinyl wistfully replied.
Getting back to business, Octavia continued, “Fresh and I recorded sales and inventory use for tonight. Do you want me to go over that and the profits from the cover charge now?”
“Nah,” Vinyl answered, gently shaking her head. “You can do that tomorrow if you come in a little early. It's getting late and I'm sure it's past your bedtime.”
Octavia let the jib pass. “Well then, if you don't mind I'm off for the night.”
“No problem, Treble Clef. See ya tomorrow.”
As the cellist let herself out, she was momentarily confused to see Vinyl whisk into one of the back rooms. She had rather expected the DJ to leave with her.
Oh well. Perhaps she has something to take care of before she leaves. She is the owner, after all.
“And then he said, ‘that’s not my wife, that’s Princess Celestia!' " Vinyl finished her raunchy joke with a huge grin.
“That’s – haha – that’s not funny – bwahaha – at all, Vinyl,” Octavia said with a snort of barely-contained laughter. It’s – pfft – base and vulgar.”
“Hay yeah, it is. That’s why it’s funny,” Vinyl said with an easy smile directed at her friend.
Rolling her eyes in faux aggravation, Octavia raised the glass of whiskey that sat before her to her lips and took a judicious drink before turning her eyes back to the financial statements spread out between her and Vinyl on the empty table. She ran the figures through her head for the hundredth time and the conclusion they pointed to was inescapable; there could be no argument with the numbers printed in black and white. She only hoped Vinyl would take the news with grace and dignity. “I’ve been looking at the numbers, Vinyl, and . . . well . . .”
“Well, what?” Vinyl demanded after Octavia had fallen silent for a little too long for her patience.
“The club . . . it’s . . .” Octavia said with a hesitant glance at Vinyl.
“It’s what?” Vinyl asked with growing concern. “Don’t tell me there’s something wrong! I just went through the finances a few days ago and everything was fine. What’s the matter? Come on, tell me! Maybe there’s still time to fix it; I can cut my pay, maybe even take out another loan if I have to. I’m sure we can manage somehow,” Vinyl continued, panic gradually rising in her voice.
“It’s fine, Vinyl,” Octavia answered with a smirk and a placating gesture of her hoof. “We have now been officially operating in the black for two whole weeks. I think that we can declare Club P0n-3 a rousing success.”
Vinyl simply stared at her blankly. “You . . . you . . .” she stammered before dropping her head down onto the table with a thunk. “You’re cruel, do you know that?” she said from behind the curtain of her blue mane that had fallen around her face.
“Come now, Vinyl,” Octavia said with a friendly nudge of the DJ’s shoulder. “You know I can’t miss an opportunity to give my best friend some grief.”
Vinyl snorted, unimpressed. “With friends like you, who needs enemies?” she complained, though a smile betrayed her true feelings as she raised her head to mock-glare at Octavia.
Octavia merely smiled back, though her mind was troubled by other issues; every single night she left alone and Vinyl mysteriously disappeared into the back of the club. She had never actually seen the DJ leave after closing time.
I know she owns this place and is certainly a busy mare, but come on. You'd think she'd go home the same time as the rest of us at least once.
She didn't want to pry but at the same time she couldn't shake her suspicion and nagging concern.
Well, I'm pushing the issue tonight and seeing what happens.
Vinyl stretched bodily and yawned. “Well, Treble Clef, that's enough of that for now. I don't know about you, but I'm for bed.”
“Good idea, Vinyl,” Octavia said sweetly. “Shall we go?”
“Oh, well, I've got a few things to do yet. You go on ahead,” Vinyl offered.
“Don't be ridiculous, Vinyl. You yourself said that you're exhausted. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”
“It'll just take a few minutes,” Vinyl insisted.
“Fine, then. I'll wait,” Octavia said.
“Tavi, you don't have to wait. I'll be fine,” Vinyl said.
“Vinyl, what are you trying to hide from me?” Octavia demanded.
“Wha-what? I dunno what you're talking about,” Vinyl denied.
“Come on, Vinyl. You never leave with any of us. You always have 'stuff' to do. Don't tell me you're sleeping in one of the back rooms here or something stupid like that.”
“Of course I'm not sleeping in one of the back rooms!” Vinyl objected.
“You are, aren't you?” Octavia insisted, concern evident in her voice.
“I have a very comfortable sleeping bag. I don't mind,” Vinyl replied defensively.
“Vinyl, why would you do that?” Octavia asked plaintively.
The DJ looked away, clearly embarrassed. “I couldn't afford the lease on this place and rent for an apartment, ok?”
“Oh Vinyl, that's just . . .” Octavia paused, at a loss for words. “You helped me keep my home but you gave up yours to make your dream possible?” It was a rhetorical question, but Vinyl nodded anyway. “Well, I'm not having any of it. You can stay with me,” she continued boldly.
“But, Tavi, I can't—”
“No! You are the sole reason I still have a home. It's only fair I offer it to you,” Octavia said.
“Octy, I’m touched you would offer; I really am. But I’m not going to be a burden on you, taking up your space.”
“Vinyl, I am not going home to my apartment and my bed thinking about you sleeping all alone here on the floor. That’s final,” Octavia stated with steely determination.
“I hate taking charity,” the DJ muttered sullenly as she looked away, ears lowered.
“It's not charity, its friends helping each other,” Octavia insisted.
“Ugh,” Vinyl groaned as she buried her face in her hooves. The prospect of something more comfortable than the floor was difficult to argue against. “I’ll happily accept your offer if you promise me one thing, Octy; promise me that you’re not doing this ‘cause you feel obligated, since I’m your boss and all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this since I sign your paycheck.”
“Absolutely not. It will be my pleasure to let you stay with me, simply because you are my friend and I want to help you just as you helped me,” Octavia said without hesitation.
“It could be your pleasure, if you know what I mean,” the DJ replied, narrowing her eyes in a sultry fashion.
“Oh, you!” Octavia said with a giggle. “Come on. It's officially past my bed time.”
Together, Vinyl and Octavia left the club and set out into a starlit night for home.
Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains and cast everything into oddly-defined shadows as the two mares eased through the door of Octavia’s apartment. A brief bout of fumbling along the wall by the cellist resulted in a sudden glare of unforgiving light filling the space, starkly revealing the small room's contents; a comfortably worn couch took up the majority of the free space, a modest television set sat in front of it. A number of shelves held records obviously meant to be played on the set of speakers spaced throughout the room and wired back to a turntable. A cello rested conspicuously in one corner of the room, its varnished surface lovingly tended.
The cellist herself pushed past Vinyl, who was still hesitating on the threshold. "Come in, Vinyl. Make yourself at home.”
The DJ eased herself inside the small apartment, stepping daintily around the couch to clear the door and being careful not to brush anything off the shelves with the swishing of her tail.
She gingerly let herself further into the small apartment, conscious of Octavia's nervous gaze and somewhat faltering smile. She was obviously awaiting Vinyl's judgment of her home.
"Good grief, how do you even move around in here?" she asked in what she hoped was a playful tone.
Apparently her mirth was lost in translation; Octavia's hopeful smile fell immediately as a swell of embarrassment at her modest living conditions overwhelmed her pride at being able to help her friend.
Vinyl's heart faltered as quickly as Octavia's vanished smile. Regret for her poorly-chosen jest settled in beside fear that she'd mortally offended somepony important to her.
"It's not that bad, is it?" Octavia asked sadly.
Restraining the urge to bang her head repeatedly off the wall as penance for her foolish insult, Vinyl struggled to think of a way to save face. "Heh, of course not. It just means we get to be closer is all," she said in a passable imitation of her trademark casualness.
A second later Vinyl's brain actually processed what she said. Really? That's the best I could come up with? Ugh, open mouth, insert hoof.
Octavia giggled, raising a hoof to her mouth in a demure attempt to hide her laughter.
Relief filled Vinyl, lifting the stifling weight of the fear that she had done something irreparable.
"Vinyl, you're such a tease," Octavia managed to get out amongst her gentle laughter.
"Oh, well, you know me; taking names and breaking hearts," Vinyl replied breezily.
"I'm sure," Octavia dryly replied. "Well, heartbreaker, I'm afraid you're going to have to make do with the couch for now. Perhaps tomorrow we can see about getting a futon or something of the sort for you."
Vinyl frantically waved a hoof in denial. "No way. I ain't about to make you rearrange your place just to suit me. The couch is just fine."
Octavia shook her head in bemusement. "In that case, goodnight, Vinyl. The bathroom is down the hallway on the right. My bedroom is on the left. Try not to get them confused."
"I think I can tell the difference, thanks."
Octavia only smiled in response before she turned and disappeared towards her bedroom.
Vinyl laid herself tentatively down on the unfamiliar sofa, twisting about to maximize her comfort. Finally she pillowed her head on her outstretched forelegs and closed her eyes behind the shelter of her glasses. In moments gentle snoring filled the small room.
Octavia awoke from her own sleep an indeterminate period of time later. The room was still cast in darkness and the angle of the light cast on the floor by the transient moon had changed noticeably. The grogginess that clung to her mind like cobwebs assured her she had been asleep for at least several hours. However, she was primarily aware that her throat was parched to the point of painfulness.
Hauling herself out of an entirely-too-comfortable bed she plodded towards the small kitchenette that abutted the main living area of her apartment. The novel presence of the sleeping Vinyl stole her attention before she reached her goal. The thirsty Octavia paused in her pursuit of refreshment to smile at the peaceful scene of the supine DJ, head cradled on her hooves. Her vividly blue mane spilled artlessly around her face, highlighting the glasses she wore even while sleeping.
Does she ever take those off? I don't even know what color her eyes are, come to think of it.
Octavia continued to stare, mesmerized, as the mare's chest rose and fell in perpetual rhythm. For a brief unworldly moment she wondered what it would be like to run her own hoof through that shockingly unique mane. Then the entranced mare's poignant reverie was broken by a particularly loud snore. Sudden panic raced through her and she hastily stepped back to avoid the appearance of creepily watching another pony sleep. Resolutely she turned back to her initial goal of a glass of water.
I guess I get weird when I'm tired.
Thirst mercifully quenched, Octavia returned to her room. There she paused, a sudden tugging at the back of her mind informing her she had forgotten something. She shook her head in frustration, unsure what she could have neglected. Then, with a pang, she remembered.
Oh my, did I really forget to give Vinyl a pillow or blanket or anything? How much more thoughtless could I be?
Hurriedly she pulled an extra blanket from her closet and, gripping it in her teeth, made her way back to the sleeping unicorn.
Holding the blanket with her mouth, she stood over Vinyl before lightly releasing it to cover the mare's lower extremities. With infinite caution she then pulled it far enough up that it lay over the still-slumbering unicorn's midsection. Satisfied with the stealthy execution of her mission, the cellist returned to her own rest, this time without distraction.
Later that morning, after the sun was well up and many other ponies had already begun their day, Vinyl Scratch stretched out her limbs and rose to a sitting position. With a quizzical glance at the blanket that she found covering her she rose and turned to regard the couch fondly.
Better than a sleeping bag, at any rate.
Vinyl stood then, still and silent with her ears cocked for any noise that would tell her if Octavia yet stirred. Hearing nothing, she smiled and made her way to the kitchen.
Octavia woke to the clattering of pans. Hastily she threw back her covers and arrowed for her kitchen. She was greeted by the sight of Vinyl seated at her table, a plate of omelettes and a glass of milk arranged in front of her. Her amethyst pupils narrowed in indignation as she took in the numerous dirty dishes currently littering her countertop and the generous portion of food filling the unicorn's plate. Her sharp greeting died stillborn on her tongue, though, as she spied an equal portion waiting at the other breakfast place the not-so-thoughtless Vinyl had set. With her building anger popped like an unfortunate balloon the cellist took her seat across from her new roommate.
"Good morning, Vinyl. Thank you for doing this; it looks very good."
"Nmph prbhlm," Vinyl replied around a mouthful of food. Then, seeing Octavia's unamused expression she grinned sheepishly and swallowed. "Erm, I meant, it's no problem. I hope you don't mind that I helped myself."
"Certainly not. It was very thoughtful of you to make breakfast for us both."
Conversation between the two mares died then as the kitchen was filled with the sound of cutlery scraping against plates.
As Octavia finished chewing one particular morsel of egg-and-cheese goodness she glanced across at her friend. "Vinyl, I hope you don't think you have to do stuff like this all the time for me."
"Nah," Vinyl replied, expression unreadable behind tinted glasses. "But if you're gonna let me stay here it's only fair I help you out."
"Well, thank you Vinyl."
When their plates were cleaned both mares rose from their seats to deposit their soiled dishes in the sink. Vinyl's hoof opened the faucet and filled the sink with warm water that promptly became sudsy. Gripping the plates in her telekinetic grip she plunged plates, utensils and cooking implements into the water, pulling them out sparkling clean. Octavia took them and dried them thoroughly before returning them to their appropriate places. With two pairs of hooves at the task they were done quickly. With the kitchen returned to order the two mares gravitated to the living room.
"You may have first use of the shower if you wish," Octavia said as she settled down onto the couch. "If you don't care to use the same towels or soap as me there are more in the closet."
"Ok, Tavi. Thanks." The DJ stepped down the hall and vanished into the bathroom.
Octavia waited until she heard the sound of water running. Then she quickly got up and fetched her cello. A brief test assured her it was in tune. Smiling slightly, the grey cellist moved her bow across the strings and filled her mind and home with the ethereal reverberations of her music.
Vinyl paused in her vigorous lathering of herself with soap, conscious of a subtle sound intruding on the unbroken hiss of falling water. Her ears cocked curiously, she could just make out the sound of a stringed instrument. Recalling the cello she had seen propped in a corner, Vinyl returned to her bathing with a fresh energy.
When the freshly-washed unicorn emerged from the bathroom, steam billowing in her wake, she found her roommate engrossed in her music and oblivious to anything else. Holding her breath and stepping lightly lest she disrupt, Vinyl made her way to the couch. She watched, enraptured; this wasn't her thing by any means, but it was obvious that this was Octavia's passion, her gift. The sheer magnetic force of Octavia's bliss held Vinyl's gaze in place, leaving her to stare in wonder.
When Octavia finally opened her eyes she was surprised to realize her impromptu solo had garnered an audience. Smiling sheepishly, she replaced her cello and sat down on the sofa beside Vinyl.
"I'm sorry, Vinyl. I didn't mean to play so long. I apologize if I disturbed you."
Vinyl shook her head so fiercely her mane whirled about like a neon blue tornado for a few seconds. "No way! This is your place, after all. If you wanna practice your cello I'm not gonna complain. Besides, it wasn't that bad."
"Coming from somepony like you, that is high praise indeed,” Octavia said.
"Indeed, my good gentlemare. I am a renowned connoisseur of all things musical,” Vinyl agreed.
The two mares held each other's' gazes for a brief second, then both devolved to hysterical laughter.
"Haha, Vinyl," the cellist's shoulders shook with her mirth. "You wouldn't know good music if it hit you over the head with a string section."
"Pffh! Just 'cause I like music that's new, unique and powerful instead of slow, old and boring doesn't mean I don't know good music when I hear it."
The argument was an old one, like a familiar dance they knew the steps to.
"It hardly counts as music if it can't be played on an instrument,” Octavia objected.
"Filly, if somepony uses technology to create their sounds the technology becomes an instrument,” Vinyl countered.
"Hardly. My cello is an instrument, or a violin, or even a guitar. Not a computer or synthesizer or some nonsense,” Octavia said.
"That's a semantic argument and you know it,” Vinyl said.
"Vinyl, you don't even know what a semantic argument is,” Octavia pointed out.
"Sure I do! It means you're wrong,” Vinyl replied with a cocky grin.
"That's not . . . that doesn't even . . . I don't even know how to respond to that!" Octavia exclaimed.
"Awesome; that means I win by default,” Vinyl said with a triumphant smile.
Stung by her defeat in their verbal sparring match, Octavia left the couch in disgrace.
"I'm going to take my own shower now," Octavia said, trying not to giggle at Vinyl's endearingly funny grin of victory.
"Suit yourself, Treble Clef," Vinyl replied, already flicking on the television set.
When Octavia emerged from her cleansing she settled herself down beside Vinyl again. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of talk shows and sitcom reruns. Soon enough the sun began to lower and the growing shadows impelled Vinyl and Octavia to head out for another night at Club P0n-3.
"Hey Fresh, are you doing ok?" Octavia asked the barcolt as she eased herself behind the counter.
"Yup. It's pretty slow tonight, actually," the earth pony replied.
Nodding her agreement, Octavia leaned on the counter. She gazed out into the expanse of the club, taking in the throng of ponies filling it. The pulse of strobe lights and the heavy assault of bass and volume no longer troubled her as it once had. Her memory flitted back to her early days working here, when the incessant noise and light had worn on her nerves and made her grateful for the end of every night. The repetitive patterns of color played through her lilac eyes, nearly hypnotizing her.
It's strange; I never would have thought I would end up somewhere like this. Even when I did come here I was sure I'd hate it. But now I feel like I belong here; Vinyl and lots of other ponies depend on me. Even the "music" isn't that bad after it starts to grow on you.
Octavia's gaze tracked across the club and landed on the energetic form of DJ Pon-3, mane flying as her head bobbed in time to the beats she controlled, countless ponies flowing around her station like restless water breaking against a rock.
And the company is pretty good, too.
Octavia shook her head gently to chase out the sudden reminiscence she had fallen into.
"Hey Fresh, I'm gonna be in the back for minute. I need to see how many more cases of Bacolti we've got."
"Alright," he replied absently.
Octavia stepped out from behind the bar and made for the back storerooms. A few hoofsteps later she stumbled, thrown off balance by the sudden weight of a strange stallion having draped himself over her.
"Hey cutie, you goin' home with anypony tonight?" he slurred.
"That's really none of your business, I'm afraid," Octavia replied, cringing from the strong musk of alcohol clinging to the forthright stallion.
"Aw baby, don't be like that" the inebriate cooed, trying to angle himself in for a kiss with the growingly-repulsed Octavia.
Where the hay is Cadia when you need her?
There was a brief struggle as the cellist tried to dislodge her unwanted suitor.
"Stop . . . fighting," the stallion growled, a nasty undertone entering his words. When compliance wasn't forthcoming, a savage kick from the stallion's legs sent Octavia tumbling to the ground, her attacker landing atop the now-terrified mare as ponies danced around them, unconcerned. His hooves continued roaming over her body even as she still struggled desperately to escape him, her cries for help drowned out by the booming music and stomping hooves.
Vinyl stood atop her raised mixing stand, presiding as always over the happiness of her crowd, her ponies. She smiled to see the enjoyment of all these ponies manifested in dance and movement. Suddenly a flurry of motion from the outskirts of the crowd caught her attention. She turned in time to see Octavia fall to the ground, a strange colt following her down. Her ears couldn't be sure if they caught a faint call for help or not, but it didn't matter to her. A violent push of her hoof ended the music, plunging the club into sudden silence as the revelers stopped uncertainly. Vinyl stepped heavily down onto the dance floor, trotting purposefully towards her friend, every hoofstep bringing a fresh crescendo of anger and fear to the normally carefree unicorn. The crowd parted before Vinyl, shoved aside by the aura of purpose emanating from her.
Heart thudding in her chest, Octavia tried desperately to worm out from under her assailant. Then the stallion’s weight was gone, hauled off of her. The frightened mare lurched to her feet, expecting to see Cadia or Fresh had come to her rescue. Instead she saw Vinyl, her face a frozen mask of fury, glasses pushed up to reveal garnet-red eyes that glinted dangerously. Her horn was alight with blue magic that matched the telekinetic noose that had formed around the neck of the unpleasant stallion, hauling him bodily a safe distance away as his hooves batted weakly at the intangible force that was choking him. “How dare you,” Vinyl growled. “How dare you put your hooves on her like that?” Her eyes narrowed in anger and the ring of magic around the colt’s neck tightened even further. Sputtering noises escaped from his constricted throat as he tried futilely to breathe.
“Vinyl . . . Vinyl, stop it!” Octavia shouted. Vinyl’s rigid focus on her prey wavered for a second as she glanced to the side to see her manager standing, even if a little unsteadily.
"Are you ok?" Vinyl asked, her voice thick with emotion.
"Good. Cadia, get him out of here," Vinyl said, drawing Octavia's attention to the bouncer who had appeared on the scene unbeknownst to her. Saying nothing, Cadia caught the wheezing reprobate up in her own telekinesis and not-too-carefully made off with him.
"Are you sure you're ok, Tavi?" Vinyl asked, her voice considerably softened. "I was really worried about you."
A colt, somewhere in the onlooking crowd snickered. "Aww, that's so cute" he called out in a faux sweet tone. Vinyl whirled around to face the crowd, glaring out at the anonymous heckler.
"What are you all looking at, anyway?" she growled, angry red eyes daring anyone to respond. Everypony else found somewhere else to direct their attention and Vinyl turned back to Octavia.
"If you wanna take the rest of the night off, I won't mind," Vinyl tentatively offered.
"I told you, I'm fine! I'm not a little filly, you know. I'm not going to let something like this keep me from doing my job."
Vinyl paused for a second, unable to formulate words to express the swell of feelings washing over her. Then she lunged forward and pulled Octavia into a crushing embrace before releasing her and trotting back to resume the music, leaving the cellist wordless behind her.
Octavia woke to hear the familiar sound of water already running in her shower. Turning over and pulling her blankets more comfortably into position she stared out her window into the clear blue light of the day.
Sweet Celestia, finally a day off. Why can't there be more Sundays in a week?
She closed her eyes and lapsed back into blissful sleep. She didn’t rouse again until Vinyl shook her awake. Groaning, she opened her eyes again to see her roommate beaming down at her. “Hey, Tavi, how about we go see a movie at the outdoor theater tonight?”
"A movie? Vinyl, I think that sounds lovely," Octavia agreed as she threw the blankets off of herself and stretched.
"Glad to hear it, Treble Clef. We only get one day off a week, so we may as well do something fun,” Vinyl said.
"I've never been to an outdoor theater, though. What's it like?" Octavia asked.
"It's awesome! You take a blanket or something and some snacks and a friend and enjoy a movie under the stars!" Vinyl enthusiastically replied, rearing up on her hind legs and punctuating her sentences with wild hoof motions.
"Ok Vinyl, calm down; it sounds like a lot of fun."
Octavia glanced out the window to see the last fading rays of the sun sinking below the horizon, painting the sky orange and the clouds pink. "When exactly does it start?"
Vinyl's eyes followed Octavia's. "Um, we'd probably better get going soon."
Rolling her eyes at her friend's characteristic lack of forethought, Octavia followed the hastening Vinyl out into the darkening evening.
A quick trot brought them both to the theater. Tickets purchased, they made their way to a likely looking spot and sat down on the comfortable grass, arranging themselves to see the massive projector screen with the greatest ease. They were surrounded by many other ponies sitting singly, in pairs and in groups but they were isolated enough to only be able to hear each other.
They sat in companionable silence, content to watch the faint glimmer of stars as they appeared in the inky sky overhead. When the movie itself started the only thing Octavia could notice was the way the shifting patterns of light lent subtle highlights to Vinyl's mane, giving it a lustrous sheen that was as captivating as it was ephemeral. Warmth filled her body and pooled in her cheeks as she recalled the only glimpse she had had of Vinyl's ruby eyes, filled with protective instinct and heat. Breath shallow, she leaned over the DJ's shoulder, her black mane teasing the mare's white coat.
"Uh, hey Tavi, what's up?" Vinyl asked in a voice cloyed with the magnetic force she felt pulling them together, her heart thudding in answer.
"Vinyl, you have the most beautiful eyes . . . " Octavia's voice trailed off.
Filled with a sudden and nameless need, Vinyl wrapped her foreleg around the cellist, drawing her closer yet. Sighing in contentment, Octavia settled her head on the other mare’s shoulder, strands of her hair brushing feather-light against Vinyl's coat and sparking little electric currents.
Greatly daring, Octavia reached around to plant a kiss on Vinyl’s cheek. Blushing, she tried to pull her head away but found she couldn’t. Vinyl’s foreleg had wrapped around her head, holding it immobile as she gazed into Octavia’s amethyst eyes. “That was good, Octy,” she whispered with sultry heat. “But let me show you something better.”
“What –“ Octavia began to ask before she was cut off by the rough press of Vinyl’s lips against her own. Her eyes closed in rapture as she willingly allowed Vinyl’s tongue to press into her mouth.
The movie passed, but neither pony saw; their world narrowed to consist of their shared warmth, the contact between them and the unfaltering light of the stars that fell on them.
Groaning, Vinyl rubbed at tired eyes that fairly swam with columns and rows of numbers. Despite the bright lights of Octavia's apartment she seemed to be developing a throbbing headache. "Tavi, would you take a look at this for me?" she implored.
"I don't understand why you don't simply hire an accountant to do this," Octavia replied without looking up from a selection of sheet music she was studying.
"As if I'd trust just anypony with this."
"But you'll trust me, will you?" the cellist asked with a trace of mirth.
"That's different," Vinyl replied gruffly.
Sighing, Octavia set aside her musical scores. "Hoof it over here, you silly pony." Vinyl thankfully levitated the heavy account book across the table still strewn with the detritus of the mares' breakfast, skillfully dropping it between her roommate's syrup-stained plate and empty coffee cup. "But you're going to do the laundry," Octavia replied, already engrossed in the club's expenditures and profits.
"Okay, okay," Vinyl said, already taking her leave of the table. Octavia watched her go, definitely not focusing on any questionable areas of her anatomy.
It’s just laundry; how much trouble could she possibly cause?
Vinyl tromped down the carpeted hallway, muttering to herself as she went. "Stupid Tavi. Why do we gotta do laundry anyway? All she wears is that silly bow tie and I don't even wear clothes at all. I own, like, one pair of socks." Easing open the bathroom door, Vinyl opened one of two doors on their ultracompact washer and dryer combo. With her telekinetic grip she began flinging sundry articles of clothing into the washer; socks, saddles, and about a galaxy worth of pink bow ties. She held one up to her face. "Seriously, how many of these things does she have?" she asked incredulously. That particular article of clothing joined its brethren and in short order the hamper containing to-be-washed was empty, save for one final item resting on the bottom. It paused in its telekinetic transit to hover in front of Vinyl's face, suddenly alight with mischief.
Octavia was still bent over Vinyl's accounts, idly flipping a page with a hoof. "Oooh, Tavi," Vinyl crooned from somewhere behind her. Octavia shivered, the sultry heat Vinyl infused into her affectionate nickname trickling down her spine.
"What, dear?" she replied, turning in her seat to see what nonsense was ahoof. She gasped; Vinyl stood in the doorway, lean white-coated body adorned with a tight-fitting black saddle trimmed in delicate, silken pink swathes that emphasized more than concealed. She wore the biggest smile of anypony the flustered Octavia had ever seen. "W-where did you get that, Vinyl?" she asked, feeling uncomfortable warmth blossom inside her, shortening her breath.
"I could ask you the same question," Vinyl practically purred, slinking towards her with the lithe agility of a cat. She walked in slow circles around the paralyzed cellist, occasionally allowing the soft hair of her tail to brush delicately, almost accidentally, against Octavia's coat. "It certainly isn't one of mine."
Octavia's half-formed answer evaporated like dew as Vinyl reared up behind her, resting her forelegs on the chair's back and deftly catching Octavia's ear between her teeth, nibbling gently. "Aaah," she moaned softly. "I-I bought it as a surprise, for a special occasion."
"Well," Vinyl said, her breath warm against the enraptured cellist's neck, "Why don't we just make it a special occasion now?"
An indeterminate period of time later Octavia found herself back to perusing Vinyl's finances, the smudged ink of her writing slowly driving the perfectionist cellist insane.
Honestly, how does somepony with magic write this terribly? I've seen better calligraphy from earth pony foals.
Elsewhere in the apartment Octavia heard the water to Vinyl's shower cut out. Moments later the mare herself joined the cellist-turned-accountant at the kitchen table, her wet mane for once conforming to a style other than its customary ragged-edged chaos. "So what's it look like, Tavi?"
"It looks like somepony attempted to create modern art in the medium of ink and paper," Octavia said, gesturing to the mostly-legible mess on the page before her.
"Haha, smartflank," Vinyl replied dryly. "I meant did I make any mistakes in balancing the accounts out?"
"No Vinyl, I don't think so. The revenues from the club for the past month exceed the operating expenses and overhead, leaving a considerable profit afterwards."
"Aww yeah! This calls for a celebration!" Vinyl exclaimed, pumping a hoof energetically in the air.
"No! Last time we 'celebrated' the smell of alcohol made me gag for a week afterwards."
"Pssh, you're such a lightweight. Besides, I had something more refined in mind, my dearest Octavia."
"I don't actually know yet. I'll think about it while we're at work tonight."
"Speaking of which, we should probably be going. We still need to clean up from last night."
"Yeah, yeah. I hear ya, Treble Clef," Vinyl said as she settled her opaque glasses over her ruby eyes. "Alright, I'm ready."
Octavia headed out the door, Vinyl lagging behind to secure it before catching up to Octavia to walk alongside her down streets painted by the light of the fading sun.
Octavia sat alone in their apartment. Vinyl was out for the afternoon, working on some esoteric element of her audio setup that the cellist couldn't begin to understand. Octavia sighed and nestled more comfortably onto the couch, content to watch old reruns and sip at a steaming mug of coffee.
The shrill ringing of the telephone shattered the tranquility that reigned over the apartment.
Frowning, Octavia rose and stalked to the offending device. It rang several more times before she managed to grasp it with her awkward hooves and grip it between her head and shoulder. "Hello?" she answered, expecting to hear Vinyl's voice on the other end.
"Good evening, miss Octavia," replied a well-cultured voice that definitely wasn't Vinyl.
"Good evening to you as well, Mr. Bookings. I must confess I wasn't expecting to hear from you."
"I apologize for the suddenness of my call, but I have just received word of an open position that is just what you need to reclaim your position as the foremost cellist of Equestria's elite."
"Truly? Somepony in Canterlot has finally forgotten about the Gala?" Octavia asked, resisting the urge to squee like a schoolfilly.
"Well, in truth, no. What I have is an opening for a cellist for the grand opening of a new five-star hotel in Las Pegasus. Its clientele includes the wealthy and influential of Canterlot, thus a stellar performance on your part will go a long way to returning to their good graces. The opening celebrations will last for a month or so; your room and board will be provided. It's quite the opportunity to get your career back on track."
"I . . . see," Octavia replied carefully, ears drooping. "You must understand this is very sudden. I will need some time to think about it."
"Of course, my dear. But I simply must have your answer within the week."
'I . . . yes, I understand. Thank you for the call, Mr. Bookings. Good day."
Octavia replaced the receiver with a discordant thud. Octavia returned to the couch. Bookings’ words echoed in her head, running in circles through her mind like a demented pegasus.
Las Pegasus . . . I can't go so far away. Not for that long. Vinyl needs me here. Not to mention that I don't want to be away from her that long.
The television continued playing but all Octavia saw was herself, on stage once again. It didn't help that she occasionally glimpsed a pristine white unicorn among the audience, sitting forlorn and alone.
"Vinyl, this looks very . . . expensive," Octavia said, eyeing the elegant settings of a luxurious restaurant in the heart of Canterlot's exclusive Golden Circle district.
"Sure is," Vinyl replied around a mouthful of salad. "Nothing but the best for my mare, after all."
Octavia continued to scan the menu, eventually settling on a rice pilaf made of the finest ingredients any chef in Canterlot could boast. Both mares quickly finished their meals, lingering over dessert and wine.
"Vinyl, do you think you could manage the club without me for a while?" Octavia ventured.
"Umm, ok; I wasn't expecting that one," Vinyl replied, looking quizzically at the grey mare across the table from her. "To be honest, I don't think I could. You do too much stuff for me."
Octavia grimaced, her ears drooping slightly.
I figured you would say that.
"Why? Do you want a vacation or something?" Vinyl asked. "If you wanted a few days off I'm sure I could survive."
"Erm, how about a month off?" Octavia asked with forced cheer.
"Um, where exactly are you going with this, Tavi?"
"Well, I had a call from my agent a few days ago," Octavia explained, morosely picking at the remnants of her sugary confection. "He said he had a job for me, out in Las Pegasus. I would have to be gone for a month."
Vinyl gaped at her. "A whole month? But, Tavi . . ." Vinyl trailed off.
"I know, Vinyl. A month is a long time. I really want to take this opportunity to start fixing my career, but I don't want to be away for that long either."
"Your career, right," Vinyl answered. "I forgot the whole deal with you working at the club was just a temporary thing until you could get work as a cellist again."
"Vinyl . . ."
"And I guess I was just a consolation prize to tide you over until things started going right again, huh?" Vinyl continued, downcast.
"NO," Octavia hissed with more force than she planned. "Vinyl, you are not a consolation prize; you're the best thing to ever happen to me. Don't ever say that again, don't even dare!"
Vinyl looked up to meet Octavia's gaze; the passionate heat simmering in them relieved the sudden ache that had frozen its way into her heart. "Thanks, Tavi. But you're still going out there, aren't you?"
Octavia shook her head violently, trying to dislodge the endless refrain of her doubt and indecision. The harsh movement put further dents in the soft material of her pillow, robbing it of what little comfort it offered her. She resisted the urge to twist and turn; it wouldn't help her sleep any more than closing her eyes would.
The shadows of her darkened bedroom stifled her; the gentle breeze floating through an open window did nothing to ease the sweat forming along her coat regardless of how many sheets she flung to the floor. The darkness behind closed eyelids heralded only haunting and melancholic visions that made her fear any choice she might make.
Do I stay? An empty stage, a vacant spotlight, an unattended cello.
Do I go? Herself, alone. Vinyl long gone, unwilling to stay with such a selfish mare.
Oh Celestia, what am I to do?
. . .
Horseapples. If I'm going to be awake I may as well be up.
Hauling her restless form from the unwelcoming embrace of her mattress, Octavia plodded silently out into her living room before collapsing abjectly onto the couch. With a soft 'oof' she landed bodily, making the old springs creak and complain.
Excellent. Now perhaps with some blessed silence I'll be able to—
"Tavi? Is that you?"
Of course.
"No, Vinyl. I'm a robber who fancied a sit-down mid-crime," Octavia snarked.
"Looks like the only thing getting stolen around here is your peace of mind," Vinyl said as she emerged from the small extra room that had been outfitted for her use. She settled onto the couch beside her favorite cellist. "Wanna talk about it?" she asked, laying a hoof on Octavia's shoulder, absently running it lightly through the silky black mane.
"Not particularly," Octavia muttered, turning her head away from the softly reflected light that played in Vinyl's eyes.
"C'mon, Tavi. Don't do this. I know this whole thing with Las Pegasus and your agent has been worrying you all week but don't shut me out. Let me help you."
"That's just it, Vinyl; all week. I have to give my answer tomorrow and I still have no idea what I should do,” Octavia said.
"Just do what your heart tells you," Vinyl offered in her best mystical sage imitation.
"Yeah, good try; my heart wants to go so I can get back to playing my cello, my great love in life. But it also wants to stay here with you, my other great love."
"Aw, Tavi, that's so sweet you could bake cupcakes with it,” Vinyl said, though Octavia's glare reminded her that this wasn't really the best time for jokes. "Heh. What I meant to say was that I just want you to be happy, Tavi. If that means you go to Las Pegasus for a month, so be it. I'll be here waiting when you come back."
"But, Vinyl," Octavia objected. "You depend on me here. I can't let you down. And it's hardly fair for me to go off chasing my dreams and leave you behind."
"Tavi, I'm living my dream right now thanks to you. The least I can do is return the favor. It won't be easy or fun without you around, but I'll manage. For you."
"Vinyl . . ."
"C'mere," Vinyl demanded, meeting the earth pony in a loose embrace that ended up with them both lying on the couch, bodies pressed against each other and Vinyl's forelegs wrapped around Octavia's body as the cellist rested against her comforter's stomach.
"Vinyl?"
"Yeah?" the DJ mumbled groggily.
"Just promise me that you'll be here for me when I come back . . ."
Silence fell. The two mares' breaths soon synchronized and, for the first time in days, Octavia rested.
Octavia caught the sound of ringing through the phone receiver pressed against the side of her head. She could only hope there was an answer.
I only just worked up the courage to tell Mr. Bookings I accept. If I wait any longer I might chicken out. Again.
She smiled sheepishly, remembering the half-dozen times she had picked up the phone throughout the day, determined that this time she was really going to do it.
She allowed the phone to ring nearly thirty times before returning it to its cradle.
Naturally. Oh well, perhaps he's only out to lunch. It is still early.
A glance at the clock reminded Octavia that she was supposed to be going to the club early today to help Vinyl set up some new equipment. The electropony herself had left a little earlier.
Oh well. I'll try again later from the phone at the club.
Locking her door behind her, Octavia trotted down the stairs of her apartment complex. Emerging into the fresh air and sunlight, she turned towards the club and began the brisk walk. She moved easily for the first time in days, relatively unburdened with worry. The simple reassurance of a firm decision, and the knowledge that Vinyl didn't hate her for it, made the world a better proposition to her.
The sun seemed to be shining extra bright, the birds singing extra sweetly, all for her. Nothing could intrude on the small bubble of happiness that surrounded the trotting pony. The hurried passing of a group of weather pegasi wearing the uniform of the fire response team barely warranted a passing glance.
As her hoofsteps brought her nearer the club her nose began to detect the acrid presence of smoke. Octavia tried to put it out of mind as she kept walking, but the smell grew stronger with every stride.
I hope I don't have to take a detour or something.
With relief she turned the final corner, expecting to see the familiar front of Club P0n-3, its brilliant neon sign deactivated during daylight hours.
Instead, the sign lay on the ground, cracked and darkened. The building it should be attached to was in flames; brilliant hues of yellow and orange swirled and devoured, reflecting hell in horror-struck amethyst eyes. Dozens of pegasi filled the sky, coaxing water from clouds to battle and contain the inferno.
Rooted in place, Octavia wasn't even sure her heart was beating. Certainly her breath felt like it was being ripped away by the towering walls of flame before her.
Pegasi floated and hovered above the ravaged structure, struggling valiantly with wings and weather magic to defy elemental fury. Held aloft by superheated updrafts they flitted and moved like leaves in autumn, their movements at once chaotic and orchestrated.
Octavia finally noticed the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle, held back by a number of armor-clad guards. She made her way to the front, heedless of anypony she shoved from her path and not caring for the tears that coursed down her face, a pathetic offering of water that had no power to quench the flames.
Behind the guard lines, unicorns with horns alight carved paths through the flames, making way for more of their number to dash inside surrounded by protective shields.
The grey mare gasped, heart clenched in the icy grip of a helplessness and fear more vast and consuming than she believed possible.
Oh Celestia, Luna, I don't care who, just let her be safe.
She stood there for what seemed like an eternity; it felt to her that time had ceased to move. It was like time had stopped after she stepped off a cliff and before she began to fall; the short moment of mind-numbing terror never subsided into mere fear.
A glimmer of hope presented itself among despair: the rescuers stumbled wearily forth, disheveled and damaged. Between them, held aloft by magic, was the unmoving form of a white unicorn supported by a stretcher. "Vinyl! Hold on!" Octavia yelled, beginning to run forward only to be stopped by the one of the guards corralling the crowds stepping into her path.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but this is a restricted—"
"That is my marefriend over there and I don't even bucking know if she's alive!" the Octavia screamed, primal emotion ripping its way from her throat and forcing the guard back an involuntary step.
"I really can’t allow anypony—"
Octavia was gone before he could finish, dashing past him and pointedly ignoring his shouted commands to stop. She reached Vinyl as the attending unicorn medics were preparing to load her onto a pegasi-pulled chariot, its sides adorned with a red equal-armed cross. They were silent, focused on pouring magic into sustaining Vinyl.
Octavia knelt beside her precious DJ, tears falling unheeded as she struggled to find a way to touch Vinyl without brushing her hooves against the huge, ugly swathes of charred skin showing through glaring spots where her coat had fallen victim to the heat and flames. Finally she settled on running her hooves through Vinyl's bright hair, singed in places and in others simply burned away.
Her rapt attention was only broken by the efficient medics picking up the stretcher and moving it onto the waiting chariot. She tried to open her mouth, to plead to be allowed aboard, but her throat felt like it was constricted in a vice grip. Tears streaked down from her eyes as she reached out a trembling hoof as if to try and grasp something just out of reach as the chariot ascended on powerful bursts of the pegasi’s wings. The downdraft sent dust and dirt swirling everywhere below them, forcing Octavia’s already watery eyes to screw shut. When she was able to open them again she could see no sign of the medical chariot anywhere in the sky and the gawking crowd was already beginning to disperse.
Please please please be ok, Vinyl. Please. You promised you'd be here for me. You promised . . .
Fire, fire was everywhere. It licked hungrily at the high ceiling and the walls were already transformed into hellish curtains. Its eerie light cast no illumination; smoke rolled everywhere, obscuring and thick. It forced its way into her lungs and made her cough helplessly. She stood frozen in the doorway to the back storerooms, eyes wide with mounting terror that stalled her thoughts.
A sudden acrid smell invaded her nostrils; part of her coat along her flank was afire. Panicking, she beat at it with a hoof. The small fire died quickly under her ferocious assault. The movement seemed to free her from the first wave of shock.
I can't get out this way. Gotta try the back, the emergency exit.
Turning her back on the fiery scene before her she whisked back the way she came, galloping down a hallway filled with closed doors. Heart thudding painfully in her chest, fear driving her steps, she struggled to see through the roiling clouds of smoke. At the end was salvation: the solid metal door of the exit, if she could only make it.
How did it spread so fast? I was only back there a few minutes.
Only a few of her body lengths were left to go before safety was hers. A jarring noise, part groaning and part creaking, filled the confined space, echoing madly. The fleeing unicorn looked up; the ceiling itself split as if by an ax. Enormous weight crushed her against the floor, burying her. More and more debris fell, slowly entombing her as she struggled futilely, desperately marshaling every ounce of muscle and magic she had to free herself. She fought in vain; more weight fell onto her, encasing her in a flaming pyre. She could feel her coat beginning to burn away in places, its heat adding to the fire already licking at her exposed skin. If she lifted her head she could still see the emergency exit beckoning to her, mocking her.
She let her head fall again. Her mane was already partially ablaze; she watched in fascination both horrified and helpless as its flaming tendrils began to lick at her face. She noted idly that her glasses had shattered at some point and her left eye seemed to have pieces of the lens embedded in it.
Tavi, I'm so sorry . . . I guess you won't have to worry about me keeping you from going to Las Pegasus anymore.
Darkness, more complete than any moonless night. Vinyl floated in that darkness, aware only in the vaguest sense of herself or anything else. It seemed like a good idea to stay in that darkness; it seemed like it would be more pleasant this way. It would be so easy to just drift away and never go back, so much easier.
Something penetrated Vinyl's darkness: a name. Echoing from somewhere in the vast distance, a voice called, full of fear and desperation. “Vinyl!” it cried out into the endless and expansive darkness, perfect in its solitude and unblemished emptiness.
Vinyl? Am I Vinyl?
Something else intruded, a sensation. Here where touch and feeling was impossible, something touched her. And then she wasn't alone anymore, she remembered another; she remembered a coat of grey contrasted with a mane the color of fresh ink on a new musical composition.
Who? Octavia; I remember . . . I remember her. I remember meeting her, I remember moving in with her, I remember kissing her, I remember holding her. I remember lying with her.
Remembering hurt; every fresh recollection dispelled the darkness a little more but brought with it a fresh outpouring of pain. She remembered seeing Octavia for the first time and regained the feeling of her eye swelled shut, oozing blood that caked on her face, burning like a miniature sun and making her cry tears of agony that mixed and swirled with her blood.
She remembered the first time she glanced at Octavia in the moonlight and had her breath taken away, and suddenly one whole side of her face hurt. It was as if the skin was stretched impossibly tight and even the pressure of air against it brought new dimensions to the meaning of pain.
She remembered the first time their lips met and instead of heart-melting joy she felt the excruciating input of her sides and back; her dried skin cracked and bled from the movement of her breathing and she would have whimpered deep in her chest if that hadn't hurt as well.
Every memory she paid for in agony and suffering but Vinyl clung to each precious one, stubbornly refusing to surrender the image forming before her of the mare called Octavia.
And then the darkness was gone, falling away as spiderweb-like cracks pierced its surface. She blinked stupidly, noting in some corner of her mind the sterile green-colored walls, the bustling unicorns levitating scalpels and sutures and crowding around her with syringes and bandages. Some objective part of her noted that she was moving. The bed on which she lay was being pushed down a hallway, the ceiling passing overhead. She bent every ounce of her will to remember a mare with lilac eyes even though countless agonies cried out to distract her. As long as she could see those gorgeous eyes, she knew everything would be alright.
Filtered moonlight forced its way through partially open curtains to fall on the form of a sleeping unicorn. She lay unmoving amidst a tangle of wires and tubes that seemed to terminate themselves into her very body, concealed as they were by the areas where her white coat was intact.
Octavia sat somber vigil on a single chair positioned beside the window, within reaching distance of the slumbering mare. She too sat unmoving, long since lulled into contemplation by the steady dripping of fluids through their plastic tubes and the incessant tone of the machinery monitoring its patient's heartbeat.
Her gaze tracked to its screen; the pulsing green lines and repetitive beep . . . beep . . . beep each a gain, a sign of another victory in the fight for life.
Not the sort of beat you're used to, eh Vinyl?
She held her attempt at humor in her mind for a moment, analyzing it before mentally tossing it aside. It had no place here.
Octavia supposed time passed. Each moment was a reflection of the one before, an endless instant of uncertainty drawn out far past its rightful time.
Vinyl's form twitched, spasming. Octavia leapt to her hooves, at Vinyl's side in an instant and ready to call for aid. Her heart formed its own percussion section in her chest and her eyes flew to the equipment monitoring the rhythm of her marefriend’s life, searching for irregularity.
The spasm passed and Vinyl's right eye slowly opened, blinking sluggishly several times to reveal a red iris darkened by pain and the drugs to suppress it. Bandages wrapped around her head, covering her other eye and the left side of her face in white fabric. “Tavi,” she managed to croak near-silently through a throat burned and parched.
“Yes Vinyl, I'm here. Do you want something to drink?” Octavia asked softly.
A slight nod was her only answer and even that caused a sharp intake of breath and a grimace of discomfort.
Holding a glass of water delicately in her hooves, Octavia held it up to the immobile Vinyl's mouth and gently angled the straw so that she could take a few deep gulps. “How long—” Vinyl began before being cut off by a coughing fit. Octavia frantically laid her hoof on Vinyl’s shaking shoulders to try and comfort her.
“You've been in the hospital two days now. This is the first time you've been awake since a brief moment when they were wheeling you into the ER from the ambulance chariot.”
“How long . . . have you been here?” the burned mare persisted.
“I haven't left,” Octavia answered fiercely.
“Will you—”
“Yes Vinyl, I will stay here with you. Nothing could possibly keep me away,” Octavia promised.
“I . . . I love you, Tavi,” Vinyl said, letting her single eye fall closed again as exhaustion closed in around her. “Please . . . just don't leave me alone.”
“I love you too, Vinyl. And I won't leave you. Ever,” Octavia quietly replied, laying a single hoof lightly on the unburned skin of Vinyl's face and softly stroking until her breathing settled into the rhythm of sleep.
Octavia returned to her seat and her vigil. A quick glance at the room's clock revealed it to be almost midnight.
I'm supposed to be on a train for Las Pegasus in six hours.
. . .
Buck Las Pegasus. Buck Bookings, and the gala, and my career and every other stupid thing. Vinyl needs me here. They can find somepony else.
“Good grief, Vinyl. You've been in here for three days already. You'd think they would be able to tell us something about your prognosis by now,” Octavia quietly grumbled.
“Well, I have good news and I have bad news,” began a white-coated unicorn with a stethoscope draped around his neck as he strode into the room, attention focused on the clipboard hovering just in front of his face.
Well, speak of Discord . . .
Octavia paused in her quiet and mostly one-sided conversation with Vinyl, a cold knot of worry freezing in her stomach. She stood and moved to Vinyl's side in order to lay a supporting hoof on her shoulder. Through that contact she could feel the tension that belied her apparent lack of concern. “Okay doctor, let's hear it,” Octavia said with a calmness meant entirely for Vinyl's benefit. Vinyl simply nodded agreement, throat still burned and parched.
“Good news first; Vinyl's burns are only second-degree. That makes them painful but they will heal well without leaving obvious scars or burn tissue and your coat will grow back over them.” Vinyl's hoof pumped several times into the air in celebration of the fact that she wouldn't live the rest of her life as a scarred and deformed freak. “But now the bad news: recovery will take about two weeks and she will have to be hospitalized the whole time.”
Seeing Vinyl's ears droop at this revelation the doctor continued hurriedly, “It's not that bad; Octavia and anypony else can come visit you every day and if you do quite well there's a chance you might be released early.”
Vinyl smiled at that, nodding her head vigorously towards the doctor.
“Yes, thank you very much for the information, doctor,” Octavia said, interpreting for Vinyl.
“You're both welcome. Don't worry, Vinyl; you'll be back to spinning records before you know it,” the doctor said as he slipped from the room.
Vinyl turned her one unbandaged eye onto the other mare in the room, suddenly serious and worried. Octavia sighed, rubbing her hooves absently together as she decided how to breach the topic that she knew troubled her. “Yes, about the club . . .” she began.
The club was a total loss, anypony could see that. Octavia sighed, kicking disheartedly at a singed bit of wood that had fallen past the “no entry” tape the guards had erected. It crumbled at her touch, forming a small pile of carbon that defaced the sidewalk. Behind the guard lines the once-proud facade of Club P0n-3 lay in ruins. Roof and walls alike had collapsed inwards, leaving only an enormous pile of charred refuse that bore no resemblance whatsoever to what it had been. She sighed again and turned her back on the scene, beginning the long trek back to the hospital. She didn't know what had impelled her to come and see this while Vinyl slept; probably the sure knowledge that Vinyl herself would want to know. As she walked, head hung low, she tried not to imagine her favorite DJ's dreams burning to the ground along with the ill-fated club.
Vinyl's head slumped on her pillow, the vibrant red of her one visible eye dulled and distant. She seemed much wearier than she had even a moment ago. “Come on, Vinyl. You had insurance; I know you did. You can rebuild Club P0n-3,” Octavia said, desperately trying to make Vinyl stop acting so defeated.
Vinyl snorted in derision.
Octavia wracked her brain for a suitably encouraging reply. Finding nothing, she elected to change topics. “What about Heavyset, Cadia and Fresh? Do you want to know about them?”
A small trace of life returned to Vinyl. She nodded her head in agreement. Octavia continued, “I called them all from here after you were stabilized. They were horrified, of course, and promised to come and visit. And Cadia wanted to know if they were still going to get paid even if they can't work.”
Vinyl rolled her eyes at that, an amused smile on her face.
“I know, I know. Still, it's a valid question. I told them we had enough profits saved to pay them their regular wages until we figured something out. Is that alright?”
Vinyl nodded her head again.
“Good. I still need to call the insurance company. I presume they'll send a claims assessor out after I file the paperwork. Other than that the only thing left to do is get you well again,” Octavia said as she bent to nuzzle Vinyl affectionately. “And that's the most important thing.”
Octavia, about to pull away, halted when she felt Vinyl's hoof brushing lightly through her mane.
“Oh, alright, you silly pony. I'll stay here,” Octavia said. Tenderly she eased some of her weight onto the bed so that she could lean in to place a soft kiss on Vinyl’s lips, carefully not touching any burned area of her body or disturbing the numerous intravenous tubes still feeding vital medications into her.
In the dim light of her lonely apartment Octavia’s eyes scanned over the text of the document that lay on the table in front of her. She shook her head, sending her mane flying, as she tried to force herself to focus on its language; it felt like she was trying to keep her eyes open while enormous weights tried to pull them shut.
Finally she came to relevant section, just before the end. Her eyes narrowed as she read.
The joint investigation of the Canterlot Royal Guard and this insurance agency’s inspectors has determined that the cause of the fire in question and subsequent property and structural damage was a malfunction of the electrical systems that provided power to the building. No evidence was found to indicate foul play or arson, thus it has been ruled an accident. Payment under your insurance plan has been authorized and will be dispensed once we receive confirmation from the policy holder or the policy holder’s authorized representative. Please sign and date the enclosed agreement to receive payout and return it to our offices at your earliest convenience.
Octavia eagerly took up a quill in her mouth, dipped it in ink and dashed her signature down onto the paper. Gratefully, she spat out the ink-stained quill, gagging a little on the taste. She turned her attention to re-reading the document she had just signed, examining its minutiae closely. Satisfied that all was in order, she unceremoniously placed it in a waiting envelope to go out with the morning post.
There. The insurance is finally taken care of. With any luck we can start rebuilding soon. I'm sure that will cheer Vinyl right up.
“Rebuild? Don't be stupid,” Vinyl said flatly.
“But Vinyl, you can't mean that . . . we got the insurance money and everything. It's just a matter of finding a new building,” Octavia said.
“As if. The insurance money covers the cost of the building and my electronics. It doesn't pay for the tens of thousands of bits worth of renovations and rewiring any building would need to suit the purpose. I paid for all that out of my own pocket; I scrimped and saved for years. I put everything I had into it. I couldn't even afford an apartment by the time I was done but I didn't care; my dream had come true.”
“Oh, Vinyl,” Octavia said sadly.
“And now it's gone. All of that for nothing,” Vinyl spat bitterly. “Well, not entirely for nothing,” she amended in a softer voice. “I did get an amazing marefriend out of it.”
“Heh. Thanks. You're pretty amazing too,” Octavia said as she tenderly ran a hoof through Vinyl’s mane.
Octavia trotted happily through the hospital, her nose stung by the unmistakable smell of disinfectants. She passed medical ponies and patients all dealing with their own miseries and problems but her own spirits were lighter than they had been in weeks; Vinyl was coming home today and she couldn't help the ridiculous smile that plastered itself on her face at the thought.
Turning the final corner she made straight for the small room that had housed her wounded partner for what seemed like an eternity. As glad as she was to have Vinyl coming back she knew it paled in comparison to the energetic mare’s happiness at being free.
Easing quietly into the room, Octavia saw exactly what she had hoped for; Vinyl, sitting upright in her bed, unhooked from the myriad of tubes that had sustained her with painkillers and antibiotics. Her mane had mostly regrown to its former neon and disheveled glory and her pristine white coat had begun to regrow in the areas where it had been burned away. The carefree smile that flashed across her face when she heard Octavia enter sent a little shiver of happiness up the grey mare's spine. The sunlight spilling through the open window seemed to linger just for Vinyl, adding an otherworldly shine to her magnificently unique mane and turning her white coat to warm marble. Frankly, she was gorgeous.
Octavia’s expression must have revealed her thoughts; Vinyl grinned and struck a pose. “Yes, I do have that effect on ponies,” she said in a cultured accent.
Octavia snorted, the spell broken. “I'm glad to see you're back to normal. Are you ready to go home, dear?”
Vinyl all but lunged out of bed. “Oh, you'd better believe I am. This place is beyond lame!”
Octavia practically had to gallop to keep up with Vinyl as she fled the confines of the hospital.
That night, wrapped in familiar embraces, both mares slept soundly for the first time in weeks. Even if it did take them awhile to actually get around to sleeping.
Octavia's amethyst eyes were closed, her brow furrowed in forced concentration. Her ears swiveled to catch the notes she created with the interplay of bow and strings; they hung hauntingly in the air, lingering like the last remnants of a fading light. Their presence was poignant and somehow deeply flawed.
Fluttering open, her eyes revealed a thin slice of lavender as they quickly scanned the notes on the pages before her.
Why can't I play this properly? It's not that difficult; a foal could handle this without difficulty.
Eyes once more closed, her bow set back into motion; it glided across the strings with the grace and poise she was known for. Regardless, the notes always fell flat to her ears; they were insipid, uninspired. She repeated the same sequence of notes countless times, each iteration as lifeless as the last. She struggled to meld into her music, to lend it the passion of her soul; in desperation she summoned every powerful memory she had to try and wrest some emotion from them that she could impart to her recital.
Again her hooves moved fluidly across the cello's strings. Again the notes sounded perfect and perfectly hollow. “GAAH!” she screamed, her frustration finally breaking free of the dam of self-control. She hurled her cello bow across the room; it struck a wall with a resounding crack and fell to the ground. Seething, Octavia returned her cello to its protective case and unceremoniously kicked it out of the way.
“Hey Treble Clef, what's wrong?” Vinyl's voice called out softly, penetrating Octavia's boiling temper.
Turning, she could see Vinyl's head peeking out from the bedroom doorway, mane unkempt and eyes inquisitive. “Oh, it's nothing, really. I just can't get this stupid piece to come out right,” Octavia answered exasperatedly.
“Maybe you should come to bed. It's like, four in the morning and you've been playing since eight o'clock," Vinyl suggested.
“I can't. I have an audition tomorrow afternoon and two more in the evening. I must be perfect; no, I must be better than perfect. That's the only way I'll get a paying job in this town.”
“You're as practiced as you're gonna be, silly filly. Now come to bed.”
“But Vinyl,” Octavia near-begged.
“Bed. Now,” Vinyl ordered, stamping a hoof for emphasis.
“Alright, mommy,” Octavia giggled as she surrendered to the glorious idea of sleep and followed Vinyl into the bedroom. As they snuggled together among the enveloping comfort of the soft mattress Vinyl's horn briefly lit with a surge of her magic that brought the blanket up to drape over both of them. As Octavia's eyes drifted shut she was gently lulled to sleep by the rhythm of Vinyl's breathing; when she finally slept a contented smile adorned her face.
Holy sweet Celestia I bucking hate my life.
Hooves pounded on the Canterlot pavement as Octavia ran, weaving in and out of crowds of ponies whose sole objective seemed to be impeding her. With every step her heavy cello banged against her back; she would pay for this in bruises later. Sides heaving and throat burning, her goal finally came into view. Panting, she stopped in front of an elegant concert hall; its classical columns of white marble proclaimed its proud adherence to tradition.
Shouldering open the large oaken doors engraved with detailed frescoes, Octavia stepped inside the plush and opulent entryway. Everywhere gold-gilt reflected light back at her. Sound was absorbed by thick red carpeting and velvet tapestries. She ventured deeper, orienting on the faint sound of music coming from within. She struggled to put her two failed auditions out of mind and adopt a positive attitude.
Third time's the charm, right?
The sounds of her own movement swallowed by the vastness of the empty theater, Octavia trotted uncertainly down a dim hallway, drawn by an open door spilling light at its end.
Passing through the door she found herself facing an enormous stage that housed several musicians and a number of other ponies. Trotting quickly past rows of vacant seats she donned her most winning smile before scurrying on stage to stand with her dozen or so competitors. “Miss Philharmonica?” asked an officious unicorn holding a quill and clipboard in his telekinetic grip.
“Uh huh. Since you got here last you can perform after everypony else,” he answered in a disinterested tone.
“Yes, of course,” Octavia replied brightly.
Of course; I won't be getting this job either.
She stood and watched through the performances of the other musicians there assembled; some were masterful, some lackluster, most merely average. Her skills objectively outshone them all. She estimated gloomily that she had maybe a one percent chance of being selected.
When it was finally her turn she walked dutifully to center stage. Rearing up on her hind legs she entered into a delicate balancing act between herself and her instrument. Finding her equilibrium, she closed her eyes and drew her bow across the strings in flawless replication of her chosen composition. During the ten-minute performance her concentration never wavered nor did she strike a single discordant note.
She milled about with the others while the clipboard-toting unicorn conferred with his peers. When he called out the names of those selected Octavia wasn't surprised to find her name absent. With a sigh she gathered her instrument and quietly left the theater, emerging into an evanescent twilight that lacked comfortable warmth and threatened true cold in the near future. Octavia stumbled wearily along under darkening skies. Every step sent a wave of pain flowing up from her sore and bruised hooves to crash against a sullen knot of agony that had formed in her middle back. Her cello's case dug relentlessly into her side no matter how she adjusted it and, as predicted, a bruise had taken form on her back from the constant presence of her cello during her several high-speed dashes through the city.
Head hung low from exhaustion and dispiritedness, she trudged into her apartment. Its comfortable familiarity was welcome. Even more welcome was the heavenly softness of the couch as she sagged bonelessly onto it, blessedly relieved of the weight of her case. “Play the cello, they said. It'll be fun, they said. I should've taken up the violin or something,” she muttered into the fabric.
“Hey, babe, glad to see you're home,” Vinyl said, her voice the most welcome thing of all. “How'd it go today?” Rolling over on the couch so she could look up at Vinyl's face, Octavia shook her head wordlessly. “Oh. That bad, huh? Well, don't worry about it; we both know you're the best in Canterlot,” Vinyl reassured, laying a hoof comfortingly on Octavia's shoulder.
“Vinyl,” Octavia began tiredly. “Over the past two weeks I've had almost thirty auditions. I've only gotten two jobs out of it and even those didn't pay nearly what I used to make. I just don't know what we're going to do.”
“We'll be fine, Octavia. Stop worrying so much.”
“No, Vinyl! Neither of us is making any money. We can't last like this indefinitely. Eventually we won't be able to support ourselves; we have to get something working before then.”
“We have the insurance money, you know, and the money we made while the club was active. We have enough for a while,” Vinyl said.
“The insurance money is going to pay the lease and the loans you took out, not to mention the severance payment we gave our employees. And the money from the club, while substantial, isn't endless. We have a limited time frame where we can afford to live like this. Something has to change or the money will be gone in three months,” Octavia said.
“I know you're right, Tavi. But you've had a long day and you're pretty beat. I made dinner, so come eat and we'll worry about it tomorrow, 'kay?” Vinyl implored.
“Alright, you win. Food now, impending doom later,” Octavia said as she rolled herself off the couch and onto her hooves. “What's for dinner, anyway?”
“Your favorite: rose petal salad,” Vinyl answered.
“Mmm, sounds delicious,” Octavia replied, mouth watering as she imagined the sweet and juicy flavor of the promised petals. “But you shouldn't have; I know how hard it is to prepare the roses properly and the dressing takes forever.”
“Anything for you, Tavi. Besides, I know how hard you've been working. My Celestia, I can't remember the last time you weren't up at dawn to practice and didn't have at least one audition or interview to rush off to," Vinyl said. Octavia gratefully took her place at the table.
If only I had something to show for it . . .
“I've actually felt kind of lame; you've been busting your flank and I've been sitting around all day. It's not fair to you so I wanted to do something extra nice to try and make it up,” Vinyl explained as she herself sat, plates, utensils and entree held in her magical grip.
“Now, Vinyl, that's not being fair to yourself. You may be out of the hospital but you are still healing; the doctors expressly ordered you to take it easy for another few weeks. You shouldn't feel bad in the least,” Octavia said.
“Yeah, I know. But that doesn't make me feel any better when you come home late, exhausted and beat up from trying to get out there and support us and I did nothing to help,” Vinyl said guiltily.
“Vinyl, just having you here to come home to at the end of the day makes all the difference in the world to me.”
A small smile formed itself on Vinyl’s face. “Thanks,” she said.
“You're welcome. Now eat your salad; it's delicious,” Octavia said before she bit down on a forkful of succulent rose petals.
The weather pegasi of Canterlot had outdone themselves this year; snowflakes fell in perfect rhythm to blanket the city in magnificent white without posing a hazard or grave annoyance. Vinyl's breath formed slight clouds of steam as she walked, her hooves crunching through the new-fallen snow that coated the paved sidewalks. Her boots and coat fortunately insulated her from the bite of the wind and the lavender scarf she wore twined around her neck served to keep her extra comfortable. Vinyl's head slumped, though, betraying her exhaustion. Once more Octavia was out on one of her fruitless all-day audition sprees, and once more Vinyl had taken to the streets in the meantime.
She was certain that in the last month she had visited every commercial establishment within walking distance of home, trying to find someplace interested in hiring a displaced DJ. She shook her head ruefully; she couldn't blame a business owner for not wanting to take a chance on her. Her curriculum vitae didn't exactly prepare her for much outside the confines of the club and entertainment industry and she had already been turned away from every part of the nightlife she knew of.
Seriously, what's a mare gotta do to get a job around here? What are we, in a recession?
She now wandered aimlessly; she had run out of ideas but not out of desire to be looking. She examined every storefront she passed, searching for a 'help wanted' sign. Nothing presented itself to her. She turned back when the commercial district began to give way to the gilded Royal enclave that housed the palace and various government facilities.
Accepting her failure, she turned her course towards home. If she hurried she could still make herself useful by making Octavia something nice for dinner.
Her vision suddenly turned white as something latched onto her face, obscuring her tinted glasses. She flailed for a brief second before ripping the offending item off, revealing it to be a small magazine printed on glossy paper held together by staples. A flamboyant slogan on the front caught Vinyl's eye before she could heedlessly toss it away. As she held it in front of her face, flicking through several pages, a satisfied grin began to form on her muzzle. Holding it tightly in her magical grip she resumed her trip for home, a new confidence infused in her step and head held high.
Sometimes you have to go out and find opportunity and sometimes it hits you in the face . . .
Octavia and Vinyl lay comfortably side-by-side on their worn couch, Vinyl’s white foreleg contrasting with Octavia’s grey coat where it draped across her shoulders. Muted noise emanated from the television set, its program passing unwatched and serving only to cast light into the darkened living room.
“Vinyl, that is the worst idea I have ever heard,” Octavia said, flipping idly through the magazine Vinyl had given to her.
“What are you talking about? It’s for ten thousand bits; with that much money we could start rebuilding Club P0n-3,” Vinyl replied, reaching out with a hoof to jab at the pages for emphasis.
“We won’t win,” Octavia said simply.
“Not with that kind of attitude,” Vinyl replied playfully. “What do we have to lose? Worst case scenario is that we have some fun.”
“Your idea of fun and mine are vastly different,” Octavia said flatly.
“Are you kidding me? We both love music, and I’m talking about making music. Why are you not on board with me?” Vinyl asked.
“No, you’re talking about making an unholy amalgamation of two genres that were never meant to go together.”
“Don’t be such a traditionalist; experiment and improvise!” Vinyl implored.
“No,” the cellist answered in a tone that brooked no argument.
“But Taaavi,” the DJ begged, drawing Octavia’s name out into a pleading refrain.
Octavia turned her head, flatly refusing to lock her gaze with Vinyl’s wide and expressive ruby eyes. “I’m not changing my mind,” she said in a huff. She hardened her heart against Vinyl’s patented puppy dog eyes, solidifying her will and crystallizing her certainty that her cello was never meant to be heard in the same composition as Vinyl’s wild electronic creations.
With assurance of the sacrosanct and inviolable purity of her instrument resonating through her and her mind buttressed against any outside influence, Octavia was ready to stand her ground.
She allowed her eyes to meet Vinyl’s; garnet luminaries sparkled like fine jewels, crafted to allow its facets to reflect light in perfect clarity. Their depths were limitless, allowing a hypnotized viewer to be drawn deep into the complexities and mysteries of Life as revealed through the form of one being. Emotions and feelings roiled through them like a blood-red tide, enlivening them like a flame reflected through a flawless gem.
Octavia felt warmth blossom in her own heart of hearts in answer to that refracted flame, melting away her reluctance. “Oh, very well. I suppose I shall give it a try,” she admitted.
“Yay!” exclaimed Vinyl with foal-like happiness, clopping her hooves together in celebration.
"So what exactly do we have to do?" Octavia inquired.
"All we need to do is record one song and send it in to be judged. The winner gets 10,000 bits and gets signed by a record label to promote their music," Vinyl explained.
"Well, that sounds easy enough. Especially since we still aren't going to win."
"Hey, have a little faith. And anyways, we need to pick out some songs. I won't know what to mix with until you figure out what you're gonna play."
"Very well; I'll invest some thought into what composition I would like to submit to this butchery," Octavia said resignedly.
"That's the spirit," Vinyl said encouragingly. "Especially since I already rented the mixing console and speakers."
Octavia sighed into her hoof, lying across her face in exasperation.
“Vinyl, I . . . I’m sorry, but I’ve never done this before and I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Octavia admitted uncertainly.
“Where have I heard that before?” Vinyl asked with a predatory grin.
A deep blush spread across Octavia’s face. “Stop kidding around! I was referring to what we’re doing right now, not our other ‘activities’.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll learn quick,” Vinyl assured her. “After all, you picked up on our ‘other activities’ pretty fast, if I recall correctly.”
“I . . . you . . .” Octavia stammered, her blush growing more pronounced. “Just hurry up and finish already.”
“That sounds familiar too,” Vinyl snickered.
“Vinyl! Get your mind out of the gutter!” the thoroughly-embarrassed cellist remonstrated.
“Alright, alright. Don’t get your treble clefs in a knot, Treble Clef.” Vinyl heaved herself to all four hooves, having finished her delicate work on Octavia’s cello. A small metallic device now graced the wooden surface of the instrument, fitted over the four strings where they terminated at the end of their length. A thick-looking cord trailed from the mysterious box, snaking across the floor to disappear amongst the impenetrable tangle of other cables protruding and connecting seemingly at random between Vinyl’s electromagical mixing console.
“So, Miss DJ, could you kindly explain this nonsense to me again?” Octavia asked as she bent to eye the newest addition to her familiar instrument with unease.
“Well, it’s pretty simple. That baby there,” Vinyl gestured to the same device Octavia was examining to see if it might possibly be dangerous, “picks up the vibration of the strings and converts it to a digital signal. I pull that signal into my console, essentially recording you playing in perfect clarity. Then I can mix the recording, sample it and remix it just like I do anything else.”
“I see. And then?”
“And then I combine your mastery of the classical forms of music with my own type of sound to create a synthesis of art that’s been hundreds of years in the making and will revolutionize Equestria,” Vinyl said nonchalantly as she struggled to locate a single cable amidst its peers.
“Wow. No high ambitions or anything?”
"Nah. There we go!" Vinyl exclaimed, finally having plugged the last cable in to her satisfaction. "Ok Tavi, are you ready to play?"
Octavia merely nodded. She reared, steadying herself against the cello and bringing her bow up to position and gently strummed a few tentative notes across the strings. Vinyl herself gently lowered a selected record onto her turntable.
For a brief moment Octavia played alone and unaccompanied as she had so many times before. Then, eyes opening wide in shock, she became aware of the haunting and ethereal tones of a piano joining her. She sought around the room, finally focusing on Vinyl. Her electric blue mane tumbled down over her face as she bent over her work area, doing Celestia knows what. The piano continued with its ghostly presence, its brooding tone slowly mellowed into an ominous refrain that slithered within and around the deep tones of her own cello, accenting and emphasizing it.
Octavia closed her eyes and continued playing, rather enjoying the effect. Slowly, though, she became aware of the heavy patterings of electronic bass overlaying the piano's notes. She had just enough time to notice her displeasure before her sacred cello and accompanying phantom pianist were drowned out in a sea of electronic beats and sounds no instrument could produce.
Indignation welled in her and she nearly stopped playing, but Vinyl gestured wildly at her not to so she bit her tongue and persisted. Slowly she began to hear her own instrument return to the composition, accompanying and underscoring the manic electronic music. Finally the song came to a conclusion, fading away on a series of soft notes from her own strings.
Octavia lowered her bow and dropped to all of her hooves, relieving the pain in her rear legs. She turned irritably to face the mastermind of this experiment.
"Vinyl, what the hay was that?" Octavia demanded.
"What do you mean? It was great!" Vinyl defended.
"My cello was drowned out for half the song by your 'noise'! What kind of synthesis was that?" the grey cellist asked.
"Oh come on! Your cello was the most important part of the whole thing; without it this would just be the same as a thousand other pieces of electronic music," Vinyl explained.
"Hmph. I don't feel very important."
"Well, you are," Vinyl persisted. "And we only need to send in one track for the contest. If you don't like that one we can always try another."
"Alright. What about the second one I selected? Do you have any ideas about what to do with it?" the grey earth pony asked.
Vinyl pensively tapped a hoof to her chin, lost in thought. "Yeah, I think I know just what it calls for. Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
Octavia listened closely to the new track's overture, paying close attention to its plucky, almost-harp like melody. Shortly it was joined by the more obviously defined notes of a keyboard, undercut with a restrained bassy effect.
On cue she scissored her bow across the cello, lending the unfolding track its deep and somber tones. She kept playing in focused concentration as Vinyl added and removed obvious electronic sounds and more pronounced bass, trusting her partner to moderate the sound to highlight the best of both of them. She played on, eyes closed and mind lost in the unfolding melody.
It should be horrid; the electronic elements should completely drown out the classical, or they should clash violently. They shouldn't go this well together.
Even when Vinyl's electronica briefly flared and outshone Octavia's playing, she felt no jealousy. She accepted Vinyl's presence in the song, as graceful and familiar as the steps of a waltz.
Treble and bass; complete opposites and yet they create harmony. Just like us. How did I never see it before?
The melody shifted, but the harmony remained. Vinyl faded from the song, leaving Octavia to the next move in the dance. She continued to play, waiting for Vinyl to join with her again.
The music played on; two hearts entwined in its notes, melding together with the interplay of classical and modern, treble and bass, amethyst and ruby.
When the final notes faded away, echoing only in heart and mind, a sweat-coated Octavia locked eyes with Vinyl, a satisfied smile adorning both of their radiant faces.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" inquired a smirking Vinyl.
"Well, I suppose it wasn't terrible," Octavia demurred.
"Oh, whatever. You were totally into it. And totally hot, by the way." Vinyl paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Also, I think I may be developing a cello fetish."
"You keep your dirty hooves off my cello, you pervert. And the rest of you as well," Octavia hurriedly added as Vinyl opened her mouth, doubtless with a witty comeback. "Now what do we do, since we recorded all that?"
"I'll need a day or two to master it and make sure it sounds right, then I get it on some vinyl and in the mail. After that, we wait and let our inevitable victory come rolling in."
"Well, at least somepony's sure of herself," Octavia laughed, walking forward to nuzzle Vinyl affectionately. "It's getting late; how about some takeout from that little place down the street?"
"Sounds good to me," Vinyl said, walking beside Octavia as they left their apartment and headed out into the twilight.
Shadows crawled across the bedroom, encroaching on the tangled forms of a white unicorn and grey earth pony. No nocturnal activities were happening (yet), just two mares enjoying each other's soft embrace.
"Hey Tavi, about that cello fetish I mentioned earlier . . ." Vinyl began.
"Forget it. You might get a splinter," Octavia mumbled sleepily.
The apartment door flew open with sudden force, crashing against the unsuspecting wall. Octavia stumbled through the doorway, weighed down with bulging saddlebags that threatened to drag her to the floor. She quickly made her way through the small living room into the connected kitchen, gratefully slinging the heavy bags from her back to thump onto the floor. “Vinyl! I’m back from the grocery store. Come give me a hoof putting this away,” she called.
Rummaging through the bags she pulled out various culinary odds and ends, efficiently finding their proper place in cupboards and refrigerator. A bundle of carrots and a gallon of milk were ultimately taken from the first sack, leaving it empty. “Honestly, is it too much to ask for some help with this?” she yelled irritably. Hearing no answer, she snorted and opened the second bag.
Boxes of cereal and toaster pastries filled the cupboard, neatly arranged and organized until the first time Vinyl got into it. A loaf of bread found its way into a drawer along with some entirely unnecessary but extremely delicious cookies. Octavia had already eaten half the package, for scientific purposes, of course. Delicately holding them in her mouth, a dozen tomatoes were gently placed in the fridge. Returning to her final bag of goodies, she found it too empty. She folded it neatly and laid it on the kitchen table with its fellow.
A single unfolded piece of paper caught her eye, lying next to a hastily torn envelope. It was printed on official-looking letterhead she had never seen before. Curious, she leaned closer to read.
Dear Vinyl Scratch,
Thank you for submitting your track for consideration in the contest sponsored by Equine Espressivo Records. Though our judges were impressed by your efforts, regrettably it was not selected as the winner. It is our solemn hope that this will not discourage you but rather inspire you to improve and refine your skills. We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.
Sincerely,
The staff of Equine Espressivo Records
P.S. Look for the debut album of the contest winner, Lyra Heartstrings, this spring.
Lifting her gaze from the letter, she was struck by Vinyl’s conspicuous absence. It was fairly normal for her to try and duck chores like putting away groceries, but not to remain completely silent. Neither was it normal for her to ignore a direct request for help. Grouch and complain, yes, but not simply refuse to help her roommate and marefriend.
A hurried search of the apartment took almost no time and revealed less; Vinyl was obviously not in the living room or kitchen, nor was she in the bathroom, Octavia’s bedroom or her own.
No note had been left to indicate her whereabouts and she hadn’t said anything about planning to go anywhere before Octavia left.
Concern hastening her actions, Octavia prepared to venture out again. This time, likely to be no mere jaunt down the street, she went prepared. A warmly insulated coat and thick boots hid the majority of her grey body from the biting winds that howled down the granite ravines of Canterlot’s streets.
As she emerged from her comfortable apartment building into the wintry afternoon, she began to walk, listing places in her mind where Vinyl might go if she were upset. A brief trot down the snow-coated paving stones brought her to the first of many small restaurants that Vinyl enjoyed. She peered through the windows, searching for any trace of her conspicuously white-coated friend. Finding nothing, she crossed the street to one of several local music stores. Ducking inside, she ignored the shopkeeper and quickly stalked between the aisles of albums and audio equipment. Finding it empty of her quarry, she left without a word.
She continued walking, the cold pressing in against her despite her insulating clothing. She made brief excursions into restaurants she knew Vinyl liked, record stores she frequented and places they had gone together while the midday sun progressively lowered itself in the sky like some great celestial timepiece. Her hooves were sore, her legs ached and her lungs burned from the frigid air. She had searched everywhere she could think of within a dozen blocks of home. On a whim she ducked into a phone booth and, taking some bits from her coat pocket, called home. She held her breath as it rang through, praying that Vinyl would pick up. The ringtone filled her ears, repeating nearly thirty times before she admitted defeat and returned the phone to its hook.
She stepped out of the phone booth and stood there, shivering, and trying to ignore it as she thought.
Oh, where is that filly? It’s going to be dark soon and I’m worried. I’ve looked everywhere.
. . .
No, not everywhere. If real life were like a book or a movie, I know exactly where she would be.
With a determined stride, she once more ignored the biting cold and her aching limbs as she made for the one last place she could imagine Vinyl being driven to by the disappointment of failing to win the contest she had invested such hope in. She rounded a familiar corner and found exactly what she had hoped, and yet feared, to see. Vinyl sat unmoving on the sidewalk, staring forlornly at an empty lot of space between two other industrial sized buildings. The wind played through her electric blue mane, sending strands of it lightly dancing around her face. Opaque purple glasses obscured her eyes, hiding her true feelings. A few pedestrians gave her odd looks but said nothing as they went about their way.
Octavia swallowed a sudden lump of uncertainty and walked the last few steps to come up beside Vinyl. Up close, she was a picture of exquisite misery; faded tear tracks marred her face and she shivered almost imperceptibly but constantly. Her shoulders and head drooped in such a fashion that it almost seemed the only reason she was still upright was that she had been frozen in place.
Vinyl made no reaction as Octavia carefully sat herself on her haunches beside the distraught mare. Tentatively, she placed one foreleg across Vinyl’s white shoulders; she sucked in a breath as she felt the bone-deep cold radiating from the still unresponsive mare. “Vinyl, are you ok? How long have you been out here?” she asked fearfully. “Come on, talk to me,” she begged. Her ears perked up, thinking that she heard a faint reply from Vinyl so quietly whispered as to be inaudible. “Vinyl, I couldn’t quite hear that,” she said as gently as she could, leaning in closer to the DJ.
“I said I’m sorry,” Vinyl repeated, still quiet but audible this time.
“You’re sorry? Whatever for? Vinyl, you have no reason to apologize to me,” Octavia replied.
Vinyl’s head fell to gaze at the ground at her hooves, ears drooping. “I bucked everything up. I ruined everything,” she said morosely.
“What in Equestria are you talking about? You haven’t ruined anything!” Octavia said emphatically.
Vinyl laughed, a short and bitter sound that held no mirth. “Are you kidding me? I was so proud of myself, giving you a job and helping you keep your apartment. You ended up becoming my friend; you were impossibly generous and let me stay with you even though you hardly knew me. Somehow you even managed to find a way to love me and made me the happiest I’ve ever been. And then overnight I go and lose everything I’ve worked my whole life for, putting you right back in the same about-to-lose-your-apartment boat you were in originally. But, to make it worse, now you’re saddled with a good-for-nothing deadbeat marefriend and roommate.”
“Vinyl, you’re not good-for-nothing at all, I lo—,” Octavia tried to interrupt, but Vinyl kept going regardless.
“If I were worth anything, I’d have been able to find a job by now to help support us both. Instead, all I did was make you give up your chance to turn your own career around to stay with me, Celestia alone knows why. The only idea I had was that stupid contest; you’ve been busting your flank for two months now trying to get paying jobs. At least you’ve made some money, all I’ve done is get reminded of how useless I am every time somepony tells me I’m not qualified to work at a bucking grocery store.” Octavia listened in growing horror, Vinyl’s every bitter word a fresh sting that brought tears to her eyes in an echo of her closest friend’s pain. “I’m nothing but a pony-shaped pile of uselessness,” Vinyl spat venomously, fresh tears coursing down her own face.
Octavia threw her other foreleg around Vinyl, pulling her into a crushing hug and practically burying her face in the other mare’s shoulder and mane. “Don’t you dare say that, Vinyl Scratch,” Octavia choked out as she desperately tried to find a way to hold every single inch of her broken-hearted lover. “You’re not useless and you’re not worthless; I love you too much for that to be true.”
“But Octavia, I—“
“No! No buts, not even one! I love you and you’re special to me and you shouldn’t be holding yourself responsible like this! It isn’t your fault, Vinyl; you shouldn’t bear this burden of guilt. You can’t hate yourself for an act of chance. Yes, things are a bit uncertain for us, but I don’t want you to think for a second that you don’t contribute anything. Just having you, just knowing that somepony will be waiting for me at the end of the day to welcome me home and to make me feel wanted is more precious to me than any amount of money.”
“Thanks, Tavi,” Vinyl replied shakily, wrapping her own forelegs around Octavia. “But it still seems like I should do more for us.”
“Stop it, Vinyl; just stop. We’re a team; we’ll get through this together, one way or another.”
“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve a mare like you. Are you really so sure that you want me?” Vinyl asked in a pained whisper.
Octavia broke their hug to place her hooves softly alongside Vinyl’s head, raising it so that she would be gazing into her eyes if her signature glasses weren’t in the way. She planted a solid kiss directly on Vinyl’s muzzle, lingering long enough to make her point. When she finally pulled away she ran a hoof along the white mare’s face, tracing the paths of her fallen tears. “Shush, Vinyl; you won’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll be here to dry your tears for the rest of my life, if you need me to,” she whispered back in response, her soul practically resonating with the certainty of her words. Vinyl’s only reply was to stare at Octavia for a long moment, lips trembling as she struggled against herself. Finally something inside her broke and she flung herself into an embrace with her marefriend, who wordlessly returned the gesture. Her body heaved with her sobs and she buried her face in Octavia’s coat, warm and salty tears falling unheeded by either mare. Finally, with Vinyl’s backlog of sorrow spent, they reluctantly released each other. Octavia, greatly daring, quickly leaned forward to plant another kiss. “There now, do you feel a little better?” she asked as she helped Vinyl to her hooves.
Wiping a hoof along her eyes, Vinyl sniffled slightly. “Ya know, I think I do,” she said as she planted her own lips briefly over Octavia’s. “Thanks, Tavi. If anypony ever asks why I love you, well, this right here is why; you’re the sweetest pony I’ve ever known. I’m just grateful you’re willing to put up with me.”
“Vinyl, ‘putting up with you’ is one of the greatest joys of my life,” Octavia said. Heartened by Vinyl’s tentative smile, she continued, “I don’t want you to ever feel like this again. I don’t want you to let these feelings build up until something like this happens again. Trust me, talk to me and let me help you. That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? I’ll be there for you, just like you’ve been for me, if you’ll only let me. Please promise me you won’t hide these sorts of feelings from me again, Vinyl.”
“Heh, well, I didn’t really try to hide them. I just tried to ignore them, but when I got that rejection letter it all kind of came down on me at once,” Vinyl sheepishly answered.
“You know what I mean; don’t let things come to this point again, ok?”
“I promise, Tavi.”
“Good. Now what do you say we go home? I’m positive it’s much warmer there and you, my wayward filly, have been out here entirely too long.”
Octavia lay on the couch, a comatose Vinyl pressed against her, a comfortably warm blanket covering them both. Vinyl had seemed to cheer up after they got home and were able to have a warm dinner and hot cocoa in their stomachs. She said little as she shared the couch and blanket with Octavia, slowly drifting off to sleep. For her part, Octavia was merely content to feel Vinyl’s presence beside her. Occasionally she ran a hoof through her partner’s deceptively soft mane as she kept remembering Vinyl’s bitter words of self-recrimination.
Vinyl was right about one thing.
She glanced down at the sleeping mare, a small smile automatically growing on her face.
And only this one thing: it’s becoming impossibly difficult for either of us to find work in Canterlot.
She turned that thought around in her mind, trying to find another way of looking at it. Finding none, she finally gave up and closed her eyes, letting her awareness be filled with a soft, warm coat and rhythmic breathing that lulled her at last into her own slumber.
Morning found Octavia and Vinyl breakfasting on a repast of hot oatmeal, neither companion seemingly inclined to mention the previous day’s misadventure. The offending letter had found its way, without further ado, into the trash. All throughout their shared meal, Vinyl was conscious of Octavia being unusually distracted. She seemed to play with her food more than eat it and she spent a lot of time staring into space.
Remembering only too well yesterday’s lesson in the futility of hiding emotions, Vinyl decided to mare up and be the responsible one and proactively seek to allow her partner to share what was troubling her. “Hey Tavi, what’cha thinkin’ about?” she asked with utmost subtlety and grace.
Shocked from her meditations, Octavia dropped her spoon into the bowl with a splort. After shooting it a wilting glare, she turned her attention back to Vinyl. “Oh, well, it’s nothing much. I was just thinking that since, you know, neither one of us can get any sort of meaningful employment here in Canterlot, maybe we should consider moving somewhere else,” she said cautiously. Silence reigned for several much-too-long seconds. “Um, Vinyl? Hello?” Vinyl herself sat in wide-eyed shock, magically-gripped spoon paused in mid-transit.
“You wanna . . . what?” she stammered in disbelief.
“I said, maybe we should move away from Canterlot,” Octavia repeated hesitantly. “You know, since we can only afford another month’s rent here and neither one of us can really find employment,” she continued, eyeing Vinyl’s expression carefully as it segued from disbelief to . . . bitterness?
“Oh, so you want both of us to just give up on our dreams? Huzzah, that’ll solve everything,” Vinyl deadpanned.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Octavia retorted.
“It sure sounded like it,” Vinyl said.
“How, pray tell, is that what I said?” Octavia asked.
“Well, your dream is to be a famous and sought-after cellist and mine is to be a successful nightclub owner. Since I can’t imagine you’ve got it in mind to move to another city where the rent is just as high, you must be talking about moving out in the country somewhere. Where neither of those dreams is gonna happen. So yeah, you’re giving up,” Vinyl explained.
“Vinyl, I am not giving up but we have to face the facts; after we paid off on your loans and lease for the club we didn’t have much insurance money left and now it’s almost gone. Neither of us is working and we’re nearly out of options. The money we have left will go a lot farther somewhere more . . . rural.”
Vinyl snorted, unimpressed. “Somewhere more boring, you mean. No clubs, no nightlife, nothing for somepony like me to do. No thanks. I’d rather be homeless and poor in the city.”
“At least think about it,” Octavia implored. “Please?”
“I already thought about it. And the answer is ‘no’.”
“Well then, let’s hear your idea since mine is so obviously flawed,” Octavia spat, struggling to contain her rising temper.
“I dunno,” Vinyl admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “But there’s gotta be a better plan than moving to the middle of nowhere.”
“Like what?” Octavia demanded. “Don’t you understand that we’re running out of options? What else could we possibly do, Vinyl? What brilliant scheme have you concocted to save us?”
“Hey, I’ve been trying to get a job, in case you didn’t notice. And I had the idea with the contest too,” Vinyl defended.
“Oh yes, both of those have worked out so well, haven’t they?” Octavia laughed mirthlessly.
“You’re hardly one to talk! You’ve had, like, three paying jobs in the last couple months,” Vinyl huffed.
“Then I’m three times more useful than you!” Octavia yelled. Instantly her hoof flew to her mouth as if the gesture might recall her words.
Oh Celestia, tell me I didn’t just say that. Not after yesterday.
Vinyl’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her mouth stretched into a thin line as she rose from the table and silently stalked from the room. Octavia watched wordlessly, amethyst eyes glinting with unspoken regret as Vinyl’s words from yesterday repeated in her memory: “I’m nothing but a pony-shaped pile of uselessness.”
Octavia flinched as Vinyl slammed the door to her seldom-used spare bedroom.
Octavia lay on her living room couch, for once sprawled across its entire length in her partner’s absence. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable being able to stretch out as she had hoped. She flipped through a glossy magazine advertising apartments and houses for rent in a number of smaller towns well outside Canterlot. The prices were universally lower; the amount of money they had saved could keep them in lodging for another year in any of these places.
But is that all I care about, or is Vinyl right? Have I given up?
. . .
I’m just so tired of being overlooked, of being ignored, of being punished for something that isn’t even my fault. I don’t know if I can keep doing this. But . . . but does that mean I’m right to expect Vinyl to give up too?
Looking down the hallway, she could see Vinyl’s door, still firmly shut. She rose gingerly to her hooves, knocking the magazine to fall to the floor to join several more like it. A few quick steps brought her to the offending door. She drew a deep breath before raising her hoof to knock against the wood. “Vinyl,” she called out. “I know you’re mad about what I said. I don’t blame you; that was a cruel and unforgivable thing to say. I know that saying I’m sorry doesn’t really cut it, but I really am sorry.” She stood and listened for several long seconds. When she heard no reply she lightly tried to turn the door handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. She sighed, before hanging her head and heading back to the couch.
Behind her locked door, Vinyl rolled over onto her back to stare sightlessly at the ceiling from behind tinted lenses. Her telekinetic aura enveloped a state-of-the-art music player, turning up the already-deafening volume being produced from the headphones that rested over her ears. She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to lose herself in the music, to let the pounding bass and synthetic melody drown out her own pained heartbeat.
No such luck; she could still hear Octavia’s acerbic words, their remembered echoes striking against her with the force of a lash. Like some demented masochist she reveled in it, calling them to mind again and again, reliving in her mind every word and surge of emotion; the surprise, then bitterness, turning into shock and blistering anger. She remembered standing and leaving Octavia without another word before she opened her mouth and said something she’d regret. The insults she wanted desperately to hurl had died stillborn on her tongue; the only things she could say about Octavia in her anger amounted to petty vulgarities, and she deserved better than that kind of abuse. At least her words had the force of truth behind them rather than sheer spite.
Vinyl ran her hoof quickly under her eyes. They came away moist. She sighed and turned up her music again.
Octavia lay alone on her bed, its emptiness of anypony but herself an unaccustomed burden. She wrapped herself in her blanket and comforter against the chill of the winter night but still was uncomfortably cold without the soft and familiar warmth of a certain special somepony to revel in as she drifted off to sleep. The shadows cast by the moon seemed somehow more encroaching and the silence more stifling without the small island of radiant white beside her gently filling the space with the sound of her own breathing.
She tossed herself onto her side for what seemed the hundredth time, putting her back to the empty side of the bed and trying not to focus on the fact that the only breath she could hear was her own. Behind closed eyelids she found no rest or reprieve from her own mind.
Why can’t she just understand that I’m right? We have to move somewhere else if we want to still have a home.
. . .
Maybe if I hadn’t yelled at her like a stupid foal, she would have been more open to listening.
. . .
But she was so aggravating, refusing to even consider my suggestion and accusing me of wanting both of us to give up on our dreams.
. . .
And that gives me the right to rub salt in her wounds? Poor Vinyl, she was sobbing into my shoulder just yesterday because she felt useless and then I went and threw it back in her face like some insensitive lout. Oh Celestia, I’m such a terrible pony. How could I do that to her?
She covered her face in both hooves, stifling her groan.
Early morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen windows, illuminating a still-sleepy Octavia as she sipped at a freshly brewed cup of coffee, grimacing at its bitter taste.
Ugh, how does Vinyl drink this stuff? There’s not enough sugar in all Equestria to make this even remotely appetizing.
She continued drinking, though, valuing its magical ability to chase sleep from her mind more than the sanctity of her palate. She set the cup down, heedless of the brown ring inevitably left on the wooden surface of the table still cluttered with the remnants of her breakfast. She eyed the empty seat across from her uncomfortably.
Come on, Vinyl. At least come to breakfast. You can’t starve yourself.
She tapped her hoof irritably against the table, scowling in thought. Finally she stood and walked, once again, to the doorway of Vinyl’s room. She grasped hold of the door knob, intending to rattle it in its frame to accentuate her point as she called out, “Vinyl, open the door! I want to talk—” The door opened. “—to you?” she finished uncertainly. She stepped through into the room. Vinyl herself sat on her own bed, wrapped in her blanket like a shawl. She looked up in surprise as Octavia entered. “I thought I locked that again,” she said.
“Vinyl, please, I’m so sorry I said that. I didn’t mean any of it,” Octavia babbled out, seizing her chance. “I know you’re upset but please at least come eat. I don’t want you to be hungry too.”
Vinyl just stared at her, expression blank before lowering her head so that her mane fell down and obscured her face as she intently studied her mattress.
Octavia carefully crossed the room, climbing up on the bed and seating herself across from Vinyl. Heart pounding, she reached out to lay a hoof on Vinyl’s shoulder. When it wasn’t brushed away, she worked up the courage to scoot closer so that she sat directly beside the white unicorn. “Vinyl, I—“ Octavia began.
“You were right,” Vinyl interrupted, raising her gaze to meet Octavia’s.
“Wh–what?” the grey cellist cleverly replied.
“You were right about moving,” Vinyl admitted. “I hate it and I don’t wanna leave or live out in the middle of nowhere, but what else are we gonna do?”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it but I was still completely in the wrong to say that I was more useful than you. Can you forgive me?”
Vinyl looked at her for a long and searching moment before answering, “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I was acting like a little foal who won’t even listen to anything she doesn’t wanna hear. I knew it would make you mad and I did it anyway, so I can’t really blame you for getting mad.”
Octavia shook her head in denial. “That’s hardly an excuse. I’m the one to blame here.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Treble Clef. I say we both contributed to that argument and we both regret it, so let’s just let it go.”
“So, you accept my apology?” Octavia asked tremulously.
“Yeah, I accept it. And I’m sorry I started it by being stupid.”
Octavia leaned forward quickly and seized Vinyl in a crushing embrace. After a startled beat, the she returned the gesture. “Let’s never do this again, alright?” Octavia asked without releasing Vinyl in the least.
“Sounds good to me,” Vinyl replied. “Now let’s go eat. I’m starving.”
Nodding her head in agreement, Octavia stepped off the bed and made her way back to her abandoned meal, Vinyl following close behind. The grey mare watched without a word as Vinyl slopped a serving of oatmeal into her bowl. She grimaced as she bit into it. “Ugh, this is like the 300th day in a row we’ve had oatmeal for breakfast. Isn’t there anything else?”
“For the 296th time in a row, no. That’s all we have. We’re so desperately low on money that we can’t afford anything but the cheapest and most generic food. Like oatmeal.”
“Not even any poptarts?” Vinyl asked pleadingly.
“I swear to Celestia, you and those stupid poptarts . . .” Octavia muttered. “No, not even poptarts,” she answered at more audible volume. “We have oatmeal, milk, some canned soup, a loaf of bread and a bundle of carrots. That’s it.”
“Let me have a few of those carrots,” Vinyl said, perking up.
Quirking an eye quizzically, Octavia got up to rummage in the refrigerator. “Here they . . . oh my.” She emerged from behind the door, a bag of unidentifiable plant life clasped gingerly in front of her as she carried it over to be dropped into the garbage. “On second thought, forget about the carrots,” she explained as she returned to her seat. Vinyl sighed and began to eat her oatmeal.
Octavia finished her cup of coffee as she waited on Vinyl, though the goal now was to get the smell of questionable carrots out of her throat rather than rousing herself.
“So, on the subject of us moving somewhere, did you have any ideas in particular?” Vinyl asked as she wiped her mouth clean of the remnants of her breakfast.
“As a matter of fact, I did. Fancy a visit to Ponyville?”
“So where exactly is Ponytown again?” Vinyl asked as she watched the scenery outside their train car fly past.
“It’s Ponyville, not Ponytown. And it’s just southwest of Canterlot, only a few hours by train. It’s practically a suburb,” Octavia answered. Taking in the rolling hills and pristine grassland that stretched as far as she could see, Vinyl pantomimed gagging on her own hoof. “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Octavia reassured her companion.
“We’ll see,” Vinyl gloomily answered before going back to staring out the window. The hypnotic passing of scenery and the rhythmic thumping of the wheels as they followed the tracks soon lulled the contemptuous mare to sleep, her light snoring a source of intense personal amusement to Octavia as she too focused her attention on the view as Canterlot steadily receded into the distance.
Eventually the train rounded its final bend and Ponyville began to loom in the distance. Octavia pressed her face against the window, eager for her first glimpse of their destination. Soon enough the train was lurching to a stop and the conductor was striding up the aisle, announcing their stop. Vinyl roused with a snort and blinked sleep out of her eyes. “We there yet?” she asked around a yawn.
“Yes, we’re here. Let’s get going, shall we?” Octavia replied as she eased her way into the narrow aisle between rows of seats.
Both mares blinked in the sudden glare of the sunlight as they emerged from the train and onto the platform. As their eyes adjusted they took in their first impression of the small hamlet; thatched roofs, dirt roads between the buildings, grass and trees as far as the eye could see. A few larger structures rose above their smaller cousins, one of them apparently an ornate carousel, another a pink confectionary monstrosity that would surely give a dietician nightmares. But the majority of the buildings were much smaller affairs, a modest two stories at most and uniformly wooden and dull with the exception of a few splotches of colored trim. “It’s very scenic,“ Octavia ventured.
“It’s freaking lame,” Vinyl replied flatly. An oblique glance from Octavia shamed her into flattening her ears and looking down at the ground.
“At least give it a chance. We’ve only been here for a few minutes.”
“You’re right, Tavi. You shouldn't judge a book by its cover and all that,” Vinyl agreed.
“That’s the spirit! Now let’s just walk around and see what the place is like.”
The two mares walked off casually, choosing a street at random and making their way slowly around Ponyville as they took in what the town had to offer. Occasionally Octavia pointed out a restaurant that looked inviting, or an interesting store, or a unique landmark. Vinyl merely followed along, taking everything in wordlessly, although even she did manage to be interested in the town’s library, apparently hollowed out of a still-living tree.
Ponyville wasn’t large. A few hours passed and they had crossed every square inch of ground, leaving them at loose ends until their return trip in another few hours. In the interest of killing time and fighting off hunger, they decided to splurge on a modest lunch of tulip sandwiches and hay fries at a small, inexpensive looking café they had passed earlier. “So what do you think?” Octavia asked after swallowing her last mouthful of sandwich.
“It’s . . . nice,” Vinyl answered. “But I seriously don’t think I could live here.”
“What? Why?” Octavia demanded.
“I mean that there’s nothing here for me. At all. Look around; there’s no nightclubs, no party scene, no music stores, no anything. I don’t even think they have electricity, for Celestia’s sake!”
“Vinyl, that’s not—“
“I mean, you could probably get some money to play your cello around here, even if you can’t have the kind of career you used to in Canterlot. But I guarantee nopony here cares for my music. So what would be the point of me coming here?” Vinyl asked.
“The point would be that you have a home with me instead of ending up on the streets of Canterlot because we can’t afford the apartment there!” Octavia replied heatedly.
“I’d rather stay in Canterlot! At least there’s a chance ponies would support my music there!”
“I wouldn’t! I’m so sick of that city; all I want to do is be somewhere else!” Octavia hissed back.
“What about your career, your music? Don’t you wanna go back to being a famous cello player?” Vinyl asked incredulously. “Are you really willing to throw that all away?”
“Yes,” Octavia answered simply. “I’m tired of it all. I don’t even care anymore.”
“You . . . you,” Vinyl stammered. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you would just stop trying.”
“I’m sorry Vinyl, but I’m done with it. I’m done with Canterlot; I’m done with being a professional musician, with being ignored and hated for no reason. It hurts too much and I’m done with all of it,” Octavia continued weakly.
“I’m sorry too, Tavi. I'm not giving up on my goals. Not even for you.”
“Vinyl, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you really wanna move here, you’re leaving me behind in Canterlot,” Vinyl explained. Octavia could only stare, horrified and heart-stricken. Vinyl stared back, fighting to maintain a stoic face. “Your choice.”
“I . . . you . . . how dare you!” Octavia spluttered. “How dare you hold our relationship hostage to get your way!”
“Oh yeah? How dare you try and force me into doing something I don't wanna do? You've been acting like I'm a piece of freaking luggage you can pack up and move whenever you want,” Vinyl snapped back.
The two seething mares held each other's gaze, glaring harshly all the while. It was Octavia who looked away first, ears flattened. “I guess I didn't really take your feelings on the matter into consideration, did I?” she asked sheepishly.
“Not really,” Vinyl replied shortly, sitting stiffly and not really looking at her companion.
“I-I'm sorry, Vinyl,” Octavia quietly admitted. “I guess I'm being the unreasonable one here, expecting you to just be perfectly fine with moving somewhere so different from what you're accustomed to.”
Vinyl's posture softened slightly as she said, “Well, it was pretty lame of me to threaten to make you leave me. I'm sorry too, Tavi. I hope you know I didn't mean it.”
Octavia finally turned her head to make eye contact with Vinyl, wearing a tentative smile that Vinyl shakily returned. “I want you to tell me something, Tavi; why do you suddenly wanna move away from Canterlot so bad? I mean, I thought you really wanted to get your musical career back on track and all,” Vinyl asked.
“I'm just . . . tired, I guess is the best way to phrase it. It's been months now since the Gala and I'm still practically blacklisted all through Canterlot. I got lucky and Fancy Pants was willing to hire me that one time, but that was because the cellist he originally hired had to back out. Ever since the fire I've been working so hard; I've been to hundreds of auditions and tryouts, I've applied to every quartet, ensemble and symphony, I've begged and pleaded and explained my situation time and time again and it just doesn't matter. Nopony cares at all. Sometimes I think you're the only pony in Equestria who doesn't think I'm a colossal disgrace and failure,” Octavia said as she stared sightlessly down at the table.
“Tavi . . .” Vinyl said softly as she reached across the table to lay a hoof on Octavia's. “Why didn't you tell me any of this? I thought we agreed not to hide our feelings from each other anymore. Hay, I thought I was the only one who was feeling bad about not being able to get a job.”
“I just didn't want to admit it to myself,” Octavia sighed. “I thought that if I kept trying it would eventually get better. But I can't take it anymore, Vinyl. It hurts, being rejected time and time again for something that truly isn't my fault. And I got so worried about running out of money and getting kicked out. I was afraid . . . forgive me, Vinyl . . . I was afraid that you would leave me if that happened.”
“You don't have to worry about that, Treble Clef. You know I wouldn't leave you,” Vinyl reassured her.
“Even if I decide I want to move to Ponyville?” Octavia asked uncertainly.
Vinyl looked away, embarrassed, and sighed. “We both know I'd follow you to Tartarus if I had to,” she murmured quietly enough so that only they could hear. “It hurts to think about leaving behind what's probably the only chance I'm gonna get at making it big, but you're more important to me in the end.”
“I don't know what I ever did to deserve you. I'm sorry I doubted your loyalty, Vinyl. You deserve so much better than that,” Octavia said with an uplifted heart. “I'm not going to insist on you agreeing to move anywhere, and especially not here. After all, we've only been visiting here for less than a day. It would be quite foalish to make a decision so quickly. All I ask is that you think about it, alright?”
“Ok, Tavi,” Vinyl agreed. “I know you're just trying to do what's best for us both. I'll try not to be such a stubborn mule anymore, either.”
“Thank you, Vinyl. I'll try not to take your agreement with me for granted again. You're a pony too, after all. You deserve to have your opinions respected.”
“Glad to hear it, Treble Clef. Now, I'm gonna live up to my promise; what'dya say we check out some more of Ponyville so that we can make a decision. Together.”
“That sounds lovely, my dear,” Octavia agreed. Together they left their table and, after paying their tab, walked side-by-side towards part of the unfamiliar town they hadn't explored yet.
“HI!” a shrill voice called out as confetti rained down on an empty table. A blindingly pink pony appeared a second later, apparently emerging from behind a particularly large flower planter. “Awww, they already left,” she pouted when she took in the lack of audience. “Darn it, I knew I shouldn't have put in that last batch of cupcakes; they made me late.”
“Well, I have to admit that I can understand your reluctance to want to live in Ponyville, Vinyl. It's certainly no Canterlot,” Octavia admitted as they walked down yet another dirt road between rows of identical rustic houses only occasionally interrupted by a more colorful storefront. One particularly prominent structure caught her attention, all elegant curves and glass windows showcasing what looked like an incredibly upscale array of dresses. “Look at that, Vinyl; it's just like a carousel,” she said admiringly. “Vinyl?” she called out questioningly when she realized that her companion was no longer keeping pace with her as she walked. Looking behind her, she saw Vinyl rooted to the spot, staring at the intriguing store with a confused expression.
“I think I've been there before,” she said slowly.
“Vinyl, don't be absurd. You said yourself that you've never been to Ponyville before,” Octavia replied.
“Yeah, I know. But still, I swear I remember that place.”
“A dress shop is hardly the kind of place I can see you frequenting,” Octavia observed.
Vinyl said nothing in reply as she continued to stare determinedly. Without warning she started walking at a surprisingly fast pace. “Vinyl, wait! You're just going to make a fool of yourself,” Octavia called as she trotted after her marefriend. Vinyl barged in the door with all the decorum of a manticore, causing the bell suspended above the door to tinkle in response. Its tone summoned a call of “Be right there, darling,” from somewhere in the building.
“Vinyl, we have no business here. Let's go,” Octavia reprimanded. Vinyl waved her off with a silent shake of her head as she peered studiously around the store's stock of fashionable dresses as if trying to jog her memory. Her ruminations were interrupted by the emergence of another white unicorn from a drape-covered doorway. Unlike Vinyl's anarchic blue mane, this mare's deep purple mane was flawlessly arranged to offset eyes of sapphire blue. Her coat was clearly professionally tended to, pure and pristine and smooth. As soon as she laid eyes on Vinyl, though, a smile spread over face. “Miss Scratch, what a pleasure to see you again! What brings you to my humble boutique?” she asked.
“Vinyl, do you know this mare?” Octavia asked uncertainly.
Vinyl opened her mouth, desperately combing her memory for the elegant mare's name.
Regality? Regency? C'mon, Scratch, think!
“Oh my dear, do forgive me; my name is Rarity. Miss Scratch here once did me the great favor of providing music and lighting for a fashion show I put on.”
Hah! I knew it was something like that.
“My name is Octavia, and it's a pleasure to meet you as well,” Octavia replied.
The non-Vinyl unicorn let out a dramatic gasp before replying, “Octavia Philharmonica, the famous earth pony cellist?”
“Former famous earth pony cellist,” Octavia corrected. “I'm afraid I've been a little down on my luck since the Grand Galloping Gala.”
“Oh, how dreadfully unfortunate. What on Equestria happened? When last I heard you were quite the rising star in Canterlot,” Rarity asked.
“Well, my ensemble at the Gala was harassed by this truly obnoxiously pink mare who wanted us to play some ridiculous foal's song. We did so, much to the annoyance of the other guests. We ended up being held partially responsible for the fiasco that the Gala turned into and I found myself practically blacklisted and unable to find work afterward,” Octavia explained.
“The song you were asked to play wouldn't happen to have been the 'Pony Pokey', would it?” Rarity asked with forced lightness.
“Erm, yes, actually. How did you know that?” Octavia asked.
“I happened to be at the Gala this year and I believe I may have overheard your . . . performance,” Rarity answered with a brittle smile. “I must say, I saw the . . . fiasco, as you called it, unfold and I for one don't see how you could be blamed for any of it.”
“Well, the Canterlot high society needed someone to take their annoyance out on and I unfortunately lack the protection of position, rank or wealth,” Octavia replied with a tired sigh.
Rarity only tutted and shook her head. “I'm very sorry to hear about your misfortune. Might I ask what brings you to fair Ponyville, and in company of Miss Scratch at that?”
“Well, it's kinda related to what Tavi was talking about,” Vinyl piped up. “We're looking for a cheaper place to live than Canterlot. Neither one of us has work right now and it's getting sorta hard to pay the rent,” she said casually.
“Oh. You're looking for someplace together, then,” Rarity said with a knowing flutter of her eyes.
“Well, yes,” Octavia admitted with a blush.
“How long do you two intend to be in Ponyville, then?” Rarity asked.
“We're only visiting for the day, so we'll be heading back to Canterlot around sundown,” Octavia answered.
“I believe that's quite a bit in the future, darlings,” Rarity said as she cast a judging eye out the window and towards the horizon. “Since you have some time to spare, I don't suppose you would be willing to accompany me to meet a friend of mine, would you?”
“Vinyl, what is going on here? I thought you said you've never been to Ponyville before, but now not only have you been here, but you've put on a show here?” Octavia asked Vinyl quietly as they walked a short distance behind the elegant Rarity.
“Well, I sort of remember somepony hiring me to do some music and stuff for her. But I didn't really remember who she was. Or where,” Vinyl answered equally quietly.
“How do you forget something like that?” Octavia asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I may have been slightly drunk. Or a little more than slightly,” Vinyl admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Ugh, why am I not surprised,” Octavia groaned.
“What can I say? DJ's party hardest,” Vinyl joked with a carefree grin.
“How long ago was this?” Octavia asked.
“It was way before I met you. A few months before the Gala, I think. I was partying that night when I got a phone call out of nowhere, asking if I could come out and do my thing. I was pretty messed up but the pay was good, so I came out here, worked and went home and passed out. I guess it just kind of slipped my mind till my memory got jogged.”
“Goodness, Vinyl. I didn't think you were that kind of pony.”
“I kinda calmed down after I started making serious efforts to get my club started,” Vinyl explained. “It's cool to be drunk when I'm just playing music for somepony else, but it doesn't work so well when I'm running stuff myself.”
“I should think not,” Octavia began before she was interrupted by Rarity suddenly changing course for a confectionary-styled building that resembled nothing so much as an enormous gingerbread house.
“Here we are, dears,” Rarity announced as she strode up to the door and let herself in. Looking at each other slightly askance, Vinyl and Octavia followed her in. As soon as Octavia entered her gaze locked on a perky pink pony standing behind the counter. Her heart skipped and her breath caught as her world narrowed to herself and the architect of her downfall.
“You,” she growled, causing Rarity to look at her worriedly and Vinyl to take a step away from her. “You . . . pink abomination. You ruined my life!”
The garishly pink pony shook head in denial, frizzy mane tossing everywhere. "Nopey dopey! I don't even know you so how could I have ruined your life? I mean, if I had seen you before I would have thrown you a party but I didn't throw you a party, so obviously I never saw you before and if I never saw you before how could I ruin your life?" she babbled on in a rush of sound that left both Octavia and Vinyl staring, ears flattened, in disbelief. "Hey, I haven't seen you before so how about I throw you a party!" she continued happily.
"Oh, you've seen me before," Octavia said quietly as she stepped with heavy purpose towards the counter, a glower forming on her face. "At the Grand Galloping Gala, where you humiliated me in front of literally every important pony in Canterlot." She took another step forward. "Where you destroyed my reputation as one of Canterlot's premier musicians." She advanced again, her glare darkening. "Where you ensured that I would never get work in Canterlot again." She reached the counter and leaned forward to scowl at the confused pink pony who took an instinctive step backwards. "Where you took my life's goal, snapped it in half and tossed it into the trash!" she hissed as her hoof smashed into the wooden surface of the counter.
"B -but I—" the intimidated mare tried fruitlessly to interrupt.
"Do you know what I had left after all that?" Octavia demanded as her eye twitched slightly. "Nothing! I went months without employment because everypony wanted to blame me for your stupid 'Pony Pokey'; I would have been homeless if Vinyl over there hadn't been generous enough to hire me to work at her nightclub, even though I was woefully under qualified and she didn't even know me!" she reproached, panting slightly.
"I was just trying to make everypony happy and get them to have fun," the pink mare weakly defended as she waved her hooves in protest. "I didn't mean to hurt anypony."
"Well, you hurt me. A lot. I hope your 'fun' was worth it," Octavia spat. She drew a rasping breath as she prepared to launch into another diatribe.
"Okaaay darlings, let's not get uncivilized here. We are all grown ponies, are we not?" Rarity asked with a disarming smile as she intervened between the two. "Pinkie, dear, could I speak with you for a moment?" she asked the reeling pink mare who seemed to be trembling on the edge of a breakdown. She hesitantly nodded and received a comforting smile in return. "Octavia, could you and Vinyl please take a seat while I speak with my friend here?" Rarity asked with a gesture towards one of several tables.
Octavia's frown deepened as she stubbornly lowered her head and began to open her mouth to refuse any such cooperation, until a soft touch across her back made her turn her head to see Vinyl's red eyes boring into hers, the hint of disapproval and concern etched across the white-coated features. She determinedly held onto her anger even as she felt it began to wane in the face of her marefriend's calm support. Ultimately, though, her bile abandoned her and she hung her head in acceptance.
Octavia and Vinyl made their way to the indicated table, seating themselves comfortably on the worn wooden surfaces. Neither one spoke as Rarity ushered Pinkie into the privacy of the kitchen. The two mares left in the anteroom sat for several moments in awkward silence. The delicious and homey smell of the bakery sat ill at ease with Octavia's foul mood as she glared hatefully down at the pockmarked surface of the table. The cellist's face was drawn into a mask as she fixed the table with her resolute gaze. Slowly, though, the tension began to fade a little from her expression and her body, drawn tight with emotion, relaxed just a bit. Vinyl, sensing her opportunity, broke the silence. "Do you really think you should've yelled at her like that, Treble Clef?" she asked quietly.
"Maybe not," Octavia replied darkly. "But I was either going to yell at her or hit her.”
"C'mon, you can't hold a grudge like this," Vinyl said as she laid a comforting hoof on Octavia's own. "If you keep blaming her for something she didn't mean to do, that makes you just like those Canterlot snobs who turned their backs on you."
"No," Octavia disagreed quietly. "She should have known better than to engage in such childish antics at a refined social event. And I have paid the price for her ignorance."
"I'm sure it'll be ok," Vinyl reassured her with a small smile. "I doubt Rarity brought us here to start a blood-feud with one of her friends, and she had to know this might happen."
"What do you mean?" Octavia asked confusedly.
"I mean that Rarity had to have realized that the pony you described was her friend and intentionally brought us here. I doubt her only goal was to start something ugly between you two," Vinyl answered with certainty.
"I suppose that makes sense. Still, it begs the question of what she had in mind," Octavia replied.
And whether or not I’ll go along with it.
"Why don't you let me answer that, darling," Rarity's interrupted as she reappeared with an uncertain Pinkie behind her. They sat themselves at the same table, Octavia glaring at her nemesis who was looking everywhere but at her. Rarity sighed inwardly and traded a long-suffering glance with Vinyl that neither of the other two noticed. "Octavia, this is my good friend Pinkie Pie," Rarity began the introductions. "Pinkie, this is Octavia Philharmonica and her marefriend, Vinyl Scratch. You may remember Octavia from the Grand Galloping Gala." Pinkie hesitantly nodded assent, making brief eye contact before looking away. "She certainly remembers you, darling," Rarity informed the pink mare. "As a matter of fact, I believe she has some things she wants to say to you." Both Octavia and Pinkie remained silent, looking at Rarity unsurely. Finally, Rarity gave Pinkie a gentle nudge to prompt her to make the first outreach.
"What . . . what did you mean when you said I hurt you?" she asked in a subdued voice.
"Well, um," Octavia stalled as she tried to collect her thoughts. This was it, her chance to vent all her frustration and anger, her disappointment and worry and humiliation, onto the pony that started it all. Her opportunity to confront the pony who ruined everything with her childish antics. Her shining moment to strike back (verbally, of course) at the heartless mare who would negligently destroy another pony's life as a side effect of a few moments of amusement. "You see," she began again as she tried to find the words and the anger to fuel them. After a few seconds of searching inside herself for the firestorm of emotions that had propelled her earlier tirade, she gave up when she realized that it was simply gone, unable to maintain itself when confronted with the reality that its target was in fact just a normal pony, not an uncaring beast with no regard for others.
Well, the truth is still the truth and I'm already committed now. Still, I guess there's no need to be petty or vicious about this. I am a better pony than that.
"Your request for us to play the 'Pony Pokey' angered a lot of the other attendees at the Gala," Octavia began in a quiet, even voice." After the whole thing went disastrously wrong nopony was able to identify those who had caused all the damage. Still, everypony was convinced it was our fault. They couldn't do anything to us directly, of course, but afterwards we all found ourselves out of work. The wealthy and influential ponies we all used to play for stopped hiring us. Nopony in Canterlot would hire any of us. My fellow ensemble musicians were eventually driven out of Canterlot to live and work in other cities. I was too stubborn to leave, though. I was convinced that if I could just wait long enough things would go back to normal. They never did. I went several months without getting any kind of employment. Things degenerated so far that I couldn't even afford food and I was about a week from losing my apartment because I couldn't pay rent. It wasn't a very pleasant experience, I can tell you. I couldn't understand what I had done to deserve such a horrid fate . . ." Octavia trailed off as her eyes unfocused to look upon some memory.
Awkward silence reigned for several heartbeats while Pinkie seemed to have wilted at Octavia's account, sitting slumped down in her seat with flattened ears and haunted eyes. Rarity finally cleared her throat with an obviously forced cough before interrupting the cellist's reverie. "Darling, did you actually . . . you know, become homeless as a result of all this?" she asked cautiously, as if she were afraid to hear the answer but needed to know regardless.
"No, not quite," Octavia replied with a slight shake of her head as she returned from her mental excursion. "But, as I think I mentioned earlier, only because Vinyl was generous enough to offer me a job at her nightclub. It was the only work I was able to get at all, so I took it. It was definitely out of my comfort zone and I was terribly nervous at first; I was certain I would make some kind of terrible mistake. And, to be completely honest, I thought at first that it was too uncivilized for a respectable musician like myself and I felt like working there was at least a little humiliating."
Vinyl snorted and rolled her eyes. "Typical Canterlot snob for you," she deadpanned.
"Oh no, Vinyl, you know I don't feel like that anymore. As a matter of fact I started to rather like working there with you," Octavia quickly defended, suddenly afraid of having offended her marefriend.
"I know, Tavi. I was just joking," Vinyl replied with an easy smile.
"I'm glad to hear that you didn't have to suffer the disgrace of losing your home, but if you will permit an interruption," Rarity eased back into the conversation, "why are you two looking for a place to rent in Ponyville if you have a business in Canterlot? Was it not doing so well?"
"Ha," Vinyl snorted out a laugh. "It was doing just fine until it burned down. I don't have enough money to start up again and Octavia is still hated by practically every rich and powerful pony in the city. She hasn't been able to get any kind of musical work and I'm not qualified to do a freaking thing but DJ. And all the clubs already have all the talent they need. So I haven't been able to work either. Actually, we're just about in the same can't-afford-rent-or-food boat she was in before I hired her."
A sudden gasp directed all the mares' attention onto Pinkie Pie, who was now wearing an expression of rapturous epiphany and was starting to practically boil with excitement. "Wait wait wait wait! Vinyl, you and Octy wanna come live here in Ponyville? And you need work as a DJ?" she gushed excitedly.
"Uh, yeah?" Vinyl agreed.
"Octy?" Octavia mused aloud to no pony in particular. "Why must everypony saddle me with pedantic nicknames?"
"That's super-duper-amazingly awesome! Do you know why? Because earlier I was thinking to myself, 'Pinkie, you throw a lot of parties and there's always music and stuff and it's really hard to take care of music plus everything else and how cool would it be if you had a real live DJ to handle all that for you?' And now you're here and you're a real live DJ and I could hire you and you could work for me and it would be so cool and it—"
"Pinkie, dear, I believe we all get the idea," Rarity said with a strained smile as one of her white hooves clamped over the rambling pink mouth, holding back the torrent of words. "But are you certain that you shouldn't perhaps discuss this with the Cakes first before offering to employ somepony else?"
"Nopey dokey loki!" Pinkie chirped brightly. "They've wanted to hire a real DJ for, like, four evers, but they were all too expensive since they had to come in from Canterlot or Manehattan or somewhere even farther away. Vinyl's right here in Ponyville so that won't be a problem, will it?" Pinkie asked.
"I . . . my rates are really reasonable, I'm sure," Vinyl answered uncertainly, still floored by the opportunity just offered to her.
Holy buck, I'd probably work for food at this point.
She looked at the equally-bewildered Octavia, who merely shrugged her shoulders. "It's a better offer than either of us have had anywhere else," she agreed. "But," she interjected, "Pinkie Pie, why are you doing this for us? I don't know if I want to accept charity just because somepony feels sorry for us."
Let alone charity from you, of all ponies.
"Don't listen to her; we'll take whatever we can get!" Vinyl disagreed.
"Vinyl, have some dignity!" Octavia scolded.
"I actually do feel really really bad for you, but it's not just regular feeling bad for somepony, it's a special kind of feeling bad because I hurt somepony and I need to try and make it up to them and make them happy again because that's what I do since I'm the Element of Laughter and—"
So she actually feels bad for what she did and wants to try and fix it? I suppose that is a noble sentiment. Celestia knows I've done and said enough things recently that I regreted.
"Once more, darling, we get the idea," Rarity again interrupted the loudmouth Pinkie with an expertly-placed hoof. "I for one think it's very generous for you to make this offer in an attempt to atone for past misdeeds." She fixed Octavia and Vinyl with an expectant gaze. "Well, what do you two say? If Pinkie can get some formal confirmation from the Cakes on her offer and you decide to take it, I'd gladly help you find a nice place here in Ponyville.
Celestia knows we don’t have anything better; this could be just what we need, provided I can swallow my pride and move on.
Octavia and Vinyl shared a brief look before turning back to the Ponyville mares and jointly replying, "Why not?"
The chill embrace of winter finally descended from the mountains of Canterlot to envelop the lowlands of Equestria, including Ponyville, with an undeniable frigid touch in the air that promised snow in the very near future.
The cold, however, had no power to penetrate the bubble of happiness and optimism that surrounded a white unicorn with a startlingly blue mane and a grey earth pony with a jet-black mane that flowed elegantly along her back. They stood in the middle of a house, their house, and admired the fruits of their hard work; furniture moved into place, possessions and a frankly distressing amount of stuff all neatly in their spots. Personal knickknacks and odds and ends adorned the shelves and tables and though the interior lacked any particular artistic style or décor it nonetheless felt like home.
"Well Vinyl, I for one am glad we were able to get all of this moved in one trip. It was taxing enough as it was," Octavia eventually said.
"You said it," Vinyl agreed. "I didn't even know we had this much junk."
"Vinyl, the majority of this 'junk' is yours," Octavia replied, indicating a large number of boxes containing records and assorted bits of audio equipment, still sitting unpacked in a corner.
"Yeah, but your stuff takes up a lot of room," Vinyl replied with a sly smile. "Take your cello, for instance. It would travel so much easier in pieces."
"So would you," Octavia returned Vinyl's snark.
"Just make sure you keep the best piece of me intact," Vinyl replied with a sultry smile.
"Oh? And what piece would that be?" Octavia asked in feigned innocence.
"Why don't I remind you?" Vinyl hinted as she slunk closer to Octavia.
Octavia gently bumped Vinyl aside as she stepped aside and made for the door. "Maybe later, Scratchie. We have Pinkie's welcome party to go to, remember?"
"Oh yeah, I nearly forgot," Vinyl answered as she scurried to follow after. "Scratchie?" she asked as she and Octavia walked side-by-side down the dirt road made solid by frost.
"You aren't the only one who can think of nicknames, you know," Octavia answered loftily.
"I know, Octy."
Octavia sighed and hung her head in defeat amidst Vinyl's soft chuckles. Night was rapidly falling and so were the temperatures. Both mares began to regret not donning some clothes before heading out, but soon enough their hoofsteps brought them to an oasis of light, sound and activity that lit up Sugarcube Corner's iconic structure like a beacon of welcome. Vinyl confidently walked up to the door and nudged it open, reveling in the sudden rush of conversation, warmth and festivity that washed out over them. Spotting a table full of recognizable bottles and labels, Vinyl's eyes lit up behind her shades and she wasted no time in stepping inside. "C'mon, Octy! They've got booze!"
"Oh dear Celestia," Octavia groaned. Vinyl was gone in a white blur, mingling with far more ponies that Octavia herself could even hope to keep up with. She moved through the crowd like a fish through water, bumping hooves and exchanging easy introductions and pleasantries. Somepony hoofed her a drink and she was already making rapid progress on it as she was caught in animated conversation with a brown pegasus. Judging by her excited gestures, they had to be talking about something relating to her music; that was the only thing that would get her so excited.
A high-pitched voice suddenly filled Octavia's ears, making her jump a little in surprise and forcing her to try and divine the meaning behind the torrent of sound. "Hey are you having fun 'cause this is a party and parties are supposed to be fun and if you're not having fun it must be a bad party and I don't like it when ponies don't like my parties so please tell me you're having fun!"
"Yes, I'm having lots of fun. It's a very nice party," she reassured the pink mare who had appeared beside her. "Vinyl and I are very grateful, Pinkie. For everything."
Not that I ever thought I'd be thanking this mare for anything. But I'm glad I was able to let go of my anger towards her; she didn't really deserve it and she's obviously a good pony who wants to make amends.
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear it, Octy! I felt so terrible about everything that happened to you because of silly old Pinkie Pie and I just had to find a way to apologize for it and I knew a party would be perfect because really, what can't a party fix?" the party-obsessed pony babbled on. "And I'm so happy I was able to get Vinyl a new job that she likes and I'm working really hard with Rarity to find a job for you too since it's my fault you lost yours in the first place."
"Wait, Pinkie, what—" Octavia began to question, but she was cut off as Pinkie zoomed off at ballistic speeds to intercept another newcomer to the party.
"Oh dear Luna, what did I drink last night?" Vinyl groaned as she held her pounding head between hooves that felt like they weighed approximately one metric ton each. Her supine position on the couch hadn't varied yet; movement cost too much in terms of discomfort.
"You drank everything, you adorable idiot," Octavia answered softly as she walked in from the kitchen, twin mugs of steaming coffee balanced precariously on a plate clamped between her teeth. "Here, this will help at least a little bit," she assured the miserable pony as she deftly extended one of the cups, waiting patiently until Vinyl sat up and figured out how to grip it with her own hooves. Magic was certainly quite beyond her at the moment.
"I guess that explains the wicked hangover," Vinyl said sheepishly. "But why aren't you as bucked up as me? I know you were drinking a lot too."
"I guess I'm just a better drinker than you," Octavia answered easily.
"Horseapples. No pony can out-drink Vinyl Scratch."
"Alright, if you must know. I was drinking the exact same thing all night long, and I didn't drink that much. You, on the other hoof, attacked every bottle of alcohol as if it were your mortal enemy. Does that make you feel any better?"
"It helps my pride," Vinyl answered seriously.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night. On another topic, don't you need to go into town today and see about getting your something-or-other repaired?"
"Ugh, don't remind me. I need to take the motor assembly that I use in my turntable to that stallion we met at the party. He said he thought he could probably get it working, and I need it for DJ'ing that party Pinkie has scheduled in a few days."
"Whatever you say, dear. You know more about your equipment than I do."
"What I know is that I'll be glad to be able to afford a nicer setup than the one I have now. I rigged up something that'll work with the junk I had laying around, but it ain't perfect," Vinyl grumbled.
Octavia disappeared back into the kitchen without saying anything, leaving Vinyl to finish her coffee and contemplate the arduous chore of moving her body enough to walk across town on her errand. It was a daunting proposition. There was one possible salvation, however. "Hey, Tavi! I don't suppose you're making breakfast, are you?"
Several more cups of coffee and a sizeable number of pancakes served to power Vinyl through the streets of Ponyville, bustling even at a relatively early hour in the morning. As she walked she couldn't help but breathe deeply of the chill air; it carried the faint scent of bakery and the hint of pine. It smelled . . . fresh. Ponies nodded and smiled at her as she passed by, and she returned the friendly gestures gladly. The homey atmosphere went a long way towards restoring her spirits.
It may not be Canterlot, but I've gotta admit it's a lot nicer here than I thought it'd be.
After a bit of determined searching, she found the shop she was looking for. A sign hung from the storefront, depicting a stylized clock. She pushed the door open and walked into a brightly lit shop illuminated by thoroughly modern electric fixtures.
And thank Celestia, this place really does have electricity. That was a nice surprise, even if it made me feel stupid for assuming it didn't just 'cause it didn't look modern enough.
"Hello?" she called out as she peered around the store. She caught sight of a green cap atop a black mane just barely visible from behind a countertop.
"Can I help you?" asked the brown-coated pegasus who emerged from behind the counter. "Oh, hello there, Vinyl! I'm glad you found my store ok."
"Yeah, no problem," Vinyl replied. "I'm really glad you agreed to take a look at this for me, Clockwork."
"Don't mention it. I like a challenge," the stallion said.
Vinyl fished in her saddlebag, lifting out the small electromechnical device and hoofing it across the counter. "It's certainly not a clock, though, so I hope it's not an impossible challenge for you."
"It may not be a clock, but it still has an intricate assembly of gears and other mechanical pieces which aren't too different from a timepiece," he demurred as he lifted out a magnifying glass and a number of tools from the multitude of pockets strewn across his waistcoat. With Vinyl as a fascinated audience he rapidly had the whole assembly torn down and lying in pieces across the surface of the counter. With a screwdriver deftly held in his mouth he began to carefully reassemble everything, adding liberal squirts of lubricating oil and ensuring that every minute piece was in its proper place. When he was finished he gave the interior mechanism a prod and a satisfied smile crossed his face as everything moved as it was meant to, all in harmony and order.
"There you go, Vinyl. The whole thing was seized up before, but now it's in perfect order," he said with a satisfied expression as he handed it back over.
"Thanks so much," Vinyl gushed as she took it back. "I don't know what I was gonna do if I couldn't get it working. You're a lifesaver."
"You're very welcome. Good luck with DJ'ing that party, though I'm sure you don't need any luck."
"Ha, you're darn right I don't need luck. Still, I appreciate the thought. See you around, Clockwork," Vinyl said as she stepped back outside.
Inside the store, Clockwork couldn't stop feeling that he forgot something. Suddenly a hoof flew to his face in realization. "I forgot to get paid . . ."
Vinyl herself trotted briskly back towards their new home, intent on spending the rest of the day with Octavia. Her breath condensed in small clouds around her muzzle as she went, a visible reminder that the grey skies would soon enough be dispensing flakes of snow to coat the ground of Ponyville just as Canterlot's streets had been when they left that city for their new home. A small and content smile fixed itself on her face as that home came into view, an inviting tendril of smoke curling away from the chimney and promising warmth and comfort to be found within.
As she came nearer her ears swiveled to catch the faint strains of music. Hurrying, she opened the door and stepped inside. She paused at the sight of Octavia reared back on her hind legs, gracefully balanced with her cello as she drew forth a jaunty melody. Her smile widened into a grin. "Octy, that's beautiful! You haven't played your cello in so long I thought maybe you forgot how."
"Hardly, my dear," Octavia replied as she stopped her bow's movement. "But I will admit I am a bit out of practice. That needs to change quite quickly, however," she said.
"Huh? Why's that?" Vinyl asked.
"Because," Octavia said with a grin to match Vinyl's own spontaneously appearing on her own expression, "I am going to be giving music lessons. Isn't it wonderful, Vinyl? I finally have a use for my own talent again!" she exclaimed radiantly.
"Hay yeah!" Vinyl cheered as she drew Octavia into a one-sided hug that allowed the other mare to keep hold of her cello. "I'm happy to hear that. How did you manage that, though? We've only been in Ponyville for a few days."
"Well, Rarity told me that she may have mentioned me and my talent to a number of local parents who wanted to arrange a music tutor for their foals. Apparently the only other music teacher in Ponyville is overbooked as it is, and no pony will object to me taking up some of the slack," Octavia explained.
"I'm glad to hear it, Treble Clef," Vinyl said as she settled down on the couch. "I was actually starting to miss listening to you play."
"You know I'm never going to let you forget that, right?" Octavia gently teased.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Vinyl mumbled as she closed her eyes and settled down more comfortably.
With a smile, Octavia began to play for her audience of one.
“Good morning, Tavi,” Vinyl called in a singsong voice as she flung open the blinds on a glorious spring day. Bright light spilled into their bedroom, casting light on a chaos of rumpled sheets and discarded bedding. A clear blue sky adorned by a radiant sun cast light on verdant plants and flowers recently renewed by their long season of dormancy. Cheerful birdsong floated into the house bringing with it a message of hope and growth.
“Urgh, when the hay did you become a morning pony?” Octavia groaned from underneath a mound of blankets. “And why are you so bucking happy?”
“Because I figured out that it annoys you after an all-night Pinkie Pie Party,” Vinyl said with a grin.
“For Celestia’s sake, shouldn’t you have a hangover or something? I’m pretty miserable and would appreciate some company . . .”
“You’re just a lightweight, Tavi. There’s no shame in admitting you can’t party with DJ Pon-3.”
“You’re an alcoholic. And I’m dangerously close to hating you right now.”
“I love you too, sweetie," Vinyl answered brightly as she stepped out of the now sunlight-filled bedroom and directed her hooves to descend the stairs and head for the kitchen.
A brief bout of rummaging in the refrigerator turned up the remnants of the night before last's dinner; a simple plate of hay fries. Grinning, Vinyl carted her prize off to the couch. Octavia never could stomach cold fries but Vinyl considered them a delicacy. She happily popped a few into her mouth and settled down with a magazine advertising the latest miracles of audio equipment spread out before her as Octavia slept off the lingering pall of her hangover. Pages turned quickly, enveloped by the blue glow of their reader's magic.
A knock at the door disturbed Vinyl’s comfort as she relaxed. “Who in Equestria could that be?” Vinyl mumbled to herself as she slid off the couch and trotted over to the door.
Opening it, she came face to face with an unfamiliar pegasus. The mare shifted impatiently back and forth and she wore saddlebags that obscured whatever cutie mark graced her taupe coat. “Are you Vinyl Scratch?” she inquired as soon as Vinyl opened the door.
“Yeah, that’s me. Can I help you with something?” she answered.
“I’ve got a letter for you. Special courier, rush delivery. Sign here, please.” The mare reached into one of her saddlebags with a wing, dexterously manipulating individual feathers to grasp a clipboard and quill that she held up for Vinyl’s inspection.
Shrugging, Vinyl quickly grasped the quill telekinetically and jotted down a signature. The courier silently returned both items to their place before handing over a letter without another word. With a quick “have a nice day,” she was back in the sky and gone from sight, flying in the direction of Canterlot.
Turning back into the house and holding the letter up before her, Vinyl examined it. A pink envelope, her name and address written in a slightly different shade of pink that stood out from the envelope enough to be legible.
With a quick tug of her magic she ripped open the top of the envelope. With a small poof a cloud of confetti erupted from the envelope, swirling around Vinyl and settling on the floor and in her mane. “Gee. I have absolutely no idea who this could be from,” she mumbled as she pulled out the letter itself.
“I still can’t believe that I get to DJ at a royal wedding! How awesome is that?” Vinyl said as she cheerfully trotted through the gardens of Canterlot Castle, its spires rising majestically above her.
“Yes, it’s quite an honor. It was very generous of Pinkie Pie to ask you to help her provide the music,” Octavia agreed as she followed Vinyl more sedately through the artfully manicured lawns and winding paths that flowed through gardens overflowing with rare and exotic plants. “I just can’t believe that anypony would want your kind of music at a wedding, of all things.”
"You’re just mad ‘cause they didn’t want your boring old cello to deaden things up,” Vinyl called back over her shoulder with a playful smirk.
“I am not!” Octavia protested indignantly. “I . . . well, ok. Maybe I am, just a little,” she admitted sheepishly.
“Huh? Hey, Tavi, you know I was just kidding, right?” Vinyl asked with a worried expression. She slowed her pace to drop back beside Octavia.
“I had just hoped that maybe I might get to play again in Canterlot. You know, for old times’ sake,” Octavia said a little forlornly.
“Hey, Octy, don’t be like that,” Vinyl implored as she kept pace beside her. She gently nuzzled the side of Octavia’s face, breathing in the scent of floral shampoo that filled her soft and flowing mane. “It’s got nothing to do with you. This is a wedding for a young Captain of the Guard and a Princess. I’m sure they just want something a little more upbeat and modern, that’s all.”
“Yeah. I’m sure,” Octavia said flatly. “And what’s with all the security, anyway?” she complained as yet another gold-clad Royal Guard eyed them suspiciously as they passed. “That giant shield over Canterlot isn’t exactly reassuring.”
“I’m sure it’s just standard procedure or something. There’s all kinds of important ponies bound to be here for the wedding,” Vinyl said with a nonchalant glance upwards at the translucent dome of magical force that arced overhead, containing the entire city of Canterlot within its aegis. “But don’t go and change the subject. If you really wanted to play tonight why didn’t you say so? I could’ve talked to Pinkie Pie.”
“I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t want to impose on her. She got us both jobs in Ponyville, after all.” Octavia explained.
“Don’t be silly. There’s no rea—“
CRACK!
“What the hay was that?” Vinyl demanded as she was deafened by a sound like the shattering of glass, multiplied a thousandfold.
“Vinyl, look! The shield!” Octavia cried out as the enormous sky-spanning barrier disintegrated, fracturing along stress lines and sending shards of solid magical force hurtling towards the ground. Along with the falling remnants of Canterlot’s magical protection came something else; indistinct black shapes surrounded by blazes of sickly green fire. An eerie keening filled the air and all around them ponies were looking in disbelief up at the sky. Almost immediately, Royal Guards seemed to be everywhere. Orders were being shouted but nopony could tell if they were being heeded.
Several feet away, the first of the mysterious objects impacted the ground. Out of the crater formed rose a thing mostly pony-shaped, if ponies routinely had ragged insect-like wings, glistening fangs, and looked at other ponies like they were a free-for-all buffet. “Ok, that can’t be standard procedure,” Vinyl muttered.
“What are they? What do we do?” Octavia asked worriedly as she stepped a little closer to Vinyl.
The garden devolved into an absolute cacophony in a matter of seconds as Guards and these alien creatures engaged in combat and civilians ran in every conceivable direction, seeking only to get away from the immediate threat. It seemed like a good strategy. “We run!” Vinyl shouted as she turned tail and bolted for the confines of the Castle, Octavia right behind her.
“Well, this is a terrible wedding if I’ve ever seen one,” Octavia groused as she pressed her entire body’s weight against the straining door of their suite in Canterlot Castle. The high-pitched buzzing of insectoid wings reverberated through the thick wood of the door as it shuddered under the force of repeated blows, setting her ears on edge as she strained to hold the door shut. “Vinyl, I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas?”
“I assume a make-out session is out of the question, so not really,” Vinyl said from behind Octavia. She squarely faced the single window that illuminated the spacious room, its elegant glass reduced to shattered pieces on the floor. A dark blur of movement caught Vinyl’s attention as it forced its way through the unshielded opening; with an effort of will she cast a lance of pure force at the intruding monstrosity. The blue blaze of magic leapt from her horn to strike the changeling squarely in its chest, sending it tumbling away hurt but still alive. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m starting to get tired. I don’t know how many of those things are out there, but they aren’t giving up and going away like we hoped.”
“Damn. Maybe trying to hide in here was a bad idea,” Vinyl said.
“It was a better idea than staying outside,” Octavia replied with a shudder. “We saw what happened to those poor ponies who tried to run for it.”
“Yeah, at least in here we’ve got a bucking”—she directed another strike at a changeling crawling through the open window—“chance to protect ourselves,” Vinyl agreed.
“How freaking many are there?” Vinyl demanded as she desperately struck away another group of three changelings trying to get past her. Sweat matted her face and trickled down her neck as she panted, trying to catch her breath. From her vantage point near the window, she could see swarms of the black, insect-winged things covering the sky so completely as to obscure the sun. Their high-pitched buzzing felt like it was echoing in her very bones and through the immense stone structure of the castle itself. “Ya know what, forget I even asked. There’s about a million and a half too many.”
“Very accurate assessment, my dear Vinyl” Octavia replied as she pushed against the door, now starting to bow inwards under pressure from the other side. “Truly, you are a mathematical prodigy.”
“There’s a number in ‘DJ Pon-3’. Of course I’m good at math.”
Vinyl stared into a fanged mouth snapping furiously at her tender neck as she held it away with her braced forelegs. She could see the ravenous hunger that burned in its arctic blue eyes and hear it in the mad whirring of its malformed wings as it pushed ever more desperately towards her. It stretched out its neck to try and reach its prey as she struggled to hold it off of her. Her breath came short now, knocked out of her by the changeling’s surprise attack that had flung her to the ground and by the fear of death above her.
Her muscles began to buckle, her strength beginning to fail. A sadistic smile flashed across its serrated mouth as it surged forward, fangs and teeth ready to strike. Vinyl lashed out with her last weapon, smashing her face directly into the changeling’s own. With a howl of pain and surprise the changeling flitted back, leaving her time to lurch unsteadily to her hooves. Snarling, the changeling flew again at Vinyl with murder in its eyes; she stood her ground, lowering her head at the last instant. With a thunk the changeling impaled itself on Vinyl’s horn, cracking its black carapace and oozing green blood as it fell lifeless to the floor. For finality, Vinyl reared back and brought her front hooves crashing down on the insectoid monster’s skull, crushing it and leaving her splattered with green slime. Behind her, the sound of splintering wood could be heard as Octavia still struggled to hold the door closed. "We are so bucked," Vinyl said with a shake of her head. Movement caught her attention from the direction of the room’s window. “Uh, Octy, we got a problem over here,” Vinyl called out as she backed away from the dozen changelings swarming through it. She reached inside herself, into the source of her will that powered her magic, and found it empty. “Ah, ponyfeathers . . .”
“Yes, well, things aren’t looking too good on this front either,” Octavia answered as she tried to keep pressing the door shut while evading the grasping limbs that reached through the numerous holes in the wooden door. The pressure being exerted from the other side was beginning to become more than she could counteract; her hooves were slipping on the floor and the sweat pouring off her body made it hard to keep herself pressed solidly against the door. She screwed her eyes shut in determination, gritting her teeth as she willed herself to stay strong. Suddenly, a changeling limb managed to pierce through the beleaguered wood; Octavia failed to move in time and it twined around her neck, pulling her roughly up against the door itself and cutting off her oxygen. “Vinyl, help!” she gasped weakly.
“Hold on, Octy!” Vinyl shouted as she turned her back on the changelings advancing from the window to strike at the treacherous appendage suffocating Octavia with hoof and horn. Hissing in pain, the limb retracted and Octavia stumbled away from the door to lean on Vinyl for support.
Now undefended, the door burst open to allow a dozen or more changelings to crowd through into the room. Helpless, the two mares backed slowly away from the horde until their backs pressed up against the unyielding stone wall. Trapped between the changelings that surrounded them in a half-circle and the impassable masonry behind them, Vinyl turned to Octavia and gently reached out a hoof to bring her eyes to meet her own. “I love you so much,” she said quietly, in complete indifference to the crowd of salivating, hungry monsters closing in on them. She moved to stand between the changelings and Octavia, placing her back to the abominations that wanted to devour them. With simple finality she brought her lips to meet Octavia’s, melding one final time into her softness. Octavia returned her passionate kiss, whimpering deep in her throat as her eyes peered behind Vinyl. “Don’t look, sweetie,” Vinyl gently commanded. Obedient, Octavia closed her eyes.
Vinyl tensed as she felt the first brush against her coat as one of the changelings drew close to her. She fought the urge to flinch away as she imagined the monstrous things preparing to strike, fangs glinting cruelly in the light.
Thank you, Octy. For everything.
Vinyl closed her own eyes, content to let her last memory be of the one she loved. She once again leaned forward to join her lips and Octavia’s. As they met she became conscious of an electric tingle coursing through her body from the tips of her ears to the base of her tail.
What the—
She was suffused by warmth and joy and every happy emotion she had ever felt; her eyes stung with tears of ecstasy as all her love and devotion for the mare she embraced welled up within her. Blearily, she could see that Octavia was in the same state, clinging to her tightly with forehooves wrapped around her neck.
A surge of light swept past them, heedless of stone or anything else. Its purple hue surged through and around them, filling the whole room with intolerable brightness. They clung to each other in confusion, instinctively seeking a familiar touch. Above the subliminal roaring of the passing wave of light they could hear the frantic keening of the changelings calling out in their own pain and fear. They stood with ears flattened and eyes clenched shut, weathering the interminable passing of the magical force sweeping past them. Finally, it was over and they could open their eyes to take in the same room they had stood in before, now conspicuously devoid of changelings. “Whoa. Did we do that?” Vinyl asked in an awestruck voice.
“Let’s get this party started!” Pinkie Pie announced in her eternally bubbly, high-pitched voice. Obedient to their plan, Vinyl Scratch revealed herself by emerging from behind the mixing station she had been using to conceal herself from sight. With practiced ease she dropped a carefully-selected record onto the turntable and immediately launched into the first song. As the infectiously upbeat notes poured forth from the pounding speakers beside her she pumped her hoof into the air in jubilation; this was her scene. The music, the crowds, the atmosphere of celebration, it was all like home to her. After the previous day’s horror show she was glad to lose herself in something so innocent and wholesome.
The guests were obviously in agreement; everypony who was packed into the small garden clearing was already enjoying themselves. Even the Princesses were partaking of the party spirit. Vinyl towered over them all, trademark shades obscuring her red eyes as she controlled the flow of music and party alike. Inevitably, however, her gaze drifted to one conspicuous grey mare, lounging by the buffet nursing a drink of her own and looking expectantly towards the vibrant mare controlling the music that filled the space with optimism and celebration. “Hey, Pinkie, do you think you could handle things for a bit? I’ve got a special somepony who’d love a dance with yours truly,” she asked the other mare standing at the controls with her, pitching her voice to be heard over the music.
Pinkie replied with only a nod and a wide smile, making shooing motions with her forelegs. Vinyl quickly slipped out from behind the table and moved easily through the crowds, arrowing straight for where Octavia still stood, looking pensively in the other direction. "My lady, might I have this dance?” she whispered into her ear.
Startled, Octavia quickly turned her head to find the source of the invitation. “Vinyl? Sweet Celestia, don’t scare me like that. But, to answer your question, I’d like nothing better,” she said with a demure smile.
"Then shall we?" Vinyl asked with an inviting smile as she led the way out onto the dance floor.
Making their way through the throng of ponies dancing singly, in couples or small groups, Vinyl and Octavia found a place not yet occupied by other ponies. Turning to face each other, Octavia took the initiative and started a simple pattern of hoofsteps that Vinyl echoed automatically. They took their cue from the dancers around them, moving in time to the music and in harmony with one another. The crowds swirled around them in a barely-heeded blur of colors and motion, leaving the two mares as calm and unperturbed as the eye of a storm.
Amethyst and ruby met and melted together, lit by interior fire. The rhythm of their movement drowned out everything except the music and their own heartbeats; together they circled, turned and embraced at the whim of the melody. They hardly noticed or cared as first one hour elapsed, then two, sweat staining their coats and matting their manes. Finally, starting to feel the strain of their dancing, Octavia leaned in to whisper in Vinyl’s ear, “What do you say we go find somewhere a little quieter?”
“Sounds good to me,” Vinyl agreed with a nod.
Breaking away from the epicenter of the party where ponies still gathered to dance the night away, Vinyl and Octavia followed the example of a number of other couples who had sought privacy amongst the shadows that pooled between the trees and along the winding paths of the royal garden. Finding an unoccupied niche, they sat themselves down on the ground close enough together that they could feel each other’s warmth. Vinyl reached out her foreleg and draped it across Octavia’s shoulder, who in turn rested her head against Vinyl’s side.
The stars shone brilliantly above them in the clear night sky, a panorama of glinting diamonds accenting the glorious radiance of the moon. The illumination cast by the stellar bodies dispelled the darkness enough to reveal the partial outlines of each of the two mares, casting subtle reflections across eyes that gazed upwards and lending a sheen to Vinyl’s neon blue mane.
Silence fell around them for a while, distance and foliage reducing the vibrancy of the wedding celebrations and leaving only a thin whisper of festivity to intrude on their peace. “Vinyl?” Octavia finally asked, breaking the hushed atmosphere.
“Yeah, Octy?” Vinyl answered, her mind clearly somewhere else as she continued gazing skyward.
“Thank you. For trying to protect me from the changelings,” Octavia said quietly. “You were willing to die for me, weren’t you?” she asked again, her voice choked and thick.
That got Vinyl’s attention. She turned her head to peer searchingly into Octavia’s gaze, her red eyes glinting with emotion of her own. “Yes. Yes I was,” Vinyl replied with tender sincerity.
A sob escaped from Octavia and she buried herself deeper into Vinyl’s coat as if desperately trying to reassure herself that the pony beside her was flesh and blood rather than ethereal imagination.
“Shh,” Vinyl cooed softly in Octavia’s ear. “It doesn’t matter now, Octy. It’s all over.”
“B-but it does matter,” Octavia tearfully insisted. “Not every mare has a special somepony willing to die to protect them. I can’t decide whether to be terrified that you almost sacrificed yourself for me or happy that you cared enough for me to do so.”
“Octy, not every mare has a special somepony worth dying for. I’m just grateful that I do. Don’t worry any more about it.”
“I just—“ Octavia began uncertainly. Then, abandoning words she lifted her head from Vinyl’s side and pressed her mouth against her soft lips, closing her eyes and allowing Vinyl to prolong the experience as long as she cared to. Warmth built inside both mares, spreading through their veins like a gentle wildfire, playing across their lips like lightning. When they finally and reluctantly broke their embrace both mares were panting, out of breath and longing for more.
Vinyl continued staring at Octavia, an uncertain expression on her face as she seemed to be looking somewhere into the distance.
Should I or shouldn’t I?
“Vinyl, are you okay?” came the concerned inquiry from Octavia.
Vinyl gulped imperceptibly, trying to clear her dry throat, suddenly wishing for her shades to conceal her expression.
Oh Celestia, I didn’t prepare for this at all.
“Y-yeah, Tavi. I’m fine,” Vinyl managed to get out as her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest. “It’s just—“
Still, if there was ever a time and place this is it . . .
“Yes, Vinyl?”
Don’t mess it up.
“Octaviawillyoumarryme?” Vinyl blurted in a single nervous breath. Seeing the look of confusion on Octavia’s face she mentally berated herself, resisting the urge to lay a hoof over her face in disbelief at her own incompetence.
“What? Vinyl, what on Equestria are you trying to say?”
Ugh, I am such a stupid foal. Smooth, Vinyl. You’re a bucking mastermind of seduction and romance.
“I said: Octavia, will you marry me?” Vinyl repeated, being careful to enunciate in comprehensible Equestrian.
Octavia froze, looking at her with such a lack of movement that Vinyl started to briefly entertain the notion that a cockatrice had snuck in and petrified her marefriend. Slowly, though, her frozen companion’s face began to curl into an enormous smile as the light of comprehension dawned in her eyes. Lurching forward with the unexpected speed of a striking beast, Octavia engulfed Vinyl in a painfully tight hug that ended with her pinning the surprised mare to the ground, her eyes reflecting the light of the stars and her tail swishing behind her in a rare display of uncontrolled emotion. “YesyesyesYES!” she gushed before burying herself and her now-fiancée in another passionate kiss that ended sooner than either of them would have liked. Gasping and out of breath, Octavia buried her face in the soft fur of Vinyl’s exposed chest, continuing her mantra of, “Yesyesyesyesohcelestiayesyesyes,” even as she continued to nuzzle. Vinyl’s coat tickled slightly at her face, but Octavia couldn’t imagine a more blissful feeling.
Vinyl herself wrapped her forelegs around Octavia, pulling her closer yet. The silken strands of Octavia’s mane parted as she gently stroked it with an idle hoof, occasionally allowing the tip of her hoof to graze Octavia’s neck, sending slight shivers up her spine. The night enveloped them as they luxuriated in each other, holding each other tight underneath the panorama of the night sky. “Vinyl?” a dreamy Octavia inquired minutes later.
“Yeah?” an equally content Vinyl replied.
“You didn’t plan for this in the slightest, did you?”
“Nope,” Vinyl answered without missing a beat. “Which is why I don’t have a ring or anything. But the moment was right and I couldn’t let it slip by. When am I ever gonna have a more romantic setting, huh?”
“Mmm, probably never. Celestia knows you couldn’t manage something so poignant on your own,” Octavia teased playfully.
“I’m just glad you didn’t propose to me in front of the whole crowd, Princesses and everything. I’d probably have died of embarrassment and shock.”
“Well, I may or may not have thought about doing exactly that,” Vinyl said with a mischievous smile. As Octavia shot her a horrified look, she chuckled and continued, “But I decided not to. All these ponies, this party, it’s all for the royals. It wouldn’t be fair for me to intrude on their special night. Besides, this is better; it’s just for us.”
“I have to admit, I think you’re right. This is much better; just the two of us, together.”
“On the other hoof,” Vinyl pondered with a faraway look in her eyes.
“Vinyl,” Octavia said in a warning tone.
“There are still plenty of ponies around and a big sound system I have access to. I bet I could cause a fair amount of fun to liven things up. In your honor, of course,” Vinyl continued obliviously.
Octavia rolled her eyes.
I swear, of all the ponies in Equestria I had to fall for this one . . .
With an unceremonious twist of her hoof, Octavia delivered a light blow to the side of Vinyl’s head, calculated to be just hard enough to get her attention. She yelped as if she had been electrocuted. “What the hay was that for?” she demanded. “All I said was that I could, theoretically, still manage to shake things up around here with a well-timed announcement and some uncouth displays of public affection. I didn’t say I actually would. Unless, you know, you want me to. Or we could skip right to the uncouth displays. I’d be ok with that too.” Another playful swat was administered and Vinyl cried out in hyperbolic pain once again. “Spousal abuse! Domestic violence! Mare-beater!”
“Vinyl, that last one doesn’t count if we’re both mares,” Octavia replied with another roll of her eyes and a smile tugging at her lips.
“What about the first two, then?” Vinyl asked in an exaggerated pout. “Spousal abuse and domestic violence? I guess those were pretty accurate.”
“Octy! Is that any way to treat a delicate creature like me? I’m fragile and easily broken.” Vinyl protested with a huff.
Octavia opened her mouth to make another verbal sally, before something about Vinyl’s words clicked in her head.
Fragile and easily broken.
A memory rose unbidden, taking Octavia back to one difficult day last winter when she had seen just how fragile Vinyl could be.
“Vinyl, I couldn’t quite hear that,” Octavia said as gently as she could, leaning in closer to the DJ.
“I said I’m sorry,” Vinyl repeated, still quiet but audible this time.
“You’re sorry? Whatever for? Vinyl, you have no reason to apologize to me,” Octavia replied.
Vinyl’s head fell to gaze at the ground at her hooves, ears drooping. “I bucked everything up. I ruined everything,” she said morosely.
“What in Equestria are you talking about? You haven’t ruined anything!” Octavia said emphatically.
Vinyl laughed, a short and bitter sound that held no mirth. “Are you kidding me? I was so proud of myself, giving you a job and helping you keep your apartment. You ended up becoming my friend; you were impossibly generous and let me stay with you even though you hardly knew me. Somehow you even managed to find a way to love me and made me the happiest I’ve ever been. And then overnight I go and lose everything I’ve worked my whole life for, putting you right back in the same about-to-lose-your-apartment boat you were in originally. But, to make it worse, now you’re saddled with a good-for-nothing, deadbeat marefriend and roommate.”
“Vinyl, you’re not good-for-nothing at all, I lo –,” Octavia tried to interrupt, but Vinyl kept going regardless.
“If I were worth anything, I’d have been able to find a job by now to help support us both. Instead, all I did was make you give up your chance to turn your own career around to stay with me, Celestia alone knows why. The only idea I had was that stupid contest; you’ve been busting you flank for two months now trying to get paying jobs. At least you’ve made some money; all I’ve done is get reminded of how useless I am every time somepony tells me I’m not qualified to work at a bucking grocery store.”
Octavia listened in growing horror, Vinyl’s every bitter word a fresh sting that brought tears to her eyes in an echo of her closest friend’s pain.
“I’m nothing but a pony-shaped pile of uselessness,” Vinyl spat venomously, fresh tears coursing down her own face.
The remembered words and tears stung anew at Octavia’s eyes and she quickly squeezed her eyes shut, willing the painful recollection to subside.
“You know I would never do more than tease you,” Octavia reassured her.
“I know,” Vinyl agreed with a gentle nuzzle against the side of Octavia’s face. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Still, it’s way too much fun for me to skirt the edge of your patience sometimes.”
“Oh, you do skirt the edge quite a lot, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t secretly afraid that I might start beating you or anything ridiculous like that, you silly filly.”
“Nah,” Vinyl cheerfully demurred. “We both know I could take you, anyway.”
Octavia closed her eyes and sighed.
What did I ever do to deserve this?
But she was smiling as she opened her eyes again, pinning Vinyl with her smoldering gaze. “I think you’d better rethink that, dear Vinyl,” she whispered huskily before leaning in for another kiss. And this one didn’t end too soon. It didn’t end for a very long time.
The sun rose over Ponyville on a pristine day the same as any other. The sun shone through white, fluffy clouds tended carefully by the hooves of the local weather pegasi. A slight breeze ruffled the verdant leaves on the trees that cast their shadows on the ground and the faint scent of future rain hung in the air.
The newsstands bustled, selling copies of a half a dozen newspapers, each one bearing dramatic photographs and stories of the changeling invasion juxtaposed with the social highlight of the Royal Wedding. Ponies practically ate it up, simultaneously smiling at the photos of the happy couple and gasping at the catastrophic invasion that had threatened the heart of Equestrian power.
Questions were asked and theories, each more bizarre and insane than the last, made the rounds of gossip and whispers. And all of it went unheeded by two mares that lay entwined together on their bed, lost in their own personal heaven. “Vinyl?” Octavia asked quietly, in case her newly-proposed partner was still asleep.
“Yeah, Octy?” Vinyl answered.
“I suppose we have to plan a wedding now, don’t we?” Octavia murmured.
“Yup,” Vinyl answered without opening her eyes.
“And talk to our families,” Octavia continued.
“Uh huh,” Vinyl confirmed.
“And get dresses. And rings,” Octavia added to her growing checklist.
“Probably a good idea,” Vinyl agreed.
“Do you feel like doing any of that right now?” Octavia asked.
“Not really,” Vinyl said.
“Works for me,” Octavia said, and buried her head deeper in Vinyl’s mane, relishing in its soft tickling sensation across her face.
“Octy?” Vinyl asked as she ran a hoof through Octavia’s own jet-black mane.
“Hm?” Octavia mumbled as an answer.
“Don’t you have music students today?”
“Yes, indeed I do later this afternoon,” Octavia replied with a trace of regret at the thought of getting out of bed. “Vinyl?”
“Huh?” Vinyl replied.
“Do you . . . do you regret anything?” Octavia asked.
“What’dya mean, Octy?”
“Do you regret moving here with me instead of staying in Canterlot and trying to get your club back together? I mean, it was your dream and everything, and you are definitely not living that dream here. I confess, I sometimes feel a little guilty that we didn’t try to restart Club P0n-3 after the fire, since it meant so much to you.” Octavia admitted with a concerned tone.
“No,” Vinyl answered simply.
“But—“
“You’re right,” Vinyl continued without stopping. “It was my dream and I worked hard for it. I was torn apart when I lost it. But what hurt me worse was that once the club burned down I wasn’t able to provide for you anymore like I had been. I was more upset that I was letting you down than anything else. And that’s when I realized that you had become more important to me than my own dream. I guess you could say I had a new dream; I wanted to be with you and make you happy. And that dream is coming as true as I could ever hope. So, no, Tavi; I don’t regret anything.”
“Vinyl,” Octavia began with a trembling voice and a heart bursting with happiness. “I promise you, I intend to make that dream come true every single day for the rest of our lives.”
“And that’s all I need to make me the happiest mare in Equestria,” Vinyl said with equal feeling. “I’ve got you; we’ve got a home and jobs we like. Things may not have worked out the way we thought, but they turned out okay in the end.”
Instead of answering Octavia simply leaned in to press her lips against Vinyl’s, eyes closed in bliss. “I don’t have to get ready for my students for a while yet,” she whispered seductively.
“Mmm,” Vinyl murmured without breaking the kiss. Finally she gently extricated herself and whispered in her partner’s ear, “Just stay with me, Octy.”
“You know I will, Vinyl. Always,” Octavia promised without hesitation before wrapping Vinyl back up in her embrace, melding her body against her lover’s as they simultaneously relished in the present and looked forward to a future filled with harmony.
I'm sure you saw the title of this chapter, "Harmony Redux." I don't make a habit of naming my chapters, so you may have wondered about it. Simply put, it's the title of the sequel I'm planning to this story.
Yes, you may have noticed that I ended the last chapter of this story with a loose end or two; namely that I didn't actually write the wedding itself. That's because the wedding itself is going to be a big part of the sequel. After all, something so important and lifechanging can't be allowed to go off without a hitch in my writing.
What else can you expect from the sequel? Well, more Octavia and Vinyl is a likely guess. So are the respective families of our two main characters. You can't have a wedding without relatives.
Plus, some more characters. Octavia and Vinyl have been living in Ponyville for a while now. I'm sure they've made friends with some locals by now. I didn't get into that in "Accidental Harmony", but other ponies will be joining the cast in "Harmony Redux."
Some more plot devices, too. I've got an idea for some things I want to introduce into the story to drive conflict.
As for a timeline, I can't be too final on that yet. I've got another couple fic ideas I want to play with before I come back to this. I'd also like to do some heavy edits to this story to fix some outstanding conmplaints I have and to try and get on EQD. Watch me and you'll know when it comes out.
I also want to take a moment to give a big thanks to all of my readers, commenters and raters who have given me inspiration, advice and support. This wouldn't exist without you guys (and girls) and I'm grateful for each and everyone of you. Writing this has been surprising, fun and occassionally challenging and I'm glad for all the recognition I've gotten from the community of FimFic.
So, thanks once again, for hanging with me and this story. Pony on, bronies.
