Vinyl and Octavia live lives they never expected, but perhaps they can find happiness in the end
My name's Vinyl, or the one, the only DJ Pon-3! Or, at least that's who I used to be. That crazy, party hard, carefree pony who always stood behind the table and spun records is gone. I used to cry about that bygone age in my life, but now I see only to what's still in store; what else I can do with my life. What, oh my turn. Yeah, I'm Octavia. You probably know me from when I played the cello, or maybe you know me from when I play on the corners. Either way I'm thinking of burning that stupid thing, the Friday night meals really aren't worth the trouble of keeping that thing stored. Other than that you might have stopped by my little store, or seen me with my friend BD. So, that's about it, now get on with it before I make you. (Try reading the story even if the description wasn't great because I can't write description) Really, I can't write descriptions at all Edited by D00mf1sh (Things are more normal after the 1st chapter)(marked teen in the interest of me probably going into some things)
Fame, fortune, true love, world peace. Joining the Wonderbolts, conquering Equestria, caring for animal. Complicated or simple. Big or small. Foalish or mature. Fun or serious. Dark or light. Hard or easy.
They are like green bud glazed in soft dew beneath the pink sky of the rising sun. Inside there are pedals of red, orange, yellow, white, purple waiting to spread and absorb the sun light. But flowers don't grow from air, they come from plant, which come from seeds, which are buried into the ground. Ponies, just as seed, begin only knowing of themselves, and that they are somewhere, perhaps underground. But then they germinate, and they grow, they start taking in the world. For the first time they see the sun, they grow leaves and feed themselves, no longer dependent on what they had been given as a foal. They think on what they want, what they like, what they want to do when they are fully grown. These are dreams, the buds that can flower, and give beauty to a plant, but the plant has to open them.
But not even the plant knows what the buds will look like once they flower. They photosynthesize and pump sugar into the growth of the flowers. Flowers are an investment, plant's don't know how they will look, but they make them regardless. Ponies can only do the same thing, put everything they have, everything they are into their dreams, and hope that they turn out for the better.
But this bud can be thousands of feet up, high in the clouds on the tip of a beanstalk. It seems all but impossible to lift the nutrients and water all the way to the bud. Dreams might not be the easiest to chase, but perhaps that bud, the small case that holds so much beauty inside can blossom. Even through the darkest of nights, the cloudiest days, the foggiest of mornings buds can flower if the plant is persistent.
The morning dew trickled down her face, picking up the small crystals that rested on the ends of her short coat that constituted her face. The soft light of the sunrise pierced the morning fog leaving brilliant rays of light, and left he grey coat shining from the dew.
To somepony else just waking up in very similar scenery, they reminded her of the lasers the clubs had and was another reminded of her dream to own a club just like it, but now she knew it would never happen. Now she knew her dreams were simply kicking dirt in her face because she failed.
Dawn to the pony now drying herself of dew meant one thing, another day of begging, garbage picking, and street performing. As she combed her mane with one of the few things that wasn’t repoed, her shining silver comb, she wished she had someone to turn to, but she immediately knew she was alone. Oh how she hated dreams, it was because of them she was here. As she thought, her head started to hurt, the works of the paradoxical predicament she was in. If she never would have fallen in love with strings, then dreamt of being one the best. She would have never asked to get a cello, so her parents would have never told her no. She thought about what she did to get this cello, stealing so many bits from her parents. If she never did that then they would have never disowned her, and she’d be able to get bits freely. Only if none of this happened she wouldn’t need bits…
With her mane combed and trademark raggedy bow tie on, she walked out of the park and over to her alley. She was so happy to have found this place; there was a bathroom to an old club that had a door that was in the alley, actually, because of all the puke smell, the only entrance was in the alley. Still, the plumbing worked and the door locked, so she had a safe place to keep her cello and other personal effects safe. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough room in there for her to sleep and keep her things safe, so a great tree in the park is her house nightly. She would sleep in the main building of the club, but that’s where the drug deals are done in the neighborhood.
It’s actually a nice agreement we have, I don’t rat him out and tell him what I learn about his competition, and he keeps me out of the whole drug loop that happens in my backyard. Or rather he keeps me in it, telling me the days it’s planned for, if any big name gangs were coming, stuff like that.
It’s funny, we’ve actually grown to be friends of a sort, and if he needs an extra pair of eyes when dealing with somepony shady, well, he pays well and I blend in with the shadows. Two nights ago there was a big name scam artist that tried to rip him off, not to mention pick pocket him, but let’s just say he wasn’t crafty enough to get one past me. I ate well when he treated me to dinner, and I did like the size of the paycheck; to bad I can still smell blood around the club and in my alley.
But I did leave out what else the club is used for, my black market. You’d be surprised at the things the rich throw away, my job is to find it (along with any food I can scavenge up) and sell it so others can fix it up or resell it for more. Actually, some of the ponies that walk in the door those Tuesday nights might surprise you. I do like it when that happens, the pay so much to ensure their presence in my store goes unheard by the press.
Altogether, with the cello playing on the side, I make enough to manage easily, not enough for an apartment or anything, but I do have cash to blow a lot of the time. Maybe not the life I expected, but it really isn’t awful.
The lights weren’t flickering, not wavering in the slightest, a nice change from the building I was in two weeks ago, the only community meal house in Canterlot, and the last place I had a fulfilling meal. Tonight was a special night, I got to have a drink, a cheap one, but still, one that made my mind fuzzy. It didn’t help cheer me up, not to mention I really never enjoyed alcohol, even when I was going to clubs and during my time as a DJ. It made everything fuzzy, and I prefer to have everything as clear and defined as my music. Still, right now I can’t help but crave the fuzz; it makes it harder for me to focus on anything, including my depressingly long list of problems.
I had just finished my drink when a strange mare walked up to me, “Hey, you look like you could use a shower, and some money. Why don’t I treat you to diner at my place where you could wash up some? Then we could spend some time ‘getting to know each other closer’, if you know what I mean, there’s a few bits with that offer.”
I stared at her blankly, come on mind, work! I thought, She’s offering money for something, what is…
“No, I’m not in need of money at the moment,” I lied straight to her face, without any emotion. It was a lie, I really needed money but, but THAT! I’d rather starve.
“Oookay,” she said in a drawn out fashion, “But let me at least pay for the drink, cutie.”
She dropped the money on the counter next to me. Since the bartender already got my money, this was to go in my pocket. I tilted my head back as far as I could with the glass to let the last trickle of drink flow into my mouth. I slammed the cup down and left, leaving that ‘charity’ still noisily steadying itself on the counter.
The tapestry of stars light the ex-DJ’s way as she walked around the city. She really didn’t need them, since she could walk the streets with her eyes closed, but they were still beautiful. As she persisted in occasional glances at them she decided to go to the palace gardens and admire them to burn some time, not like it was precious to her, since time was all she really had.
Since I’d never walked to the palace before, I used a simple lighting spell to ensure that I wouldn’t trip. Which I almost did a couple of times regardless, guess I don’t handle alcohol very well…
But when I got there I was so glad I came, the sheer beauty that surrounded me was amazing, so amazing that I didn’t want my mind foggy anymore; its wonder was enough to keep my mind off my problems. So using a spell in a process I’d really rather not describe; I purged myself of alcohol, and had my mind as clear as tonight’s sky in minutes. I looked up, and gazed at all the wonderful constellations I could recognize. Then I drew lines between the stars to make all the shapes more defined.
I really was astonished at how fantastic magic could be; I had always thought it was limited to simple things like light and levitation before I began to spend lots of time in the library. When I first realized I needed something to do, I decided that the library would be a good place to research things to do. That day I stayed up late enough for not only the sun to rise, but the library to open just to learn of something I could do. Once I got in, I saw a unicorn teleporting from place to place putting books back, so I asked how they did it. After showing me how, and I told her I was interested in learning more about magic; she directed me to the magic section, beginning my love of books. From then on I’ve made frequent trips to the library; though since that first time I learned to teleport, I’ve just teleport in at night instead of waiting for it to officially open. No harm in reading with the pale blue light of my horn instead of the sun. And actually I’m not the only one who does this, I’ve made a good friend in the library. Though I’d never burden her with my problems, we mainly talk about books and watch her destroy me at chess. One night she told me all about the stars, and even gave me a book about the constellations, shapes I now can draw by heart.
I laid down on my back and took in the flower aura around me. It felt like hours I was there staring at the endless beauty of the accurately graffitied sky. I still found it weird that I appreciated all of this, the reading, pretty stuff, flowery smells. I used to only think beats made beauty, but now I have a pit in my stomach from just being in this moment. A pit that was there because I knew this moment would pass.
This fantastic moment in the refreshing night air under a clear night sky filled with the drawn constellations, and the rows and rows of flowers illuminated by the soft glow of my horn as they siphon their perfect scent into the gentle night breeze that quietly whistled through the courtyard rustling the leaves of some of the most gorgeous trees I’ve seen. I closed my eyes and smiled, smiled because how wonderful a night it was. Smiled… smiled? Smiled! I actually smiled! It feels like year since I’ve done that, and it very well might have! Oh I might have grinned, but this was the first time I’ve actually smiled! I started giggling and laughing and I couldn’t stop. I laughed because I was happy, and I laughed so hard it brought tears to my eyes; what a wonderful night!
“You must be a genius, if you can be drunk and draw the constellations that perfectly,” A voice said from behind me. Well, behind me if I were standing up, they weren’t in the ground. I craned my neck to see and orange Pegasus with a purple mane, same style as me, uncombed, standing over me.
“No, I’m not…hahaha… drunk,” I replied, unable to stop laughing.
“Rrright… do you need help getting home?” she persisted
I rolled back on my hooves, cleared my throat and finally got enough grip to stop laughing, “I’m not kidding you, I’m as sober as a… um… a, a… um… Oh never mind the analogy, I’m sober.”
She sighed, “What are you doing out this late anyhow?”
“I’m nocturnal, so to speak, why are you out?”
Now she laughed, “Look around, it’s a beautiful night, I couldn’t resist taking a quick flight.”
“You’re awfully grounded to be flying,” I teased.
“Well, you know, having all the stars connected by lines with a hysterically laughing unicorn lying outside the palace was as strong a beacon as your horn,” she answered with a smirk.
I laughed again.
“You said you were nocturnal, why is that?” She said, stabbing the dagger of reality into my heart.
“Less ponies,” I lied as the real reason slowly brought real tears to my eyes. “The perfect night…” I whispered as I let myself collapse to the ground, “I should have known the world would never let me have it.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ask anything too personal,” she said.
“No, no, it’s not your fault; it’s just the world trying to keep me miserable…”
“Do you want to talk about it?” her sweetest inquired.
I was about to blurt out ‘no’ when It hit me— perhaps it was time to talk, “I just met you, and this is crazy, but yes I would like to talk about it. I warn you though, it’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” she said.
“Well, all this started years ago; I had a nightclub, not one I went to, my own nightclub. It was a dream come true, but back then, the only real intelligence I had was making songs was audio stuff. I could barely take care of myself, let alone run a business. Ultimately, it fell out of my hooves. After, I started to work odd end jobs to keep some income, but everything collapsed. Soon I had nothing, nowhere to turn, and no plan to fix that. I did nothing for a few weeks after that, barely ate even, but then one day, a fierce determination to do something swept over me. I went to the library to research some hobbies that could be fun that day, and that’s when I got into magic, and from there I started to gather bits of knowledge from everywhere. It doesn’t add up to anything, but it keeps me occupied. Anyway, that whole time I’ve been living on the street, starving, begging for money, freezing in the winters, and breaking into the library a little more frequently than I should.”
“Hold on,” she interrupted, “I know just how you feel; I’ve lived my life constantly waiting for something. Be it my cutie mark, the invitation to join the Wonderbolts, or for a certain somepony to pop the question; I’ve needed to work through difficult times, but I’ve always found that light at the end of the tunnel. What you need to do is raise enough money to get that club back…”
It angered me, that she thought it was that easy, so I interrupted her shouting, “Then what! It’ll just keep exploding in my face! Like, like everything always does…”
“You know being strong isn’t about how big your muscles are, rather one’s ability to preserver when all odds are against them. If you work hard enough, then you can get your club b…”
Then it clicked. She talked about the club, the mosh pit, the heat, the loud music and bright lights. My life as it was, but I wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted, “And if I do, what do I do then, spin records for hot, sweaty mosh pits again? What about all this?” I asked, gesturing to our serene surroundings, “I’ve learned the true beauty of night, of nature, and of magic. How can I go back? That club pony is who I was, not who I am.”
“Then I guess you should start by asking yourself who are, and what do you want.”
The shadows grew longer as we trotted through the stone streets of Canterlot. I looked from side to side at the bright paint that decorated the dilapidated brick buildings. Scents of rot and drugs assaulted my nose, convincing me to breathe through my mouth. Our synchronized hooves clicking against the cooling grey road was the only sound that complimented the choir of birds. Words were left unsaid, neither of us had any left to say to each other anyway. I had nothing; he had a job, a home, and a beautiful wife. She was sweet, gentle, loving, beautiful, and perfect for him, but there was one problem with her— she wasn’t me.
Bass had found me because he needed wiring done, I mean crazy wiring. I couldn’t say no to a friend even the night after I decided to stop dreaming of clubs. I’m overjoyed that he still thinks of me, but he does for the wrong reason. We got out of the shortcut and on to a line of clubs I was all too fond with.
My heart dropped when he walked up to his building. A pure emotional waterfall crashed down on my soul, drowning out all commands my head ordered. The rods I call my limbs stood ridged as I stare up at the retro building that I once called mine.
“I’m sorry VS, but you know I’d never forgive myself for what happened. This, this is all I could think to do to try and make up.”
I let my chin drop and shook my head, tears tugging at the corners of my eyes, “You know what happened wasn’t your fault.”
“Can y…”
He didn’t have to finish that sentence to know what he was implying. I stood proud again, narrowing my eyes at his suggestion, “I’m not weak.”
Slowly I advanced, battling my emotions the entire time.
He stood awkwardly as he kicked a hoof and watched my sporadic work.
“Is there anything I can do?” he stressed ‘anything’ to the point that his boredom slapped me in the face.
I looked up at the Pegasus DJ standing in the middle of the currently well light club through all the floating wires and boxes, “If you think you can help and stay out of the way of my magic at the same time, then sure.”
He groaned loudly before returning to the bar to get drinks for us, “Nothing alcoholic if you want this place staying fire safe.”
I finished wiring the speaker I was working on before walking over to the table where he was sitting.
“You know I have to hoof it to you, under the floor speakers with color alternating dance panels is a great idea, but really, who did you expect to wire this?”
He smiled at me, “My plan was always you.”
“You’re just so insane, you know that?”
We laughed before I continued, “So, how’s the wife.”
He downed the rest of his beer before admitting, “She kicked me out of the house, and before you ask, I won’t tell you until I’m drunk and you’re finished working.”
I blinked absently at him before shrugging, finishing my drink, and returning to work.
The sun was shining high by the time I finished, and Bass had dosed off at one of the tables. I went over and shook his chair shouting, “Earthquake! Bass we gotta get out!”
When he woke up screaming and ran for the door while I collapsed on the ground laughing hysterically.
Vinyl’s eyes were squeezed shut and tearing up, but if they would have been open she could have seen the remorse buried deep in the soul of Bass through his eyes. He love his wife, a sweet mare, but she’s never been and will never be as fun as the white mare that was rolling on the floor of the club.
“You know VS, I’ve got a bed in the back if you’d like to sleep here today.”
I had to force the laughter back to talk, “No, I couldn’t.”
“Now hold on, I want you to be here when I kick off the new system. Actually,” he paused as he flew up to stand on the DJ table, “I want you to be here!”
I sighed as I returned to my hooves, “I couldn’t Bass. It’s been years, and I don’t even know if I want to DJ anymore.”
“Oh come on, it’s been to long since you’ve heard your music. One night, and I’ll leave you alone.”
“No I…”
“VS, I’ll tie you down to that table if that’s what it takes.”
“All right, but I’ll have to be up all day to adjust the table…”
He grinned, “It hasn’t been touched since you left it.”
I smiled too before going into the back and climbing into the first bed I’ve been in as long as it’s been since I DJed.
I looked down from the ceiling as the opening DJ signed off. Bass told me that he kept this safe, though no one used it since my disappearance. I couldn’t see him through the tiny square of visibility I had but I was sure he had the biggest silly grin of his on his face. When the landing stage was clear I jumped down, luckily sticking the landing and not embarrassing myself before I even started.
The entire audience gasped and clapped, not realizing who I was. Then I shouted, “Whose ready to party?!” They cheered before I continued, “Then get ready ‘cause DJ Pon-3 is in the house!”
There were gasps of recognition as I started the first track, gasps recognizing me, not the song. Even after the years it has been the table still felt like second nature to me, and I quickly got into my groove.
The flashing lights, the paneled dance floor, the true surround sound of my mixing; I remembered how fun it was. As I played I remembered also the stress and sleep deprivation the job gave me. I shook my head and ignored all my thoughts, it was DJ time.
For hours I actually enjoyed myself behind the table, the thrill of the moment washing over me. It seemed all too soon that the club was closing, and I was catching up with Bass, “Well I’m glad you let me do that.”
“Good, good. So would you be up to doing it more?”
“Bass, I could do it for you as a friend, but I want something else out of my life. Until I learn where my new calling is; I can’t do it again.”
“Okay VS, but I’ll be waiting.”
I was about to walk out the door when I remembered something, “Oh, where did you sleep last night, I thought your wife kicked you out of the house, and you said you’d tell me about that.”
He cleared his throat, “I slept on the street, but don’t mind that, you do it every night. And the reason my wife’s acting up is because when we were in bed, I mean, you know, in bed, and I said her name, or, or rather, I said, …your name…”
“Wha…?”
“O, Celestia!” he blurted out before running past me and out the door.
“Bass wait!” I shouted after him as he flew away.
Before I really had a chance to think somepony slammed into my head; making my glasses fall to the ground, and when the pony after him jumps over me, he landed right on to my glasses.
The glasses that survived everything, now nothing but a shattered heap on the ground.
I let out an agonizing scream, one so loud half of Canterlot could hear me, but I was silent. Nothing escaped my mouth as I begged for this to never have happened, but raspy noises and hyperventilation was all I could hear. The hot salty tears flowed from my eyes to the cruel ground. This was goodbye, the breaking of the last tie.
“Viney, come here,” Mom called.
“What is it Mom?”
“Come here.”
She sighed and went over, gasping when she saw me, “No way Mom, you’re the best!”
She giggled as Vinyl put me on for the first time, “Cool,” was all she said.
See, I’m meant to be for little kids, and I’m not supposed to cover only the eyes like Vinyl wears me. I am for novelty. I’m supposed to be a gag that covers up most of a pony’s face; not actual glasses meant to be wore on a regular basis.
Oh how Vinyl loved me, she’d have me everywhere, even if she wasn’t wearing me. And I loved her too; a mare and her glasses, two things that could never be separated. Oh how she’d cry when her mom told her that she was going someplace formal, and I was to be removed because of my informality. And you should have seen her as cute little filly. And as she got older how beautiful she was with longer hair that rolled in waves down to the beach where they broke into gorgeous spirals. I know that if I was a pony I would have, and still would mind you, marry her…
She always loved music, which I didn’t mind because she always knew what to listen to. Her passion started when her parents took her to a concert. After that, trips to anything music centered were quite regular. And soon enough her parents realized that listening wasn’t enough, so they bought her a violin. She dove right in, learning to play everything, and she was quite a prodigy. In that time I had growing periods of neglect as her warm face needed me less and less. But I never was far, and was always on her head as she wrote her own music. But before that, since she had learned to play using magic; she needed to learn to play with just her hooves. It was always more beautiful when she played her own songs with her hooves.
Then came the day for her to start work. Even though her mom said that I was too informal, she still wore me as an adornment on her head.
This was back when she still had her flowing hair, and that youthful innocence in her eyes. That look you have when you’re carefree, live for fun, when nothing can stop you because you’re young and innocent. Her eyes still shot every which way to see everything in their oblivious gaze. And her smile was so perfect it made everypony that saw it think back to being her age. And her eyes showed too how fragile she really was because of how perfect a world she saw; no way of knowing how quick it could be shattered.
She got a job with a band needing a violinist. They had no tracks, no foreseeable future, and no guarantee of success, but Vinyl knew they were the right group because of how alike she was to each member of the group. They all quickly became friends, as well as made a name for themselves. Of course, Canterlot was not a stage for a band like them to start on, so we traveled to the great city of Manehattan.
But the city had its downsides, namely the clubs. Once they had started to drum up interest for performances, they started celebrating at clubs. As they got more and more popular, they even started carrying their instruments into the clubs and giving spontaneous live performances. That’s how Vinyl was introduced to the electronic style of music, and she loved it as much as any other type genre she had heard.
All was not well, however. The drummer for the band became quite the drunk, and eventually it began to interfere with his performances. Ultimately he was kicked off when he showed up to practice drunk out of his mind. They had just picked up a new drummer when the friends and band members began to fight amongst each other. A few of them wanted to switch to electronic music, while others insisted they stayed instrumental; Vinyl just tried to keep the peace.
It didn’t work, and soon we found ourselves back in Canterlot. But the band did introduce her to electronic music, and supplied her with enough money to be independent. So she walked up to a club hiring a DJ and got herself a job.
She quickly became proficient and popular as DJ Pon-3, and saved money to the point where she could open a club of her own. This is about when she met Bass, and stole him from another club. For a little over a year she enjoyed the best time of her life, but everything must come to an end.
It started with a simple dinner at her parent’s house where just about the most tragic thing was Vinyl’s mane (her Mom almost cried when she saw it straightened and cut short).
The next day it was not raining. It was not drizzling. There were no clouds, not a single one. Thunder didn’t clap, no lightning flashed. It was wonderful weather. It wasn’t autumn, not even close. There was no bone-chilling breeze that rustled the leaves. All was still. There was no one around, no comforting shoulder, and no one to lean on. Vinyl was alone. There was no midnight pounding on the door. It was the middle of the day. This perfect day with the sun high and nothing can go wrong…
The phone rang. It could be a telemarketer. Probably the neighbor calling to say the music’s too loud again. Maybe the desk saying she owes rent on the apartment. Possibly the music store saying the violin’s fixed (Vinyl really never played it anymore, but she liked to keep it in working condition). Small stuff, never anything interesting.
So you can understand Vinyl’s reaction when the voice on the line said, “Hello, this is Officer Brave Wing from the Canterlot police force, could I speak to Miss Scratch?”
When she replied the stallion continued, “I regret to inform you that there was a fire at your parent’s house late last night, and both of them are in intensive care…”
The phone fell to the ground as Vinyl’s magic stopped. She stood shock for what must have been days. No, seconds. She ran out the door and ran as fast as she could to the nearest hospital to her parent’s house; crying the entire time. Through the window she could see them, but closer than that was prohibited. She never got to talk to them again.
She went to the house a month later, after all the guards around it were dismissed, and the now collapsed building was getting ready for excavation. They knew it was a crime scene, but not much more. Bass was there for Vinyl as she walked through the debris and searched for anything that could be a memento, but there was nothing.
I remember that conversation…
“Vinyl, why are you alone, don’t you have someone in your life?”
She shook her head, “No, I’m truly alone…”
“Why aren’t you another Stallion’s Mare?”
“I’m never around. I can’t sleep at night, Bass, I can’t because I’m just so s-s-scared!”
As I sat there on the street crying I ignored the stares from everypony around me. I felt a part of me die with these glasses; the last reminder of my parents I had.
Author’s note— This is going to be confusing, deal with it.
Octavia was lying on her back; her old synthetic leather jacket padded against the cool ground. Not like she knew the leather was fake, let alone know what leather was in the first place. Regardless she knew the jacket was comfortable, and she liked it. Her mane laid scattered across the ground in the absence of any head gear.
“It’s about time you showed up,” Octavia sneered when she heard her friend approaching.
“Pardon me, ma’am, I am sorry that there were complications impeding my arrival,” Octavia replied calmly. She took her hat off and smoothed her mane over at the sight of Octavia’s messy appearance. Afterwards she smoothed her overly formal dress and continued towards the spot where Octavia was now getting off her back.
“Whatever mom. Really, you’re what I meant when I said I didn’t wanna end up like them.”
“Thank you for your opinion, but I disagree. My mother did a splendid job of raising me.”
Octavia groaned and rolled her eyes at this, “Princess, just get over here and sit down.”
“This is just why I desire more dominance, you are just irredeemably irritating.”
“Sweetie,” Octavia said to further push Octavia’s buttons, “You don’t ask for dominance, you assert it.”
“Uh! I say, where did you learn to be so positively repulsive. All I’m asking is for more than a day or two of mental influence; nothing you need to ‘assert’ over.
“Look, it’s bad enough that I let you out that long, and we’ve discussed this already. That’s why I’m even here, remember, every week I come to talk if I get majority of the time in control was our deal.”
Octavia scoffed, “Well I can’t believe that I agreed to that.”
“Hindsight is 20/20, sweetheart,” Octavia grinned.
Octavia narrowed her eyes, “And why must you insist on calling me such names?”
“Darlin’, would you prefer we go back to callin’ each other Octavia?” Octavia asked rhetorically, “Because I’m sure you remember how confusing that was.”
“I’d prefer that you maintain a single nick name for me, if you would even have the mental capacity to do that.”
“Whoa, we haven’t even sat down yet, let’s not start fighting yet.”
They started trotting through the blank white world to a table that stood alone in the abyss. A simple brown wood staple in this world of nothing. They pulled the chairs out from under it and sat down. Octavia picked up the tea cup in front of her and, after putting a sugar cube in it, took a sip. Meanwhile, Octavia picked up her cup and dumped her tea on the nothing behind her. She then poured in some scotch and began mimicking Octavia’s motions.
Octavia just sighed.
“I wish it was prettier in here.”
“Pretty? Please I wish there was something here.”
“Well, I found a wonderful room with chocolate pastries one time, though when I tried to return it was filled with fire crabs,” Octavia remarked.
“What’s a fire crab?”
“A what?”
“I’m going to go.”
“No! You cannot!”
“And why’s that, Princess?”
“We are waiting for Octavia.”
“Ah!” Octavia looked around at the emptiness, “You sure it was here?”
“Positively sure.”
“Octy, she should be here.”
“Be patient.”
“What do we do if she doesn’t come?” Octavia shivered and tugged the ends of her jacket together.
“We’ll come tomorrow.”
Octavia winced at the thought of further time with Octavia at this table waiting for Octavia, “We came here yesterday.”
“Ah no, there you’re mistaken.”
“What do we do then?”
“Nothing to be done,” she shrugged, ruffling her dress and displaced her hat.
Octavia took off her hat and examined it scrupulously for the foreign body that had lodged itself inside. Failing to find anything, Octavia flipped it and tapped the top; she examined it again before returning it to its post on her head. While Octavia was playing with her hat, Octavia was struggling with her bow tie.
Failing to alter its position she sighed and looked up, “Listen.”
Octavia continued to fuss with her hat, “I hear nothing.”
“Hsst!” Octavia turned her head to hear better, “Nor I.”
The sound of approaching hoofsteps lay dead on their eardrums. When Octavia walked out of the shadows they heard her draw near and say, “Um…”
“Hello, are you Octavia,” Octavia beamed.
“Yeah.”
“If you’re not Octavia, who are you?”
“I said yes,” she replied irritated.
“Nice to meet you Yes, my name is Octavia and my friend in the crazy dress over there is Octavia.”
“My name is Octavia.”
Octavia frowned, “Why didn’t you say so?” She smiled again, “Here, take a seat, we’re waiting for Octavia. So what personality are you?”
“I-I’m just Octavia.”
Octavia turned to Octavia, “She might be…”
“No, she can’t be Octavia, it’s too early?” Octavia asked more than stated.
“You’re probably right,” Octavia turned back to Octavia, “Here, take a seat.”
Octavia rolled her eyes, “Why do you have to be so nice to these dreadful fads that manage to gain a personality.”
“Speak for yourself, I thought some of them were lovely.”
Octavia snickered, “Yeah like that time you dreamed you were a stallion and when he got a personality you made out with him.”
“What the hell Octavia! We talked about you blurting that out!”
“Uh oh,” Octavia said looking at Octavia, “It’s not good when Octy uses your real name.”
She gritted her teeth, but smiled, “No need to get rough around a guest.”
Octavia let out a sigh of relief at the same time as Octavia, neither of them wanted Octavia beating anypony.
“So what brings you around these parts?”
“I-I-ah-a-a-um, how a-are there three of us?”
Octavia huffed and looked at Octavia, “What did you do?! You were in control last, what personality did you make?”
“How dare you! I’ve done nothing!”
“Sure…”
“Freeze! Please just stop…” Octavia moaned, “I really need some pony to explain what’s going on…”
They didn’t respond. Nor did they blink, or breath, or do anything, they stayed perfectly still, “Hello?”
Nothing.
Octavia stood up and waved her hoof in front of Octavia. When there was no reaction she turned to return to her seat.
“Hello Octavia,” A mysterious mare who was standing not five feet away said.
“Wha… How did you? Who are you?”
“Follow me,” she said.
Octavia looked at her; she appeared to be grey, but it was such a light shade that she could easily be mistaken to be plain white. The only reason Octavia could tell she was darker was because of the totally white background. She had a blue tail that looked to have a grey tint about the shade of her coat. Octavia looked back at the two of her sitting at the table, shrugged , and followed the mare.
“Unfreeze,” the grey mare said as they trotted further from the table, and behind them the arguing continued.
They had been walking for quite some time before Octavia said something again, “So who are you?”
The mare looked at her, “You don’t know me.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why, actually, never mind, I don’t care, just tell me where I am.”
She frowned, “You haven’t figured out yet?”
“Obviously.”
“You’re in your mind, your head.”
“What?”
“This is the plane of your consciousness,” she explained
“Why is it blank?”
“Because you’re sleeping, or unconscious as it were.”
“How am I here?”
It took her a moment to respond, “You need to be here, so you are.”
“I need to be here? You’re kidding me.”
She turned and stared at her, “Do I look like I’d joke around?”
They returned to traveling silently as Octavia mulled over what she said. How could she be walking around in her own head, and with a mare she never met no less.
“Hold on, if we’re in my head, but I’ve never met you did I…” Octavia paused to think a way to politely phrase it.
“No, you didn’t create me,” she replied without needing the question finished.
“So…”
“Look,” she interrupted, “What do you know about time?”
Octavia thought for a moment, “I don’t understand the question.”
“Time, what do you know about it.”
“Well, sixty seconds is a minute, sixty minutes is an hour, and so on.”
“Octavia, time is an illusion, past, present, and future are just words. In our minds we see visions of ponies we’ve lost, ponies we’ve loved, ponies we think are gone, but our mind tells us their not. We’re still connected to them; because time is an illusion, and so is death.”
Octavia stopped as her words sunk in, “Wait, you said we’ve never met, how could I have a vision of you?”
“You’re the smartest mare I know, you tell me.”
Disregarding the first part Octavia thought, “You said time is an illusion, so… you’re somepony I will meet?”
She smiled and nodded.
“So how are you doing this? Actually how are either of us here? In my head I mean.”
“I’ve told you that you’re here because you need to be here,” she repeated, “I, on the other hoof, needed some help.”
A dark grey aura enveloped her mane, which Octavia noticed was nearly identical to her own, and she moved it enough to reveal her horn.
“Why are you here then?”
“Enough, stop with the questions about me. You need to focus on the questions about yourself.”
“Questions about myself?”
She rolled her eyes, “Yes, that’s what I said.”
“What questions? Do you think I don’t know myself?”
“You are at war within your own mind and body!” she shouted, “Did you know that?!”
Octavia recoiled, “What the hell are you doing in my head!”
“Showing you what you need to know!”
They glared at each other. After a staring match Octavia turned, making sure she hit the mare in the face with her tail, and trotted away.
“What do you plan to do now that you’ve been here, stand around on your cello? Should I go tune it?”
“Shut up and get me out of here,” Octavia said flatly
“And then what?! You never think these things through! This is exactly what happened when you bought that cello. You had it, then you had nowhere to go!”
Octavia spun around at the mention of her childhood, “I would have figured something out.”
“NO! If that children’s orchestra hadn’t found you, you would have starved to death!” She persisted.
“My childhood dreams have nothing to do with this.”
“Don’t you know those how don’t study history are bound to repeat it!”
“I know my future.”
“Is it your own future,” she growled, “Or is it some future you’re going to accept?!”
“Stop it; I know what I want,” Octavia once again turned away.
“I’m begging you Octavia! It’s time for you to look inward, and begin asking yourself the big questions. Who are you, and what do you really want?”
To the waking mind a dream is but a shadow. A meager speck against the brilliant light of the coming day streaming into one's eyes. And what does light do if not dispel shadows?
Octavia groaned as she looked sleepily around her with heavily squinted eyes as she ran here sandpaper tongue around her desert of a mouth. She took into a deep breath, but the cool night air offered no relief. Tapping around the ground she felt no moisture, it had not rained, and by this time at night her glass of water that she kept next to her would have evaporated. Too delirious to get up and walk to the pond, she returned her leg to it's position close to her body. And she felt her coat, it was soaked. Sweat. She shivered. Cold sweat.
But why? Her eyes fluttered shut, she shook her head and cracked her eyes again. Important, that's all she could remember, the dream had been important. But her eyes again began to fail her. As the grey spots of her vision slowly turned black she saw a pure white unicorn walking away from her tree.
White. White. White.
That's all that there was.
Octavia scanned around into the blank world, "Hello?"
Silence.
She sighed.
All around her the claps of her hooves echoed when she finally began walking. It, this place, felt... familiar, so very familiar.
Then she heard it and she went pale.
Away in the distance it called her. The soft talons of nostalgia.
She ran, ran towards the one other pony in Equestria who knew that song.
She sat contently playing the calling tone. Eyes shut, she was completely concentrated on her work. Neither the strange atmosphere nor the deep panting and rapid hoofsteps could distract her from her work.
The tone played on as Octavia watched until the last chord.
As it faded away into oblivion Octavia asked, "Lyra?"
Said mare turned to face her friend, "Yes Octavia?"
"Where are we?"
She looked around, "I don't know, seems like the old Concert Hall."
"Is this real?"
"Depends on what you mean by real. If real is what's you're experiencing, than yes, it is. I certainly don't think that this is Equestria though."
"Why?"
Lyra pointed at her blank flank, the to her lyre, "I don't think in Equestria I could play my cutie mark like an instrument."
"How am I, are we, here?"
“Hey”
“What?”
"Heyyyyyyyyyyyy!"
Octavia jolted up in the hard bed, and sputtered out incoherent babble.
“Come on, it’s time for dinner,” the olive green pegasus told her.
Octavia groaned, rolled out of bed, and, landing with a clap onto all four hooves, began walking down to the cafeteria.
Octavia felt a wing wrap around her, and she looked over.
“Mind telling your ‘mate what’s been going on?” Nimbus asked.
“It’s nothing,” Octavia dismissed
“All that sweat says otherwise.”
She looked back at her grey coat, Nimbus was right, it was glistening. Still, she didn’t want to talk about it, so she continued on in silence.
Nimbus sighed deeply, and rhetorically stated, “Mare, you are one messed up pony, you know that?”
Yes.
The menu was the same, while it wasn’t bad food, anypony could tell the chefs were the ponies who couldn’t make it in Canterlot. It was not particularly bad, an acquired taste, one might say.
She had just gotten her tray when an older looking stallion came up next to her, “Hey, follow me.”
Especially considering where they were at the moment, following him seemed like an incredibly poor choice, but something about him seemed trust worthy. He led her to the very corner of the cafeteria, to one of the tables at which barely anypony sat.
Now sitting across from him, she took a moment to look him over. He seemed gentle enough, though she knew that appearances meant nothing, all she had to do to remind herself was to look into a mirror. He was in fact, fairly old, so whatever he did might have landed him life, but he also looked fit enough that what he did could have been recent.
“So how long have you been in?” He asked.
“About four years,” she quickly lied.
“So you haven’t been in here quite long enough to know not to lie to me.”
Octavia rose an eyebrow.
He thought for a moment, “I’d guess you have maybe 11 months or a year under your belt.”
Octavia was surprised since he had hit the nail on the head, “How long have you been in here, and be honest.”
“Why, so far, all you've done is lie to me.”
Octavia rolled her eyes, “It was one answer.”
He smiled, “Okay, fine, let’s do this, every time you say a lie to me, I will tell a lie to you, though most likely not immediately after.”
“Very well then, answer my question.”
“I’ve been in for a good eight years now. Which means, of course, anypony who’s been here for a while knows who I am. I’m also the one who looks after all the newbies. Which of course, brings us back to you. If you have any trouble, I’m more than happy to help.”
“That all you wanted?” Octavia boredly asked.
“Well I was half expecting you to trust me by now.”
“What do you want?”
“Well, quite frankly,” he scanned up and down Octavia’s shiny coat, “I was expecting you to tell me how you ended up wetter than most of the water in this joint.”
Octavia went pale, “No. Nothing like that has happened to me.”
He snickered, “Fillies these days. You gotta stop listening to the rumors you here in Canterlot ‘bout this place, they’re to scare ponies into not ending up here. Come on, tell me what’s up.”
She poked around at her food obviously if she didn’t even tell Nimbus, then why should she tell this guy. Eight years, that’s quite a lot… she thought. “Wait, what are you in for?”
He stopped eating and leaned back, took a deep breath, and said, “Five accounts of involuntary ponyslaughter.”
The air conditioner kicked on and whirled chilling air down their spines. All around them the loud clamoring of the other inmates resounded and echoed from every wall, but in the tiny corner, everything was quiet.
“What about you?”
“One of negligent homicide,” she said quietly.
“You going to eat anymore?”
She shook her head.
“Come on then, let’s go somewhere a little less noisy.”
The soft cushions, to her dismay, were the most comfortable thing that Octavia had experienced since The Day.
“So tell me about court,” he said, knowing that, while it often brought awful memories, it was a lot better to start there than the crime.
“It was unbearable. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t look up, I couldn’t stop crying. I don’t think her mother cried as much as I did. When the judge asked how I wanted to plead, I could do anything, so he asked me if I pleaded not guilty. When I shook my head, he asked if I pleaded guilty. I nodded.”
“My court day was just like that. I walked in and I had my head down. I looked up twice, and only said five words. The first time I looked up was when I passed her. I’ll always remember the anger in those eyes. For years before I’d seen their majestic purple glow, but on that day, I looked at them, and they were red as the fires that got me to that day. There were no tears, they weren’t red from rubbing, or sorrow, but from pure rage. I told her ‘I am so sorry’. I wasn’t sorry just for her loss, but for her feelings too. Then I started crying. The next time I looked up was when the judge ask how I pled. I looked up, swallowed, and waited. The word couldn’t come. For a minute I stood there, then I remembered who was behind me. With her there I knew I had to. I couldn't put her through any more. I dropped my head and whispered, ‘guilty’”
“I don’t normally tell anypony this, but I want you to hear it.”
Octavia glanced up.
“Back years ago, when you were probably just a filly, since you look to be about her age, I was, a butler. I worked for one of the richest families in Canterlot. It was early in the morning on December the sixth, and snow was falling in the darkness. I remember waking up at four thirty and heading down stairs. I waited around until my fellow workers came down. They began on their jobs, and at fifteen after five I began to prepare breakfast. It was odd, the stove wouldn’t turn on, so I went to check the gas. I didn’t know much about gas at the time, so the horrid smell I in countered in the basement meant nothing to me. I got to the regulator and turned it up. Then when I returned to the stove I waited a minute before sparking it. The moment I did was the worst moment of my life. My ears went numb, everything around me turned red and orange and hot. My fur and mane burned off from just the heat. I ran as fast as I could to the front door, but something stopped me. In the midst of all the fire was a wooden violin and stand sitting in the concert room. All the other instruments were burning. I grabbed it and ran out, although doing so caused me to get worse burns everywhere. Standing in the snow that day was unimaginable. I could hear the screaming of a colt and his parents and two chefs and a maid. On top of my burns I developed frost bite, and I stood watching the house until long after I was told I need to go to the hospital. I stayed until I could no longer hear the shouting, until I knew it was too late. My son came by the hospital that night, and I told him to run home, put the violin in my room, lock the door and windows, and to bring me the key. One day I’ll be brave enough to give it to her, since it is hers. What about you, are you comfortable talking about your day?”
Octavia looked up, without her consent her mouth began to form words, “I was also a maid, after a series of unfortunate events. I was giving little Honey Blossom a bath when the doorbell rang. I told myself that it was just a package, or Professor Broad Leaf forgot his keys again. I went down to get it, and it was a few of Daisy Day’s friends. Since she was gone, I told them directions to get to where she was. When I went back upstairs, he was under the water…”
Octavia fought back tears, “And ever since then my life has been a lie, I've told all sorts of ponies all sorts of lies to sound tougher. I've said I've lived on the street, and said I've worked for a dealer, and, and, and oh, the nightmares.”
