> Harmonia
>  by Botched Lobotomy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Not the Worst First Date She'd Ever Had
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Coffee clinked, mugs swirled, the chatter of laughing ponies foamed through the air.
“I’m gonna go over.” In the softly angled corner of Le Café du Son de L'amour sat two ponies: one, a pale, white mare tossing a shock of blue mane, the other a vibrant yellow pony smirking behind the shade of his lanky orange dreadlocks.
“Dude...” The stallion took a delicate sip from his steaming mug.
“Dude what? Why not?” Floating her own mug to her lips, the mare stole a glance across the room.
“Dude, as in, that’s gotta be the straightest-lookin’ mare I’ve ever clapped eyes on.”
“What? No way.”She stared over the top of her mug at the pony in question, a black-and-grey mare seated by herself, gazing out the window.
“Yes way.” Dreadlocks swaying as he leant back, he added, “See that dress she’s wearing? She’s expecting somepony. That’s a date dress for sure.” He smiled, satisfied. “Stallions can tell that stuff.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yup.”
“These awesome stallion powers wouldn’t be the same ones which told you it’d be a good idea to ask me out, would they?” She gave him a wide grin, “Cause that was a great idea.”
“Do you have to keep bringing that up? Tequila and nasal spray are a nasty combination.”
“Sure, blame it on the juice.” She laughed, and set her mug on the table. “I’m going over. I got a good feeling about this one.”
The stallion waved a hoof as she stood. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
Vinyl smirked, leaving him to his bagel, and made her way across the room, threading through crowded tables toward the window. The object of her attention was a slender grey mare around her own age, maybe a year or two older, whose silky black mane was drawn into an elegant bun about her head. She wore a simple ebony dress that clung to her hips and fell gracefully down her legs. Definitely not a date-dress. As she approached, the mare turned to look up at her warily, nose held high.
“Hey,” Vinyl started.
“Hello.” The response was prim and neat, not inviting further conversation, but not rejecting it either.
“This seat taken?” She gestured to the chair opposite, clearly vacant. The mare shrugged. Vinyl wasn’t sure if this was an encouraging sign. “Uh, name’s Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch.” Vinyl decided to sit, running a nervous hoof through her mane.
“Satin Cord.” The mare inclined her head politely.
Vinyl’s eyes darted around, searching for something to say. At the corner of her vision a yellow stallion didn’t try very hard to hide his amusement. She scowled. “So...” Her gaze latched on to Satin’s dress. “What’s the occasion? Or are you one of those ponies that just likes wearing clothes?”
The mare considered her for a moment, then her mouth twitched into a brief smile. “It’s for a date.”
“Ah.” Bastard jinxed it! “With, uh, whom, if I may ask?”
Satin smiled, more easily this time. “Nopony in particular.”
“Ah. Ah!” Vinyl’s ears shot back up. “I see. In that case, may I buy you a drink?” She gestured at the mare’s empty glass of... “Is that wine?” Vinyl was no stranger to a glass every now and then, but midday was early even at the worst of times.
“Cranberry juice.” She giggled, a high, magical sound. “But I’m glad you think so highly of me.”
Vinyl flushed.
“But in response to your offer, I’m afraid my time is running rather low.” Satin glanced at her hoof, “Very low. In fact, I believe I must be going now.”
“Where you off to?” It sounded more accusatory than she’d meant, and Vinyl winced. “Your date?” She tried to lighten her tone.
Satin’s lips twitched with another smile. “Something like that.” She paused, eyes narrowing, seeming to deliberate for a moment. Then she looked up with a grin. Something peculiar glinted in her eye. “You’re welcome to come along, if you wish.”
To her date? Or... Vinyl, surprised, smiled back. “Sure! I mean, yes, I wouldn’t mind. I wish.”
Satin stood, picking a small bag from the floor, that strange look still in her eye. “Excellent.” It was almost a purr, and Vinyl felt her cheeks reddening. “I’m glad.”
As they left the Café, Vinyl cast a look back at her yellow friend, mouthing Sorry! He raised his mug in acknowledgement, wistful expression swiftly hidden by a smile. That smile dropped as a waitress came over with the bill, and Vinyl smirked. She’d make it up to him, probably, but right now she had other things on her mind.
“Soo...” Vinyl trotted to catch up with Satin, who had reached the door. “Where we going?”
“Oh, not far.” Satin adjusted her dress with a casual hoof. “Just around the corner, really.”
To many ponies, the phrase ‘just around the corner’ might mean anything from another minute’s walk to halfway across Canterlot. Satin, however, used it literally.
“The bank?” Vinyl tilted her head in askance as they walked through the huge golden doors.
“Mmm-hmm.”
Vinyl stared, realising that was as much of an answer as she was getting. “Okay then.”
With a shrug, Satin transferred her bag to a hoof, and with the other began rifling through it. Vinyl took the opportunity to marvel at the majesty of the building surrounding them, eyes wide, struggling to take it all in. It was an incredible display of opulence, a place of obscene wealth that embodied pretty much everything Vinyl disliked about Canterlot. That didn’t mean she couldn’t admire it, though. Marble pillars laced with delicate veins of gold, finely cut silver ornaments topping every desk and bannister, shimmering drapes that hung from the beautifully painted ceiling, impressing upon even the most indifferent of ponies that this was a place of expense, money, and riches beyond imagining.
Their hoofsteps echoed through the wealthy air as they approached the counter, Vinyl keeping a step or two behind Satin.
“Welcome to Hoofsdayle Bank.” A large purple earth pony stallion examined them from behind the counter, hooves pleasantly folded as he droned on. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Yes.” From her pouch, Satin drew a thick white envelope, and passed it through the silver-plated cage between them. “I’d like you to take a look at that, please.”
The pony raised one eyebrow. With an air of extreme effort, he raised the letter with one hoof, and with the other retrieved a fine silver blade which he used to cut it open. From within, he pulled out a sheaf of cream-coloured paper, which he opened in a series of precise, exaggerated movements. His eyes moved from left to right and left to right again, absorbing dispassionately the information it contained. Suddenly, he stiffened, neck snapping to attention, and let the paper fall to the desk. “Of course, madam.”
Vinyl frowned as the pony descended from his stool and unlocked the booth, smiling rather woodenly. “Right this way.” He marched over to the side of the room, stopping at an ornate wooden door, opening it, and beckoning for them to follow.
Vinyl hung back. “I, uh...I’ll wait for you here?”
Satin giggled, shaking her head, mane shifting like some delicate silky animal atop her head. “Of course not! Come, come.”
They followed the purple stallion to the door, Satin oozing ease and confidence, and Vinyl glancing around the room, baffled.
The stallion closed the door behind them, and then promptly fell over.
Satin chuckled as Vinyl rushed to his side, putting a hoof against his neck. “He’s alive, don’t worry.”
“What?” Vinyl looked up at her, eyes narrow. “How... What happened to him?”
“Completely harmless. He’ll wake up in a few hours.” Satin waved a hoof dismissively. “Along here.”
Vinyl stared as she trotted off down the corridor, hooves sinking into the plush carpet and hips swaying with every step. Wha...how...uh... Vinyl stood, swallowing. “Satin, what’s going on here?”
Satin half-turned, an odd smile on her face. “You’ll see. Come on.”
Vinyl looked again at the unconscious earth pony. I mean, he is still breathing... She took off after Satin, trotting hurriedly along the corridor. Warm lights glowed above as she followed Satin through door after door, passage after passage, until finally they arrived at a small brown door set into the wall. Vinyl was vaguely aware that they hadn’t passed a single other pony on their way there.
“One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-now.” Satin flung open the door, grabbing Vinyl by the hoof and dragging her through after. Before them rose a large set of double-doors beside which two guards stood, talking. Distantly, Vinyl heard another set of hooves, voices fading as they vanished round a corner.
As the pair in front of them snapped to attention, Satin pulled from her bag another letter, which she handed to the guard on the left even as the one on the right began to speak.
She said nothing, just smiled sweetly as from her bag she pulled a small crystal, around the size of a hearthswarming bauble.
“Hey,” the left guard frowned, “this is blank!”
Satin’s expression didn’t waver. “Yes.” She tossed the gem to the right guard, who caught it on reflex in his magic. “It is.”
A red aura surged from the ball and vanished into the guard’s horn. Suddenly he turned, expression unchanged, and bucked his letter-waving colleague straight in the face. Vinyl jumped, gasping as the guard collapsed against the wall, armour rattling as he fell.
Saying nothing, Satin walked forward, brushing past the ball-bearing stallion as she entered the room. Vinyl, wide-eyed, darted in after her, the door swinging shut behind them even as the patrolling guards ran back around the corner.
“What happened?” came a voice, muffled by the wood.
“Silent here just collapsed. He wasn’t feeling too well today. Maybe we should...”
Vinyl twitched, gritting her teeth. She marched up to Satin, growling, “Okay, just what in the name of Celestia is going on here?”
Satin paused, foreleg raised mid-step. “Why Vinyl, darling.” She blinked at her, eyes huge and full of innocence. “We’re robbing a bank.”
What. What. What? “What.”
Satin giggled, grinning and turning my head to the end of the empty room. “What did you think that was?”
At far side of the room, sunk into the smooth oak panelling, was a great metal door. Huge, circular, and inlaid with everything from silver engravings to precious gems, it loomed over them like the gate of Tartarus itself. In the centre, an ornately carved handle thrust out toward them, polished and shot through with metal rods like the spokes on a wheel. Vinyl’s jaw dropped.
Satin grinned like a little filly, sashaying up to the door and laughing her delight. “Now...” She spoke softly, suddenly calm once more, “Let’s see what you’ve got.” From her bag she pulled out three items: a small metal rod, a pair of red wires, and a bright blue crystal.
“Now hold on a minute...” Vinyl stood stock-still, blinking as she struggled to wrap her head around what had happened. “Ponies don’t rob banks.”
Satin frowned, turning to stare at her. “Sure they do.”
“I mean...” Vinyl licked her lips, brow furrowed. “Ponies like us don’t rob banks.”
“Ah. Well, who do you think does it?” She turned her attention back to the objects before her. “Banks don’t rob themselves.”
“I...but...” Vinyl gave up. “How do you even open this?” She waved a hoof helplessly at the vault door.
“Oh!” Satin sounded pleased. “Well, that’s the fun part.”
“The fun part.”
“Mmm-hmm. Up until now...well, it’s all been planned. Evading alarms, unlocking doors, avoiding guards...all decided in advance.”
“But not this?”
Satin smiled, raising a hoof to pat the door almost lovingly. “Custom vault. Sixty million bits of the best security money can buy. Isn’t she a beauty?”
Vinyl nodded mutely. “Okay.”
“See there?” Satin gestured to the left of the door, where a flat panel of blinking gems shone in the metal, “that’s how one opens it. Hoofprint recognition, iris scanner, key-code, and a physical key for good measure.”
“That sounds pretty secure.” Vinyl ran a hoof through her mane, shaking just a little. “I don’t suppose you’re stumped and can’t get in and we have to leave now?”
Satin smirked. “I’m afraid not.” She took the metal rod from her bag in her mouth, and held it up to the door. “I’d say look away,” she said round the device, “but I think you’ll be fine.” With that, she turned her head and touched the rod to the silver etchings on the door. Vinyl’s eyes widened as the blue crystal glowed, sparks of magical energy crackling up the wires to the rod they were attached to. Satin’s eyes squeezed tight shut as the energy sparked straight across the gap into the silver inlay, causing the metal to glow. First red, then blue, then a blinding white that was only just made bearable through Vinyl’s red lenses, the elaborate silver pattern burned and then vanished, evaporating in a cloud of black smoke and molten slag. Coughing, Satin removed the rod from the door. “Would you mind locking the door, Vinyl? I am quite sure nopony heard that, but we can never be too safe.”
Vinyl blinked, nodded once, and headed for the door. How in Celestia did this happen? She stared dumbly at the door for a moment, mouth open and no words coming out. How did I end up here? Not an hour earlier she’d been drinking coffee and flirting. The door in front of her, golden and smooth, seemed to mock her as she stood. Can I just walk out? she thought suddenly. There’s the door, can I just leave? Glancing behind her, she remembered the precise, exact way Satin had taken out the guards. There’s probably a jewel in there with my name on it, too. Sighing, she considered how to lock the door. Was she meant to ask that guard on the other side to do it? About to push it open, she remembered that the unconscious one would most likely have been replaced by now.
“Uhm...Satin?” She tiptoed back across the room. “How do I lock the door?”
“Oh! We don’t actually need to, that was just to give you a moment. You seemed rather dazed.” For a moment, she looked almost guilty, before her usual elegant smile graced her face. “Anyway, I’m almost done here.” In front of her lay a new crystal, this one purple, and substantially bigger than the previous. Five red wires led out from it, two of them running into a port in the wall, the other three ending in little sticky globs. Moving quickly, she attached the three sticky nodes to gems on the panel. Vinyl braced herself. Satin shot her an amused glance, the gems sparked once, and then went out. Inside the door, something went click.
Satin stood back, admiring her work. The bubbled and distorted face of the once-grand door glared back at her. “Vinyl, if you would do the honours...”
This was her last chance to back out. Run here, and...well, she’d probably be taken down by either Satin or the guards, but she’d be done for being an accomplice to robbery, at least, not robbery itself. She looked back at Satin, and sighed. Buck it, you only live once. Concentrating, she wrapped the great handle of the vault in her magic and, straining, for the thing was terribly heavy, twisted. Groaning, shuddering, the huge vault door swung slowly open.
A soft yellow glow poured forth, spilling out over the floor and lapping at the faces of the two awestruck ponies. Gold. Gold in ingots, gold in bars, gold in vast unwieldy cubes, gold in twenty different types of coin, gold in hundreds and thousands of sparkling bits, all arranged in neat little stacks around the edges. And in the centre of the vault, a glass cube filled with precious gems.
“Wow.”
“Sweet Celestia.”
Satin walked forward with a slightly unsteady gait, bathed in the glorious, obscene, breathtaking glow of wealth. Vinyl followed as if by instinct, legs moving of their own accord. It was more coin in one place than either of them had ever seen.
Vinyl was the first to break the silence. “And how do you propose to get this out of here?”
Satin blinked, as if brought down to reality by the gentle weight of a thousand-tonne brick. Wordlessly, she placed a small purple stone on the ground, and tapped it with a hoof. “Stand back.”
“Standing.”
After a moment’s quiet, the gem began to hum. A few moments later, it was still humming.
“Uhh...is something supposed to happen?” Vinyl asked.
A sudden flash lit up the room, and when her vision returned, Vinyl found they were no longer alone. A green unicorn with long, lanky legs, sporting a dark green suit, had arrived in the room. He sniffed, scanned the place for several seconds, his horn glowed, and he vanished.
Vinyl shot Satin a questioning look, but she simply gave a tight-lipped smile, saying nothing. Seconds passed, and then there was another flash. This time, instead of a green suit, a grey one appeared. The unicorn stallion wearing it was short, stocky, and covering his shiny black head with several desperate strands of orange mane. He looked around for a second, before his piggy eyes alighted on Satin. “Octavia!” His face split into a wide grin, orange toothbrush moustache crinkling in glee.
“Father.” Satin—?—inclined her head with a strained smile.
“What beautiful work, my daughter! I am so proud!” His grin appeared to be missing more than a few teeth, with gold and even diamond glinting in his mouth. He ran his tiny gaze around the room, and his breath caught a little as he took in the full abundance of the vault. “Good work! Very good work.”
Satin stared at the back of her father’s head, solemn. As he turned back to her, she raised a grin that mirrored his own. “Shall we bring the rest in, Father?”
“Yes. I will see to it. Very good work.” A glowing horn and a flash later, he was gone.
“...Satin?” Vinyl placed into the silence. The word sat there between them, quiet and patient.
“...Yes.” Satin sighed, looking down at her hooves. “I am afraid I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
“You don’t say,” said Vinyl drily. “So what happens now, uh...?”
“Octavia.” she replied. “We get this,” she gestured to the millions around them, “out of here.”
Vinyl looked around at all the gold, the gems, the riches. An awful suspicion was sinking into her gut. “No, I mean...what happens to me?”
Octavia looked surprised. “Why, you walk out of here.”
“I’m not going to be...”—she hesitated—“dealt with?”
The grey mare paused for a second, as if considering the option. Then she let out a laugh, short, sharp, not at all like the liquid giggles of before. “No.” She turned away, and repeated it, much more quietly this time. “No.”
That didn’t help the pit in Vinyl’s stomach one bit, but before she could say anything, the flashes were back. Red, blue, pink, green, a multitude of colours lit up the walls of the vault, pulsing like the inside of a club. In seconds, ponies—all unicorns, Vinyl noted—were milling around the room, threading their way though the mounds of gold and gems with practised ease. Some of them carried strange devices: nets of gems connected by wires, sets of jewels like dice, and two of the ponies were so burdened with various glowing shapes and inexplicable metal rods that they would have looked comical, were it not for their grim expressions. Most of them, however, carried only bags. Large sacks and cases and pouches, hung from their bodies in a series of straps and ropes. As she watched, each of them darted to a pile of gold and began stuffing it into these bags, scooping hooffuls of coin and ingots inside them. When every one of a pony’s bags were full, they stepped back from the pile, closed their eyes, and with the glow of a horn, flashed away. Less than a minute later, they were back, and piling in the gold once more. The sheer mechanical efficiency of it was quite took her breath, but Vinyl found herself more than a little...offended by the whole thing. The ease of it, the simplicity with which they took all that potential—for good, for evil, for action—seemed wrong at almost an instinctual level. All this money belonged to ponies, didn’t it?
Satin—no, Octavia—was standing beside her, watching the whole thing with a grim little smile. Vinyl couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Her father, the one with the orange mane, looked on from the other side of the room, eyes shining gleefully as he watched proceedings with a grin full of money.
It was all over in minutes. The bars had been taken, the piles depleted, and the central gem casing cracked in seconds by the two overburdened mares. The vault, so full before, lay now all but empty, and then even the ponies were blinking away again.
At last there was only Octavia, her father, the green-suited pony, and Vinyl left. The black stallion nodded approvingly at the emptied room, and patted Octavia’s head. “Well done.” He spared a glance at Vinyl, and lowered his voice. “We’ll have a talk about that later.” His horn glowed, and he was gone.
Octavia sighed, then, seeming to gather herself, turned back to her with a smile. “Coming?” She held out a hoof.
“Do I have a choice?”
The mare shrugged. “Not really, I’m afraid.”
If she stayed, she’d have to find her own way out, and would be the only thing left of several million stolen bits. Vinyl didn’t fancy her chances. She clasped her hoof around Octavia’s own, the mare tapped the ground smartly, the green unicorn wrapped them all in his glow, and suddenly she was somewhere else entirely.
Teleportation spells were hardly easy, and magic had never been Vinyl’s strongest suit, so the wrenching that took hold of her stomach as they were yanked through space itself and spat out the other end was quite unexpected. Vinyl felt her coffee rise and fought valiantly to keep it down, tearing her hoof from Octavia’s to cover her mouth. For her part, Octavia looked only mildly ill, which Vinyl found especially impressive. Her earth pony companion probably had far more experience with magic than Vinyl herself.
Where they were was a mystery. A high metal roof, stacks of crates, and the bare concrete floor meant it was absolutely a warehouse somewhere, but Vinyl knew Canterlot fairly well, and she’d never come across anywhere like this. There simply wasn’t enough space for a place this big, and in the quieter moments, Vinyl was sure she could hear the soft chuckle of running water outside.
Around them, the gold was being tidied away as quickly as it had been taken, and in moments it was all packed away in crates and shelves, not a gleam of it exposed. It had vanished in seconds, all that money, and nopony except the ones stood here would be able to tell a word of where it had gone. Everything but the gems—these were placed carefully in a velvet-lined case and carried away by two blue-suited ponies.
A sharp whistle cut the air, and the black unicorn motioned over Octavia with a stomp. Octavia took a breath, flashed Vinyl a half-hearted grin, and headed over to join her father.
Soon the warehouse would be as deserted as the vault, and as Vinyl watched, the ponies began to wink away again, leaving no trace they’d ever been at all. Most of them looked exhausted, and she noticed a few of them had to try more than once to teleport out. Vinyl didn’t blame them. She’d seen more magic here than in all her old magic classes combined, and with the weight they’d moved between spaces, she was amazed they were even still standing. Several tons of gold had been moved, at least.
Sweet Celestia. Vinyl resisted the urge to simply crumple to the concrete right then and there. She’d robbed a bank. Or, well, she hadn’t, but...
Calm down, she told herself. What was the worst that could happen? She’d only watched as one of the wealthiest Canterlot banks had been drained almost dry, only seen how it was done, who had done it... Wait. She froze, a sudden thought arresting her. Is this the Mafia? Unicorns, bank-robbing, suits... She chanced a glance over at Octavia’s father, with his slicked-back mane and tailored suit, and swallowed. Yup, definitely the Mafia.
The ponies in question seemed to be having a bit of a disagreement. The stallion snorted and stamped his hoof; Octavia tossed her mane and held her ground. As the warehouse emptied, their voices rose, and despite the fact that they were loud enough to echo round the boxes, Vinyl caught very little of what was being said. “...Young lady...” “...my decision...” “...liability...” She gathered they were talking about her.
Eventually, the argument ended, and Octavia broke away, trotting back over without so much as a glance behind her.
“Hey,” Vinyl started, “sorry if I caused you any trouble.” She realised as she said it how insane the apology was.
Octavia held up a hoof. “Not your fault.”
There was a pause. Vinyl scuffed her hoof on the concrete absently. “So...”
“So.”
“I’ll be honest, it’s not the date I was expecting.”
Octavia giggled. “No? Shame.”
“What was he, uh...?”
“Oh.” Octavia cast a dark look back at her father. “Only how foolish I was to take you along, and how much of a mistake your involvement was.” She took a breath. “But you’re all right, don’t worry.”
“Well that’s good,” I said, releasing a nervous laugh. “So do I, uh, get to walk out of here alive then?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely.” There was not a single reason she could think of to trust her, yet somehow Vinyl found herself doing it anyway. Octavia looked at the ground. “I’ll arrange transportation for you then, shall I?”
Vinyl nodded. “Yeah, please.”
Octavia turned to go, then, but something made her stop. Vinyl realised it had been the “Hey,” that burst from her so unexpectedly.
“Yes?” Octavia stared curiously back at her. Her ears half-raised in something that might be hope.
“Uh, I was, uh, wondering,” Vinyl shook her head to clear it. “You wanna grab another coffee sometime?” she asked, prodding at the ground with a hoof. She cast her mind back a million years, remembering, “Or a cranberry juice?”
“Or wine?” Octavia said, ears flicking amusedly.
“Or wine, yeah.”
She bit her lip. Vinyl watched, heart pounding faster than it had at any point all day, focusing on the shimmer of her mane pouring over her shoulder, the slightly askew neck of her dress, the faint tinge of pink at her throat—anywhere but her eyes. Several years passed in an instant.
“Mm,” the silken grey mare murmured, her voice high and silvery. “All right.”
> In Happiness, Escape
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Where ya off to?”
Vinyl shrugged, affixing her shades to her face. “Oh, you know.”
Groove laughed. “Oh, I know.” He stretched round, swiping her scarf from the hanger before she could. “I’m well aware.”
She rolled her eyes, holding out a hoof. “Come on, dude.”
“Come on what?” He stepped back, dancing the scarf just out of reach. “Am I ever gonna meet this mare?”
“Not if you keep being such a dick.”
“That’s how it is, huh?”
“Yup.”
“You know, I’m starting to think she doesn’t exist.” He waggled an eyebrow, daring her to rise to the bait. Maybe she would have, once, but now she simply smiled.
“Can I get my scarf back?”
“Can I meet your marefriend?”
“Sure, eventually.”
“Eventually.” He frowned. “Give me a day.”
Vinyl grinned, wrapping the cloth in her magic. “Probably about the same time you learn to watch the horn.” His eyes widened, and he drew back too late to stop the scarf unwinding from his hoof.
“Not fair,” he pouted. Vinyl stuck her tongue out. It was an old trick, that, and worked just as well on most unicorns as earth ponies or pegasi.
Groove fluffed his wings in indignation. “I still want to meet her!” he called, as she trotted out the door.
“Someday!” she shouted back, and vanished into the snow.
Early December in Canterlot was not nearly so bad as other places. Vinyl had been to Appleloosa, once, on the way to Manehattan, and the snows there had been heavy, the cold fierce, and deep in winter clothes were not so much fashionable as necessary for survival. In Canterlot—it might have been the ponies, Vinyl thought, all those bodies must generate some kind of heat—the snows never got deeper than a hoof, and anypony could do their hearthswarming shopping comfortably enough with only a hat or scarf. Some ponies, in need of a bit of icy refreshment, even went without.
The snow today was barely more than a frost, a light powder sprinkling the streets and gathering on rooftops, and the hoofprints of a thousand ponies would turn it all to mush by noon. For now, it was a chilly, charming dusting that clumped in corners and was never more than a decoration for the orange glow of shop displays.
Their café wasn’t far away, and soon enough Vinyl could make out the soft, trilling letters of it, sprinkled in snow. A familiar shape sat in the warmth of its window, and her heart gave a little leap as Tavi came into view. Sitting upright and proper at just the same table they’d first met at, and wearing upon her black mane a knitted purple beanie. It was probably the most adorable hat Vinyl had ever seen.
Tavi looked up at the door’s ringing, and her eyes widened a little as she saw Vinyl. She always did that, like she was, even now, surprised to see her every time, and Vinyl found herself smiling already.
“Hey,” Tavi said, as she sat down.
“Cute hat,” Vinyl replied.
Tavi frowned, reaching to pull it off. “Yes, well.” A delicate flush touched her cheeks.
“Aww, you look good in clothes, though.”
She looked away. “I’ve ordered you coffee.”
Tavi never drank coffee herself. She’d been trying to get Vinyl into tea, but so far Vinyl was holding out. “Three sugar—”
“Three sugars, yes.” Tavi glanced about, then looked down into her cranberry juice. She seemed distracted, Vinyl thought—which for Tavi was a rare thing indeed.
“What’s up?”
“Hmm?”
“You okay? That...” Vinyl paused, trying to remember. “...Boutique job, how’d it go? Did it go well?”
“Oh, that. Yes, well enough, I suppose. Stole lots of dresses.”
Vinyl cracked a grin. “Any left over on the side? I’m sure they’d look great on you. Award-winning fashion designer, right?”
Tavi shook her head indignantly. “I don’t think that’s the objective, really.”
“Or a suit,” Vinyl suggested. “You’d look awesome in one of those suits, too.”
She scowled. “Well, you’ll see me in one soon enough, I suppose.”
Huh? “Huh?”
Tavi sighed, pushing her cranberry juice away resignedly. “You’re to come over for dinner. Tonight.”
Vinyl considered this. “Wait, to your...?”
Tavi nodded.
“To meet your...?”
Tavi grimaced. “We always have this big hearthswarming function, and they want to meet you properly before it happens.”
“Well, buck me.”
“Only if you don’t mention it in front of my parents.”
The waitress came, deposited her coffee, and left again. Vinyl took a tentative sip.
“No, but seriously,” Tavi said, when she was gone, “don’t mention anything like that to them. Don’t even joke about it. They’re...”
“Pricks?”
“...Protective.”
“Right.”
“Very.” She tapped her hoof anxiously upon the table. “Don’t mention Princess Luna, either.”
“Big fans?”
“Hah. It’s probably for the best that you don’t bring up Celestia, for that matter. Or government generally. Or art, even. Or—”
“Got it.” Vinyl mimed drawing a zip across her mouth. “I just won’t speak.”
“That’s it!” Tavi’s eyes lit up.
“What?”
“You could pretend to be mute! I mean, if they think you can’t talk, they can hardly find fault with you. Just nod at everything they say, they’ll be delighted. Or maybe you could be deaf, too, then you don’t even have to worry about that! What about—”
“Tavi, Tavi.” She reached out to take Tavi’s hoof. “It’ll be fine. Really, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“I hate that you said that,” Tavi whispered.
Vinyl squeezed her hoof tighter. “I promise I’ll be good. Don’t worry about it.”
“You seem oddly enthusiastic about this, Vinyl,” said Tavi, a note of accusation in her voice. “Are you that eager to meet my parents?”
“I’m interested,” said Vinyl. “I mean, they can’t possibly be as bad as you say, right?”
“Mmm-hmm. And it wouldn’t have anything to do with the suit, now, would it?”
“Nope!” said Vinyl cheerfully.
“Of course.”





Tavi, as it turned out, did indeed look good in a suit. She answered the door on the first ring, crisply dressed in a smart three-piece, the cut neat and well-tailored, the fabric fine and pressed tight to her flank. The black-on-grey of the outfit reminded Vinyl of the dress she’d worn when they met—on her now, it was the exact inverse of her father’s.
“Vinyl,” she said, standing majestically in the framed light of the hall. She sounded stressed.
“Tavi,” Vinyl breathed.
“Yes,” she replied. “Take off your shades.”
Vinyl blinked. She knew for a fact that Tavi liked her shades. “Aww.”
Tavi took the glasses and tucked them neatly inside her jacket. “What’s that?” she asked, gesturing in mild disbelief to the bottle floating by Vinyl’s side.
“...Wine?” Vinyl passed the bottle to Tavi’s waiting hooves, and watched as her marefriend placed it decisively behind a flowerpot. Well, at lest she’d tried. Tavi gave Vinyl one last cursory glance, and ushered her into the hall.
Tavi stayed in a mansion. This, given the circumstances of their meeting, had not surprised Vinyl—but the sheer size of the mansion still managed to astonish. It was, frankly, obscene. The thing sat on Saddle Row like some great carven monstrosity, four stories tall at least, fluting and elegant and excessively gilded. Vinyl wondered wryly if they’d even bothered getting new material for it, or had simply melted down their gold and painted it straight on. Either way, the stuff was everywhere: where other ponies had dust or lint, Tavi’s family had gold.
Tavi strode through it as if she was quite unaware of her house’s ridiculous wealth, Vinyl trailing so distractedly behind that she bumped right into Tavi, who had stopped by a closed door. All the doors in this house were closed, Vinyl noticed suddenly. Like they were afraid of even air escaping.
Tavi took a deep breath, gave Vinyl a small, worried smile, and led her into the dining room.
In the centre, in the midst of the richly oiled panelling and soaring chandeliers, lay a table, stretching from one side of the room to the other. Very long, very dark, and very stout. It was hard to imagine the thing had been built—Vinyl could only see it being cut, hewn of some behemoth stone block, ancient and immovable. There were places for a hundred ponies, at least, but right then only four were set: two for her and Tavi, and two for Tavi’s parents.
“Ah!” exclaimed a squat, black figure in the distance. “There you are.”
Vinyl tried her best not to stare. Head high, she told herself. Don’t screw this up.
At the very end of the table sat two ponies: one, the stallion Vinyl recognised, with his bristly moustache and plastered orange mane; the other, his equal and opposite: white fur where he was black, lush mane where his was fading. She favoured them with a cold smile. “At last.”
“Mother. Father.” Tavi inclined her head courteously. “I’d like you to meet Vinyl Scratch.” She stepped aside, and Vinyl gave a wan smile.
“Pleased to meet you, um, sir.” Vinyl realised with a start she didn’t know their names.
“Call me Veni,” the stallion said, holding out a hoof. “This is my wife, Lapis.”
“Lazuli,” the mare clarified. She, distinctly, did not offer hers.
Vinyl shook the proffered hoof, sitting down to Veni’s left, just opposite Tavi.
“We’re so happy to finally meet you, Vinyl,” said the stallion, when they were seated. “Properly, I mean.” He gave a barking laugh.
“Quite,” Lapis agreed. “Octavia’s told us virtually nothing about you.”
Vinyl looked over at Tavi, who shrugged. “Oh, well, there’s really not that much to tell...”
“Nonsense,” said Veni firmly. His tone provoked no argument. “I’m sure there’s lots to know. We have all evening, after all!”
Beside him, Lapis’s horn lit up, and the tinkle of a tiny bell echoed down the table. From the shadows appeared two grim, besuited ponies bearing domed platters, which they silently deposited in the centre of the table. Veni smacked his lips, floating the covers away to reveal four shallow plates of soup. Vinyl noted bemusedly that each was covered in a thin gold leaf.
“Dig in, everypony!” he announced, and drew the closest bowl right to him. Vinyl reached with her magic to grab a plate for herself, and just as Tavi put her hoof out to do the same, her mother floated it into her lap.
“There you go, darling.”
Tavi scowled. “Mother, please.”
“Wine, sir?” asked one of the servers, a bucket full of ice hovering by her side.
“Leave the bottle,” said Veni.
As Vinyl bent down to taste the soup, she caught a stare from across the table. Tavi shook her head minutely. Huh? She looked up, and realised that Lapis and Veni both floated small silver spoons beside them. Vinyl picked one off the platter experimentally. She’d seen them before, of course, though never used one. Ancient unicorn cutlery, out of fashion in most places for the simple reason that only unicorns could really use it—hooves or wings made the whole thing much more difficult.
Tavi picked her spoon up with practised calm, tucking the silver into the crook of her hoof, holding it awkwardly to the plate as she took a mouthful.
“So,” said Veni, taking a gulp of his wine, “it’s time to spill, Vinyl. Who are you really?”
Vinyl started, nearly dropping her spoon. “I, um...”
He laughed again. “I kid. Tell us about yourself. Who is this mare my daughter fights so hard to see?”
Vinyl paused, spoon half-raised, to look at Tavi. “What?”
“Oh yes,” Lapis said, with a smile that had altogether much more acid than cheer, “you’re a regular source of quarrel in this house, I’m afraid.” She took a sip from her glass, eyes hooded and gleaming. “I hope you’re worth it.”
“You’d better be,” grinned her father. “I don’t want anypony getting hurt—least of all Octavia.”
Vinyl swallowed, eyes wide. Tavi’s ears were flat, apologetic, her muzzle wrinkled in shame. “W-well,” said Vinyl, trying to gather herself, “um, first off, I’m a DJ.” And she explained her job. Neither Veni or (especially) Lapis seemed overly impressed, but she continued on regardless. When she was done, Veni laughed, poured another cup of wine, and asked about her family. At each pause, when Vinyl thought she was finished, there came another question, and Veni drank another glass. By the time dessert was served—four small ice creams with tall glassy spoons—Vinyl was quite exhausted, and the bottle on the table had been emptied four times over.
“I ask all this,” the stallion said, as he polished off the last of his ice cream, “because we, you know, only want what’s best for our daughter, you understand.”
Vinyl nodded wordlessly.
“Y’know, when I was a foal,” he said, waving the spoon about vaguely, “my father took me aside one day to teach me a bit of a lesson. ‘Veni,’ he said—” He paused, chuckled, and deepened his voice. “‘Veni,’ he said, ‘I know you bin wantin a train set like your all your friends, so here. I gotcha this.’ An, and he pulls out this wooden train set, just like I wanted, and he says to me ‘this what you bin after?’ So I nodded, and he gave me this look, this smile, see, and right there in front of my eyes he smashed this polished train set to bits. To little splinters.” Veni threw the spoon against the table with such force it stuck there, quivering.
“Oh,” said Vinyl faintly. “I’m...sorry.”
Veni didn’t seem to hear her. “Moral of the story,” he snickered, “is that kids don’t always know what’s best for them. Ol’ Malus, the next day he gave me a knife. ‘Toy fit for a unicorn,’ he told me.” The stallion’s horn flashed, and suddenly a worn silver pocketknife glinted by his head. “I assure you, I got far more use outta this than a bucking train.”
“What’s best for ponies,” agreed Lapis, “is not always what they think.” She stared pointedly at Tavi. Tavi looked like she wanted to say something, but Veni cut her off.
“So’s the question, the question becomes, what are you, Vinyl? You a train set or a knife?” The sheen of the blade flashed in his eyes.
Vinyl swallowed. Tavi, across the table, was staring with a cold fury at her parents. Vinyl ran a hoof nervously through her mane. “I...um, I, well...” She was not a pony often at a loss for words, but right then not a single one came to mind. Her tongue stuttered all its own, on instinct, as she scrambled to remember just how exactly language worked, again.
“What he’s trying to ask, dear,” said Lapis smugly, “is whether you can be for Octavia what I am to him—or he is to me. A whetstone, not a weight.”
“Ah,” managed Vinyl, faculties of speech returning by parts. “I’m totally a knife, then.”
Lapis smiled. “I think we should put that to the test, don’t you, dearest?”
“Test?” said Veni. His eyes were unfocused, the knife twirling in the air before him. “A fine idea.”
“Father—”
“Perfect.” Lapis clapped her hooves together, the ice cream untouched. “It’s settled, then. Darryl?”
“My lady.” The serving mare melted from the shadows.
“What time is it?”
“Half past eight, your ladyship.”
“Excellent, we’ve plenty of time.” She turned to look Vinyl in the eye, and her mouth twisted into perhaps her first genuine smile of the evening. “We’re robbing a ship, you see.”





This, to be fair, was not what Vinyl had imagined her day going like. She had not, when she woke up that morning, warm and safe and under the covers, thought for a second that she’d end up here, chattering in the frozen wind coming off a thousand miles of empty ocean as she crouched inside a crate waiting to be loaded aboard the cargo runner Sunchaser. She had, in fact, had plans that day—Groove was performing some new play of his, and it was only on for two more nights—but all that had gone when Tavi had mentioned her parents, and now she was here. Squashed and shivering in some dockside hellhole.
“I really am sorry about this,” said Tavi, from the crate beside her.
“I know,” she replied, with as much cheer as she could muster, “it’s okay.”
“No,” Tavi said grimly, and even with the walls between them Vinyl could hear the steel in her voice. “It’s not.”
Vinyl sighed, looking down at the items by her hooves. When they’d left, Veni had grinned and pressed the cold metal of a knife into her hoof “to keep you safe.” Tavi, for her part, had run to her room quick as she could and brought down a sealed scroll, several gems, and a small purple stone of the kind Vinyl had seen used before, at the bank. These were what she had before her, and the teleport stone gave her far more comfort than the blade.
“So how do these work, anyway?” Vinyl asked, more to keep her mind off the cold than anything else.
“Sorry?” Vinyl could hear Tavi’s frown, even if she couldn’t see it. “You simply focus on them, and whatever magic lies within them gets released into you. Or...” Tavi blinked owlishly. “Do you mean what they do? Because that scroll’s a mind-control spell, you’ve seen it before, though this one’s much more general-purpose. Don’t read it, whatever you do.”
“No, no.” Vinyl shook her head, then realised nopony could see her, and stopped. “I mean, like, how do they work? How d’ya store a spell in a bit of paper?”
“Oh!” Tavi’s ears almost audibly shot up. “That’s a little something of my own design, actually. You know how gems can store magic?”
“No?”
“You...” Tavi paused. “Wait, seriously? You’ve never...”
“Nope.”
“Surely it would have been covered in school...?”
Vinyl shrugged. “Probably. Guess I missed that class.”
“It’s pretty basic stuff, Vinyl. Are you sure?”
“I missed a lot of classes.” Vinyl grinned, imagining Tavi rolling her eyes.
“Why did you think gems were so valuable?”
“They’re...pretty?”
There was a dull thunk as Tavi hit her head against the wood.
“So gems store magic, got it.”
“Yes, they— Hold on.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve been to one of your concerts.”
Vinyl held back a snort. Tavi had, indeed, been to one of her concerts.
“What did you think powered your speakers?”
“That’s not the part I really think about.”
“I...all right. Whatever. Yes, so gems store magic. With enough effort, we...a unicorn could put spells in it, too.”
“But the paper.”
“Precisely! How do we get that same magic into something that’s much less obvious than a gem? Something that earth ponies and pegasi can access too, and that doesn’t need to be levitated at all?”
“How?”
Tavi’s pride was evident. “Ink.”
“Makes sense,” Vinyl agreed. “Except for the part where you’ve lost me completely.”
Tavi nickered. “The spell goes into a gem, and the gem’s crushed up and put into ink. It makes the writing look rather striking, too.”
Oh. “Oh.” That...was probably the cleverest thing Vinyl had ever heard. Heard and understood, that was. “You’re really smart, you know that?”
“I know,” said Tavi, smug.
“So if it’s so much better, why isn’t there more of them? These scroll-letter things, I mean?”
“Well, they’re slightly tedious to prepare,” admitted Tavi, “and they can’t be used in every situation...”
“It’s just smashing gems, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“So that doesn’t explain why...”
Tavi sighed. “My father,” she began, “does not take kindly to—”
She would have said more, then, but at that moment something clattered along the crates.
“It’s time,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Vinyl said, scooping the gems and scroll into her bag. After a moment’s hesitation, she left the knife.
The crane’s claw fastened around the box, and her tiny world shook violently as it lifted her toward the unknown. Just beyond the wall she could hear Tavi’s breathing, and for a moment, as the arm carried their crates over the docks, and the water, to the ship, it was just the two of them, themselves, and they were perfectly together.
The thing dropped them roughly on the Sunchaser’s deck, and Vinyl felt her hooves rise from the floor an instant before she was thrown against the wall.
“Ow.”
Tavi groaned in her cage beside her, and Vinyl took a couple breaths to reorient herself. With a chill, she noticed the knife had lodged itself firmly in the wood inches just from her head.
It took several tries to buck the crate lid open, but she was able eventually to crawl her way out of it, and emerged into the dark, bitter wind ripping across the deck. Over the railing she could see the dock, the rows and rows of crates waiting to be loaded, and it was all of it so small, so much less significant than it had seemed from the ground.
“Vinyl?” came the voice from Tavi’s crate. “A little help, please?”
“Huh?”
A pause. Then, a tiny, defeated sigh. “I’m stuck.”
Stuck she was: the crate, when it had fallen, had tipped onto its side, and the lid of the thing had gotten trapped underneath.
“Hold on,” Vinyl told her, biting back a laugh, “just, just give me a second.”
Focusing on the box, Vinyl sent her magic out, wrapping it around the crate, and pulled. It didn’t budge.
“Vinyl.”
“I’m trying!”
She gathered herself again, really putting her mind to it. Her horn pulsed, the magic brightened, and the pale pink aura around the crate wavered as she poured more into it. Sweat beginning to bead on her forehead, Vinyl summoned all her strength, all her might, and...
“What’s going on out there?” Tavi sounded none too impressed.
“You’re too heavy,” Vinyl complained.
“I’m what?”
Vinyl snickered. “Look, I’m going to try tip it from the side, so maybe throw your weight against it too, if you can.”
“My weight, you say?”
“Do you want my help, or not?”
“Don’t try and wriggle your way out of this one Vinyl, I—”
There was a shriek inside the box as Vinyl rammed it with her shoulder, her magic, everything she had, and the thing at last turned over on its side. Moments later, the lid flew off, and Tavi crawled out tail-first, mane askew, and climbed stiffly to her hooves.
“Not a word,” she said dangerously, smoothing her suit.
“I’m not saying anything.”
The rest of their unit were still to be carried up, but for the moment they had the deck to themselves.
“It’s actually quite beautiful,” said Tavi, wandering over to the opposite side, grazing out across the sea. The moonlight peered down through the clouds, shafts of pale romance reaching from heavens to earth and scattering as they met the waves. The sea itself, a great shimmering curtain, stretched out as far as the eye could see, and further, all the way to the stars themselves.
“Yeah,” said Vinyl, coming up behind her, “yeah, it is.” She nuzzled up against Tavi’s cheek, and after a moment, Tavi laid her head against her shoulder.
They stood there awhile, the both of them, soaking in the warmth of the moonlight and each other, gazing out toward that distant horizon, until the crash of wood from behind brought them back down to ground. They parted reluctantly, sharing a small, secret kiss, before they turned, and got back to business.
“All right,” said Tavi, when the rest had arrived, “let’s get this over with.”
The operation had been long in the planning, and they had only to carry it out. Vinyl and Tavi stuck close together, creeping through the decks of the ship, silencing any crew member or watchpony they came across with gems and spells, until they reached the captain’s cabin. Tavi woke him with a hoof over his mouth, and Vinyl unfurled the scroll for him to read.
He led them to the hold, where all of his cargo was stored, and pointed out to them three specific barrels: one full of gold, one full of silver, and one full of gems.
When the crew was subdued, the treasure recovered, and the ship safe to walk, one of their companions placed a teleport stone on the ground, the green-suited pony appeared, and suddenly, moments later, there was Veni.
He glared around the place blearily, narrowing his eyes when he came upon Tavi. “Another success, then.”
“Yes, father.”
“And you,” he squinted at Vinyl, “you did better than I expected.”
“...Thanks.”
“Well done, both of you.” He swung about, searching for something. “Ah! Here we go.” His tiny, piggy eyes seemed to light up as he spotted the tied-up captain. “Here’s the pony of the hour!”
The captain, still reeling in the aftermath of his recent subservience, eyed him groggily. “Who are you?”
Veni laughed. The captain, after a moment, joined in. Veni stopped. “Come now, Rich, don’t you remember?” His horn flashed, and the pocketknife hung in the air by his side. “Maybe I’ll jog your memory.”
The captain scrambled back, but he had been tied well, and only managed a stumble. It was a small room, in any case. “I— I don’t—”
“No?” asked Veni, blade spinning idly, “You don’t remember the deal we had either, I s’pose?”
“W-what, what are you—”
“Shut your traitor mouth.”
The captain swallowed, and fell silent. Vinyl glanced over at Tavi, who was carefully studying the wall.
“Dija think you’d get away?” Veni grinned, teeth glinting in the heavy lantern-light. “Did you think we wouldn’t getcha?”
The captain shook his head wordlessly. His eyes were wide, terrified, and anypony could see within them he didn’t have a clue what was going on.
“Well, I bet you regret that now,” Veni chuckled, and this time the captain failed to join him.
“P-please, I—”
The knife flashed forward, once, twice, and red so dark it was almost black sprayed out against the walls. Vinyl stepped back, staring, unable to tear her eyes away, barely noticing the blood that flecked her snowy muzzle. Tavi only swallowed.
Veni shook his head, wiping the scarlet knife against the captain’s burbling corpse. “Come on,” he said, and led the way to the surface.
Lapis was waiting for them, pawing through the barrels that had been brought up. “All done?” she asked, as Veni’s knife vanished again.
“All done,” he smiled.
Vinyl barely heard the rest. She was still staring, empty, at that dripping body, the pooling blood, the slack, lifeless expression on his face.
“Vinyl,” Tavi said.
“Whuh?”
Veni tapped his head with a grin. “Not the smartest, your girl, is she?” He leered down at her, breath hot, and thick with alcohol. “That the first time you seen a dead body, kid?”
Vinyl could only nod.
He smirked. “You’ll get used to it, don’t worry.” Veni turned and dove a hoof into one of the barrels. “Good haul, though. Imagine if he’d got away with all this.” He let out a low whistle, pulling out a great purple stone from the cask. “How big a teleport you think you could fit in here? This one’s mine.”
“So,” Lapis said, looking down at me critically. “Does she pass?”
“For now,” replied Veni, distracted.
Lapis’s smile looked rather pained. “You’ll stay the night, of course,” she told Vinyl, and flashed away.
Veni placed the gem carefully into a pouch, whistling merrily. Limp hooves, yawning throat, hollow, staring eyes. Anger, terror, dread surged through Vinyl’s body, and she took a step toward him. Tavi put a hoof around her neck, and Vinyl realised she was shaking. She wanted to say something, to do something, but everything just sort of fizzled out as it reached her nerves. Like she was dying herself, and wasn’t quite connected to her body any more.
Tavi’s cheek nuzzled her own, and Vinyl found that she was suddenly burning, suddenly melting, and it was all she could do to bury her face in Tavi’s chest and cry.
Tavi held her.





“I wont blame you if you want to leave.”
“Leave?” Vinyl asked, dryly. “Hell, I’d turn up in a ditch by tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t turn up,” said Tavi darkly. “Of that, I can assure you.”
Vinyl couldn’t think of anything to say to that.
“But if you want to leave, you can,” she said quietly. “I’ll make it so you can.”
“Is there much you can do against...against that sort of thing?” Vinyl asked.
“I’d find a way.” She said it with absolute certainty.
“Are you sure...” Vinyl started, but Tavi shook her head.
“You don’t have to stay.” Tavi’s hooves tightened upon her own. “That’s what I’m saying: you don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to.”
Vinyl said nothing. Tavi’s body was warm against her own, upon the covers. Her head nestled just so under Tavi’s.
“I hate them,” Tavi whispered. “I hate them, I hate them.”
Vinyl snorted. “Yeah, I can’t say I’m their biggest fan either. No offence.”
“I hate them,” said Tavi again, and tears threatened in her voice. Vinyl stroked her cheek, and pressed closer to her chest. They’d had enough crying for one night.
“So run away.”
Tavi managed something that was halfway between a laugh and a sniffle. “I wish I could.”
Vinyl sat up, looking down into her. “No, seriously, run away, and don’t come back.”
“Is that what you did?” Tavi asked.
Vinyl smiled. “Nah, my parents are lovely.”
“I’ve never met them.”
“You will, someday.”
Tavi’s mouth quivered, and she looked away. “I can’t run away. They have this entire city, I’d be found in minutes.”
“So go somewhere else.”
“Where?” Tavi let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know anywhere else, I don’t know anypony else. And even if I did, they’d track me down. They know every route in and out of this city, every path and train and, and weather balloon. I’m not a unicorn, I can’t just...just...”
“You don’t need to be. Tavi, you’re the smartest pony I’ve ever met, if anypony can—”
“You think I haven’t thought about this?” Tavi asked, staring back at her. “You think I haven’t tried to work out a way to just leave? Seeing you is about the best I can manage, and even then...”
Vinyl sighed, falling back upon the bed. “I’m glad,” she said, after a moment.
“What?”
“I’m glad. Thanks for, for trying, even though they don’t want you to.”
The covers crinkled as Tavi rolled to face Vinyl. Her hoof came up to touch her cheek, wonderfully light and breathlessly close. She kissed her, soft and sweet. “Thank you for letting me,” she said quietly.
Vinyl licked her lips, tasting the faint salt of recent tears. She leaned in to kiss Tavi again.
“I really like you, you know?” she murmured, pressing closer.
“Yeah,” said Tavi, with a gentle laugh. “I know.” Her hoof wandered down between them, and the night around them disappeared.





After, the cool night air drifting in from the open window, they lay in contented silence. Not a hair was out of place, no matter the mess, and not a thing was in the room that wasn’t needed. Everything was just as it was, as it always should have been, and it was almost enough to make Vinyl forget the day that had come before it.
Tavi snuggled closer, and that helped, some. Her fur was soft, and warm, her eyes warm, and glowing, her smile glowing, and utterly perfect. Vinyl’s hoof ran idle patterns down her side, and she giggled as it drifted to her back, her belly, her flank. Her head rested on the slight fluff of Vinyl’s chest.
Vinyl traced the image of the treble-cleff on her flank, and a thought occurred, dancing in out of the night to give her pause. Tavi blinked up at her as her hoof stopped. “I’ve never seen you play.”
Tavi shrugged, the movement rolling and loose. “Not much use for it around here.”
“Can I see?” Vinyl asked.
Tavi gave her a Look. “What, now?”
“Only if you want to.”
Tavi seemed to consider this, biting her lip. “Well, I suppose it’s not impossible...”
Vinyl beamed, and Tavi rolled her eyes.
“All right, all right.” She made a motion to rise, and dropped back down again. Vinyl raised an eyebrow. “It’s your fault for being so comfortable,” she grumbled, and with tremendous effort, managed to sit.
Her cello was in a case at the bottom of the bed, and Vinyl watched with much interest as she bent down to retrieve it. It was heavy, polished, and near as tall as Tavi herself, but she handled it like it weighed nothing, like it was an extension of her person, rather than an instrument.
“All ready?” Vinyl asked, as Tavi seated herself upon a chair, hefting the cello into place.
“Mmm-hmm,” Tavi said, taking the bow in the crook of her hoof with that same gesture she’d used before. Now, though, it looked easy, natural, the simplest thing in the world, as she raised it to the instrument. The bow jumped as she put it to the strings, and she grimaced. She took a deep breath, and Vinyl moved forward, perching on the bed just in front of her to listen. I’m trusting you, her eyes said, and Vinyl looked straight back into them and smiled.
The bow moved, and music filled the air. Low, at first. Slow, gentle, but rising, and gradually glorious, gaining, as it soared, an elegance, a subtle beauty, and reaching higher, and fairer, and wilder. It was a bird taking wing, it was the stars burning bright, it was the cool night air in the afterglow of love.
She hummed as she played, Vinyl noticed with delight, and the tremor of her voice added a smooth, graceful undertone that gave the music a life all its own. Dancing, clear, surprising, free as the wind itself, by parts bold and nervous and cunning.
It was Tavi herself, in all her grace, her strength, her wonder. Sonorous and brilliant, luminous and splendid, blazing in its glory, magnificent in its sweep, resplendent in its quiet. Tavi may be good at other things, but this, this was what she was made to do.
As the triumph descended, and the cathedral collapsed, the music drifted, faded, into tiny, delicate little sounds, so trembling that to take one in your hoof would be to break it completely.
The music finished. Vinyl stared. Tavi swallowed.
“I’m a little rusty,” Tavi said, looking away, “but—”
Vinyl kissed her.
> And in Escape, Happiness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She didn’t know when the idea had first formed, or what exactly had inspired it, but once she’d had it, it simply hadn’t let her go. It followed her to clubs, it peeped back from her cereal, it poked its head round the shower curtain to yell “Boo!” and run away again. Especially, it bounced around her when she was with Tavi. Then, it was so loud she could barely think. And the more time passed, the more it seemed like a Plan.
“Remind me,” said Groove, as he prodded at his suit, “why, exactly, I’m doing this?”
“Because I need to know what the inside looks like.”
“For your marefriend. Who’s in the Mafia.”
“Yup.”
Groove narrowed his eyes. He’d never really gotten used to the idea, and Vinyl suspected he still thought it was some kind of joke.
“I still want to meet her, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Well,” he said with a sigh, “I suppose I’d better be off, then. All good practise, I guess.” He frowned. “Though I’m not sure that sneaking into a bank was what my director had in mind when she said ‘real-world acting.’”
“You’ll be fine.”
“I’d better be.” He drew himself together, puffing out his chest, and suddenly his whole posture changed, and he looked a whole lot less like Groove and a whole lot more like a businesspony. “I expect you to use your Mafia connections to bail me out if I get caught, though.” He jabbed a hoof at Vinyl.
“Well...” Vinyl flashed him a  grin. “Who can say, really.”
“Thanks a bunch.”
“No problem.”
Still frowning, Cool Groove left the flat, strutting tall and long, briefcase tucked neatly under one wing, as he headed for a false appointment with a false executive. Soon, he’d be back with a map of the inside, which, Vinyl understood, was much changed since her last visit. Groove had an excellent memory.
And the first part of her Plan slid into place.





“Anniversary’s coming up,” said Tavi, swirling her coffee.
“Buck, really?”
Tavi laughed. “Oh, that’s funny Vinyl, but I would actually be upset if you forgot.”
“Don’t worry,” said Vinyl, waving a hoof. “All I need to do’s check the paper to see the date.” She had, of course, marked it on her calender. Circled three times, and underlined for good measure. “I hope your parents have forgotten, though.”
“No fear of that,” said Tavi over her mug. “Father’s still mad about that stolen gem.”
“Still?”
“Still.” She lowered her voice, scowling fiercely. “‘As big as my hoof, it was. How does something like that go missing? Bucking useless security. I want everypony checked before they leave, again.’”
“It’s been weeks!”
“Yeah. Like I said, not happy.”
“Maybe he sat on it, that’s why he’s so uptight.”
“Could be,” agreed Tavi. “Would explain why he hasn’t found it yet.”
“He spends so long up there, too.”
Tavi giggled, and Vinyl felt herself grinning. “In any case,” Tavi said, turning back to her mug, “unless he finds it soon, we’ll have all day. And all night.” She raised an eyebrow. “Any ideas?”
Vinyl smiled faintly. “One or two.”
And the second part of the Plan slotted neatly in beside the first.





Part three of the Plan was the most difficult, but Vinyl had been working on it a long time, since before she’d had the idea, even, and, after experimentation, she reckoned it was ready.
“Are you sure about this?” asked Groove. “Like, completely sure? No regrets?”
They were sitting in their kitchen, late one night—or early one morning, for all the difference it made—nursing long-cold mugs of hot chocolate. Their tiny kitchen table seemed to stretch a million miles, and Groove, all the way at the other end of it, seemed crumpled and small. They’d started talking at seven, when Vinyl had told him she had something to say. They hadn’t stopped since.
“Yeah,” said Vinyl, looking away. “I’m sure. I mean, as sure as I can be, I think.”
Groove nodded, squinting up at her from under his dreadlocks. “If you’ve gotta do it,” he said, “you’ve gotta do it. Even if that means...what it means.” His breath hitched. “Just don’t screw it up, okay? Don’t half-ass it.”
“I’m trying not to.” She sighed. “You’ve heard it, now. Is there anything you think I’m missing?”
Groove shuddered, tossing his mane back with a hoof. “Buck, dude, I don’t know. Seems pretty solid to me. I’m just glad I don’t have to consider stuff like this.”
Vinyl rubbed her head. “Yeah, this is way more thinking than I like to do too. My brain hurts.”
Groove snickered, then after a moment fell silent. “You...you really think it’s gonna work?”
Vinyl thought about it, each step of it, every angle she’d considered, everything she knew about every element of the Plan... “Yeah,” she said roughly. “Yeah, I think it is.”
Groove looked away. “Am I an asshole for hoping it doesn’t?”
Vinyl snorted. “I mean, a little bit. But...”
“You’re kinda hoping it doesn’t, too,” he finished.
“Does that make me an asshole?” Vinyl asked, looking up at him.
“Nah.” Groove shook his head. “Just makes you a pony, I reckon.”
Vinyl smiled. “Well buck, Groove, I don’t know what to say to that.”
He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You know I’m gonna be thinking about this for years, right? I’ll wake up in some mare’s bed ten years from now and go ‘buck, did I do the right thing? Could I have said something to make it go different?’”
“If it’s any comfort, I’m sure I’ll be doing the same.”
“You do know how to reassure a pony.”
“One of my many gifts.”
“Yeah, well.” He paused. “I don’t think you will, though.”
“No?”
“Nah. You know you’re doing the right thing. That’s why you’re doing it.”
“Don’t go all sappy on me now,” Vinyl warned. “I won’t be able to take it.”
Groove chuckled. “You know how I get when saying goodbye.”
“You can still come visit,” said Vinyl, “maybe you’ll even finally meet her.”
Groove smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And you can crash here anytime,” he told her. He reached across the table, all those miles in one movement, and took her hoof in his. “Until I get a new roommate, that is.”
Vinyl laughed, and something in her threatened to burst. “Whatever,” she said, sniffing.
Groove squeezed her hoof, and his eyes, when she met them, were wide, and full of...Vinyl didn’t know quite what they were full of, only that she was full of it, too. “I’ll miss you, dude,” he said, swallowing.
“Yeah,” she said, and tried to smile. “Yeah, I’ll miss you too. Dude.”





The day was bright and cold, the sky clear, the streets bustling, and the snow which had fallen had not lain, but left the air fresh, and full of promise. It was, in all likelihood, one of the most important days of Vinyl’s life, which was probably why she’d slept in. She always did that, when she knew something big was coming up. Her first day at collage. Her first gig. Her grandmother’s funeral. And now today. Maybe her body could sense it, and just had it out for her. Or, more likely, it might have been the fact she’d stayed up all night, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
There was no trace of tiredness in her now, though. She was alive.
All right, she had forgotten her scarf, which had set her back a bit, and then realised halfway to the café that she’d forgotten part three, too, but all that was in the past. Vinyl trotted along the streets briskly, scarf whipping in the slight breeze, the very picture of a pony on a mission. If only her gut wasn’t such a knot of worry.
The café’s flowing sign came into view, and in it, in the window, there sat Tavi. She was, Vinyl was delighted to see, wearing The Hat.
The bell above the door jingled merrily as she entered, and as Tavi looked up to see who it was, her eyes widened, just a little.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You know,” said Tavi, as Vinyl sat down, “when you said you had a plan, ‘leave it all to me,’ it didn’t occur to me that that plan might just be the same café as always.”
“It’s a nice café!” Vinyl protested.
“It is a nice café,” agreed Tavi, “so I’m not too upset.”
Vinyl grinned. “Have you ordered?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“Awesome. Cranberry juice?”
“Coffee.”
“Gotcha.”
As Vinyl went up to order—tea for her; coffee, no sugar, for Tavi—she found herself looking about the place, really looking, for the first time in months. Its quiet industry, its cosy tables, its walls hung with paintings of violins and spoons. They knew her there, and the waitress called her by name as she brought over the drinks. It felt, just a little, like home, and a kind of wistfulness washed over Vinyl like wind, or water, ruffling her fur. It passed.
“I do still have a plan,” said Vinyl, stirring three sugars into her tea.
“Oh?” Tavi cocked an eyebrow. She’d had them done, Vinyl noticed suddenly. She looked good. Tavi glanced over at the counter. “What is it, a bagel?”
“You wish.”
“Mmm, that does sound good right about now.”
“Get one,” Vinyl suggested, quite seriously.
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.”
Tavi frowned. “Are you all right, Vinyl? You seem...I don’t know. Distracted.”
“I’m good,” said Vinyl, running a hoof through her mane. “Just...nervous, I guess.”
“I’m not sure whether to take that as a good sign or not.”
“Mostly good, I think.”
“Mostly.”
“Yup.”
“How encouraging.”
She snickered. “I do try.”
“I know,” said Tavi. “I appreciate it.” She drained the last of her coffee, and set the cup aside. “So what is this plan, then? What are we doing?”
Vinyl smiled. “We have a date.”
“Yes,” said Tavi bemusedly. “I’m quite aware.”
“A proper date,” Vinyl clarified. “It’s a real fancy place, too.”
“Is that so?” Tavi gave her a small smile. “I’ve heard of it, then.”
“Oh yes,” Vinyl smirked, “you’ve totally heard of it.” She finished her tea, shaking the teapot for every last dreg. Tavi rolled her eyes.
“Are you quite finished?”
“Sure am.” She dropped the teapot, clearing both their cups onto a tray—Lemon Hearts always appreciated it—and tucked a nice big tip just under it. “Come on.”
They left the café with a wave, and a smile, and Vinyl turned to catch one last glance of it as the door rang closed behind them. A sort of dizzy warmth came over her, then, and she almost ran back to grab a bagel. Almost.
“So where is this place?” Tavi asked, brushing up against Vinyl as they walked. She had a slight skip in her step that gave ease to the knot in Vinyl’s stomach.
“Don’t worry,” said Vinyl, grinning, “it’s just around the corner.”
Hoofsdayle bank was not as grand as Vinyl remembered. Its doors seemed gaudy, its ornaments tacky; its opulence no longer impressed her. Its pale and flaking splendour held an air of desperation, of clinging-on, and sour-faced guards stood just beside each teller.
“Vinyl,” said Tavi, narrowing her eyes, “is this going to be what I think its going to be?”
“I don’t know,” Vinyl shrugged. “But probably, yeah.”
“I’m...I’m really not sure what to make of this.”
Vinyl gave her an odd, wry smile. “Well, why don’t you wait and see.”
Tavi frowned, but said nothing more.
“Hey,” said Vinyl, approaching the teller. A waspish green mare inspected her from behind the reinforced glass. The unicorn guard beside her glowered up at us—he was surprisingly short.
“Business?” demanded the teller, in a voice almost as thin as she.
“We’ve, uh, got an appointment,” said Vinyl.
Tavi nodded, falling into character effortlessly beside her. “That’s right.”
“Name of Cord,” Vinyl added. “Satin Cord.”
The mare screwed up her mouth into something resembling a line, and hoofed through a sheaf of papers on her desk. She rather reminded Vinyl of Lapis. “Satin Cord,” she repeated. “Twelve-fifteen. Please take a seat.”
“Thanks.” Vinyl bobbed her head, and nudged Tavi over to the lounge. The guard’s stare followed them all the way to the armchairs.
“Satin Cord?” asked Tavi quietly, when they were settled.
“What? Don’t you like it?” She gave Tavi a mischievous grin.
Tavi shook her head, but she was smiling. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Vinyl took her hoof over the chair. “So do I”
“You know,” said Tavi, after a moment, as she looked around, “this is actually surprisingly romantic of you.”
“Hey, I can be...” She trailed off. Tavi’s hoof had suddenly clamped down on her own, squeezing so tight it verged on painful. “...Tavi?”
“Don’t look now,” Tavi said, very calmly, “but we have an issue.”
Vinyl turned, and immediately swung back. “Buck.”
“Yes,” agreed Tavi. “That about sums it up.”
In the booth next to them, the closest teller to their chairs, was the large purple stallion from their first visit. His hooves were clasped, as before, and he leaned forward as he spoke with a studied condescension to the supplicant before him. Two guards stood on either side, watching, presumably, should he made a sudden dash for the door.
This, Vinyl was unprepared for. “What do we do?”
“This is why we never hit the same place twice,” Tavi groaned. “This is the exact reason. Didn’t you run this past anypony?”
“I told your parents. They know we’re here, at least.”
“And they just let you? What am I talking about, of course they did.”
Vinyl glanced around again, just in time to see the pony gesture his customer over to the waiting area. For a split second, their eyes met.
“He saw me,” she said breathlessly. “He bucking saw me.”
“What did I say?” screeched Tavi, very quietly. “I told you not to look!”
“You said don’t look now, not—”
“No time to argue, he’s coming over—”
“What do we...” An idea hit Vinyl. “Let down your mane!” she said, at precisely the same moment Tavi suggested, “Take off your shades!”
They had barely time for the swap before his shadow loomed above them. “Excuse me ma’am,” he intoned. Vinyl looked up.
“Yes?”
“This area’s for executives only.” His hoof stretched to point out an identical area four chairs to their left. “That’s the customer waiting area.”
“Ah,” said Vinyl, disbelievingly, “sorry, we’ll just...” She moved to get up.
The stallion paused, his brow furrowing. “Forgive me, do I know you?” he asked.
“Uh-h-h...”
“She’s a fairly well-known DJ,” put in Tavi.
“That might be it,” he nodded. “My filly’s into that sort of thing.”
“No worries.” Vinyl stood, sidling carefully around him. “We’ll just move over here, out of your mane.”
“Much obliged.”
As soon as they were removed, Vinyl collapsed into the nearest chair.
“I cannot,” said Tavi, watching incredulously as the pony climbed back into his booth, “cannot believe that worked.”
Vinyl chuckled, reinstating her shades and waving a hoof for Tavi to sit. “I like your mane like that, by the way.”
Tavi scowled, blowing the hair out of her face. “Oh, do be quiet.”
“It’s nice!”
Tavi stuck her tongue out, and Vinyl laughed all the harder.
“Ladies.” The thin mare’s voice cut through the sound. Out of the light of her cubicle, she looked positively gaunt. “If you’ll come with me.”
They exchanged looks, sobering immediately. Vinyl rose to follow the mare, and noticed the guard standing just behind her. His short, grubbly moustache wrinkled as he eyed her suspiciously.
As they were led across to the back of the room, Vinyl dropped her voice and asked, “Will he be with us the, uh, whole way?”
The mare gave her a withering look. “Certainly. We take security very seriously here at Hoofsdayle.”
“How charming,” said Tavi.
The door opened to a wide, plush corridor, passing by several doors before it forked off at the end. Vinyl closed her eyes, trying to recall the map that Groove had drawn up. They took a left, here, she was pretty sure.
“This way,” the mare said, heading off to the right.
Vinyl put a hoof into her saddlebags, finding the reassuring weight of a crystal. She nudged Tavi, glancing pointedly between her, the saddlebags, and the guard. Tavi gave her a look that said Really? Vinyl shrugged, and readied the gem.
“Hold on,” she called out to the mare. “Is there a bathroom nearby?”
The mare turned, giving Vinyl a long-suffering glare. “Well,” she said, and that was all she managed, before Vinyl tossed the gem at her. Her horn glowed for an instant, reflexively, but she failed to catch the stone. It hit the floor, bounced once, and vanished into the carpet. Vinyl stared. Buck.
There was a moment’s silence, before the guard let out a shout, and Tavi lobbed a rock at him. It hit his nose with a dull smack.
“Heh.” Vinyl smirked.
The guard charged. Vinyl skipped out the way, and ran for the mare, who was reaching for the nearest door handle. The carpet softened the impact somewhat as Vinyl tackled her to the ground, and she flailed as Vinyl pinned her down. “Focus on the gem,” Vinyl suggested. “It’s better for everypony.”
Something squat and heavy slammed into her side, driving the air from her lungs. Vinyl rolled, tumbling across the carpet, and a flash of pain burst through her side as she hit the wall. A weight fell upon her chest as the guardspony held her. “Don’t. Bucking. Move.”
Vinyl coughed, and the motion was raw, and sore. “I hate your moustache,” she said, in between bursts of pain.
His face reddened. “Shut your thieving mouth!”
There was a crack, and he fell away from her. Vinyl lay there and tried not to whimper. Tavi, standing above, shook her hoof sorely.
“That...” Tavi grimaced. “Felt surprisingly good, honestly.”
Vinyl grinned cautiously. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Tavi reached down with her uninjured hoof to help Vinyl up. “Though if I end up in prison on our anniversary, we’re going to be having words.” Her cheeks were flush, her mane in tangles, and to Vinyl, she’d never looked more beautiful.
“I promise nothing,” she replied.
“Mmm. Well, I expect my parents could always get us out.” She examined Vinyl, a smile playing upon her lips. “You didn’t think this through very hard, did you?”
Vinyl laughed. “Not really,” she admitted. “But you like thinking on your hooves, right?”
“To a point.”
“Today’s your lucky day, then.”
“I see.” Tavi shook her head, but her amusement was clear in her voice. “So where to next, Satin?”
Vinyl snorted. “Forward,” she said firmly. “To the vault.”
“Indeed?” said Tavi. “Why, how perfectly vague.”
Tavi had used the gem on the teller mare while Vinyl had been wrestling the guard, which she was glad of, as it had stopped the raising of general alarm, but it was a trick, it seemed, that would work only once.
“So this is a good thing, really, when you think about it,” said Vinyl, as they hesitated in front of the arch.
“Is it,” said Tavi flatly.
“Well, its not like the gems were working anyway.”
“At least they were something. What do we have now? Our hooves?”
Vinyl tapped her head knowingly. “And our minds.”
This did not seem to greatly reassure Tavi. “Perhaps we should turn back.”
“Can you imagine the look on your mother’s face? Not only do we try a job by ourselves, but we fail it, too?”
Tavi whinnied. “Vinyl, I don’t think that’s entirely fair.”
“So?” Vinyl grinned. “What else would we do with our day, anyway?”
“Go to a park,” suggested Tavi, quite reasonably. “Or a museum. Or a theatre. Or go back to my place. Or yours.”
“Okay, well, that’s true, but...” Vinyl raised en eyebrow. “You can’t deny you kinda wanna go on.”
“I can deny it.”
“Okay, you can deny it. But that doesn’t mean its not true.”
Tavi frowned, looking the arch over again. “You’re a bad influence, you know that?”
“Guilty as charged.” Vinyl emptied her saddlebags upon the floor, and Tavi clucked, and tidied them into a corner. She stepped toward the gem detection field, taking a deep breath.
“Come on, then,” said Tavi, walking through it.
“Yeah, yeah.” Vinyl drew from the pile the one thing of import, a thin, white envelope, and closed her eyes. Concentrating, she enveloped the thing in her magic, careful to focus only on the paper, and imagined it slipping through the air. She imagined it already at its destination, already in place, and bent all her energies toward making that reality.
With a pop! the letter vanished, and appeared on the other side.
“Hah!” crowed Vinyl triumphantly, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Undetectable!”
Tavi stared at her, expression unreadable. “I didn’t know you could do that,” she murmured.
Vinyl shrugged. “I’ve been working on it.”
They turned the corner, letter still floating in Vinyl’s grasp, and froze. Down the corridor, the purple earth pony stallion from before did the same. For a moment, they just stared at each other.
“Aww...”
He ran.
Tavi grabbed Vinyl by the hoof, and they took off in the other direction. Hooves pounding, heart thundering, they bolted down the passageway, darting round startled interns and puffed-up executives as they went. The warm light pouring down from above flickered and changed, and suddenly they were bathed in a bloody red, and for a moment all Vinyl could see was the dripping body against the wall.
“Which way?” cried Tavi, through the sirens, as they rounded another corner.
Vinyl blinked, chasing the image away. “Um, left. No, right!”
They veered away, and Vinyl was suddenly aware that they were knocking past a whole lot less ponies now, and the hammering that pulsed in her ears was not coming from her chest alone. Hooves sounded behind them, and Vinyl didn’t dare look back.
“I’m sure you didn’t feel quite this breathless when I was in charge,” shouted Tavi, as they lurched down a hall.
“Nope!” panted Vinyl, through burning lungs. “More in shock, really.”
Something flashed along by them, and just ahead the wall blew out in a haze of red. Another zipped by, yellow this time, and Vinyl could feel the heat as the carpet just behind them caught fire.
“What are they?” gasped Vinyl.
Tavi glanced back. “Some kind of,”—she sucked in a gulp of air—“of magic project— projecti— missile.”
Vinyl risked a look behind her, saw one of the guards’ horns glow a poisonous orange, and yelped as the ceiling exploded above them. Dust and rubble rained down from the roof, and Tavi stumbled, but caught herself.
They had to get out of sight, and fast. Vinyl tried to remember Groove’s instructions, but her legs were aching, her blood was fizzing, and the corridor was erupting all around her.
“In here!” called Tavi, and darted just to her right. Before Vinyl even realised she recognised the place, she was following, dashing in after Tavi’s tail as her marefriend spun round to bar the door. Something crashed into the other side of it, and Vinyl grabbed everything in the room her magic could lift and jammed it behind the door.
Muffled shouts and magic railed against it, but for now the wood held, and Vinyl found to her surprise that she was on the floor, and Tavi was beside her, and for the moment it was all they could do to lie there, gazing up at the ceiling, and breathe.
She knew the room. Somehow, some way, in a fashion that lay more at the hooves of fate, or luck, or instinct, than any real intent, they’d arrived at the room before the safe, where, exactly a year ago, Vinyl had stood and tried not to freak out as a mare she barely knew popped open the vault. It was funny, she thought, that here they should be again, except this time it was Vinyl who’d broken in, and she knew the mare, and it was the mare who was freaking out.
“Vinyl,” Tavi panted, as they lay there together, “what the buck do we do?”
Vinyl tried to sit up, and found that she could, just barely. She started to laugh.
Tavi stared at her, dumbfounded. “We’re screwed,” she said.
Vinyl couldn’t help it, she cackled.
“We’re completely, utterly screwed,” repeated Tavi, watching her carefully.
Vinyl clutched her sides, tears forming in her eyes as she wheezed.
“We’re bucked, and my marefriend’s lost her mind,” she said, and laid her head back against the floor.
Vinyl howled with laughter, bending over almost double until her sides ached and her throat was raw and painful.
“Are you quite finished?” asked Tavi, when the laughter had subsided.
“Yeah,” said Vinyl, and giggled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Is there something I’m missing, here?”
“No, no.” Vinyl waved a hoof. “We’re screwed, you’re right, it’s just...just...”
“Whatever.” Tavi clambered to her hooves, groaning as she stretched her legs. She looked down at Vinyl, and, rolling her eyes, helped her up.
The room was much as Vinyl remembered it. Well, alright, there was a great dark curtain covering the vault, and the door behind them was glowing, but otherwise she’d be hard pressed to tell them apart. It could have been their first date again, and she’d hardly know the difference.
“Sorry,” said Vinyl, bumping up against Tavi.
“No,” Tavi said, “don’t worry, it’s just...”
“Yeah,” Vinyl agreed. “It’s just.”
Tavi glanced back to the door, and the pulsing heat reddening it, and shivered. She turned to the curtain. “Well,” she said, “so long as we’re here...”
She reached out a hoof, and in one graceful motion swept the fabric back. It shimmered as it shifted, catching the light, and Vinyl thought for a moment it looked rather like the sea. Endless, and full of stars.
The vault was where they had left it, its face sagging and wilted, a ruin of a thing. Tavi reached up, and opened the door.
It was completely empty.
“They moved it,” breathed Tavi. “It’s gone.”
Vinyl stepped up to see, and her hoof echoed in the hollow casing. “Of course they did,” she whispered.
Tavi frowned, turning to face her. “You knew?”
“Nah. But it makes sense.” Vinyl looked over at the door, at the wisping smoke that was staring to trickle from it, and said, “Maybe we should get inside.”
It should have felt lonely, in there, the two of them in that cavernous darkness, but somehow, it didn’t. Vinyl lit up her horn, and they stood there in its pinkish glow, a halo of light in the void.
“So,” said Tavi.
“So.”
“Did this all go to plan, then?”
The knot twisted in Vinyl’s gut. “Eh, sorta.”
“Really.”
Vinyl nodded.
“Really?” Tavi looked shocked. Vinyl didn’t blame her.
“As long as we got here, anything went.”
“What’s so special about here?”
Vinyl shrugged. “Just...”
“Just.”
“Yeah. It’s a place, isn’t it? Here.” Vinyl floated out the letter, fumbled, nearly dropped it. Part three of her Plan. She swallowed.
“What...what’s on it?” Tavi didn’t take it.
“A spell.”
“Clearly. I didn’t make it, though.”
Vinyl scratched her head. “Yeah, but I did.”
“So what does it do?”
Vinyl sighed. This was it, this was the moment. She could dance around the fact no longer. Burn, or reach out and touch the future. “It’s a teleport spell. A big one.”
“How long have you been able to...?” Tavi was quiet.
“Not long. I’ve been practising for ages.”
“A big one.”
“Yeah.”
“Vinyl,” she said, a note of suspicion entering her voice, “is that where...?”
“Yup.”
“So that’s why he hasn’t...?”
“Pretty much.”
“Huh.”
“Do you...what do you...?” Vinyl attempted, but her mouth was dry.
“Where does it go?” Tavi asked.
She smiled. “Anywhere. Anywhere you want, just say the word.”
“Anywhere.” Tavi paced, circling Vinyl like cat. “Including, say, the dragonlands, or Yakyakistan, or...?”
“Well, okay, maybe not quite that far,” Vinyl conceded. “But far enough.”
“Far enough,” Tavi echoed.
“You...” Vinyl licked her lips. “You know what this is, right? What it’s for?”
Tavi looked at her hooves. “It’s escape, isn’t it.”
“Yeah.” Vinyl felt her heart beating in her throat. “It’s a way out.”
“But...”
The knot tightened. “But?”
“I don’t...” she looked up, her eyes glistening in the light of Vinyl’s horn. “What if I want to stay?”
“Stay?” Vinyl’s stomach lurched. The lines of the knot closed about her lungs, about her neck. “Why would you want to stay? What’s here for...”
Tavi’s breath was warm against her mane, her cheek soft as she nuzzled Vinyl. “What if I want to stay for you?”
“Me?” Vinyl swallowed. “I don’t... I’d go with you.”
Tavi pulled away. “You...what?”
“I’d go with you.” Vinyl smiled. “This isn’t a test, Tavi. It’s not a...a...I’m not checking your loyalty, here. I’m asking...” She gulped. “I’m asking if you want to go away with me. Away from all this.” She gestured about to the vault, to the bank, to the parents beyond.
Tavi stared at her. She stared long and hard, long enough for that gnawing worry to crack open once more. “...What?” she asked again, her voice tiny.
Vinyl took her by the shoulders. “Run away with me, Tavi. Run away to Filly, or Ponyville, or Prance. Become a musician! Hold a concert! Rob a bank! Wander the streets in smooth black dresses and eat bagels from your favourite shop. Sit on the beach at night time and watch the stars and ships go by. Play your music on a stage, or on the street, or just for me, if you want. Do whatever!”
Tavi blinked. Vinyl wished she knew what was going on inside her head. “But...” she said, softly, “but...what about your family?”
“They can visit,” Vinyl said.
“What about your friends?”
“They’ll come see us, if they can.”
“But my mother, my father, they’ll—”
“Look around,” Vinyl told her. “We’re trapped in a safe, with the guards about to blow the wall in, after running through a bank. Even if they don’t find a body, they’ll think we’re dead. Or maybe they won’t. But they won’t be able to find us.”
“They’ll, they’ll ask your parents, your roommate...”
“Groove?” Vinyl laughed. “He’s an actor, he’ll manage. He’s really mad he never got to meet you, by the way.”
“What if...” Tavi looked away. “What if it doesn’t work out?”
“Then it doesn’t work out. And, I suppose, we go our separate ways, and you can go off somewhere else and I’ll do my own thing, and we’ll be fine.” Vinyl put her hoof on Tavi’s cheek, tilting her head back to look her in the eye. “I don’t think that’ll happen, though.”
“What if—” Tavi began, but Vinyl silenced her with a kiss.
“Listen,” she said, “this is the most I’ve thought about anything, ever. I...I want to do this. I want to run away, and have a life with you, and probably bake bread together, and play music, and annoy each other, and cry, and make love, and knit sweaters on the weekend or something, I don’t know.” It had hurt, earlier, admitting that to herself, but now, here with Tavi, she felt perfectly relaxed. “So...do you want that, too?”
Tavi gazed back into her eyes, and a hundred emotions, a thousand, seemed to flit across her face, and they all of them mattered: but, in the end, only one of them could shine out. “Yes,” she said, and tears glimmered as she gazed deep into Vinyl, and saw, perhaps, herself. “Yes,” she said again, and hugged Vinyl close, close as two souls can ever be, and wept. “Thank you, I love you, yes.”
And as the guards hammered against the door, and the wall heated up to boiling point, in the vault, two ponies heard none of that. One, a pale mare, with a shock of blue mane, opened up a letter, and the other, a silken grey mare with a mane that poured like water, held on tight. They stood together, and read together the flowing, silvery words that sparkled upon the page, words written by one, in the ink of another, in an awkward, inelegant hoof, but that didn’t matter, because the words themselves were true and sang with a beauty all of their own. They kissed, and vanished.





Somewhere, out there, two ponies sit together, and laugh together, and love together, and feed each other bagels and don’t use spoons and play music together that would shake the world, if anypony heard it. But nopony does, not the best of it, anyway, for that belongs to them and them alone: it is their melody, their harmony, their togetherness. It is Vinyl’s, and it is Tavi’s, and they are each of them each other’s.