> Never Miss A Beat
>  by TaleweaverTheUnicorn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Vinyl Prelude: A Night to Forget
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What up Canterlot!” Vinyl Scratch roared, balancing precariously on her backhooves atop her deck, left forehoof stuck up triumphantly, her music dimmed for the moment. “Let me hear you scream!” The dull roar of two hundred plus ponies almost knocked her backwards, which admittedly wasn’t that hard at this point in the evening. She hopped down, hitting one of the large blue-and-white buttons with her forehoof, grateful to be balanced against her deck again. 

“What’s that? Couldn’t hear ya! You Canterlot ponies too ‘refined’-” She jerked her forehooves twice in quotes, as the music started to kick back up. “- To really let loose?!” She used the cover of the louder roar to duck behind her speakers and take a slug of her drink. It was the dregs of some kind of cocktail, which meant much less juice, and much more alcohol. She felt the buzzing bees in her head intensify their efforts slightly. With a grin she waggled the glass at the cute bartender mare, before spinning back to her tables. She made it a point to always strain the free drinks at her gigs. All part of the image.

Using the tip of her hoof, she flicked another switch,and changed tracks. A nice background beat while her magic clicked away on the pads. She always saved the freestyle for the end, when it was less likely to tick ponies off. Not that it didn’t anyway, but what in Celestia’s name was the point of seeing an artist live if they only played what was in their albums? If nothing else, it was boring for her. She tapped a series of buttons with a deft hooftip. An excitable pegasus launched herself over the crowd, nearly colliding with the intricate lighting setup in the rafters. The dancers below didn’t seem too bothered by the unfamiliar beat, instantly making them Vinyl’s favorite ponies. 

She spun into a new song, something more chill, to start winding down. The dancers' gyrations slowed to match the new beat, like the tide going out. It was like conducting the ocean. She closed her eyes, letting her head bob to the beat. She braced for a drop, which made her tingle with anticipation. She instinctively stretched, standing up on tiphoof before letting herself drop with the beat. The ponies below crashed against the stage, a wave of hype.

In the front row, two caught her eye. There was a pinkish-red pegasus with a wild mid-length mane, who was definitely too young to get into this club, and a Canterlot unicorn with an intentionally messy two-tone blue-and-green mane and those enticingly long legs of the race, who was definitely wearing a fake cutie mark. High Society pony slumming it, maybe? Either way, it made her grin, and she filed them away for the afterparty in the VIP. They were dancing with reckless abandon, the both of them, so she swapped over to another new track, something more experimental. One more, probably, then finish off with one of her classic album tracks. Scratchbaby? Or was that too classic for the audience?

Vinyl ended up doing something from her second album instead, just in case. Never Stop the Music, specifically. She was never sure if the youngest of her fans even cared about her first album. She bowed herself offstage, feeling a little unbalanced on four hooves after balancing upright on her deck for so long. Or maybe it was that third cocktail. Nopony could say for sure. She pointed out a few fun-looking ponies from the crowd to the bouncers for the backstage treatment. Definitely taking the mare with the fake cutie mark, she was hecking cute. The below-drinking-age pegasus, for entirely different reasons, namely hoing it’d make her whole year. She picked a few more of the more energetic dancers, a pair of colts, collected the barmare, and headed to the backrooms.

“You didn’t serve that pink filly anything, did you?” She quietly and quickly checked with the baremare, who shook her head. Good. She’d never fault somepony for coming to hear her frankly amazing beats, even if they had to sneak in. But she didn’t want the pegasus to repeat ALL of young Vinyl’s mistakes, though. Going out clubbing and drinking with fake cutie marks and IDs during her school days certainly didn’t do wonders for her grades, or her life in general. 

Present Vinyl carefully settled herself on a couch, aiming for somewhere between aloof and inviting, glasses still on. Gotta save the eye contact impact for special occasions. These afterparties were half the battle, exclusive enough to make ponies feel special, common enough that nopony felt left out. A delicate balance. That’s the biz, filly.

The chosen ponies filed in, some nervous, some excited, some just drunk. She exchanged hoofbumps with the two colts, a daring red and a shy green. Gave a hug to the I’m-not-fancy-what-do-you-mean filly, who had wandering hooves, and gave a signature ruby eye’d wink to the little baby of a pegasus, who flapped so hard in excitement she nearly smacked right into the ceiling. She never quite wound down enough to take a seat afterwards.

As usual, Vinyl knew how to pick ‘em. They were real fun ponies. The fancy mare, who was apparently named Astral Brilliance, had a great sense of humor, which had somehow survived the horrible personality crusher that was high society. The kid, Wind Orchestra, was so stinking cute, so excited to talk shop. The colts were chill lads, mostly here for the booze and company, which Vinyl totally got.

Vinyl let herself get lost in the moment. Much as this was work, it was fun work. Meeting new ponies, making a friend for the evening, that’s what it was all about. A good bit of flirting with Star, several heart-to-heart discussions with everypony, and a few too many Vinyl themed drinks later, the DJ woke up back in her own bed, the next morning, a haze covering the later parts of the evening.

Her bass filled alarm tune was getting less and less fun as time went on, especially on mornings like today. Her head throbbed to the beat, and she shut it off as quickly as her pride allowed. Feeling around with her magic, she grasped a water glass, almost spilling it, before finding her glasses. She tossed back the water, grabbed her headphones as well, and rolled to her hooves with a groan. She could smell her breakfast in the other room, so kindly delivered to her not-quite-a-suite room at the Royal Canterlot Hotel by the lifesaving room service colt.

“Good morning darl- dude.” The definitely-not-a-classy-canterlot-pony from last night greeted her, generously slathering syrup over Vinyl’s pancakes, which caused her heart to break just a little. Oh. Right. Her. . . Guest. Her friend for the evening. Who was still here. In her apartment. Should that be awkward? Ponies usually snuck out. And didn’t eat her pancakes.

“Morning to you, filly. Help yourself. There's a minibar too if you didn't see it” Vinyl tipped her glasses down for a wink and immediately regretted it, as the full force of the photons from the lights found the crack in the ocular armor. With her pancakes spoken for, she settled for toast. Bleh. Not even with good jam.

“You hit the front page,” The pony spoke. Astral Brilliance? Was that her name? Fakest name Vinyl had ever heard. ‘Astral’ jerked her head, tossing her the paper, which she caught in a cloud of magic and glanced at. Sure enough, a photo of the packed club, taken while she was wobbling atop her deck. The headline read: ‘Scratch takes Canterlot!’ Not bad, she supposed, but nopony actually read the newspaper. Including her. She tossed it aside, focusing on what was left of her breakfast. “You’re really hitting the mainstream now.” Astral continued, watching her over bites of what should've been Vinyl’s pancakes.

“Yep, that's. . . A thing, for sure,” Vinyl said, focusing on magically wielding a jam-coated knife. She supposed she was happy about that. It’s what she wanted, right? To be famous for her music? Hit the mainstream? “I’d be doing what I do either way.” She shrugged, putting on her best I-don’t-give-a-crap face. Astral smiled, crossing her forehooves on the table.
“I am aware I said this last night, but I loved Scratchbaby. I was disappointed you didn't play anything from it. I used to listen to that album all the time when I was studying for my magic school entrance exams. . .” The filly sighed slightly, smiling, eyes full of memories.

“Hey, right on!” Vinyl said, a genuine grin splitting her muzzle. “Yeah I wrote it when I was wrapping up at school too- Wait, you said when you were studying for it? Like for your entrance exams?” Vinyl winced internally as the mare nodded. How old was she now anyway? “Glad you liked it though. Was too experimental for some. Not really strict electronica or dance.”

“Oh no! I thought it was visionary. Especially that jazzy one, um, DJ By Dusk?” Astral Brilliance gushed, and Vinyl winced again, this time out loud. That had been one of her few tracks with vocals, which she hadn’t been able to replicate since- Well, since then, basically.

“Anything but that. Old work, you know. Makes me cringe. Not enough bass, right?” Vinyl flashed another smile. Unbidden, memories of making that album flooded back. Fiddling around with ‘My Little Pony’s First Deck’ between and after classes. Getting yelled at for making too much noise in the dorms. Her very first concert playing the titular song, for all of four ponies, three of whom were friends, the other- well. She’d slid more from electronica toward dance and dubstep as time went on. Certainly her second album brought in way more bits, but she’d always wanted to mix it up more. . . She was snapped back to the present as the other mare stepped down from the seat she was sitting in. 

“Leaving so soon?” Vinyl said, belatedly.

“I need to return to my duties. Erm, by that I mean my job. The kind normal ponies have.” Star said, subtly-not-so-subtly adjusting her fake cutie mark. “It was wonderful to spend some time with you, Vinyl. Thank you!” She waved a hoof before opening the door with glimmering purple magic, and vanishing through it. 

Vinyl immediately slumped to the table. Her audience finally, finally gone, she slunk over to her bags for a painkiller, and to the sink for a drink, twisting her muzzle sideways to lap straight from the tap. She turned on her music, some chill trance for easy listening. With trepidation, she approached the minibar, only to find it thankfully untouched. Phew, those were bits she’d assumed lost forever, recoverable only by denizens of Tartarus. Her breakfast was unfortunately decimated, and she’d have to wait until dinner for anything else to eat. With a sigh, she tucked her wild mane behind her ears, and did one of the least on brand things she could do, dealing with her mail. 

There was a shaky horn-taken phone picture of the newspaper from her manager, Stellar Wind, with a “gud work babe” typed beneath it. Then a second, “Club 2morrow, big bits fancy neon??” and a follow up ten minutes later with some colorful language. Vinyl hadn’t heard Princess Twilight’s name used as a swear before, so that was fun. She sent back an image of a filly shrugging, just to be irritating. Another offer for a potential gig two weeks off, she agreed to that one without a thought. Seemed chill, and she could use some of that. Not that she’d admit it, even to herself.  Some fan mail. Beneath that . . .

“Hold on!” she yelped aloud. She reread the message. No way! The Manehattan Music awards? Red carpet? The party, the bar, the classy mares, the FOOD? Oh, and an award, maybe. Who cares? She jumped up, catching herself with magic and twirling herself around, ignoring the way her already sour stomach twisted. Now THIS was hitting the big times! She RSVP’d immediately, hesitating over the entry for a plus one. Who the buck would be around at the last minute?


> Octavia Prelude: Second to none
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Was that the paper?” Ocatavia called, as the door clicked closed. 

“Well. . .” her roommate called back, a musical, masculine voice. “No, it seems the delivery pegasus missed us today. There's a letter for you, however.” Lavender eyes rolled furiously in their sockets. Four grey hooves hit plush carpet and padded into the hallway.

“If that is true, how could I have received a letter, hmm?” She glared at him, a foalish grin plastered across his well groomed muzzle. “What’s that behind your back?”

“Nothing!” Parish shrugged, sidling to the right and left, blocking Ocatavia as she moved to get around him. “Look, look, the letter, look at the letter!”

“I do not care one whit about the letter, let me see the paper, you stubborn stallion!” Octavia started going over him instead, trampling him. “What did they say about my performance?!” 

“Your Ponyville is showing, my dear.” He laughed, and flopped comically onto his flank. “I am helpless against your farmer’s strength! Please, spare me!” She snorted, stepping over his fallen form to seize the paper.

“I am as proper a Canterlot mare as anypony. You could learn from me, exalted ancestry or no.” Parish kept laughing, and Ocatavia gave him one final scathing eye roll before holding up the paper in the crook of a forehoof to read. With each sentence read, her expression darked, storm clouds rolling in to shadow the gray fur. Parish wisely took the opportunity to scramble out of the way.

“The second page?” Octavia said quietly, in pure disbelief, a powerful tinder for the flames of anger. “The. Second. Page?!” her voice rose to a shriek. Parish wielded the letter before him like a shield.

“Now now dearest, maybe if you read this-”

“I don’t give a flying buck about the stupid letter!” She hurled the paper as hard as she could. It went nowhere fast, the abused pages merely separated and drifted about her like snow. “Do you know how hard I worked for that spot? The biggest concert hall in Canterlot! Royalty attended this! And I only merit the second page?!” She stamped her hoof down on the front page, crushing the face of the unicorn who had outdone her.  Whoever she was, she did not know the storm she had brought upon herself, oh no. “Who even is this. . . ‘Vinyl Scratch’?”

“You are not aware? Her creations are staple fare at, err, certain specialist establishments.” Parish ran a hooftip through his mane, careful not to upset it too much.

“Specialist establishments, pah!” Octavia stamped again on the paper, the grin on the insolent mare’s face still frozen in portrait. She reared, and brought her full strength down upon it, tearing and scattering the paper to the four winds. “What kind of ‘specialist establishments’ do ya mean?!” Her Canterlot accent was slipping, but in her fury, she barely noticed.

“Err, well, as you know, what might be referred to in, ahem, impolite company as the, as you say, ‘club scene.’” He quailed under the heat of the ovens in her gaze.

“The ‘club scene’, Parish?” Her tone dripped scorn, but she paused. Parish was her dearest friend. He didn’t deserve this, even if he did have terrible taste in venues, as well as in stallions. She stepped forward to offer him a hoof up, bracing with her back hooves as the larger pony pulled himself to his hooves. “. . . I’m sorry. I was. . . I was upset, but that is no excuse. May I make it up to you, somehow?”

“You could perhaps read the letter, as I have been suggesting.” He smiled widely, showing perfect teeth. A fast recovery, as ever. “It might turn that frown upside down~” He picked it up in his teeth, dangling it temptingly. With a slightly forced smile, she took it, walking back into the dining room to set it on the table.

Before opening it, she took note of the seal. It was quite nice, dark red scented wax, pressed into a beautiful seal, marking the city of Manehattan. Against her will, her heart picked up its pace, skipping from a half time to a quarter time. It did not mean anything, she steeled herself. But Parish was so excited. . .

With a quick jab, her hoof shattered the wax, and slipped out the letter. With great joy, we at the Manehattan music awards would like to cordially invite you- She raised her eyes from the letter, meeting those of Parish, who still wore his smile with obvious pride.

“You- You knew?”

“Oh, it was all I could do not to tell you, my dearest filly!” Parish stuck a forehoof to his forehead. “It’s been agony, waiting for the mail. . . But I feared you would be unsatisfied until you heard from the horse's mouth, as they say,” He snickered, then retreated as she stood, eyes wide. “Now, Octavia, you- Gah!” The breath was pressed out of him as she leapt into a hug, forehooves wrapped about his neck.

“Oh, Parish! You darling colt!” She spun him about, rear hooves off the ground, his face turning ever so slightly cyan, as green crept into his normally azure coat. 

“Octavia. . . please. . . you forget. . . your strength. . .again. . .Urp. Oh, my stars. . .” She set him down, but could not stop herself from continuing to spin. She could just imagine it now, stepping up to the mainstage to accept a golden award, delicately carved into the shape of her cutie mark. . . The thunderous applause, the promises of more Grand Galloping Gala spots, the fame, the resurgence of classical music across Equestria! 

“I knew that experimental performance would catch a critic’s eye!” Octavia sat back down to finish her breakfast, before immediately leaping up again. “You simply must come with me. I would not dream of indulging in the moment without my very best friend.”

“Ah, well.” He sat back in his chair, bright expression dimming. “Now, don’t be offended, but I have already accepted another invitation. I will be there, of course, however-” 

“Horseshoepin, I presume?” Octavia placed her forehooves on the table. “Once again, Parish?”

“He has changed.” Parish’s left forehoof began unconsciously tapping on the finely carved wood of his seat, a common tic of his “He has, Octavia. He has been naught but a perfect gentlecolt in the past weeks.” 

“I simply do not want you to get hurt, dearest. Not again” She reached over to place her hoof over his. He squeezed it gently between both of his own. “And for that matter, what happened to being secretive? I do adore having you as a roommate. However, if you intend to be open about your relationship. . . Why do you still require me as your - ahem- cover?” Canterlot was not the kindest city to those who did not fit the mold. And with stallions already in relative short supply, few ponies here took kindly to the idea of decreasing the partner pool even further. The thought made Octavia snort with derision. As if there were not plenty of magical options if a mare still wanted foals. She herself was raised from birth by a single mother, and behold, the product of that love was impressive.

“We will be open, but not too open, shall we say.” Parish interrupted her thoughts. He rolled his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “Just enough. Even Canterlot has grown more tolerant in recent years. Besides, eventually you will want to settle down with somepony yourself, and it would be cruel of me to be in the way of such a romance. Octavia Melody does not do anything with less than a whole heart.” Octavia wholeheartedly scoffed. She always made it her mission to do her best at everything she did, but romance? Romance was asking for trouble. Always was. Settle down with somepony indeed. 

“I have yet to meet any stallion worthy of the time he takes to speak. Present company excluded. I will, in point of fact, be sorry to let this cover go as well” She patted his azure leg once more, and withdrew her forelimb. “I am afraid Horseshoepin is much the same. I will be cross with you if you allow him to trample you underhoof once again, do you hear me?”

“I will be just fine.” He smiled with no theatrics, just kindness. “I’m more worried about you. Whoever will you find to go with you at this late date?”
> Vinyl, Chapter 1: Award Shows Suck
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vinyl Scratch rolled up to the award party in the biggest carriage she could rent. Well, technically, it was the biggest one she could rent for less than one hundred bits. The owner, a bulky manehattan pegasus, dark green coat, swore it was reliable. By the time it had actually arrived at the place, though, it felt ready to fall apart, it was rattling so bad. But it was flashy and big, so who gave a crap about the groaning axles?

The venue ruled. All smooth black glass and golden trims. Red carpet, uniformed staff, fancy dress-clad mares, the works! Vinyl tipped down her glasses to get a better look. Dang, filly. These ponies were rocking it. She spotted dresses and suits in all colors of the rainbow, matching, contrasting and accentuating the bright colors of manes and coats. 
She hopped out a mite faster than she usually might, her hooves making an audible clack as they hit the pavement. She tugged at her blue tie, wrapped around the collar of her white suit, and shot a bright grin at a green pony looking sideways at her. Psh, looks like somepony has no taste. She adjusted her VIP badge smugly as she looked away, feeling her flank get a nice tan from the rage-heat of the other pony. 

‘Hey! Heyyyyy! PON3! Vinyl! Over here, look over here!” A voice cut through her intentional nettling. Vinyl turned towards it on instinct. It was far far too loud to ignore, even for a pony who made her living blasting loud noises right next to her ears.

“Heya Pinks.” She trotted over towards the familiar mare, observing the increased volume of the frizzy mane. That spelled trouble for sure. Pinkie was posted up outside a service entrance, bouncing with anticipation. “Glad to see you here, now I know this party is gonna kick flank.” Vinyl gave her a signature wink.

“It’s a Pinkie Pie party, how could it not?” Pinkie hopped up on her forehooves in a way that made Vinyl’s whole body ache. Urgh, how did a pony’s back even do that? Wasn’t natural. “I haven’t seen you since the Royal Wedding! Where have you been hiding?!”

“On the front page of the paper, for one, Pinks.” Vinyl grinned wide. Pinkie slipped backwards, fell into a cartwheel, and almost collided with a large, legged box of . . . something apple branded. The box spoke in a pleasantly accented voice.  

“And that's the last of ‘em, Pinkie. Where’d you want ‘em?” Another mare, orange. Cute, for sure, and ripped. Daaang! She emerged from under the massive crate, setting it down with a cacophony of clinks. Vinyl tipped down her glasses to get a better look, and her mind gently tapped on the shoulder of her memory. . . But nope, nothing doing. All it got back was a big old shrug. Familiar though, for sure. Maybe from the  wedding too? The mare interrupted her thoughts. “Well hey there, uh, DJ Pon-three. Good ta see ya.”

“Yeah, you know it. . . filly” Vinyl stuck out a hoof. Rule #1, you know everypony, and definitely never forget a name. “Hey, that’s gotta be cider, right? Mind if I, uh-”

“You can't drink that, silly” A prehensile pink hoof wrapped about her, tugging her away from the cider like an octopus. Or a deadly kraken. Vinyl wobbled and toppled, found herself looking up into Pinkie's eyes. “That’s because I made a very special drink for you!” She held up a short glass, balanced on a forehoof. The liquid within was bright blue, and glowed slightly in the dimming city light. Streaks of something white, whipped cream maybe, were shot through it. “Go on, try it, try it!” 

Vinyl really wasn’t sure about this one, but there she was, in public. She couldn’t really turn it down, not without looking like a total foal. So, she snagged the drink with magic, swirled it for a moment, and tossed it back, slugging as much of the glass as she could. Sure enough, packed with sugar. It’s like chugging syrup. I can barely even taste the liquor. She considered the taste only for a hot second, and then it hit her like a runaway train.

“Whoa.” She reached out, leaning against Pinkie for a moment. “Dang, filly. These are powerful. Feels like I got bucked by an Alicorn. Err, no offense to your friend."

“That's just fine since Twilight can’t buck worth a barrel anyway.” Apple-whoever said with a grin, her ponytail swinging gently as she laughed. Cute. Vinyl straightened up, polishing off the drink with some difficulty. Oof, so sweet. Never again, for real this time. Apple-something continued. “If you want to grab a cider for the show, I won't be stopping you.”

“Thanks for that, ladies.” Vinyl groaned internally. That resolution didn't last long. But again, image. She couldn't very well turn down booze. She took the proffered cider, which was thankfully less sweet. “If you need a last minute musician again. . . You know where to find me. Always happy to play for the princess.” And get those Royal Bits, baby.

“We WILL find you.” With that ominous statement, Pinkie bounced back over to the boxes, and began hauling them inside, joined by Applejuice “Good luck with your award thingy Vinyl!!” She waved over her shoulder.

“Just here for the party!” Vinyl called back, grinning. That much was true even before she’d known Pinkie was in charge of it. Now she was extra excited, though maybe not for those drinks. She turned sharply away from the service entrance, nearly face planting in the bushes as Equestria spun more than she expected. She flashed a grin at a pony watching her. A cute mare, gray coat, pink tie, with a very cute offended sniff as she turned and walked away. Heh, that part wasn’t bad either. Nice. She considered hi hoofing herself, and saw no reason not to, nearly falling over again as both her forehooves left ground.

Vinyl headed inside, flashing her badge at the stuffy doormare. Or tried to, anyway. She quickly patted herself down with magic. She just had it. She quickly checked the rest of her suit pockets, balancing the cider on the doormare's head while she looked. Nothing, nothing. Aw, horseapples. 

“You dropped it in the bushes, you- you nonsense pony.” The gray mare from before, holding the slightly crinkled badge in her teeth. “Do you not pay attention to these things?”

“Oh, phew. Thanks for that. Wait, nonsense pony?” Vinyl ended up speaking to the flank, as the mare flashed both badges and walked away without a second glance, tossing Vinyl’s badge over her shoulder at her. What the heck was all that about? Aw, wait, maybe she’d seen Vinyl checking her out, and wasn’t about that life. Bummer. Well, whatever. Plenty of more open minded mares in the world. 

More importantly, she could actually get inside now. She snagged the badge off the floor, pinning it back to her collar. The inside was even more coated in gold. It was like Celestia had sneezed all over it. Stellar Wind would get a kick out of that one. She chucked to herself again. Might be the only place in Equestria where you should wear sunglasses indoors. 

Where was her manager anyway? She took a quick glance around, levitating herself slightly to see over the crowd. Stellar was nowhere to be seen. Huh, that was odd. She was usually around. Usually a little too much around, in all honesty. Vinyl had left home for a reason, and it certainly wasn’t ‘cause she needed a new mom. If Stellar was a hoof more overbearing, or a hair less good at making Vinyl bits, she’d be outta there. Well, whatever.

 She took another belt of cider, which was really quite delicious. Hot orange powerhouse mare really knew her apples, though she supposed it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, what with the apples on the flank and all. It took some wriggling to make her way through the crowd, especially with all the poofy dresses and the ponies protective of them. She leapt over a far-too-long train in purples and whites, full on colliding with a besuited colt. She excused herself rapidly under his companion's furious gaze by wriggling past a couple of Canterlot unicorns, hiding behind their elongated forms. After snatching her cider back from an insane serving fellow trying to trash it, she finally managed to sneak into the theater ahead of the crowd.

The actual theater itself was less glitzy than the lobby, which kinda weirded her out. It was decked up for the show of course, big old magic screen, lights, banners. the whole nine, but somehow more restrained. What the heck was even the point, then? Really making it seem like it’s not about the music at all. Oh wait, obviously not, it’s about making those bits ya’ll. As much of a money-grubber as she cheerfully admitted to being, it still made her a little grumpy.

It did have cushioned seats, though. She hunted hers down, right on the end of a row, and settled in, lying flat. She imagined this must be what clouds felt like, sheesh, Pegasi must be living the life. She took a quick glance over the program tucked into the seat-back in front of her. Oh sweet Celestia there were so many speeches. Long ones. Why did all these ponies need to talk anyway? Just to fluff their own egos, probably. What a whole-plot waste of time. She immediately started having second thoughts. Maybe she could sneak out and back into the party once this was all over. But what if she really did win something? Awkward either way. Did she really even care that much? Maybe if it came with a cash prize. Did it? Doesn’t look like it.

She felt herself yawning. Whatever Pinks had served her was really catching up with her. Maybe a nap was the perfect solution, now she thought about it. Not like she had anypony with her who’d be pissed off if she did. She’d skip over the boring speeches and get to the party. Her stomach rumbled at the thought. She was starving. No point buying food today when she could be stuffing herself on better, free-er food, right? Although, maybe that was a mistake, with the alcohol and all. Oh well. She turned up the noise damper and volume on her ‘phones, all the better for napping. Her thoughts filled with beautiful entrees, she wriggled a little deeper into the plush cushion and tumbled down into sleep.
> Octavia, Chapter 1: Pushing Every Button
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every time Octavia thought the horrible Vinyl Scratch could not get any more odious, she would somehow dig herself an even deeper hole. Getting drunk with the caterers, losing her invite, and the lecherous looks were bad enough, but this was simply beyond the pale. The miserable unicorn's snoring was loud enough Octavia had difficulty hearing the speakers. What, she marveled, was the point of attending such an event if you planned to sleep through it?! No amount of vicious throat clearing seemed to be sufficient to wake her. Octavia quite seriously considered tipping her over into the aisle. No, she mustn't. Somepony simply must have good manners here, and it would clearly have to be her.

Would it not be wonderful, she comforted herself, to rub the award she would soon be winning in the vile clubber’s face? A rude awakening as Octavia stood to receive it, jostling the hideous mare awake, stepping up on stage under her envious gaze, poorly disguised behind her obnoxious sunglasses. She struggled to hear the next announcement over a mysterious grinding sound, before she realized it was her own teeth. She forcibly relaxed her jaw. She would not be nervous. Country music next, then classical. Octavia redirected her attention to the ponies onstage. Fiddly Twang, such a Ponyville name. Still, her music was quite pleasing. There was a whoop from one of the other rows, and a single rumpled hat graced the air before falling back into the crowd. She smiled fondly despite herself. She adored Canterlot, yet every so often homesickness would rear its head.

Next was Classical, finally. 

Frederick Horseshoepin was a horseshoe-in, of course. This was his third MMA, his all earth pony musical group had existed before Octavia joined, and continued on now that she had left. He was talented, make no mistake. Octavia felt her heart jump slightly as he stood with a smile. The applauding pony on his right was, naturally, Parish. He seemed happy. Genuinely so. She kept a weather eye on the aforementioned Horseshoepin, however he seemed to be on good behavior. He smiled at ponies, accepted the award with grace, and even mentioned Parish’s steadfast friendship in his acceptance speech. 

Shock of shocks, perhaps Parish was right. Perhaps he really has turned over a new leaf. The thought filled Octavia with joy for her friend. And yet, it was unexpected and somewhat unwanted. If Parish truly did move out, Octavia would be well and truly in the lurch. She would be elevated from quietly dating a known oddity of a pony to being the abandoned ex, left for a stallion. Not to mention she would be forced to cover rent all on her own, which most likely meant a move to a smaller home. Perhaps even an apartment. That is quite enough, Octavia. Why will you not simply be happy for your friend? She berated herself so profoundly that she almost missed what the announcer said next. 

“Last, but certainly not least, we have a divine piece. A modern take on the classic instruments. A truly heartwarming and experimental piece, Rolling Hills-” The stunning Canterlot mare read from a card. “-along with beautiful performances of the classic pieces ‘Sun at Eve’ and elements of Beethoofens Fifth, The Manehattan music awards is honored to recognize Miss Octavia Melody!” 

A trill of laughter, tinged with notes of relief, burst from Octavia’s throat. The applause was cacophonous. She stood, careful to walk the proper, Canterlot way. She also made sure to subtly smack the white mare next to her with her tail as she passed, eliciting a snort. Look upon me and envy, Vinyl Scratch. Let this turn that white coat green with envy. Octavia made her way up to the stage, feeling the pleasing warmth of the lights take root in her dark coat.  There it was, the trophy. Beautifully carved into her treble, cast in gold over its natural violet. A subtle handle atop it allowed her to accept it in her jaws, and hold it up for the crowd. Her wandering eyes alighted upon Parish, who was weeping openly, hooves blurred as he applauded furiously. Her oven warmed heart melted just a little further. 

“I’d like to thank Manehattan” She began, as was expected, then stumbled. She could thank Parish, her very best friend.. . . Who else could she be expected to thank? Her mother, who was not present? Her sisters? She had no one else. If she had, perhaps she would have avoided sitting besides the miserable DJ. She scrambled for a recovery. “And my lovely friend, Parish, to whom I owe everything.” She made a final few waves and departed the stage rapidly, some small part of her joy snuffed. 

Yet more insufferably, Vinyl had not even moved, and was still fast asleep. Octavia elected to be less subtle this time, allowing the trophy to swing into the idiot’s dangling hooves as she passed. That got Scratch up, with a very satisfying yelp at that. She blinked blearily at Octavia as she sat back down, looking from the award to her. To Octavia’s frustration, she looked confused more than jealous.

“Hey, congratulations!”  She said, confusion giving way to an infuriating smile on her alabaster muzzle. She seemed almost genuine. Hah! “You mind if I take a- Uh, well, nevermind. Sorry to bother ya.” She turned away quickly, pretending to fall back asleep. The buck was that about, you inarticulate ingrate?

“You are irritating me more by not asking.” Octavia crammed as much derision as she could into the sniff she gave, fueling coal into the furnaces behind her eyes, hoping against hope her gaze alone could ignite the unicorn before her.
“Sorry. I’m kinda tired. Uh, I was going to ask you if I could look at it, to see which name they put on it, like, is it your birth name or cutie name, but then I realized I don’t actually know either of your names, so, you know, it wouldn’t help.” Octavia could swear she felt steam exiting her ears. She gaped, unable to find words. What kind of inane non-question was this? “Thanks for waking me up though, wouldn’t want to miss the Electronic bits.” She smiled again, and struck herself on the cheek with a hoof, apparently trying to promote wakefulness, for all the good it did her. Her eyes still drooped.

“Oh, it was my pleasure.” Octavia said sweetly, indulging in a brief fantasy of bashing the stupid foal’s head in with the trophy, which said Octavia Melody, thank you very much. No birth names here. She sat back down, hard enough the chair squeaked in agony. She glared back up at the stage, which was now occupied by a new mare with a vivid two-tone mane-cut to do the modern music awards. Octavia listened intently as she walked the guests through a cavalcade of strange ponies and their awards. Hmm, no Vinyl Scratch, I see. Oh dear, I wonder why not. Perhaps because the very same Scratch is an utter imbecile, certainly not a pony who knows a rotten apple about music? Perhaps! A final pink pegasus accepted her gramophone speaker shaped trophy, and then the announcer cleared her throat. 

“For this category, Fillies and Colts, we’re saving the best for last. One of the few ponies in our history to win two awards in one year! Tackling two different categories of music, we are proud to present these final two awards, for the stunning tracks of Scratchbaby, long overdue recognition for this excellent album, which varies from trance to jazztronica-'' She paused to let it play for a moment. Not bad, for modern music. Octavia thought, before she noted the little signature of quarter-notes at the bottom of the album cover, and her eyes widened into saucers. No. Impossible. Can’t be. No. She didn’t dare to look at the mare beside her. That’s just not possible. She couldn’t have.

“And if that’s not bassy and booming enough for you, get ready to shake those flanks to her new dance album and it’s titular piece ‘Blue Sun, White Sky.’” The magical projection changed to an image of Celestia’s cutie mark, but in shades of blue. A cloudy white background surrounded it. Same unseemly cutie signature, bottom left. Octavia shivered with rage, trying to clamp down on her traitorously tapping hoof. “I couldn’t be more hyped to present these two awards to Miss Vinyl Scratch, better known as the illustrious, the charming and the beautiful DJ Pon-3! Get on up here filly!” 

The thunderous applause played second fiddle to the blood pounding furiously in Octavia’s own ears. Her eyes were pulled over to the mare, as if drawn by gravity. The devil-sent DJ was still blinking bleariness away, having fallen asleep once again. She scrubbed a hoof across her drool stained mouth, and adjusted her purplish spectacles before hopping out of her seat, swaggering down the aisle. Or perhaps she’s still drunk? Octavia was beginning to feel as though she would pass out. Two awards. Two! And she could not even be bothered to care? Who was this pony? Had Octavia sinned against Celestia somehow, that the Princess would send somepony to torture her like this?
> Vinyl, Chapter 2: Don’t Need Nothing but a Good Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vinyl immediately abandoned her Award statuettes by the coat check. Her magic wasn’t unlimited, and she wanted to hold as many different dishes of fancy food as possible. Pinkies cakes, as well, were to die for. She kept a halo of dishes floating about her head, directing a fork from each in turn gently to her mouth. Amazing. Perfect. Truly, the best night ever. Well, except for the angry grey mare yelling at her at the entrance, the angry grey mare whacking her with the trophy, the angry grey mare yelling at her about her stupid questions, and the angry grey pony glaring daggers at her the whole way up and back after she’d won her awards. Basically, if it weren’t for the AGM, it’d be perfect. 

“Step riiiiiiight up, come try the best drink in town, a Vinyl Schnapps!” Pinkie's voice, from over at the bar. Vinyl was really bucking sure the drink she’d had earlier wasn’t schnapps, but hey, sometimes you just gotta go for the pun. Celestia only knows Vinyl had been there. Still, they were powerful drinks. Good thing she didn’t have to have another-

“Hey there’s my filly! Way to go, Scratch!” Stellar Wind, of course. Vinyl knew she wouldn’t remain missing for long. She was a pretty, older mare. Her orange-and-yellow mane was short cropped, but the matching tail left long, a style only she could really pull off. Vinyl turned and flashed her an only somewhat strained grin. Stellar had a stallion on one flank, and a pretty, iris colored, fluffy haired mare on the other. She pulled Vinyl into a physical hug with a magical grip, her breath smelling strongly of the ‘Schnapps’. “You’re killing it, V. Killing it. Making me a very happy mare. Very happy.” She giggled, and shoved another blue drink into Vinyls face, sending the remains of a sauteed something scattering. Vinyl groaned internally as she took a belt with a grin. 

“C’mon, let's get some pictures.” She began to drag Vinyl towards a gaggle of reporters, who were currently focused on a pretty gray mare. Oh horseapples, it’s the AGM again. Stellar didn’t hesitate, planting herself almost in front of the other pony, demanding attention by her sheer presence. Vinyl gave up wriggling free, instead attempting to drag Stellar back, before she really got the AGM pissed off.

“Excuse me” Octavia said, with politeness so sharp it could cut steel. Too late! “We were not done speaking.” She glanced at Stellar’s groupies, and then at Vinyl, where her gaze lingered, radiating pure hatred. It reminded Vinyl very forcibly of her mother. Stellar opened her mouth, but Vinyl gave her a sharp nudge with a back knee, in as painful a spot as she could muster.

“C’mon, we can wait. I need to finish my drink.” She said, jerking her head to a side table nearby. Stellar blinked a few times, and then followed, confused. Octavia’s glare followed Vinyl, until pulled away by a reporter’s question. The poor newscolt looked terrified as it turned on him. Stellar seized Vinyl's head with her magic, twisting it this way and that.

“‘We can wait’? Scratch, you’ve never waited for anything in your life. I’ve seen you leave restaurants rather than wait for the food. I’ve seen you cancel gigs rather than wait in line!  You once carried a whole bowl of pudding onstage rather than wait to finish it!” Stellar’s incredulity turned into straight up paranoia, and she pulled the headphones off Vinyl’s ears with a magical yank. “You’re a changeling, aren’t you?”

“For Celestia’s sake, Stellar! No, I’m not!” Vinyl rolled her eyes. Always with the changelings. “And I can prove it, remember that time, when a filly put a pancake-”

“Okay, fine, maybe you’re not a changeling.” Her suspicious glare did not lessen, but it was softened slightly by an embarrassed blush. “But something is definitely up, and you seem off your game.”

“I just don’t want to piss the A- Err, that mare off anymore. She seems to really hate me.” Vinyl focused on polishing off her drink, grateful for the excuse to stop talking. Immediate regret hit her as her head began to spin. Dangit, Pinkie.

“Aha! Vinyl loves pissing ponies off!” Stellar pointed a black-shoed hoof at her. “There’s no way you’re her. . . Unless. . .” Her eyes remained narrowed, but her mouth began to twitch into a smirk. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you? Didn’t you just-”

“No way! She’s cute, lots of fillies are cute.” Vinyl cut her off, then hastily took another drink from a passing waiter and focused on it, hoping it would cover her blush. “Some of them don’t even hate me. Octavia just-”

“‘Octavia just’ what, pray tell?” Ice swept across Vinyl's fur, making her shiver from head to hooves. She slowly turned her head, like somepony in a horror film might look behind them at a monster. “You are unbelievable. First you interrupt me, now you gossip about me?”

“Wait, hey, that wasn’t me, that was-” She glanced around for Stellar, only to find her grinning from the next table over, her groupies trailing behind. “. . . My manager.” She returned her focus to her drink, hoping against hope that, like an ursa, Octavia would leave if she just played dead. No such luck, unfortunately.

“No, do go on, I would really like to hear what it is you think of me.” The AGM stepped closer. The move was probably intended to be threatening, but Vinyl was three drinks in, and her first instinct was something else entirely. She stepped closer as well.

“I said you were cute! Got a problem?” She lowered her glasses to stare into the other filly’s eyes. Gosh they were pretty. And big. Why are they so big? Oh, because she was too close now, way too close. She scrambled backwards as her brain finally caught up to the rest of her. “Uh, that came out wrong. What I meant-” A gray hoof filled her vision, and a moment later her head was spinning like a top.

“H-how dare you!” Octavia practically shrieked. Her face was a lovely pink, dulled by the gray fur to a pleasing hue. She continued to stammer as Vinyl tried to take stock. Whoa, she was seeing spots. And the lights were way brighter. Was that the bright tunnel? Was she dying? No, hold on, she’d just lost her glasses. She scrambled to put them back on before they were crushed underhoof by a passing socialite. Nope, that’s backwards. Aha, there we go. She returned her focus to the gray mare, who was looking down at her. Why down? Was she that tall? Oh, no, Vinyl was on the floor. Wow, filly hits hard.

“Wow, you hit hard.” Vinyl said, making sure her headphones were still there. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the other mare. Was this love? Was she drunk? Or maybe she was concussed? Octavia, beautiful name, stared back. Vinyl tried and failed to stop a wink.

“Okay, whoa, hey.” Stellar Wind got between them as Vinyl struggled to her hooves. “I understand the impulse but don’t actually injure my client. She’s got more shows to play this week.”

“I-I did not mean to hit her so hard. I was simply surprised.” Octavia walked over to Vinyl, who recoiled slightly. She extended a hoof. “My apologies, ugh, Miss Scratch.” Vinyl took it, slowly. The AGM shook it, nearly knocking Vinyl back down. Holy Sunshine, she was strong.

“It’s, uh, it’s fine. And so is Vinyl. Calling me by that, I mean.” She pulled her hoof away and rubbed the back of her head. That’s not right. She really must be concussed. “And I’m fine too. Totally.” Octavia seemed unconvinced.

“I realize you are drunk, and likely intellectually impaired even on a good day, but you seem especially, ahem, damaged at the moment.” She squinted. Or glared. Her face was wavering enough Vinyl honestly wasn’t sure. She backed up a little just in case it was the second thing and another punch was coming.

“I say, Octy. There’s surely no need for that kind of talk.” Hey, that was a familiar face. The very gay colt from the gay club she’d played at a month or so back. They knew each other? 

“She made drunken advances, Parish. As my coltfriend, surely it is your duty to protect me, and not her?” Vinyl felt her heart sink, even as the dregs of her rational mind questioned the statement, and the feelings it evoked. They were dating? There’s no way. Wait, why did it matter anyway? Nopony cares! Octavia was still looking expectantly at the stallion, so Vinyl followed suit. Some kind of mental struggle was giving him a somewhat constipated look. 

“Ah, well. Miss Vinyl. I say-'' He made a half-decent show of working himself up into a rage, puffing out his cheeks and snorting, but apparently gave up and said instead; “I don’t suppose you would sign my copy of Blue Sun?” He held up the small record in one finely hooficured hoof. Vinyl couldn’t stop a grin from sneaking onto her face. Maybe this was her opportunity to hit back. Turnabout is fair whatever, as ponies say.

“Oh, yaknow, I would, Pears. . . But I don’t want to get you in trouble with your marefriend.” She flashed him a wink. She supposed he might swing both ways, but if this guy didn’t like stallions she’d eat her suit, including the buttons. “So, only if it’s okay with ‘Octy’ over there. I don't homewreck. At least not on purpose.” 

Parish cast Octavia a look that was half pleading, half trepidation. He was scared of her too, eh? Did she have a powerful family, or was it just the frankly incredible earth pony strength? Or both? Vinyl suddenly wondered if she should have stuck to her earlier position of not aggravating her. She didn’t care what most ponies thought, but if the AGM could actually cut into Vinyl’s bitstream, that could be a big problem. The more sensible and drunken part of her wondered what exactly she’d done to earn her ire in the first place. The flirting didn't help, but seriously, what on Luna’s holy moon had she done before that? The trophy shaped bruise on her forelegs definitely predated the attempted flirtations. Unless Octavia was counting the time she glanced at her at the entrance. Bleh. 

Anyway, she checked back into the conversation. Apparently Parish’s puppy eyes had won over even the granite hearted Octavia, and the album was being pushed Vinyl-ward again. With a shrug and a ‘Your funeral’ look, she snatched a quill from Stellar and scribbled down her name and a little message, which definitely wasn’t a subtle jab. Parish, Pears, received it with trembling hooves, as though it were a royal treasure.

“You enjoy that. It’s one of my better new albums.” Vinyl smiled at the pony. He seemed like a chill enough guy, if you ignored the pony he lived with. “Speaking of, didn’t I see you at an afterparty a few moons back?”

“Ahem, yes. A very fond memory, to be sure. You played an impressive concerto that night.” Parish seemed embarrassed as he spoke. Octavia snorted loudly enough to turn heads. Parish gave Octavia a look. Two looks, actually. First a glare, then an eyes half closed, troublemaker-I-have-a-bad-idea look. “Perhaps you would care for dinner, or lunch? There’s several newly venerated restaurants I have been dying to visit, and I’d love to chat more, Miss Scratch.”

“Uh, you know, I have a-”

“We’ll do it.” Stellar cut in, bashing Vinyl away like a pool ball with the speed of her ambition-powered flank. “I’d love an opportunity to speak with you, and your quartet’s Frederick Horseshoepin, if he’d care to come?” She conjured business cards with a spark of her horn, passing them to the earth ponies. Octavia looked tempted to shred it, but tucked it into the loop of her bowtie, instead. Normally, Vinyl would say a tie alone as an outfit was hella boring, but she really made it work. Wait, why was she thinking about that? 

“I’m sure I could convince Frederick to accompany us, although his presence may tighten the requirements for the venue, I’m afraid” Parish smiled the smile of a pony four knees deep in love. Vinyl winced slightly, and oddly, or maybe not so oddly, so did Octavia. Vinyl cast her a curious look, but was answered only with a glare. Ah well, Vinyl had been sure he was gay, and here we go, proof positive. “He’s got very high standards, Miss. . .Wind.”

“Call me Stellar, I insist. And I have rather exacting standards myself.” They shook pedicured hooves. “You’re coming, of course, Vinyl.” The statement didn’t even pretend to be a question. It just wore the nametag and required the answer of one.

“Sure thing. As long as ya’ll are paying, right?” Vinyl grinned, sincerely this time.Two free dinners. Hot dog! The desire for food was only a little overshadowed by Stellar being so. . . Stellar.

“You just won two MMA awards. Surely you can afford dinner?” Octavia’s tone was full to bursting with distaste. 

“Sure, I could, but free is free, and I have expensive hobbies.” Vinyl waggled her mostly empty glass. She was really more of a bottom shelf filly, and hadn’t been dabbling in potions much lately, but Octavia didn’t need to know that. Or anything else for that matter. “C’mon, never turn down a free lunch is like rule number one of a musician.”

“Ah, yes. I must have missed it when they were giving out that version of the rulebook.” Octavia took a glass from a waiter, champagne of course. She drained it very quickly as Stellar and Parish kept blabbing. Vinyl stopped really following the conversation, but noted that Octavia spoke only to support Parish or subtly-not-so-subtly dunk on Vinyl.  It inflicted a growing feeling of being a foal again, standing stiffly and quietly while Mother made plans for her and talked to other important ponies.

“I’m gonna go dance.” She said when it became unbearable, fleeing from the feeling like she would from a rabid timberwolf. Buck this whole scenario. She had been dealing alright, but somehow, someway, this was a straw-meet-camel's-back type situation.

“You concussed, Vinyl? There’s no dance floor.” Stellar gave her a look.

“Fine, the bar then. You kids have fun.” VInyl scampered, slow cooked with the hot wash of shame that so often hunted her during foalhood. It used to be her constant companion, until it was replaced by the warmth of booze. Speaking of, drinking more actually sounded good now. Maybe no more Pinkie drinks though. So much sugar. She barely slowed herself as she slid into the fancy bar, a stool almost toppling out from under her. It was being tended by an extra large, dapper red stallion whose unruly blonde hair couldn’t be quite contained by the gel stuck to it. He tilted his head quizzically rather than speaking.

“Give me uhhhhh” Vinyl scanned the bottles. One of them had a little moon cap on it, Night Princess. Looked expensive. “Gimme the Night Princess, double, neat.”

“Eeeeyup.” The stallion murmured, somehow making it sound like ‘your funeral’. He fetched a glass and the bottle, which was nearly full. Uh oh, bad sign. He skillfully poured Vinyl something halfway between a double and a triple, and slid it over with a glance that said ‘looks like you need it.’ Vinyl seized it mid-motion with magic, taking a slug. It tasted like what was advertised as ‘smooth’, kinda, but with an edge to it, some kind of flavoring. Vinyl’s numb tongue couldn’t really figure out exactly what it tasted like, since it was currently being burned alive. Only Vinyl’s extensive experience in the subject of alcohol kept her from coughing or spitting it out. Yup, something this undrinkable was definitely expensive. She glanced up at the stallion, who was nearby, watching for other ponies. He kept tugging at his collar and fussing with his sleeves. 

“So. . .” She started, letting the word slur off into silence. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say. She felt the need to talk, but he seemed the type that had mares all over him all the time. He didn’t need more of that, especially from a lesbian. She just nodded, instead, receiving a slightly relieved sounding eeyup this time. Vinyl let herself lean forward and stare into the depths of her glass, a universal signal of ‘leave me alone.’

“Land’s sake, Vinyl. What the hay happened to your face?” Applemare again, of course. She posted up on the bar right besides Vinyl, peeking around her to get a glimpse. Was it bruising? With her white fur, she bruised like, well, an apple.
“Uh well, it’s just creative dif- Erm, it’s sorta like-.” Vinyl struggled. It was hard to lie to the pony, for some reason. She changed tack. “It’s fine, no big deal”.

“No offense, sugar cube, but it seems like it might be more’n that.” Applejack- Applejack! That was her name! I knew I’d get there. Applejack indicated the drink in front of her, which was mostly empty of the purplish liquid it had once contained. “I saw you get licked and tied up by changelings and look less beaten than you do right now.”

“It’s just-” She hesitated. The easy lies wouldn’t come to her. She stared into Applejack's eyes, which were steady, no judgment. The truth bubbled up past the lies she tried to say. “It, she, just reminds me of being a filly, I guess. Getting yelled at for everything I do, because it’s always wrong, or just not good enough. I hate that.” She shot a glare over at the bottle. What the heck did they put in this stuff, a truth serum?

“Reckon that’d be enough to drive anypony a little crazy.” Applejack gave her a light pat on the back, almost sending her into the bar horn first. What was with Earth mares and beating on her tonight? “But you ain’t done nothing wrong. Well, you maybe shouldn’t’ve put the flirtin’ on quite so hard, but apart from that, I mean. You got two of them awards. You played at a royal wedding for ponies sake! You’re a heck of a musician. Got no reason to feel like y’ain't good enough.” Vinyl felt her right cheek heat up to match the soreness in her left.

“Well, shucks,” She said, eloquently. “That’s. . . very kind of you.”

“Just bein’ honest.” Applejack smiled, and stood. “C’mon now, let's get you home. I’ve had just about enough of fancy pants parties myself. Where ya staying?” 

“Haven’t quite figured that out. That’s usually my manager’s job” Vinyl let herself sink down to rest her face on the bar, wincing and flipping to the other cheek when she rested on the struck one. She gestured vaguely with a hoof to her glass, but Applejack shook her head. “Aw, come on, one for the road?”

“Don’t reckon you need another. I’m already startin’ to think I gotta carry you.” Applejack gave her a quick up and down, gauging her weight and general wasted-ness. Vinyl tried to lean on her hoof, showing how chill she was. She missed the first time. “Ayup, definitely carryin’ you. Y'all can stay with me tonight.”

“Yeah, okay. Buy me dinner first maybe.”

“This is dinner. You want another one?”

“It’s- Never mind. Fine, we can hit the road.”
> Octavia, Chapter 2: P.W.U. (Pretty White Unicorns)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And I said, ‘Are you sure you didn’t get your shoe fitting at a tire changing station, darling?’” The purple haired mare finished with a smile, and the gathering of ponies snickered into their cocktails. Octavia failed to understand the humor in the remark, and was in no mood to pretend, particularly given the party in question was yet another white unicorn. She was admittedly a significantly more refined one, clad in elegant blue and white silks, drawn up tight about her hindlegs, with a detailed trail.

“Truly, you are a delight, miss Rarity. You grace us with your very presence. Did I not tell you as much, everypony?” Frederick beamed, and Miss Rarity waved off the complement with one gemstone studded hoof. 

“Oh pish posh, it is my honor to meet such talented musicians.” She cast them each a look and smile in turn, pausing slightly on Octavia. “So sorry, have we met before, darling? You seem so familiar.”

“At the Gala, one before last. As we all did.” Octavia replied. Though, truly, she only  remembered the moment in which Miss Rarity had been coated horn to hoof in cake, a fiasco caused by the very same orange mare that was now associating with a drunken Vinyl over at the bar. Birds of a feather, apparently. Miss Rarity must have followed her gaze, for she said;

“Do you know Applejack, as well?” She was considered, and weighed. Rarity’s eyes lingered specifically on her tie, and then she stamped excitedly. “Wahaha! I remember! You come from Ponyv-” She paused, evidently seeing the horror on Octavia’s face, and improvised. “Pooonies of great repute. Your mother is such a dear. I made her a dress not long ago, you know.” Octavia felt in full as her horror was replaced with a sharp impalement of guilt. She had not been home in many moons. Far too many moons. In her preoccupation the conversation turned to other topics, and Rarity sidled up to stand beside her.

“So sorry, darling. I should have known not to mention it.” She murmured, tilting her head and flashing a polite and charming smile.  “I’ve had to learn that lesson myself. I hate to even ask, but; Do you remember me?”

“Yes, as I said prior. From the Gala.” Octavia replied bluntly, but felt a second stab of guilt as Rarity’s nose scrunched. She was still in such a beastly mood. She resolved to attempt to be kinder, at least for the rest of the evening. And at least to Rarity.

“Ahem. Yes. I meant a little further back. You were an older student keeping an eye on my school group, when I was a filly?” Octavia didn’t remember, not a whit, but she was disheartened just the same. One of the fillies she had sat for was now old enough to be a socialite? Perhaps it was time to take Parish’s advice, before it became well and truly too late.

“Of course, how could I forget any of my little ponies.” Octavia lied, making an honorable attempt to smile. “Beg your pardon, you did say you spoke to my mother? Recently?”

“I did! Such a dear. She is doing just fine, as is her-” Rarity lowered her voice “Her farm.”

“That is. . . a relief to hear.” A knot loosened in Octavia’s shoulder, one she had quite forgotten about. Rarity smiled.

“Well, she’s had an extra hoof lately, as you well know-”

“Pardon? I certainly do not know!” Octavia started, and Rarity coughed.

“Oh, well, my apologies, perhaps it hasn’t been announced yet? Aha ha” Rarity tugged slightly at her hat with magic, avoiding her gaze. “Well, ahem, your sister, ahem, is to be wed?” She flinched, as though bracing herself, however Octavia was too shocked to speak. “It’s true! To one Cinnamon Cider. Miss Cider was in town for the Apple Family reunion some moons back and she and your sister just hit it off. I’m sure you remember the Apple Family?” 

“I-” Octavia shook her head, not to mean a negation, but to attempt to clear it. Did she remember the Apple family? It was familiar, but no faces sprung to mind, no names broke the surface of her thoughts. “Pardon, yes. I remember the institution.”

“Institution, indeed. A true pillar of the community.” Rarity sighed, a melancholy sound, tinged with affection. Her eyes, filled with ennui, tracked something across the room. “Here, darling, allow me to introduce you to the heiress-”

 “Applejack!”  Rarity suddenly called, loud enough to be heard across the party. Octavia jumped vigorously enough that the dragon's share of her drink found itself splattered across the floor. She followed Rarity’s expectant gaze, and found the apparent Applejack, the orange pony she’d noted earlier, forging a path through the guests. They stood aside as she passed, not daring to bar her way. Most unfortunately, the despicable Vinyl was slung over her back like a saddlebag full of jello. Alcoholic jello.

“You need somethin, Rare?” The melodious drawl of rural Equestrian ponies immediately brought her back to her youth, surfacing the memories that had been reluctant to breach before. Memories of dragging a plow across fields and hauling sacks of potatoes, laughing with her mother and sister. A visit from a neighbor, a friendly stallion and his lovely star crossed bride, both represented in the face of the pony before her. Apples. She blinked them away, the memories replaced with an orange hoof in the present moment, stretched forth in greeting.

“My apologies. Wonderful to meet you” Octavia reached to shake it. She had become so used to shaking gently, repressing her strength, that the firm gesture caught her by surprise, and she returned it with mild satisfaction. Unfortunately, the motion seemed to rouse the drunken mixed-bag of musical talent and trashy personality that was Vinyl, and she murmured, half conscious. Octavia frowned. Applejack gave her a strained smile. Rarity appeared not to notice, carrying on with the introductions.

“You will never guess, but this lovely filly here? Her sister is soon to be wed to your dear cousin Cinnamon!” Rarity gushed, drowning out additional murmuring from Vinyl.

“Well, that’s just fine. Pleasure to meet you, future cousin-in-law.” Applejack did not sound entirely pleased, but perhaps that too was Vinyl’s fault. The silence stretched. Rarity tittered awkwardly.

“Ahem. I see you have made a friend, Applejack?” She asked, voice strained ever so  slightly. Octavia cast a surreptitious look in her direction. Was she also irritated with the DJ? 

“Ah, just a filly in need of a lift home an’ a place to stay. She played your fashion show back when, y’know. You don’t remember?” Applejack shrugged her shoulders slightly, the motion carrying on down the rippling muscles of her legs and back. She was a very impressive specimen, speaking objectively, of course. The motion jostled the still mumbling Vinyl, who paused in reaching around with wavering tendrils of magic to press a hoof queasily to her mouth. “Uh oh. Best be gettin’ on that sooner than later. Talk to ya tomorrow, Rarity. Good to meet ya Octavia.” She walked back off the way she came, once again wading through the sea of ponies that had closed upon her passing.

“Harrumph. Well then!” Rarity muttered. While it appeared to be intended for her own ears only, the volume of it was in truth loud enough to trigger turns of the head from passing ponies. Octavia was unsure of what exactly to do. The sheer quantity of mind-numbingly strange events that had occurred over the course of this accursed evening had left her quite stunned. One thing, however, remained in the forefront of her mind.

“She really is quite insufferable, isn’t she?” She responded, quietly, to Rarity. 

“Now stop right there! That is my friend you are speaking about!” Rarity snapped to attention, horn and eyes gleaming with sudden anger.

“Beg pardon, I was referring to the unicorn, not your friend.” Octavia reevaluated the pony before her. This was no mere socialite. She had spirit. 

“Oh! Oh. My apologies. I fear I have had to defend her . . . honor from more than one snob. Not that you seem snobbish! Oh, Celestia, you must think I'm unconscionably rude.”  Rarity adjusted her dress with furious spots of sapphire magic, a lovely contrast to the bright ruby flush that graced her cheeks.

“I do not think that at all. I was merely commenting upon your initial statement, about which I made the incorrect assumption that it was related to Vinyl Scratch.” Octavia explained, feeling more foolish with each word. “And then you made the incorrect assumption about my statement that I was speaking about your friend Applejack, whereas I believe we were each speaking of our own annoyances and now we are both quite confused.” She gasped a breath, and Rarity burst out laughing.

“Yes, I suppose that is what happened. Truly, Miss Melody, we are two of a kind, if it is not too bold to say.” Rarity stepped closer as she spoke, a revelation to the room that a camaraderie was forming. “It is simply insufferable, isn’t it?”

“Oh, certainly. This whole night has been a particularly intense test of my patience.” Octavia allowed herself a small smile and a tiny giggle. Rarity pressed a cider into her hoof, noting the apple marks on the bottle. “And they have a way of popping up everywhere, do they not?”

“Yes. . . It seems so.” Rarity took a drink, taking just too long of a pull for polite company, Octavia followed suit. “So, how did you realize it?” 

“I suppose. . .” Octavia hesitated. “I suppose it started with seeing her in the paper.”

“Oh, that’s precious.” Rarity gushed, practically dancing about with excitement. “Before you even met her, like it was fated.” Octavia gave her a strange look. Fated hate? Was there truly such a thing?

“Do you think things like this can be fated?” Octavia asked, taking another large sip.

“Oh, no doubt in my mind, darling.” Rarity fluttered her eyelashes. “You don’t choose who you fall in love with.” 

Octavia, in a stunning feat of self control, managed to angle her face away from the unicorn before spraying a muzzleful of cider over a passing pegasus waiter. What? What in Celestia's Green Equestria? Did she think? How could she think that!

“Oh darling,” Rarity was pressing her lips together hard enough she had trouble speaking, a smile constantly threatening to break loose. She idly cleaned the waiter's uniform, ignoring the pony’s requests to release him. “Should I have not said it in as many words?”

“That’s not it! I don’t love her, I despise her. I despise her and her music and her stupid blue mane! That rowdy style, lookin like she jus’ rolled out of bed!” Octavia paused, taking a breath and fixing her speech. “And not only that, but she somehow manages to win two awards, and can’t be bothered to give the proper speech or even remember them! Were that not enough, she stole my rightful newspaper recognition, thus directly affecting my work-” She paused again, this time taking several breaths. There is more, oh Celestia there is more, but remember, Octavia. Manners. Control. She turned to Rarity again, nodding her apology. Thankfully, Rarity seemed more amused than distressed.

“I suppose I must have misread the situation yet again, darling. So sorry,” She did not seem particularly sorry, but it was quite possible Octavia’s ability to read ponies was not precisely at its peak performance now. “Or perhaps I was simply projecting, hmm?”

“Per. . .haps,” Octavia did not know what that meant, but she’d be sent to the moon before she admitted it. She made a blunt attempt to derail that train of thought. “Would I be amiss, then, in presuming that Miss Applejack has caught your eye?”

“If you recall me from the Gala, you must recall that my date of the moment was Prince Blueblood, yes?” Rarity shuddered. Octavia had never had the displeasure, but he had a reputation. “I just wanted a noble prince, who would always be honorable and chivalrous. You see?” Octavia didn’t, but she nodded. “Alas, I found only one pony who always does the honorable thing, and it happened to be her. The one pony who irritated me the most.” Here Miss Rarity shot Octavia a look of deep amusement, and Octavia felt her face flush hot. With anger, naturally. She turned tail and marched right away, before her slapping hoof could get the better of her once again. 

“Darling, darling! Wait! I was only teasing!” Rarity, unfortunately, chased her. Octavia rounded on her, but Rarity did not shy back. “Not another word about it. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye . . . That’s an unbreakable promise!”

“. . . Very well.” Octavia drained the last of her cider, feeling a slight buzz start to overtake her. A vicious thought drummed up inside her, and she felt her heated cheeks quirk into a smile. Well, perhaps turnabout was indeed fair play. . . Or maybe all is fair, in love and war would be a better metaphor? Regardless, she spoke: “You must be as displeased with Vinyl right now as I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Octavia relished a long pause, watching Rarity’s elegantly shaped eyebrows climb slowly up her face. “I know from earlier unpleasant experiences that she definitely has an eye for mares. And your Miss Applejack just took her home, while she is immensely intoxicated, no less. Tongues will wag, for certain.”

“You can’t possibly be suggesting. . .” Rarity trailed off, as she thought it through, her eyes widening. “She wouldn’t do- I mean to say- She isn’t-”

“She is not? Are you quite confident?” Octavia twisted the knife.  “I observed them speaking at the bar, quite closely, before she carried her out.”

“No, that’s simply not possible,” Rarity concluded, with a huff. “. . . So much so, I feel the need to prove it! You’ll come, of course?”

“Of course,” Octavia said, naturally. Why would Octavia help this filly with something this sordid? And spying at that? It was really none of Octavia’s business, no matter how curious she was. Wait, what had she said?

“Oh, you’re such a dear. Now, we need a reason to follow them. . .” Rarity spoke casually, seemingly unaware of what she was doing to Octavia’s mind. 

“Scratch left her awards by the coat check. I would be quite surprised if she remembered to pick them up.” Octavia’s voice betrayed her once again. What was she doing? Why would she agree to any of Rarity’s madness? She prided herself on being generous, but that usually meant charity, not. . .  whatever this was! And she was certainly no gossip, to be chasing after juicy tidbits.

“Oh, what a clever idea! Let me seed this with the crowd. . . You go fetch the statues!”

And so it was that Octavia, despite mental protests at every stage, found herself hauling both statues down a litter covered sidestreet at eleven forty in the evening. Rarity, naturally, knew the ‘motel’ where Applejack would be staying. Apparently a cousin, the Orange family, owned the place, so they could get free rooms. Which was good, because Octavia couldn’t see much else to recommend the place. Rickety looking screen doors rattled over the entrance to each room, and the smell of the bay washed over the place, giving it a slight salty, fishy aftertaste. The glowing sign read ‘Steady and Stable’, a classic franchise. Rarity scanned the lot, magic gleaming like a faint spotlight, sweeping dark corners and the windows of parked carriages.

“Now, we must find a window.” She said, apparently satisfied. Somehow, she had found the time to change into a sharply trimmed trench coat, which would be perfect for stealth were it not a bright purplish color. She had it slightly hiked up around her ankles, presumably to avoid trailing it on the ground. Between that and her frazzled face, the effect was barely short of manic. 

“Why on Celestia’s green Equestria would we want to do that?” Octavia said, exasperated. She adjusted the heavy statuettes with a flex of her back. “Let us just knock, for goodness sake!”

“Darling!”  Rarity said by form of reply, and crept on tiphoof around the side of the building. Octavia sighed and followed, her resistance utterly broken by the strange and unstemmable tide of favors she was doing. The two of them slipped around the office, and began passing many identically draped windows. Rarity counted each under her breath, and when she got to the seventh, pressed her ear against it immediately.

“It appears to be covered. Unsurprisingly.” Octavia deadpanned as best she could while peering into the window herself.. Rarity shushed her loudly, and pressed her ear closer, flattening it against the cold glass. A small ring of frost melted around the organ, and snow began sticking to her coat as she sat there, still as a statue. “Miss Rarity-” 

“SHOOOSH!” She hissed once again, even louder than before. “I am trying to eavesdrop! I hear her voice and conversation, so again I implore you to Shoosh!” Ocatvia shushed, but the rattling of her rolling eyes could likely be heard clear across the city. How did she keep finding herself in these positions? First Parish dragging her to clubs, now this. Octavia suffered a dawning realization of how much Rarity and Parish had in common. No wonder Rarity could twist her around her hoof. 

“Now see what you’ve done!” Rarity groaned. “They’ve stopped! I can’t hear!” 

“Uh, who are you, and what are you doing here?” Octavia turned, heart plummeting, at the raspy voice from behind her. Alas, her career, shut down prematurely by an arrest record. . . Fortunately, the ostentatious rainbow maned filly was not wearing a badge, just a bemused look. “Are you fans or something? Wait. . . Rarity?!” The pegasus’ jaw dropped so low it nearly scraped the ground, despite her hovering a few feet above it.

“Ahaha, why hello there Rainbow Dash! What are you doing here?”

“I’m. . . staying here.” Rainbow said, flatly. “Why are you hanging out at my window?”

“Your window? But the mare at the office said that the DJ was staying-”

“Yes, my window.” Rainbow landed, giving Rarity a flat stare. “And yeah, she’s here. Applejack asked if she could park her in my room, since I had a spare bed. Applejack is next door, with Applebloom.”

“But I heard her voi-”

“She had to come in to drop off the drunk girl, and we got to talking.” Dash flicked her tail, her flat stare further compressing before turning it on Octavia, pretty pink eyes lingering on her tie. “My turn now, who's the nerd?”

“Nerd?!” Octavia exclaimed in disbelief. Rarity patted her consolingly.

“This is Octavia, she’s a dear new friend. We were here to, ahem, drop off Miss Scratch’s awards? That she won? And then forgot?” Rainbow paused her flat stare to raise a suspicious eyebrow.

“And you wanted to drop them off. . . through the window?”

“Well, it sounds silly when you say it like that.” Rarity tittered the last word. Octavia allowed herself to sink to the ground. This was surely one of the most foolish things she had ever been involved in. All for her own morbid curiosity and a socialite mare she barely knew. She cast her gaze to the sky, yelping when she found it intercepted by the blue pegasus.

“You alright there?”

“No!” Octavia mumbled. She allowed her furious hooves to beat a staccato tantrum against the pavement “I’m not alright. I am not all right either, nor am I okay. I am, in point of order, quite terrible. I’m a victim of some kind of enchantment, having been ensorcelled somehow, since that is the only reason I can imagine as to why I’m lying in a parking lot at midnight. Not only that, but I’m here to supposedly spy on my old neighbor from Ponyville and the filly I hate most in this world!” She sucked in a hot breath, which propelled her to her hooves like a balloon taking flight. 

“No more!” She said, storming off. “I’m going to my hotel!”

“Hey, wai-”

“Darling, you still-”

“NO!” She yelled, trot turning into a gallop. White unicorns and magic and insanity! Why was this her life? “No waiting, and certainly no stopping! I. Am. Going. To. Bed!”

“The statues! You still have the statues!” Rarity yelled, but alas, Octavia was gone.
> Vinyl, Chapter 3: Home is where the heart ain't
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vinyl let out the most absolutely heartfelt sigh of relief as she finally got back to her own room. It had taken way way too long. Naturally, when Vinyl actually needed Stellar for her job, you know, booking gigs and hotels, the pony was nowhere to be found. Oh well, at least she had a place now.

 It wasn’t quite as ritzy as her room in Canterlot, but it was close, and it had a better aesthetic, honestly. It was all modern looking, with glass and dark metals, soft chairs in monochrome, heck yes. She hadn’t planned to stay long, but Stellar was being Stellar again. She’d drummed up a couple of gigs for her at clubs here in Manehattan, which still really ticked Vinyl off, now that she thought about it. She got new gigs together before getting her star a freaking room? She couldn’t really turn down the pay, though. Or, apparently, the dreaded upcoming lunches with the snoot quartet. Bleh. 

“This is where you’re staying?! Awesome!!” Dash yelped, from just behind her. Vinyl got a swift mental drop into a bucket of ice as she was reminded of her volunteer pegasus coach driver as the pony strode into Vinyl’s room. Whoops. “You must make the big bits, huh?”

“Nah, not so much.” Vinyl started emptying her bags. One pile for the bed, one pile for the bathroom, one for the random floor area by the couch. “I mean, yeah, I guess, but these are usually covered by my agency.”

“Make more than a weather pony, that’s for sure.” Dash started rooting around, looking for Celestia only knows what. Vinyl sighed, dumping the rest of her junk on the floor. She might not be actively hung over, but she was still pretty tired. Probably too tired to put up with Dash levels of energy, much as she liked the filly. 

“Yo, Dash, I-”

“It’s cool, you don’t gotta thank me.” Dash interrupted, hoof clicking a half-decent beat on the buttons of the room’s espresso machine, eyes wide as a pair of records. “I was looking to get the heck outta there anyway. Whoa, cool.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Vinyl dropped another hot sigh, but a mostly-just-kinda-sad kind this time. Wasn’t the first time she’d woken up somewhere weird, and it was always hella awkward, but this might have been the worst time in recent memory. “So uh, what’s up with that? They’re your friends, right?”

“Ah, it’s complicated, you know how it goes. We’re all really good friends, usually. It’s just been awkward lately without the others though, if it’s just us three.” Dash shrugged, wings flapping excitedly as she found a single serving of espresso beans and started trying to rip them open. Vinyl snatched it with magic before the crazy filly could cost her eighteen bits, and changed the subject before she could try it again.

“So, you and Applejack, yeah?” She bounced her eyebrows at the bright filly, hoping it came across as a form of lesbian fidelity and not as being a weirdo.

“Nah. I mean yeah, but nah. You know?”

“Yeah.” Vinyl didn’t know.

“Yeah.” Dash scuffed the carpet with a hoof, and then shrugged. “I should probably get going.”

“Word. Seeya” Vinyl spoke to the rainbow trail left behind, and sighed again, a relieved-but-kinda-bummed-at-the-same-time one. Why was it always so hard to get ponies out of her rooms?

“Wait, hang on!” Dash popped back in.

“GAH!” Vinyl lept half out of her skin, horn nearly reaching the roof. That would have cost me bits too. She turned back to face the pegasus again.

“I forgot to tell you that the other music pony has your awards.” Dash leaned against the doorframe, a slight smirk on her face. 

“The who has my what?” Vinyl felt her eyebrows struggle to pull themselves off her face.  

“The gray one with the snooty face and pink tie. And pink swirly thing on her flank?” Vinyl felt her legs wobble, and she moved to sit before she could topple over. She hadn’t been feeling hung over before, but she sorta was now.  “You okay, dude?” Rainbow zipped over, face mussed into concern.

“Yeah, no, totally, totally.”

“Is she, like, your ex or something?” Rainbow’s eyebrows followed Vinyl’s. The revolution was spreading. Nopony’s brows would be safe.

“Nah” Vinyl had a sudden craving for another stiff drink. She scruffed up her mane and chewed on her words before saying “I mean yeah, but nah. You know? She’s mad enough at me to be, but we never even met before last night.”

“Dang.”

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Vinyl wondered if this was what ponies meant when they said misery loves company. Dash had taken up a seat next to her, and was idly picking at her hooves. Vinyl tried really hard to find something interesting in the little line things in the wood of the table. This was weird. But somehow, not bad.

Of moon-cursed course though, her phone rang right then. Dash scampered off, with a mouthed something. Might be ‘tell her to come by’. Or might be ‘sell you to some guy’. She hoped it was the first one, but once she checked the caller ID, she decided the other option might not be too bad either. Anything but this.

“Ivory. Good morning.” The voice from the other end. Loud and soft at once. It demanded attention, that’s for sure. Vinyl had come by her loudness honestly, at least. No one could accuse Harpsichord Delight of being anything less than the absolute freaking center of attention at any possible moment.

“Hey mom” Vinyl answered, trying to sound casual, willing her heart to slow down. “It’s kinda early yet.”

“Yes. . . I am proud of you for being up and at them.” A compliment, sorta. Mostly an insult with plausible deniability. “You have time today, yes? I have a luncheon I’d really rather you attend.”

“Ahhh, you know, I have work tonight and-”

“Tonight is not today, dear. Nor does it overlap with lunch. Silly filly.” Sweet. Too sweet, like candy that was designed specifically to hide sneeze powder. “You can nip over and be back in time for your hobbies.”

“No, but listen. I’m meeting someone.” Vinyl hesitated slightly, but knew she had to continue. If she wanted to talk, she had to take every opening “Did you watch the Music Awards last night?”

“Some small part of them. I was working. Why?” She sounded curious, but also like she didn’t care. Vinyl took a deep breath.

“You may have noticed a name in there? You know, mine?”  She sped through the words, and then held her breath. 

“. . . I did not! I am sorry.” She sounded sorry. “Not one mention that I heard. Do you remember which segment it was in? Or perhaps the timestamp?”

“. . . No, I don’t remember.” Vinyl elected- Err, decided not to mention she was slightly drunk and asleep most of the time. “Were you listening for my cutie name, you know, Vinyl Scratch? ”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I feel like you keep changing it on me.” Vinyl hadn’t been, but whatever. “Regardless, this luncheon? It’s really quite important. You know, Silver Platter and Silver Tongue will be there. . . you three were always such close friends. You remember that, of course.” Vinyl almost did, before she remembered not to fall for that. She’d never been friends with either of ‘em, she’d just been put in a room with ‘em a bunch and told that she was their friend often enough that she bought it. 

“Nope, sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell. And like I said, I’m expecting company myse-”

“You are not. Stop lying to me.” Her voice hardened into a blade of derision. Vinyl held the phone away from her ear just in case she decided to yell, which was a good call. “You continually-” She began, in a voice that would have shredded Vinyl into marshmallow-

Thankfully, at that moment, there was a loud rap on the door. With a flood of relief that washed away even fear of the AGM, she pulled the door open with her magic. Octavia stood there, her impassive face cracked slightly.

“Octavia, you’re here!” Vinyl said, loudly. “Much sooner than I expected. Hold on mom, let me put you on speaker. Octavia Melody is here!”

“I really only-” Octavia cut off whatever nonsense she was saying as Vinyl drew a hoof across her throat repeatedly. Vinyls magic tapped buttons on the phone. Harpsichord paused in her tirade.

“Octavia Melody? You know my daughter? I was not aware! We’ve met before, Harpsichord Delight, you remember? From the Canterlot garden party, of course.” Her mother was suddenly all polite surprise and simpering kindness. “Congratulations on your award last night, very, very well earned.”

“Wh- Ahem, yes, of course I remember. Thank you. And yes I am familiar with your. . . daughter.” Octavia spoke. Vinyl could have died of happiness right there. This was a bailout bigger than any the Princesses had ever given to any failing farm or business. The kind of bailout that would turn desert into orchards, that would turn Everfree into Ponyville. AGM for Princess’ aide, seriously. 

“Oh, well, then I will not interrupt you! I’m sure you will make beautiful music together, with your talent. We will speak later, Ivory. Do not keep such a talented mare waiting.” Her mom hung up without another word, and Vinyl sighed again in pure, uncut relief. She changed her mind about her sigh from earlier. This was the most heartfelt sigh. A sigh to end all sighs, really.  She let herself drape sloppily over a chair, and then remembered Octavia. Whoops.

Vinyl lifted her eyes with great difficulty to face her new assailant. Octavia had said nothing. Her eyes were locked on Vinyl, but they looked way different without the scorn. Kinda pretty, actually. Vinyl’s forgotten statues framed her face, stuck into saddlebags. Vinyl scrambled to take them from her with magic, and reached for her words. 

“I appreciate you doing this for me. It was a large favor and deserves appropriate recompense.” She said, mentally cursing herself and rephrasing hastily.. “Uh, so yeah. Good stuff. Thanks for the save there too.”

“Who were you speaking to? Your mother?” Octavia asked, eyes widening a fraction. “And hold on a moment, you are actually capable of speaking properly?”

“Nothing wrong with the way normal ponies speak.” Vinyl said, defensively. “Language is a tool for understanding each other, not like, something to fight about and uh, quibble over weird dumb trivia.”

“A tool for- That was almost intellectual!” Octavia’s eyes were now large enough to swallow the moon as easily as Stellar Wind swallowed cake. “Are you Vinyl’s body double by chance?” Vinyl’s chuckles dried up as she realized Octavia wasn’t joking, she was being totally serious. As if she was ever not. Vinyl sighed, and took off her glasses completely.

“Hi, I’m Vinyl Scratch.” She said, smiling. It was meant to be friendly but it came off a bit sheepish. Oh well. “I’m an audiophile and musician. You might have heard of my public persona, DJ Pon-3. I play everything from weddings to nightclubs. Mostly dubstep these days, but I used to do a lot of trance and house. Kinda want to get back into that too, but I follow the money, and ponies want their dance beats. So, yeah. Good to meet you.” She walked just close enough to stick out a hoof. Octavia didn’t take it. No surprise there. Unlike her eyes. Vinyl let the hoof drop and let the ramble continue.

“So. . . You’ve only ever met me once or twice I think, and I happened to be hella drunk. I can totally get how you’d think I was a real idiot. It’s also sorta part of the act, you know? DJs are supposed to be partiers. Which I am, totally, but maybe not as much as I used to be, but whatever. Keep that on the down low though.” Vinyl continued, trying to look anywhere but the other mare’s eyes, which were starting to pull her in, like a black hole or something. Vinyl almost said more, but she bit it back. She hadn’t told anyone about her family or her own situation, and the AGM was the last person who needed to hear it. Would probably be the subject of gossip in every tea party in Manehattan within the week if she did. They stood awkwardly, Octavia staring, and Vinyl avoiding the stare.

“I am unsure of what to say.” Octavia said, very apropos. Vinyl felt a somewhat hysterical laugh building, and choked it back. 

“Yeah you and me both.” she rubbed the back of her head with a hoof, which reminded her she desperately needed a shower too. Great.

“The mare on the phone- Your mother?” Vinyl nodded, and Octavia continued, speaking very slowly. “She called you Ivory.”

“Yeah, it's my birth name.” Vinyl looked deliberately at the ceiling. Leave it alone. She conveyed, as clearly as she could without saying it.

“She doesn’t use your cutie name?” Octavia plowed on, heedless. “That’s rather rude. Although I suppose it took my own mother some time to get used to mine.”

“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t change it right away after. I went to school and stuff beforehoof. I only changed it all official like once I- Err, well, once I started DJing for real.” Vinyl felt herself turning red under Octavia’s refocused gaze. “But it’s not great, yeah. She's totally a ‘my way or the highway’ type of pony.”

“I am familiar with her reputation. She leads one of the finest orchestras in Equestria”  Octavia nodded, as slowly as she was talking. “So, perhaps her attitude is warranted. She is quite a talent.”

“I can see you thinking ‘unlike you’, you know” Vinyl let this laugh out, and it behaved, mostly. Only a little hysterical.

“Manehattan disagrees with me, evidently.” Octavia gestured with a hoof at the statues Vinyl had dumped in the corner.

“Sure, I guess.” She shrugged

“You only guess?” Octavia’s anger was back in a flash, and Vinyl found herself suddenly on the other side of the couch. “You won two awards! Does that mean nothing to you? Ponies struggle and claw their whole careers for such recognition!”

“That’s just not really what I’m about” Vinyl peeked over the black velvet. Octavia had not come any closer, but she didn’t quite feel like giving up her defenses just yet. “I like making music. I’d still be doing it even if I wasn’t winning stuff or making money. Do you only do it for the awards or something?”

“No, of course not. However-” Octavia put her rage on pause, and looked thoughtful, hoof to chin. “Fame is desirable, is it not?”

“I mean, sure. Gets me more shows, more shows means more bits, more bits are always good.” Vinyl slipped back over the couch, taking a very late lounging pose. Yup, definitely not scared at all.

“Now who does not care about the music?” Octavia chuckled primly, hoof covering her muzzle, the corners of her eyes crinkled slightly. An actual laugh! Who’d have thought she even could? “You cannot be short of bits. I refuse to believe that. You are rather popular, and your mother is-”

“Yeah totally. Nah, I’m good. But you know how it is, right?” Vinyl cut her off. Her next laugh was not even remotely trying to be anything other than hysterical. It was howling right to the madhouse, lampshade over its head. “Anyway, thanks for the stuff, the statues I mean, real dumb I forgot them, huh?”

“As you said, you seemed extremely intoxicated. As was I, apparently, for taking them home with me rather than leaving them with your unconscious body at the motel. And I suppose also being present at the motel in the first place.” Octavia kept a perfectly straight face, with only a very faint hint of a blush as she said this. Vinyl let out what could only be loosely called a laugh, more like a bark that would make any Diamond Dog proud.  That blush though, was enough to send Vinyl halfway to the moon. Very cute. Very much Ponanizing. Ponizing? Making Octavia feel like an actual pony, is what she meant. 

“Oh, yeah. Dash told me you were wandering around with her friend Charity.” Vinyl chortled again. She tried, and failed, to imagine them creeping around in the night. All on tiphoof, maybe with ski masks? “I’m sorry, that’s real hard to imagine, honestly.”

“I would take offense if you said it was easy.” Octavia’s cheek twitched upwards ever so slightly. “I take no responsibility for my actions. These are the very Elements of Harmony. I plead the twelfth.”

“You plead that the Sun should adjust day length based on the season?”

“. . . No, you foal. I plead that mind control, ensorcelling, or magical impersonation was in play, which leaves me blameless for any crimes.” Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Oh. Then yes, totally. That also happened to me, actually. Except I just told very embarrassing secrets to Applejack instead of going to creep on sleeping mares.” Vinyl hurled herself back behind the couch with magic as Octavia took a threatening step forward. “Whoa, hey. Threatening the victim in the courtroom isn’t helping your case.”

“We are not- How is it possible you are even more irritating now? Go back to being a drunken fool” By the time Vinyl peeked over again, Octavia’s face was blank again, though it really sounded as though she had been smiling. Vinyl resumed her lounge pose, putting on her best paint-me-like-one-of-your-Canterlot-Mares. 

“Careful, that almost sounded like you were asking me out for drinks. A filly could get the wrong idea. First creeping and now this. . .” Vinyl fluttered her lashes. Or did something sorta like fluttering her lashes. Close enough. Octavia took another step, but Vinyl held her ground this time, even adding a duckface. Octavia approached, and looked down at her.

“Upon further consideration, and with the upset of the very bedrock upon which my opinion of you was based . . .” Octavia was staring her smack in the eyes. Octavia’s own sparkled, and her lips snuck up into a smile. Vinyl felt her face ignite. Composure, Vinyl. Composure. . .

“I would still prefer to boil my head with the fried potatoes.” Octavia whispered, and turned on her backhooves, tail lashing the couch by Vinyl’s head. The DJ collapsed in a heap.

“You’ve got a real mean streak. No wonder you fit in with the upper class so well.” She put her glasses back on so she could tilt them down to watch Octavia leave. “Don’t let the door hit your rump on the way out.” 

“I am a fast learner.” Octavia said sweetly, and closed the door.
> Octavia Chapter 3: Understanding the Appeal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The Wealthy Waffle?” Stellar Wind said, with no small amount of disbelief. “Is this a joke, Horseshoepin? Am I a joke to you?”

“Not at all, my dear.” Frederick walked on inside, allowing a hostess unicorn to lift his coat off with magic. “It is in the earth pony style to stick to literals. Too much metaphor muddles the message. Trust me, this is one of the finest establishments in the whole city. Neigh, in all Equestria!” Stellar rolled her eyes, but followed him inside. The rather frivolous trousers she wore were dangling into the rain a slight bit, which was starting to sully the rest of the otherwise extremely sharp look. Octavia followed the pair, Parish at her side. Her eyes traced the interior. It was bedecked in greens, golds and blacks, with hoof stitched tapestries in the Earth Pony style, mostly depicting landscapes. A raised music platform and dance floor rested in the center. Opulent chandeliers hung down low, casting magical candlelight over the diners.

“We will be going Dragon on the bill, I assume?” She murmured to Parish. A place such as this would wring you for every bit. He chuckled, laying a hoof across her shoulders. “How many luncheons have we had, and how many left to go?”

“Where is your sense of adventure, Octavia? Let us try something new, for a change.” His own quite elaborate coat was lifted from him, and he brushed off his vest with a dainty hooftip. She took a long moment and adjusted his tie, even though it was perfect.

“I would prefer adventure less likely to bankrupt me. Behold, it’s so expensive Miss Scratch wasn’t even allowed within eyesight of it!” Parish chuckled again, and adjusted Octavia’s tie in turn. The lie had become so practiced for both of them that it was as good as the truth. Octavia doubted very much if the element of Honesty itself could parse it false. 

“Whoa, dang. We’re in public, guys.” Vinyl made a show of placing a magical barrier between them as she entered. Parish shot his eyes downward in supposed embarrassment. Octavia shattered the barrier with a hoof.

“Ah, and here I thought they were going to keep the riff raff out.” She stuck her nose up quite pointedly. As if to prove Octavia’s point, Vinyl bucked her own coat off into the air for the hostess to catch, and shook her mane like a dog. She couldn’t help a sense of satisfaction from seeping into her. Much like a stooge-y slapstick routine, thrashing the Dee-Jay in a battle of wits was immensely and consistently amusing. 

“I oughta be sayin’ that to you, Ponyville. Don’t think I didn’t spot your turnip truck parked outside.” Vinyl was kind enough to keep that joke to a low volume. More likely, she merely wished to avoid more serious repercussions. 

“Potato truck, actually.” Parish said, equally quietly, and the two of them giggled. Octavia turned away to hide her smile, and sat down at the table without another word. It was good to see Parish laughing. The two followed a safe distance behind, and soon all five of them were seated. Stellar was reciting a very complicated coffee order to a very professional waitress. Frederick was very subtly eyeing Parish’s outfit as the other stallion sat down beside him. Vinyl sat in the one open chair beside Octavia and immediately seized the alcohol menu.

“Ahem, Vinyl. You brought bits this time, right?” Stellar said, pointedly.

“Ah, yeah, totally.” Vinyl kept her eyes on the menu, but they ceased moving. Stellar rolled hers, but did not comment further. Octavia suppressed a snort. Frederick and Parish began speaking of various events in the new year. Octavia listened idly, but did not miss Vinyl subtly replacing her menu on its stand.

“-really in desperate need of additional strings.” Frederick said pointedly. Octavia seized the menu that Vinyl had just put down. She retracted everything she had said prior. Perhaps Frederick was not changed at all. “-Especially a particularly talented musician who is pretending not to hear me right now.”

“Unfortunately, I do hear you, Frederick. Now, if you would be so kind as to hear me in turn, I have said a great many times that I would prefer to focus on my career as a soloist.” Octavia set down the menu with a great deal more force than intended, and cast a knowing look at Parish, who shrugged.

“Octavia, dear. I don’t think you were listening.” He said, kindly. Frederick laughed.

“As I mentioned prior, I’d be happy to accommodate. Perhaps special billing?” He clasped his hooves over his untouched coffee. “The Horseshoepin Quartet, featuring the stylings of Octavia Melody? Perhaps something in that vein.”

Octavia said nothing, preferring to order what the establishment termed a ‘Sunshine Waffle’. It was not a terrible deal, all things considered. However, would it not be a betrayal of her resolution to be done with Frederick and his ambitions, changed stripes or no? I am not one hundred percent convinced of the changed stripes as yet either.

“What do you actually play anyway, Octy?” Vinyl spoke, her voice slightly muffled by her apparent inability to move her jaw from where she rested it on the table. “I mean, strings, apparently, but like, what specifically?”

“It is a cello, you ingrate” Octavia relished the change of subject as she might the waffle that was hopefully arriving soon. “It is a larger instrument, resting on the floor.”

“Right, yeah. Smaller than a double bass, larger than a viola. Nice mellow-y sound, but can be a bit sad.” A somewhat sadistic grin had spread across Vinyl’s face as she turned to face Octavia. “Usually tuned to perfect fifths, but in non-classical jams sometimes fourths. Decent in jazzy numbers too, ya know. Good instrument for soloists. Can see why you’d want to focus on that.” Octavia stared at her, speechless. 

“Did you play, once upon a time?” Frederick leaned further over the table, now in serious danger of dipping his tie into his expensive milk-coffee mixture. 

“Nah” Vinyl fiddled with her silverware, waving away the waitress who was once again asking if she wanted anything. “Not my thing.”

“Lack the patience to learn a real instrument, did you?” Octavia snipped, unwilling to let this one go with the ball in her court. Unfortunately, she didn’t spot Stellar’s frantic hoof waving until after the words had left her mouth. Vinyl’s evil grin deepened. Her horn alighted with magic, completing the look, if the look desired was foal’s comic book villain. Vinyl stood with a swagger, and meandered over towards the center of the restaurant. A gleaming black piano rested there, sectioned off by velvet ropes. Vinyl began unhooking them from the golden posts they were tied between.

“Ma’am, please! No, that’s only for the professionals!” A serving mare rushed over to her, followed closely by the rest of Vinyl’s party. Vinyl scoffed.

“Filly, please. I am a professional. Say, would you go get me a tip jar? Maybe a cocktail too? Thanks.” Vinyl replaced the rope, and cracked her wrists. “Yo, Octy, should have known better, filly. You heard my old name.” 

“I- Only part of it!”

“I was Ivory. . .” Vinyl put on her glasses. “Ivory Keys.” 

Before Octavia could reply, white hooves met white keys, and a sonorous note filled the restaurant. The hooves began to tap, slowly and delicately at first, and then they began to dance. Octavia had, as a younger pony, often struggled with the balance required to play the cello, balancing it against oneself in such a way as to keep both upright, along with the delicate hoof control needed for the bow. Octavia saw the same in Vinyl, balancing herself against the instrument, but not so heavily she pressed any note too sharply. Rapid hoofwork was likewise required to play the many keys. She rocked back and forth as she played, shifting her balance from forehooves to backhooves as her fore crossed over each other or she lifted both in the air. With a jolt, Octavia realized she knew the piece. Moztrot! Octavia expected her to supplement the performance with magic, as many unicorn musicians did. She did not. Her horn remained dull. 

The waitress from earlier had abandoned trying to talk Vinyl down, and, more incredibly, acquired the requested items. A small painted box for tips and a cocktail, which Vinyl did use her magic to seize, taking a quick sip when she next rested. The playfulness of the piece rose to a crescendo, and then broke into a gentler rhythm, which Vinyl matched by swaying slightly side to side as she played, hooves darting from one side of the keyboard to the other. Octavia was jostled slightly by another patron, and hardly noticed. Vinyl’s glasses slipped slightly down her muzzle, and before she could readjust them, Octavia noted that her eyes were resting closed. Concentrating? Or lost within the music?

Before she knew it, Vinyl was on to the third movement, a gently galloping intro, where her hooves briefly flashed as quick as sunbeams, hitting note after note. She wobbled slightly, then regained her balance with a more vigorous note, hooves slamming down and resuming their rapid tapping, fierce and delicate all at once. She continued building the melody, letting it rest, then building once again, drawing to a beautiful climax, where Octavia was certain all four of Vinyl’s hooves must have left the ground for a moment. Then, and only then, Vinyl paused, breathing heavily, and took a quick glance back at Octavia. In that long moment, she felt the red eyes burn straight through the tinted plastic. Red like flame. Flame to ignite her soul. 

A pony at a nearby table began applauding, hooves rapping rhythmically against the carpet. Another joined, and another and another, and the spell broke. Octavia remembered that she was not alone. Her legs were stiff from standing stock still, and she stretched them. She looked around, but Stellar and Frederick had returned to the table. Vinyl shook the tip box with delight and swallowed the rest of her cocktail. Octavia followed her party back to their meal.

“Are you quite alright, Octy?” Parish brushed a nonexistent whorl out of her coat as she approached. His eyes did not hold worry. Rather, they sparkled with mischief. 

“Yes, quite. I was simply enjoying the music. I am surprised you were not doing likewise.” Octavia leaned against his shoulder. She did not trust that look, not one bit.

“I was, Octavia. However, that was a lengthy sonata. I preferred to rest my hooves, rather than stand at rapt attention for the entire half hour.” He murmured, and Octavia felt a blush cover her muzzle.

“It was expertly performed. I found myself lost in it.” Parish’s grin grew, and she hastily added “It was the last thing I expected. I was surprised, nothing more.”

“She is multi-talented in ways even I was unaware of. You should partake of her musical area of expertise. It’s divine, truly.” Parish pulled out her chair for her, and she sat. If nothing else, this luncheon had been less dull than the previous. With better food, as well, she hoped. Hold a moment. . .

“My waffle. . .”  A wave of sadness washed over her. She glanced down at it, no longer steaming. Her stomach growled, and she took a tentative bite. Indeed, it was quite cold, the syrup and cinnamon frosting long since congealed. She pushed it away from herself, and let a pout overtake her face. Yet another thing ruined by one Vinyl Scratch. She shot a glare at the offending unicorn, who replied with a very energetic raspberry.

“Pshh, I’ve got bits now, I’ll get you a new one. And another drink over here!” Vinyl slapped a hoofful of bits from her tips box on the table, overpaying by a non-insignificant degree. Octavia blinked.

“Celestia’s sake Vinyl, are you drunk already?” Stellar snatched the bits away with a glow of magic, sliding them back into the box. “You’ve had one drink! I taught you better than that.”

“Sorry Mom, must not have paid attention in drinking class” Vinyl stuck out her tongue again. “I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, is all. Sheesh.”

“Why?!” Frederick was aghast. 

“Food costs bits, mane-gel. Bits don’t grow on trees. Unlike food.” Vinyl slid back into her seat, trying to flag down the waitress. “And last lunch was free, so, you know, I figured today would be too. Figured I could stuff myself.”

“As it is often said,” Octavia cut off Frederick’s shocked repetition of the ‘nickname.’ “There is no such thing as a free lunch.”

“A lunch that Vinyl Scratch doesn’t have to pay for, then” Said Vinyl, eyes rotating furiously. “And don’t sass me when I’m about to buy you waffles.” Octavia could see the wisdom in that statement, and allowed an uneasy truce to settle over the lunch table. Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she lost herself to visions of her waffle, reborn.

“It’s time for us to carry on.” Frederick announced, polishing off the last sip of his coffee. “Stellar and I have a meeting, I believe?”

“Oh sun above, is it that time already?” Stellar checked her watch, tossing her remaining food aside as she leaped to her hooves. “Indeed we do. You kids have fun~”

“Parish, I will-” Frederick stopped himself, and then continued. Octavia felt her eyes narrow of their own accord. “Will I see you at the theatre tonight?”

“Naturally.” Parish smiled vapidly, and waved as the two left. Octavia readied a scathing condemnation, but Vinyl was faster.

“Yo, dude, red flags there.” She said, simply. Parish shrank away from her words in a way he never had for Octavia’s own. They both expected Vinyl to continue, but she did not, she sat there. Octavia’s own statement was somewhat unnecessary now, so she settled for nodding to Parish in tacit agreement.

“You two agreeing on something? This day has been full of surprises” He said lightly, picking at his salad. Parish would likely never be persuaded away from Frederick completely, and Octavia knew it. Pressing too hard might strain their relationship, and she needed to be there for him, as a fake marefriend or his best friend, whatever it took.

Thankfully, the new waffle arrived, pulling her mind away from darker thoughts. Vinyl snatched her old one out from under it, and dug in as well. Octavia held herself back from it long enough to speak first. 

“Vinyl. I speak kindly-” She paused, unable to resist a small bite. Heavenly. Butter and syrup baked within a cloudlike fluffy cake. The sun shaped cinnamon drizzle atop was an excellent touch. “-ahem, excuse me. I speak kindly when I say you really should be less miserly. Why not treat yourself to a fresh waffle, hmm? You clearly have bits, you bought one for me, after all.” 

The look on Vinyl's face was only just shy of utter shock. She gnawed on the cold, stiff waffle like a cow, face scrunched as if in deep thought, or trapped in unpleasant memories. Octavia recoiled slightly in surprise. All her barbed comments, and this was what upset the pony? A suggestion to treat herself? She would never understand the mind beneath that mop of a mane.

“Dunno” Vinyl said, after what felt like several moons of thought. “Guess I could only afford one. And it got a rare slight smile out of Octavia, which is traditionally valued at several million bits, sooooo resale is gonna make me rich.”

“A comeback must generally be a little snappier than that” Parish chuckled, evidently not having seen Vinyl’s face. “That is quite unlike you, Miss Scratch.”

“Glass houses, Pears. There’s a heck of a lot you do that’s not like you either.” Vinyl made a pointed look at Octavia, and winked, evidently over her sudden surprise. 

A fierce, angry kind of curiosity consumed Octavia’s mind. She was, by her own admission, a perfectionist. It made her hard to work with, half of why she preferred to focus on solo acts. On the other hoof, it also made her an extremely supportive friend. She wasn’t sure if Vinyl counted as a friend, perhaps something more like a rival, but something about this was not sitting right with her. Why was she so cheap? Was Vinyl being blackmailed? Did she have a secret child, perhaps? Or vast debts from gambling?! Octavia’s imagination ran wild. She could see any of these being the truth, in all honesty. 

“Yo. Octy.” Vinyl tapped a hoof on the table in front of her, and she startled. “You still with us? Equestria to Major Octy.”

“A classic song, yes.” Octavia turned her stare on Vinyl, whose white cheeks turned red, for some reason. “I do listen to modern music as well, you know.”

“Modern?” Vinyl snickered, surreptitiously rubbing her cheeks.

“More modern.” Octavia corrected, eyes still on the undeterred blush. “Before we go too far off on this silly tangent, what was it you were actually asking of me?”

“Oh, right. Pears was talking about mane-gel and his band, and mane-gel was apparently asking if I wanted to join up for an event or whatever.” Vinyl flipped her mane a bit, adjusting her glasses.

“It’s not a band, and I can’t imagine that.” Octavia truly tried to imagine Vinyl in formalwear, with a combed mane, and failed miserably. “I suppose it is possible you could get away on talent alone. Why ask me?”

“Well, Pears is head over tail for the guy, can’t really get an honest opinion from him. You seem to be extra frosty towards him, so maybe you can give me the flip side?” Vinyl waggled both her hooves in a balance-scale-like motion. “You know, tell me the bad stuff. The hot goss.”

“Frederick is an excellent musician and businesspony. You can be sure of premier booking and almost certainly a large paycheque.” Octavia took a breath. “However, he is also a highborn, self-righteous and ofttimes unnecessarily cruel pony, who will insist on his own way no matter what, and has driven more than one aspiring musician from the industry altogether.”

“Wow” Vinyl said, by way of reply. She sat back hard in her chair, looking pensive, eyes cast up to the skylight. Thoughtful was quite a strange look on her. “Well, no point worrying about it now. If he can put up enough bits, I’ll put up with him. I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with ponies like that.” 

Octavia thought back to the tail of the phone call she had walked in on. Why was Harpsichord Delight irritated with her daughter? Was it the choice of profession? Vinyl was successful, remarkably so. Even accounting for a distaste for modern music, that seemed like insufficient cause to be cross with her. Mysteries upon mysteries, and Octavia’s mind was made up to solve them all.
> Vinyl, Chapter 4: Silver Tongue is in this one
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vinyl waved goodbye to Octy and Pears, and clambered into the taxi that would be taking her to work. She wanted to get there good and early, make sure that Stellar hadn’t forgotten her gear. Again. Though with today going as good as it was? Stellar might have remembered this time.

Her whole body felt pleasantly stuffed with good vibes. The ol’ back hooves still ached a bit from standing propped up on the piano, but that was absolutely worth it to see Octy giving her that look. Just the thought of it sent a shiver along her spine again. Vinyl had expected to give her a shock, but amazement? That was icing. Tasty tasty icing.

She was still very hungry.

Delicious victory aside, it was good to have somepony around to riff with again. Not even the memory of Octavia reacting with revulsion at her flirting could dampen this good mood. Okay, maybe it did just a little. But not much! This was close to a friendship, at least, and Vinyl would take what she could get. And Vinyl was even willing to behave to keep it. She was well past the age of getting crushes, anyway. 

She dropped a few extra bits into the taxi mare’s hat as she hopped down from the carriage. She scouted the outside of the place first, and then slipped in the front. The outside was humble, a sort of half speakeasy type deal. Most of the interior was dark, only the bar and a few tables were lit. It was a cozy dark neon vibe, purples and dark reds and those blacklight-like-thingies that she could never remember the name of.  

Vinyl approached the bar, but before she could order, her phone buzzed. She checked it as she sat. Pears sent her a video message. Of Octy. Huh. She flipped it open. The caption read: ‘I Think you inspired her’. Vinyl mentally raspberry’d. As if. She tapped the message with a hoof. 

It was a short video of Octy. She stood alone with her cello in a dark curtained room, eyes closed, bow held elegantly in the crook of her hoof. If Vinyl had been honest, she had expected Octavia to be more pomp than skill. This really put a hole in that theory. She made the strings sing, an accompaniment to Vinyl’s playing from earlier. She tapped her headphones with a hoof, cranking it. 
At that moment, it ended. Three minutes out of a half hour bit? No, come on, where was the rest? Vinyl replayed it. Once. Twice. Just once more. She’d heard the cello plenty of times. She’d always thought it sounded kinda sad or otherwise bleh when mother played. Octy didn’t have that problem. When she played, it sounded like the sun peeking through clouds, or a cup of coffee on a lazy rainy afternoon-

A waving hoof interrupted the fourth repeat, and Vinyl recoiled from the barmare like she’d been slapped. Again. The pretty purple pony’s mouth moved, and Vinyl cocked her head. She fumbled for the damper button on the phones.

“Yo, sorry, what?”

“We have your equipment backstage” She said, with the longsuffering patience of a lifelong shepherd of drunk ponies. “You can go set up or practice or. . . whatever. We don’t have any other music tonight.”

“You ain’t gonna need other music” Vinyl gave her a signature over-the-glasses wink. “Though I will need some booze-” She paused, images of Octavia floating across her mind. She hadn’t even seen Vinyl perform, not really. If she was shocked by the piano, she’d be blown away by her good stuff. Maybe the booze could wait.

“Actually, I’m good” She said to the mare, who was halfway to a cocktail already. “Nopony will mind if I jam a bit beforehoof, right? Get my cobwebs out?”

“Uh, no. That’s fine” She seemed surprised as she stashed the booze back where it was. Had she been told to expect partier Vinyl, not Octy’s savage-and-good-looking-rival Vinyl? Who knows. Well, plenty of time for drinking afterwards. She headed towards the backstage area, magic taking over for hooves on the phone. She shot back at Pears: ‘She ain’t seen nothing, yet.’

Amazingly, all her stuff was actually here, the deck crammed into a narrow hall next to a very nasty smelling green room. Pretty much ideal creative environs. She hoofed through some records, and set up a few soundboards. There were still a couple hours before the show. If she could get hella inspired for a bit, maybe she had time to make something new.

She set a recording of the piano piece to play, and began to layer sounds over it. Start simple. Then you bring in the fancy stuff. She played the first part back and forth, getting good and lost in it. She knew it cold, obviously, but it was like those creepy pony dolls you make dresses on; it was helpful to have, even if you know what ponies look like.

She layered another layer of rhythm, started sprinkling some delicious melody over top. Vinyl considered a number of sounds, and rejected anything too heavy. Lighter sounds. Stuff that made you feel like you were galloping, or maybe flying. A few more passes, mix in a little of this here, and that there. . .

Vinyl finally removed the underlying music, and listened to what she’d made, from the top. Not bad, actually. Needed a little more backbone, but other than that. . . She’d usually been able to cross apply her sweet musical skills from classical to electronic, or vice versa, but maybe the two genres had more in common than she’d thought. 

This probably wasn’t music to play in her shows, was probably more trance-y than her fans were looking for. So, probably not something to spend much more time on. Well, whatever. She could at least burn time until the show. She started hunting for something new to add. A few more things, and she’d shoot it over to Octy. Or at least Octy through Pears.

“Yo, Vinyl! I’m talking here!” A stallion's voice. Vinyl dang near jumped out of her coat. She glanced up.

“Silver?” She gaped at the guy. Silver Tongue was another of her mother’s old friends' sons; they'd been forced to hang out constantly as foals. He’d grown, obviously. His awkward teen years had aged into a less awkward, more slippery look. He had earth pony bulk, but not in the way Octy did, where it was a spicy hot result of hard work. Silver was bulky in the way a statue was, somewhat poorly carved into an image of an ideal pony.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’d be stunned too” Silver chuckled, he wrapped Vinyl in a hug, which she returned reluctantly. She had to hold her breath through the cloud of body spray. She gave him the usual two pats on the back of the neck, and pulled back. 
“So uh, why are you here?” Vinyl asked, once she could get a  breath of clear air.

“Dang, nice to see you too, I guess” He smirked. He was always very smirky, even back in the day. “But you know why. My dad heard from your mom that you were in town, so I gotta go show you my support or whatever.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought” Vinyl shot a smirk back. “That is classic-our-parents, that is. Your dad still craving my sweet sweet noble name and title?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve had to sit through dinners with every mare of baroness and up. Even sat me down with Prince Blueblood.” He chortled at that last.

“I think that’d suit you, Mr. Tongue.” Vinyl chuckled back, plugging in her phone to upload the song. 

“You know why they call me that. Maybe we should skip the gig and head back to my place” He waggled his eyebrows. Vinyl felt her eyes roll, and she ignored that. She began copying the song to send to Pears. A text from her mother was atop it.

‘Vinyl’ It read. Oh boy, Harpsichord was in brownnosing mode today, using her real name like that. ‘Silver Tongue is coming to your show. Be seen with him enough, and a cheque with two thousand bits will find its way to your account. I need his father to be favorable to me in the upcoming weeks. Don’t let me down.’ 

Vinyl glanced up at Silver. He continued waggling his eyebrows. She could deal with him for the evening, at least for two large. He ran a hoof through his mane and winked at her. Ugh. She returned her attention to the song, which she sent over to Pears. He’d show it to Octy, right?

“That your mum?” Silver asked, subtly-not-so-subtly trying to peek. “She telling you what my dad told me? That we gotta be ‘seen’?”

“Probably. You get paid too?” Vinyl tucked the phone back in her saddlebag.

“Nope. Probably should be, though. I’ll just expect. . . other recompense. Drinks? I’ll buy you one.” Silver headed towards the door without waiting for an answer. Vinyl hesitated. She had a good groove going, but her mom and Silver had kinda thrown it off. Buck it. She wasn’t getting anything else good done tonight. And being drunk did sound appealing, suddenly. Funny how that happens. 

She followed Silver to the bar. Silver immediately rattled off something extremely complicated to the pretty barmare, who was nodding, a shaker balanced in a spin atop her hoof. She was good. Vinyl’s drink had apparently already been made. Blueberry Whiskey Buck. She tapped Silver, who shrugged.

“Everypony knows Vinyl Scratch drinks double Blue Bucks.” The barmare chimed in with a grin. Vinyl grinned right back. Maybe she could salvage this night after all. She took a generous gulp of her drink. Nice and strong, just how she liked it.

“Oh yeah, everypony” Silver snorted, accepting his own fancy-pants-weird-shaped-glass of booze. “At least when she’s not just drinking whatever’s nearest.”

“Sure, yeah. How many words were in your order?” Vinyl tilted the glass back, finishing the second half in one gulp. “Keep it simple. ‘Blue Buck or whatever’s nearest’.”

“Oh Vinyl. First pony in Equestria to somehow get negative class” Silver swpt a hoof dramatically across his forehead. Vinyl found herself chuckling along. Silver became much more tolerable with booze in the mix. “Never change, filly. We gotta do us, not our parents' baggage.” Silver rapped the bar and gestured to Vinyl, ordering a second round. 

“Easy now. I still have a show to do” Vinyl said, giving him a gentle forehoof kick  to his shoulder. He smirked again.

“Yeah, right. Like you can’t spin music and dance wild while absolutely hammered” Silver pressed a hoof to his mouth in mock shock “Speaking of, I got you something. Remember these?”

“That’s trouble” Vinyl said, eying the hoof he tucked into his pocket. He produced three small bottles, each holding about a tablespoon of glowing golden liquid. Potions. Vinyl felt her eyes widen and her heart increase tempo. “Oh yeah, definitely trouble.”

“It's a synesthesia blend. Good stuff” He slid the bottles towards her as he spoke. “Your favorite, if I remember.”

“Mm, well, you’re not wrong” Vinyl eyed them. They were genuinely tempting, a hallmark of the old days, of her playing music for no one but herself, reveling in each minor show she got to play. She grabbed one of the bottles, her magic finding the cracks between the glass and the cork, popping it open. 

“Cheers” She said, tipping the tiny bottle into her mouth, feeling the warmth of the drops of liquid, too magical to ever cool completely. They rolled tastelessly over her tongue and down her gullet. She chased them with a swig of her cocktail. 

“Now go kick rump, filly” Silver smirked again, sliding the remaining bottles towards her.

“Don’t tell me how to party, straight boy” Vinyl rolled her eyes, tucking the bottles away for later. Despite herself, she felt a rising excitement. Cute barmare, and some nice pregame potions? Maybe she’d enjoy this gig more than she expected, even with Silver and her mom bearing down on her.

Vinyl meandered her way up to the stage. A filly in a staff uniform was desperately and lousily messing with the wires of her deck. She seemed spectacularly unqualified to do so, and was trying to tell the plugs apart by staring down their barrels.

“Yo, it’s fine, I got it myself” Vinyl said, stepping in to push the heavy thing the rest of the wat onstage with her head. She didn’t trust her magic right now. She glanced back at the filly, who was now staring at the floor. Was she that eager to get herself zapped by magic?  Or did she think Vinyl was yelling at her? “Want me to show you? It’s kinda tricky.” She nodded again, more energetically this time.

“Magic’s pretty weird, especially if you're not used to it, right? You need different kinds of magic charges- You know what? That doesn’t matter either. You just need to go crossways, do blue into red and red into blue, yellow into green. No matter what the thing is.” Vinyl explained, quickly. The filly nodded along, eyes wide enough to take photographs. “Don’t get your hoof pinched. That’ll be bad. Real bad. Bigger gigs, usually unicorns handle this, but if you gotta do it by hoof, fit it in, then push from this sticky-outy part here, alright?” The filly nodded eagerly. She was young. This might have been her first job. Vinyl rested a hoof on her head.
“Let me tell you something. Even in bigger gigs?” Vinyl lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning in all conspiracy-like. “It’s easy to screw up, so I check it myself anyway. That’s not a jab at you, filly, it’s just complicated.”

“Um!” The filly called, as Vinyl began to turn away. “S-sorry, can I have. . . Can you sign this. . ?” She held out a battered copy, probably second-hoof, of Scratchbaby. Her first album. Vinyl’s heart melted a little at the sight.

“You got it. Here, let me do you one better” She scribbed her name down on the old album, and pulled out a pre-signed copy of her newest one, ‘Blue Sun, White Sky’. “This hasn’t even hit stores yet. Giveaway exclusive. Keep it hush, aite?” The filly nodded so furiously Vinyl worried she’d throw her neck out. Vinyl gave her a final pat on the head and, gear finally set up, she turned around to face a swelling crowd of ponies. She checked her phone. It wasn’t quite time to start officially, but. . . Close enough. She wanted music. And maybe another round. 

“What up!” She yelled at the ponies in the audience, some of whom jumped slightly. “We’re gonna let it out here in a minute, right? What are we feeling?” There was a slightly confused roar as the ponies picked up the hype. Vinyl wobbled back over behind the deck and spun something up. 

With the first thrum of music from her speakers, she saw a ripple of blue cross her vision. Not bad. This wasn’t just synesthesia. It was good synesthesia. She felt the slow creep of euphoria as the potion spread through her body, tickling at the tip of each hoof, daring her to dance, to let loose. 

She ran a hoof across the buttons, and music began to thump out of the speakers. Vinyl played a few experimental samples. She watched the ripples of color, a four on the floor beat in chroma across her eyes. A drink was surreptitiously delivered to her by the stagehoof filly, and she caught Silver’s eye over at the bar. He raised an eyebrow at her. Well, she supposed it was free. Cant say no to free.

She’d been worried about being able to get in the groove. Not anymore. A grin crept across her muzzle as she freestyled a short piece in between longer tracks. A rainbow of notes filled her ears and eyes. She found herself playing one of the tracks from Blue Sun, and even better, found herself bopping to it. She’d named the album for its blue and white waves, like clouds, and it didn’t disappoint. It painted the skies in her vision, and for a moment she felt like she was a pegasus, soaring. She didn’t usually play her new stuff until she had time to sell albums properly, but whatever. The ponies on the floor redoubled their dancing efforts, so, totally worth it.

One song flowed into the next, and the evening began to pass in strange fits and starts. Drinks kept coming. Vinyl began weaving in one or two things from Scratchbaby, for the sake of the filly from earlier. Scratchbaby was much different than she remembered, painted in cool colors, like taking a rest in the shade. The ponies didn’t seem as hype about the trancy-er stuff, but nopony threw any bottles, either, which was close enough. Before she knew it, she found herself dancing atop her left speaker, feeling the bass rumbling through her hooves. It invigorated her, and her every muscle sang with the joy of motion, music, and color. Lights blurred and Equestria revolved around her. For one glorious moment, she forgot about everything else.

And then it was over. The black and white mosaic of the ‘show’s over’ buzz sounded in her headphones, and she began to wrap her final song, mellowing it down into silence. The colors were beginning to fade from the sounds, the world left in her eyes turning to shades of gray, a common withdrawal symptom. She hopped down from her perch, toppling to the floor as her hooves got tangled on each other. Whoops. She popped up, glancing around. Nopony seemed to have noticed, so she put an extra swagger in her step and made her way, carefully, offstage. 

“Dang, Vinyl,” Silver said as she approached. His words slurred into each other just a bit. “You know I think electronic is crap, but that was pretty decent. And your dancing? Dang, filly.”

“Pretty decent, listen to this guy” Vinyl laughed, long and loud. She tried to make her way back to her barstool, nearly falling over as she did. Silver caught her.

“Easy there.” The hoof he used to steady her did not leave, it wrapped itself around her midsection. “You ready to blow this taco stand?”

“Yeahhhh. . .” Vinyl said. She had something tomorrow morning, she was pretty sure. Was it another Octy lunch? Those were important, didn’t wanna miss them. Her eyes tracked the floor under her hooves as it moved. They were going? Oh, yeah, of course. She wobbled a little, and Silver held her up.

“I take it back, you might not be a lightweight.” He said. His signature smirk filled Vinyl’s vision, and she took a few steps back, almost colliding with a janitor. The bar was mostly empty now, but that likely made the floors even more treacherous. She allowed Silver to pull her along.

“Dude, how many rounds did you buy me? Don’t give me any of that.” Vinyl said, belatedly, as cold winter air hit her face. “Dang, cold. My jacket, it’s back-”

“It’s fine, I’ll keep you warm” Silver murmured, tossing his own over Vinyl’s shoulders. Again, the hoof outstayed its welcome. He steered her gently to the parking lot, where a bored looking colt manned what she guessed was a sleek black carriage.

“Hey, hang on,” Vinyl said. Something about this situation was triggering a sluggish alarm bell in her head. “Where are we going?”

“My apartment, naturally” Silver said, flashing her a smile. The hoof across her back began to rotate, giving her a gentle massage. “We have to be seen together, right?”

“Look, my dude” Vinyl shoved him off, which mostly only sent her toppling. He barely moved. “You know I don’t swing that way. Pumping me full of drinks ain’t changing that.” She stepped back again, finding herself landing hard on the pavement.

“I was pretty sure you liked your ponies like you like your alcohol” Silver said, offering her a hoof. “Whatevers closest, right? Besides, think of the bits.”

“Not happening, bud” Vinyl hauled herself up, adjusting her headphones and glasses, which were both askew. “Not for all the bits in the Princess’ treasury. I gotta do me.”

“Well, what a waste of my bits, then.” Silver sighed. He nodded to the carriage colt, who began hooking himself into the bridle. “Maybe I can call that a business expense. You can make your own way from here, yes? I have an early meeting.” 

“Totally. Good luck with your dad I guess” Vinyl felt kinda bad for some reason, but relief quickly overpowered it. Narrow dodge, as always. Silver boarded his carriage and left without another word. Vinyl took a slow look around, taking stock of the situation. She was in the club parking lot. That’s fine. It was mostly empty as well, but there were a few ponies hailing taxis or carriage-pooling. 

Vinyl shivered. It was bucking cold out here. She made her way back to the club, but found it locked. Welp, no jacket for her, apparently. Next order of business was a taxi. She found one parked nearby, maybe waiting on drunk clubbers. Perfect. The medium-dark tone stallion pulling it gave her a quick up and down, eyebrows climbing into his mane. Did she look that bad?

“Where to, lady?” He said, in that too-quick speech common to Manehattanites. Vinyl fixated on the word lady. When had she gone from filly to lady? She shook her head. Focus.

“Uh, sorry. That hotel with the chessboard-y pattern on it? Fancy one, uptown.” Vinyl grinned at him. His eyes widened yet further.

“Ehhh, that’s a long trip. You got bits? Fourty bits for that!” His surprise gave way to a somewhat predatory look. His eyes may have actually flashed the bits symbol. Vinyl reached for her saddlebag. Which was, naturally, inside, with her jacket. She turned back to face him.

“How about I pay you back tomorrow?” She said, shooting him double-hooves-and-a-wink. He rolled his eyes.

“Lady, you know how many drunk fillies ask me that every night?” He shrugged, adjusting the yoke on his shoulders. “Not biting. Find another cab.”

Vinyl flipped him the one hoof, and wandered back to the parking lot. Her hooves kept getting tangled on each other and the cracks in the pavement. She shivered again, her teeth starting to chatter. Would another taxi take her without bits? Probably not. She fumbled for her phone, which, thankfully, she’d kept hold of.

She squinted at the screen, too bright in the gloom. Her vision was still only in monochrome, making it hard to figure out the device. Just call Stellar, she could handle it. She managed to open contacts, tapping the call icon with her hoof. A minute passed, then two, before Vinyl remembered what she was doing. The phone had long since gone to voicemail. She hung up. Where was Stellar? 

She glanced around again. The taxi from before had gone, carrying some other poor sap getting overcharged. Sweet Celestia, it was cold. She made her way across the lot to a street, lined with shops. Most were closing down by now. Vinyl peered in each window as she passed, yep, all closed. Rats, she’d really overdone it this time.

As the last of the liquor warmth fleeing her, she made her way to a narrow alley. Hopefully it had- Ahah, there. A vent from a nearby shop was pumping steam from a rusty vent, and she huddled up to that. It smelled absolutely terrible, but it was warm. She fished out her phone again, trying Stellar one more time. If that didn’t work, well, Vinyl was no stranger to sleeping in alleyways.

There was a crackle on the other end, and a sleepy voice spoke.

“Vinyl?” It was Pears. He sounded exhausted. “Why are you calling me? Especially at one in the morning?!”

“Peaaaars~” Vinyl slurred. A grin spread onto her face despite everything. “Hey colt. That’s my bad. Why are you answering Stellar’s phone?”

“This is my phone, Vinyl. Goodness gracious, how much did you have?” 

“Ah, you know” Vinyl tried to count on her hooves. “Four, eight. . . maybe eight? It was a long night, and Silver brought potions and was being all weird-”

“Silver? Potions?!”

“Is that Scratch?” Octavia’s voice. Pears said something Vinyl couldn’t quite catch.

“Yo, is that Octy? Lemme say hi!” Vinyl’s grin returned. Octy would probably laugh at this. Have a good roast at Vinyl’s expense, which honestly sounded fun. Anything to distract front he stink of this vent.

“What is it, Scratch?” Octy said, after a moment. She didn’t sound amused. Sounded kinda mad, actually. 

“Just wanted to hear your voice, I guess.” Vinyl pushed some cardboard together, settling herself atop it. “It’s kinda cold out, and I was thinking you roasting me like usual might warm me up.”

“Cold out? Are you playing outdoors?” Octy sounded a little less mad. That was good.

“Nah, I played a club. I’m done now, just hanging out in an alley. Did I mention it’s cold?” Vinyl hunted around for something to cover herself with. 

“Why, Scratch?”

“Oh, I locked my bits in the bar and they won't let me back in. Oh, and my jacket too.”

“You what?”

“Yeah, pretty dumb, right? I was trying to call Stellar but I guess I called Pears. Sorry about that. I’m gonna sleep. Let you get back to it too.” Vinyl gave up on finding a blanket-like-thing and just unfolded one of the larger boxes, facing it towards the vent.

“Sleep in an alley? Certainly not! You get yourself up right this moment!” Octy was back to angry now. Vinyl frowned.

“It’s cool, filly. I was homeless for a while, I know how to stay warm. Besides, I dunno how to get back to my hotel.” Vinyl layered up her impromptu shelter a little bit, and got settled as best she could. Octavia was silent. Had she lost connection? “Yo, Octy, you there?”

“I am getting my coat. I’m going to come get you. Where are you?”
> Octavia chapter 4: Post-After-Afterparty
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Octavia had some exceptionally serious concerns about what her life was evolving into.

This venture was the second time in as many weeks she found herself wandering the ‘mean streets’ of Manehattan in the aftermath of midnight. She wasn’t afraid for herself as such, in the rare event somepony tried something, she was quite confident in her own hind legs and their capacity for bucking. She was, however, afraid for her reputation, and for Vinyl, who had evidently passed out, judging from the silence on the line.

Octavia was not even fully confident in where she was going. Vinyl had directed her to look for the ‘bright purple club with yellow music’ and then find the ‘extra rank alleyway somewhere to the left’, neither of which were precisely hard and fast directions. Thankfully, Parish had knowledge of various clubs, and was able to make an educated guess. Octavia could already see it around the corner, purple neon glowing against the dusting of snow on the ground. The aforementioned yellow music was absent.

Octavia approached it at a gallop. Nopony was here. ‘Some alley to her left’ was her next instruction, and she dutifully followed it. Vinyl is going to get a serious talking to, this time. She fumed indignantly, her rage partially insulating her against the winter chill. She peered down several alleys. There was not so much as a strand of blue mane or a hoofprint in any of them.

After five to ten fruitless minutes of this, she made her way back to the club. She didn’t want to give up, but if Vinyl’s directions were this badly mistaken, she’d be combing the city all night. Maybe Vinyl didn’t know her rights from her lefts? Her train of thought derailed slightly as she spotted somepony. A small figure, trying the door to the club. Too small to be Vinyl.

“H-hello?” The pony called. A fillyish voice. Young. “Are you, um, Octy?”

“Ah, yes. That is me. Who are you?” Octavia seethed, but managed to present a kind smile. Did this pony know something? Only Vinyl and Parish called her that name.

“C-Crossed Wires.” The filly stammered. “That’s my name, I mean. I’m a stage tech. . . But DJ Pon-3 said Octy would be coming for her, so. . . I guessed. I was trying to see if I could get her stuff, but they locked up, and I don’t have a key. . .” She trailed off. 

“Where is Scratch?” Octavia took a steadying breath. “Is she. . . unharmed?”

“Oh, yeah she’s okay. She has a little shelter in the alley outside my parent’s bakery. I saw her on my way home. I’m, um, kind of a big fan. . .” Wires scuffed the back of her head with a mittened hoof, blushing. Octavia tried to smile once again.

“Will you take me to her? Her directions to her location were, ahem, terrible.”

“Sure! She seemed to have, umm, partied pretty hard.” Wires pointed, and then started walking, glancing repeatedly behind her to make sure Octavia was following. “I’m glad she has a good friend like you, I think at least. . .”

“We’re not- Yes. She is very lucky.” Octavia considered. Were friends truly what they were? Good friends? Octavia wasn’t sure of that. She continued. “Is this often what she does at shows?”

“Um, well, you would probably know better than me,” Wires shrugged. “But yes, maybe? She’s a partier, and they always say things about DJs and potions and all that. . . I don’t think it’s usually this bad, though. There was this creepy guy. . .”

“Creepy guy?” Octavia repeated, prompting her. This was new information. Her mind was suddenly on full alert, rage smothered by curiosity. 

“Um, yeah. She called him Silver. He was being real friendly and kept buying her drinks. They even left together. But obviously Pon-3 is in this alley and not with him, and everybody knows she’s gay anyway, soooo. . .” This stopped Octavia in her tracks. She had seen as much herself, but to hear it stated so openly surprised her. 

“She is. . . Public about that, then?” Octavia asked.

“Yeah, of course. She always plays those kinds of clubs, and she’s talked about it plenty of times. Not to mention-” Wires stopped, blushing. “Well, that’s just gossip. I shouldn't. . .” Octavia’s already churning mind began to ratchet up into overdrive.

“Tell me. If someone is spreading rumors about my, ahem, good friend, I should know what they say.” Octavia affected an air of affrontedness. The filly glanced back at her once again.

“Well, she takes mares out sometimes after her shows. . .” The filly flushed a deeper red as she spoke. Octavia’s mind attempted to digest this new piece of information, and found it to be unpleasant, as if the information was a nibble of stale food. It was not that Octavia did not believe it, per se. Vinyl was, objectively speaking, an attractive mare, and Octavia had heard similar rumors about artists in Vinyl’s genres. However, something about this fact did not fit with the image of Vinyl that had been impressed upon Octavia during their lunches, that of a sweet but bumbling filly. Which Vinyl was the act? Or were both of them equally false?

“Um, here’s the bakery.” Wires interrupted her thoughts once again. “She’s right in the alley there. . . I gave her a blanket but I’m glad you’re here to take care of her. . .” She stepped into the threshold of the shop, and Octavia stepped around the corner.

Vinyl was, true to Wires’ word, wrapped in a thick blanket, and curled away inside a cardboard box. She fit relatively well, though the tops of her hooves would occasionally slide forward enough to touch a patch of frozen concrete, and be yanked back. Her glasses were pushed up over her horn, and her eyes were closed, though music could be heard from the headphones on her ears. Octavia approached the sleeping pony, and bent down to listen. It was an interesting piece, piano mixed with electronic noises of some kind, and soft vocals. She found a small smile on her muzzle as she pulled the speakers off the other mare’s head. 

Vinyl’s eyes snapped open, staring up at Octavia. They were a shocking pale pink, not their usual ruby red. However, they held no fear, no concern. Only a faint joy, echoed by the guileless smile on her face. Octavia stared directly back. Vinyl’s eyes were still arresting in their odd state, though perhaps for a different reason.

As the song playing through the untethered headphones picked back up, Vinyl pointed at it with a hoof, then pointed to her ears and Octavia’s in turn. Octavia tilted her head, confused, but pressed the speaker to her ear. The lyrics were discussing the desire to hold on to a moment, despite the party, music, and dancing coming to an end. A fading moment, longing to be held forever. Octavia glanced back at Vinyl, who nodded and smiled again.

“You’re. . . glad to be here?” Octavia guessed wildly. Vinyl nodded. “Why, Vinyl? This seems a miserable place to be.” Octavia’s nose wrinkled at the smell of the warm air from the venting system. Vinyl, again, did not speak. She put her glasses back over her eyes, and pointed a hoof at Octavia.

“Because of me?” Octavia said, quietly. Vinyl nodded again, and smiled. “Can you not just talk, you nonsense pony?” Vinyl let out a light chuckle, mostly soundless, and shook her head. She fiddled with her phone for a moment, then held it up for Octavia to read.

“Sry no talky. happens sometimes after shows or when im real wore out” It read. Octavia looked back at Vinyl, who was slowly and carefully moving to stand up. The smell of alcohol hit Octavia’s nose, and she winced.

“You smell like a brewery, Scratch.” Octavia said, taking a couple steps away. Vinyl fiddled with her phone again, but instead of a message, a song began to play instead, warbled slightly by the tiny speakers on the device. Heavy guitars and a refrain of ‘No Regrets!’ Octavia snorted. “Now I regret coming out here to help you. I have half a mind to leave you here.”

Vinyl laughed again, a slightly more full-bodied sound, and began to play the beginning of a new song. ‘I never meant to be so bad to you-’. Octavia rolled her eyes. Vinyl cut that song off, and began hunting for something else.

“I will take you somewhere warm if you agree to stop that.” Octavia said, attempting to push the phone out of Vinyl’s magic cloud, but the substance held it tight. “Stop it, Scratch. You’re looking for something embarrassing.” Vinyl paused, as if considering, then nodded, smirking infuriatingly.

“Come on then. Let us get a cab.” Octavia moved towards the mouth of the alley, keeping an eye on Vinyl. To her dubious credit, she managed to walk reasonably well. At least until she cleared the walls and entered the open street. Then she stumbled. Octavia rushed to support her. “Oh, goodness, my poor coat. Very well, you may- Hold on, lean this- There you go. Stay there, do not fall again. I am warning you. Stay standing.”

With difficulty, Octavia managed to get a hoof around the unicorn, pulling her close to her side. Unfortunately, that seemed to set Vinyl off. She hopped away so vigorously she almost crashed into Crossed Wires, who was waiting by the door to her bakery, her hoof carefully wrapped through the handle of a steaming mug. Wires looked between the two older mares with bemusement.

“Here. I made cocoa earlier. You two should have some. If you want. . .” She set the mug down by Octavia’s forehooves. “Hold on, I have another for you. . .” She scurried back inside. Vinyl was balancing herself against the wall, one hoof holding up her glasses, a look of shock on her features. What on Celestia’s Green Equestria was wrong with her? Octavia put it from her mind for the moment as she attempted to hail a taxi.

Wires reemerged with the second cup of cocoa, which Vinyl unsteadily took with her magic, playing a quick sound bite of ‘Thank you-’ from her phone. She opened her mouth and emptied most of the mug in a single giant gulp. It was undoubtedly quite hot, but she did not react in pain. She nodded and smiled at Wires, playing the soundbite again. Wires didn’t seem bothered. Perhaps this was not unknown behavior for Vinyl after all.

Thankfully, a taxi responded quite quickly to Octavia’s waving hoof, the skinny earth stallion squeezing into a tiny parking spot. With only a moment’s hesitation, Octavia gave him the address to her own hotel. Getting actionable information out of Vinyl would likely be a foal's errand in her current state, and Octavia’s suite provided a serviceable couch in a separate room on which to deposit her while she slept off her intoxication, whatever it was.

Octavia herded Vinyl into the taxicab, thanking Crossed Wires one last time, and they set off into the night, finally. Octavia worried that Vinyl was liable to become rather ill on the ride, but she seemed well enough. She had pulled her sunglasses back down, evidently to shield her eyes from her phone. Octavia checked her own. Two in the morning! Goodness. She had not stayed up this late since she was a filly.

Vinyl started flipping through songs, either forgetting or not caring that the music was still being projected through her speakers. Octavia resolved to listen without complaint, although several songs made her regret that. 

Quite suddenly, something different played. Different and familiar. A cello. Her cello. The piano piece she had been adapting earlier! She rounded on Vinyl, who immediately and very satisfyingly became extremely contrite. Her magic tapped away on the phone, too small for anypony who needed to use theirs with hooves.

“Sry,sry. pears sent it. Real good tho.” She held up. Octavia opened her mouth, but Vinyl’s attention was back on the device, tapping away again. This message took longer, evidently. Octavia resisted the urge to crane her neck to see. Finally, Vinyl held it up.

“Your music glows even brighter against the canvas of your gray coat” it read. “It’s purple and red and lovely, like your eyes.”

Heat flooded Octavia’s face immediately, and she pushed the phone away from herself. More accurately, she attempted to. Vinyl’s magic held it very steady for a count of ten, and then recoiled back to its owner. Seemingly satisfied, Vinyl set it to play again, and rested her head against the side of the cab. Octavia fanned her face the moment Vinyl turned away. What on earth was wrong with her? She must be tired. Or perhaps experiencing a contact high. The latter seemed consistent with her symptoms. She would have to research this later.

Thankfully, she did not have to suffer long. The Taxi soon pulled up at the modest hotel which housed Octavia’s room. She had to shake Vinyl awake, but thankfully the trip seemed to have allowed the worst of the wobbling legs to subside. Vinyl was relatively steady, and followed dutifully along behind Octavia as they made their way up to the room.

“You are going to be on the couch.” Octavia said, firmly. A hint of blush began to creep back into her face, and she fought it with every fiber of her being. “You are going to stay there, drink water, and not try to write any more pickup lines. Or anything else.”

Vinyl nodded. Octavia turned the key, allowing them inside. Her own room was large, but modest. The decor was uninspired, but the carpet and mattresses were soft and clean, and a gentle smell of fresh linen held in the air. Doors opened onto a large bedroom, and besides that, a sitting room. Octavia pointed her hoof at it, and Vinyl followed it, flopping bonelessly onto the couch the instant she arrived. With a sigh, Octavia filled a glass of cool water from the small fridge, and set it by Vinyl. After a moment’s thought, she pushed over a wastebasket to the floor by Vinyl’s head. Just in case.

“Drink that water, Scratch. You will regret it if you don’t.” Vinyl ignored Octavia’s words. Or didn’t hear them. Octavia brushed the long right side of the mane out of the way, and found Vinyl’s eyes closed, her breathing even. Asleep. “Idiot.” She continued, more softly. “Nonsense pony. You should take more care where you sleep. . . I hope you do so well, at least.” 

Octavia stood, finding herself muzzle to muzzle with Parish, who had his hooves on either side of his muzzle, unabashed joy on his face. The burning flush returned to her cheeks, and she attempted to pat it out.

“Oh, Octy.” He said, quietly as he could manage while simultaneously suppressing giggles. “That was almost. . . tender!” She bumped him half off his hooves as she made her way out of the room, closing the door quietly.

“Go back to bed. I am in no mood.” Octavia groused. She felt the sudden urge for a glass of wine herself. 

“It was a wonderful thing you did.” Parish said, gently bumping her in return.

“I do not even truly understand why I did it.” Octavia hesitated. Her mind went over what she knew of the night, turning and twisting each bit of evidence.  “I suppose I was curious. The filly who found her mentioned, quote, ‘a creepy guy’, that she seemed to partially credit with Scratch’s state. You are a longtime fan. What do you know about this?”

“This is all Zebra to me, I am afraid.” Parish shrugged. “Pon-3 has never spoken much about her personal life to anypony. Well, except for her, ahem, proclivities. It is odd to hear she was bothered by a colt in such a way.”

“Were her proclivities what drew you to her?” Octavia asked.

“No, no.” Parish smiled, as sincere as a foal. “She was the one who helped me realize mine. Her song ‘Mystical Mare?’ Oh! It was life changing. She hasn’t had many vocals in her songs since then, but I- ahem. Sorry.”

“Do not apologize, dear Parish.” Octavia wrapped her hooves about him. “I never knew she had such an effect on you. Perhaps I was. . . harsh, in my judgments. Of the both of you.”

“You know, Octy, if you are so curious about her. . .” Parish bumped her once again. “You should just listen to her music. As you may have noticed, she is not much of a speaker, but her music says a great deal.”

“I- “Octavia hesitated.

“Really, you would run out in the middle of night to snoop, but you would not listen to an album?”
> Vinyl Chapter 5: What didn’t happen last night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vinyl, as she always said, was no stranger to waking up in strange places.

This time, however, she immediately pulled the pillow over her head as hazy images of Silver Tongue scrambled her mind. Oh no. Oh no.  Okay, don’t panic. Take stock first, then panic. 

She glanced around the room. It was minimalist, but classy-ish. Generic paintings mixed with photos of the city were plastered everywhere. Her glasses were folded neat-like next to a glass of water. She tossed back the glass, which was still chilled. She didn’t actually feel that hung over right now, but that might be the panic and adrenaline.

No further clues in here. She snuck on tiphooves over to the door, and peeked through the keyhole. A small kitchen of nice stone and shiny metal, empty. Okay, moment of truth. She swung the door open.

Nothing. No smug Silver, no snarky remarks. She stuck her head around the corner. No sign of anypony. Just a couple bags, one marked with a purple cleff-Hang on!

Octavia?

Vinyl’s surviving brain cells turned on their heads. The horrible sinking dread of potentially spending the night with Silver suddenly turned to champagne bubbles of hype. She’d spent the night in Octy’s room! A smirk quickly conquered her face. Everything had apparently gone so much better than she expected. 

Now that she was no longer freaking the buck out, she noticed a tantalizing scent in the air. Her eyes still weren’t picking up color very well, but her nose could sub in. A whiff of something reddish and spicy. She followed it to a faintly-steaming bowl of soup in the kitchen, which was next to her phone. Her phone had been plugged in, thankfully, and a text message from an unknown number flashed up as she lifted it.

Scratch. This is Octavia. The text began. Vinyl chuckled at that. Octy would write a text like a longform novel. She seized a pair of spoons as she read. I am sure you are feeling appropriately miserable by now, or at least I hope you are. I have left you soup, which is an old earth pony remedy, along with more modern medicine. Both had best be in your stomach when I get back. Vinyl chuckled to herself. Was Octy the mom type marefriend? Apparently so. 

I spoke to Stellar this morning as well, The text continued. She claimed she would have someone deliver your things back to your room. As such, I have also left you taxi fare. Consider it repayment for the waffle. Please take care of yourself. Eat the soup. Drink water. Never make me come fetch you at 2 am ever EVER again. Yours truly, Octavia. P.S. Nothing happened between us last night, so wipe that smirk off your face, Nonsense Pony. 

Vinyl barked out a patchwork laugh. Oh. So Octy had just come to rescue her. Faint memories started to surface, of a steady hoof at her side, hot chocolate and worrying about being too cuddly. That was probably one of the nicest things anypony had ever done for her. So why did she feel kind of disappointed? 

She tried to shake that thought from her mind, which was a horrible error. The room spun, and all her aching muscles screamed in protest as she wobbled. Oof. She was getting too old for this. She finished the soup and took the medicine as requested, which did help a little bit. She resisted the great urge to look through Octy’s things. She should probably get going. . . but she also kinda wanted to wait for Octy to come back. At least to tease her a bit more. 

Eventually, boredom made the choice for her. She shot over her own text, saying thanks and lambasting Octy for her dirty mind in even thinking that Vinyl would think that something would have happened. Hey, there’s another upside, she finally had Octy’s number! 

She tucked the mostly empty soup bowl in the sink.  Her color vision was starting to come back, which showed her that the soup was actually green. Whoops. Probably for the best she hadn’t been able to tell, or she’d have a hard time eating it. Suppressing the urge to snoop through the bags one more time, she slipped out the door, which closed itself forever behind her.

Naturally, she had forgotten the bits, as she realized half a second after the door locked. No big deal though, she could walk. Octy had very kindly charged up her headphones along with her phone, so she spun through her tracks to find something chill, and set off from the hotel.

The chillness lasted about twenty steps from the front doors before she spotted a local newsstand. Her own face stared back at her, giving her that ugly stomach-dropping-through-the-ground feeling. Gossip magazines. Great. She picked one up. The picture of her was not flattering. She was laughing, clearly wasted, Silver Tongue’s hoof around her. She flipped to the article, which was about her and Silver, but full of way too many buzzwords to actually say very much. Well, mom did ask for her to be seen with him, this was pretty seen. Maybe a little too seen.

She tossed the rag back on the shelf, ignoring the inaudible hollering of the newspony. She checked her account balance. Sure enough, mum's bits were sitting there. All told, that was not bad for an evening. She got paid and avoided horrible makeouts with Silver. Win-win?

There was also a text from Stellar. Vinyl braced for a complaint, but no. Apparently last night’s show was wildly popular. The vid had a ton of views, and there was a clip of her dancing like a crazy pony atop one of her speakers, which she did not remember doing. She looked pretty good though. She had felt at the time like she was playing sloppy, but she was too busy vibing to really care. Maybe she should do that more. Heck, that was how she’d got her start, anyway. Just drinking potions with the fillies and vibing the night away.

When had she stopped having as much fun with her music? It wasn’t just doing it for a living. Was it when she’d broken up with- Um, maybe when she’d been kicked out of the house? She wasn’t sure. She did miss doing songs with vocals, though. Ever since her marefri- Anyway, she missed vocals. She did a few with Coloratura once but that was more her doing a background beat for someone else, and less her making a Pon-3 song. Oh and she’d worked with Princess Twilight at the wedding, but that was a song designed for live vocals and also a one off, so didn’t really count.

The newsstand pony seized a broom in his misshapen teeth, and Vinyl decided it was time to move her thinking somewhere else before she caught bristles to the flank. She wasn’t sure what to do with her day. She seldom was. Nights were easy. She was either playing shows or going to shows. . . Or drinking. Days were hard, there was much less to do.  She couldn’t believe it, but she was missing the terrible luncheons with Stellar and Mane-gel.

She checked her phone again. Somepony had to be around. Somepony who lived in Manehattan. She dug through her contacts, which was completely useless. Most were a description that she had slapped on, or whatever junk the pony had typed in when Vinyl hoofed them the phone. Some were unintelligible, probably earth ponies that had no magic or wings to operate the smaller unicorn phone. It was like a bunch of little time capsules, each text conversation ending when the show did, or soon after. The only ones that were active consistently were Stellar, her parents and little sister. Pinkie Pie texted every week like clockwork, naturally. . . and now Parish and Octy hovered there.

Would Octy and Parish be the same way? The show was over, after all. Awards had been given, and this was the honeymoon period before they went their separate ways again.

As she wandered from the crowded streets into a deserted park, one of the little text rectangles scooted its way to the top. Her sister. Raven Inkwell had been smart enough to skip the music field entirely and gone into government. Mum had really tried to complain, laser targeting on how Raven had worked her way up through the ranks rather than taking a seat on the nobles council. . . But now that Raven worked with the Princess directly, there wasn’t much Harpy could say. Not much anypony could say. 

May I call? Are you working? The text itself said simply. Vinyl would’ve swore the digital letters were neater than usual. Inky had that effect. Vinyl didn’t bother answering, just magically punched call instead. 

“Inky.” Vinyl said immediately. “It’s before noon. Why would I be working?”

“Ugh, Vinyl, first, you know if I don’t ask, you will be.” Inky replied, her clipped tone softened somewhat as she continued. “Second, I was half expecting you to still be asleep, it seems like you went a little off last night. Third, maybe you were having one of your silent episodes and couldn’t talk.”

“Well-” Vinyl glanced around. She was surrounded by bushes and a small, gross pond. Nopony close to her. “Yeah, that’s fair. I didn’t really plan on going crazy, I was actually trying to work on something, but Silver Tongue was there, so. . .”

“Yeah. Ugh.” Inky’s voice tightened. Vinyl could practically hear her muzzle scrunching up furiously. “I get it.”

“Yeah.” Vinyl said. Wasn’t much else to say. “So what’s up, anyway? Everything cool?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry, I was going to ask,” Raven put her Princess’ Functionary voice back on. “First, I will be organizing the Canterlot garden party in two weeks, and second; your performance was requested.”

“I was requested?” Vinyl rubbed the back of her head, disbelieving. “Like, by name?”

“Well, yes actually. First, you were requested by name by two ponies.” Inky gave the vocal equivalent of a shrug. “Second, others also asked for soft electronica or trance, and you were recently highly decorated by a respectable institution. . .”

“Third, I’m your sister. . .” Vinyl chuckled. 

“That would be nepotism, Vinyl. That has nothing to do with my decision.” Inky giggled primly. “But it is a bonus. Or malus, depending on the day.”

“Right, right. Love you too” Vinyl laughed again. “Say, question.”

“What is it?” The longsuffering voice came on in full force. It made Vinyl crack up again.

“Uh, Octavia Melody.” Vinyl asked, trying to make her voice airy and don’t-give-a-bump, but she wasn’t sure how well it took. “She usually plays at these, right? She gonna play at this one too?”

“Yes. . .” Inky said slowly. “Why?”

“No reason. She’s just a buddy.” Vinyl backpedaled, literally, nearly walking into a bush. “Why so suspicious, Inky?”
“First off, you have a type. Tall, strong, dark coat?” Inky plowed on over Vinyl’s protests. “Secondly, you have a terrible track record of falling in love with straight mares. All the better if they are taken. You’ve done this ever since Tra-”

“Yep, I’ll take the gig.” Vinyl took a quick, deep breath, her mind blanking and rebooting. What was Inky saying? Something about Octy? “Sorry, got a little distracted there. What were we talking about?”

“Octavia is not a good idea, Vinyl. Especially for you. That’s the bottom line.” Inky’s voice was back to no-nonsense, which didn’t really fit the subject matter, in Vinyl’s opinion.

“You’re the one jumping to conclusions, for Celestia's sake!” Vinyl waved a hoof at her burning face and had a sudden mental image of ruining Ravens perfectly orderly mane with a mop of magic. “I ask one question and you think I’m ring shopping or something!”

“. . . Vinyl.” Still serious voice from Inky, but it was strained now. “Did you not read the paper?”

“No, I did. . . “ Vinyl’s mind raced. “I mean, I skimmed. It’d be all pictures of me and Silver, right? What’s the big deal?” 

“No, Vinyl. First, let me read you the headline. . .” Inky cleared her throat. “‘Double Timing DJ? Vinyl’s Voracious Variety of Ponies!’”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. Secondly, there’s even a picture of you and Octavia. Two, actually. One of the two of you blushing at a luncheon-” The serious voice had completely cracked now, the giggles bursting forth. Vinyl groaned loud enough to scare off a pair of geese. “And one of her practically carrying you to a taxi. . .”

“Oh come on!” Vinyl never whined, but this was probably getting close. She halfheartedly bucked a small pebble into the park pond. “That was the middle of the night! Who was snapping shots?!”

“The article was written by ‘Cross Reference’. Honestly Vinyl, you should try actually reading one of these days.” Inky had regained control of her voice.

“Cross Reference. . .” Vinyl rubbed her temple. Her memory was still extremely fuzzy, but something about that name was so familiar. “Ah whatever, I guess it doesn’t matter. But wait, if I was caught with Octy, why did mom still pay me?”

“Mom pays you?” Inky sounded surprised, and Vinyl kicked herself for saying that part out loud. Whoops. “Wait, Octy?!”

“Uh, yeah, she pays me sometimes. To be seen with this pony or that pony or go to some specific place. Probably some secret master plot about ruining everybody's lives and giving us over to actual Harpies.” Vinyl shrugged, wishing she could project it over the phone. She very deliberately ignored the nickname slip. “But it was really good money, so I was gonna just chill with Silver for a bit and then ditch him, but I guess I kinda got ditched instead and then Octy came to get me. . . Still weird though, mum always hated me being gay. You’d think she’d have stopped the payment. Maybe she didn’t read either.”

“I don’t know what to say about any of this.” Inky went silent for a long moment. Vinyl stared out at the algae covered water, watching chunks of ice float in lazy circles. 

“Well, here’s what I have to say.” Vinyl said. “And I’ll do it in one of the lists you love so much. First off, Octy is absolutely not taken. Parish is gayer than one of those Summer Sunpoles you wrap rainbow ribbons around. Secondly, Octy and I are barely even friends, we’re more like. . . rivals. We just like to talk trash a bunch, that’s all. Thirdly, shut up.” 

“Right. Rivals. Just be ready for me to say ‘I told you so.’” Inky didn’t sound convinced. Vinyl shook her head. Ponies could be so stubborn sometimes. “Anyway. Can I pencil you in for the Garden Party?”

“Yeah, sure. You just want some whatever trance or you want a new song or what?” Vinyl’s overworked brain was glad to snap back to business mode. “Let's talk brass tacks. Metaphorically, I mean, not about Uncle Tacky.”

“This is an event hosted by the crown.” Inky said, sounding almost offended. She had a better business voice than Vinyl. Vinyl wasn’t ashamed to admit it. “Spare no expense. You will be expected to work with the other musicians, so perhaps you can tune something to suit.”

“Hmm. You know.” Vinyl smiled slowly. Serendipity was knocking. “I have been working on electronic versions of classical pieces lately. .  for completely unrelated reasons. Maybe I could double down on that. Could you get me a vocalist?”

“Hmm. We will see. Thanks, Vinyl. I’ll draw up the paperwork and send you the details later.” She sounded almost excited. Classic Inky. Who else got this excited over paperwork?

“Sounds good, sounds good.” Vinyl could envision the piles of bits already. “Always a pleasure to serve the princesses. Say, you think I could get face time with Celestia? You were talking about unrealistic crushes earlier, so I figure I might as well shoot for the moon. Or sun, in this case.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Inky chuckled through her serious voice. “Goodbye forever, Vinyl.”

“Goodbye forever.” Vinyl echoed, and hung up. 

With the call over, Vinyl’s music popped back into her ears. The shuffle had apparently kept going, and she landed right in the middle of some kind of bouncy pop song. She let her hooves get carried by it, dancing her way out of the park. She spun herself around an older stallion with a flourish, not caring how much of a crazy pony she looked like.

She was excited. About the bits, obviously. Octy and Parish being around again was just a nice bonus. Inky was talking crazy talk. Her and Octy? What did Inky think, that they’d spent the night together? You’d have to be bananas to think that. Vinyl couldn’t even imagine that. 

Vinyl just couldn’t see her and Octy dancing at the party. Balanced against each other’s hooves. Ripples of soft violet music thrumming through both of them from the bass. Her looking into Octy’s beautiful matching eyes. Those eyes filled with the same admiration she had seen in them when she played piano. Vinyl leaning in, and Octy blushing, but not pulling away. The velvet fuzz of her muzzle as they pressed their lips together, just for a moment, before propriety tugged them apart. A hoof held too long after the song. A shared smile. The silent promise of more to come. Private dinners and concerts. Long talks and walks on the shore. A trip on an airship. A secret visit to Octy’s parents in Ponyville. Matching silver bands, with gemstones shaped to the partners cutie mark. A perfect moment at the end of her biggest show yet, the hoof band in her bag to seal a happily ever after.

Nope, Vinyl couldn’t imagine any of that.
> Octavia Chapter 5: Unstoppable Forces Adore Immovable Objects
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Octavia strolled through the Canterlot gardens. They astounded her, even after repeated visits. All Earth ponies had a connection to the earth and growing things, even ones that did not actively cultivate that ability. Herself, for example. The Gardens were so peaceful, she could almost hear ‘Morning Mood’ being played by the wind in the leaves, the crackle of dirt underhoof. 

And yet she did not feel peaceful in the least.

She checked her phone once more. Still mum from Vinyl. The filly had become more reclusive than a changeling that was unable to shift. She paused under an appropriately somber weeping willow to reread their text history. Almost exactly one week ago, her long note left for a sleeping Vinyl. The morning after, an infuriating reply from the Nonsense pony about Octavia’s supposed dirty mind. Since then, only three messages from Vinyl disturbed the list. One regarding Octavia’s favorite pieces to play, which she had replied to with a comprehensive collection. No reply for several days.

The second was another attempt at poetry, with many misspellings. Octavia had not deigned to reply to that one, under the assumption that Vinyl had been drunk when she sent it. To very little surprise, Vinyl’s third and final message was an apology for the former message the next morning, and a confirmation of her inebriated state. Octavia had replied to that one scathingly, expecting a humorous retort. Instead, she had received no further communications in the three intervening days. Not for the first time since, she felt the urge to crack her phone in half.

Parish had suggested she apologize, but Octavia did not feel her and Vinyl’s rivalry-friendship was quite at the stage where it warranted such a sincere response. Vinyl might be happy to get inebriated and then fire away with insincere apologies, but Octavia certainly was not. No matter how much she missed the banter. 

Octavia refused to sigh, but she did allow a slight huff as she pushed her way through the boughs of the tree, returning herself to the tea garden where the rehearsals would be held. She would have to put both her investigations with Stellar and her gentle prodding of Vinyl to rest for the week. Vinyl’s mysteries could wait. The Canterlot Garden Party may not have quite the acclaim of the Gala, but that did not mean it deserved any less than her best.

Basic stages had been set up for the musicians, as yet unadorned. Only her own instrument case currently rested atop one of them, the rest stood empty. Nopony else had yet arrived, as it was still forty five minutes until the listed start time. Octavia preferred to be everywhere one hour in advance, it gave her time to settle into a space. Each year, she held out hope that others would join her, and each year she was disappointed. 

“Dude, don’t drop it! Careful!” 

“Sorry!”

Octavia turned about, slowly. She blinked, not fully believing her eyes. Two familiar fillies were picking their way along the garden path. Between them, held in a rickety one-pony cart, was a large magical-electronic monstrosity. Vinyl stood in the hitch, and Crossed Wires pushed from behind, sometimes scrambling to hold up a wobbling speaker. Vinyl’s open, stunning, uncovered eyes met Octavia’s, and both of them froze.

“Aw, rats. Look, Wired, she’s already here.” Vinyl clapped a hoof thunderously to her forehead, horn sparking from the impact. She rapidly, if foalishly, recovered by throwing herself into some kind of elaborate dancing pose, and winked at Octavia. “Surprise, I guess!”

“‘Surprise’ is one word for it.” Octavia said, after a long moment of processing. A speaker began to tip precariously over the edge of the cart once again, and Crossed Wires ran to catch it. Octavia sighed, and moved to assist. So much for a calm morning.

With the best efforts of all three of them, moreso Wires and Octavia than Vinyl, the equipment took up a position on a separate stage. Wires set about plugging in the various magic-conduit cables, and Octavia’s mind moved on to a more pressing question.

“What on Equestria are you doing here, Nonsense pony?”

“As if you don’t know.” Vinyl sauntered over, standing just above Octavia onstage. “I was requested, apparently. Now who would have done that, hmm?”

“Are you implying that it was me?” Octavia raised an eyebrow. Vinyl had been requested for a party of this caliber? “Certainly not. I simply can not imagine you ‘blasting’ your ‘music’ at an event like this.” 

“Oh, sure, of course. Definitely wasn’t you.” Vinyl winked repeatedly, hooves tapping allegro on the plywood stage. “Just like you definitely didn’t do anything that night~”

“You are impossible.” Octavia rubbed one of her temples. “And nonsensical. You spent all this effort arriving here bright and early, but I suppose it would have been too much effort to text me back, hmm?”

“That would have ruined the surprise, Octy.” Vinyl corrected something that Wires was doing with a burst of blue magic, without even looking; her eyes, alive with joy, remained locked onto Octavia. “Besides, I was busy writing music all week. But don’t even worry, next time I’ll text you. I didn’t know you needed your Vinyl fix that bad~”

“Oh yes, I was simply inconsolable.” Octavia loaded her voice with sarcasm, though she blushed slightly remembering how crabby she had been minutes prior. She turned away quickly, but the smirk she saw on Vinyl’s face informed her she had not done so quickly enough.

“Seriously though, it wasn’t you? Huh.” Vinyl pulled a keyboard out of the wagon, which piqued Octavia’s interest. “Who the heck asked for me, then?”

“I certainly can not imagine who would do such a thing.” Octavia watched as Vinyl attached the keyboard to the giant machine. . . thing. “What is all this nonsense, Ivory? Surely you could have used an actual piano, hmm?”

“Nonsense equipment for a nonsense pony?” Vinyl chuckled. “No, but seriously I’ve been working on some cool new pieces that I think you’ll dig.”

“I see. I assume it is not . . . dubstep, given the party and it’s caliber.” Octavia stepped up onstage to examine the equipment closer, trying to remember back to the research she had handdone with Vinyl’s album. “Is it closer to ambient? Or, ahem, trance?”

“Uh, yeah actually! I’d usually do an ambient-y house or chillout. Something similarish.” Vinyl glanced at her with a look of such innocent happiness that Octavia felt suddenly and inexplicably guilty. “But I’ve also been messing around with remixes of classical stuff after I heard you do the cello version of that one song I played.”

“Beethoofen’s Sonata for Two Pianos?” Octavia asked, disbelieving.

“Right, that!” Vinyl gave her two quick hooves up, nearly dropping the keyboard as Wires struggled to unfold it’s legs.

“How can you remember the entire piece perfectly and yet not remember what it is?” 

“I dunno, filly. Just how I roll.” Vinyl shrugged, snapping the last cable into the keyboard. “Actually that one was in a cartoon I loved when I was a filly so that’s prolly why I remember it better.” 

“A cartoon.” Octavia gaped. A memory of an animated foals cartoon was what had inspired the beautiful playing she had so enjoyed? That certainly cheapened the experience. Or. . . did it? Perhaps she only felt it should.

“I know other ones too.” Vinyl said, defensively. She ran a hoof across the keyboard, producing a series of piano-like notes. She tapped out a few, experimentally. “But speaking of knowing things, you mentioned three separate types of electronic music! What’s up with that?”

“Well, I. . . That is to say, Parish forced me to listen to your album. Baby Scratch?” Octavia was prepared for the blush on this occasion, and contained it. 

“Scratchbaby! You listened to it? What did you think?” Vinyl actually clapped her hooves, flopping down on the grass by Octavia. 

“Some of it was . . . tolerable. I do not care for the dubstep, however the trance was less abrasive to my ears.” Octavia struggled to remember what the other kinds were called. “As were some others I do not remember in particular, the nomenclature is very complicated.”

“True that! Awesome that you kinda-sorta-maybe-didn’t completely hate it though!” Vinyl was like a foal again, hopping and bucking cheerily. It was infectious, and Octavia felt a smile across her own muzzle. Vinyl continued, casually. “I’ve been listening to some of yours too.”

“What? You have?” Octavia reeled from the utter shock of that statement.

“Sure, yeah. You’re a heck of a composer. I could almost follow your ‘emotional journey’ or whatever. What's the word. . . Expressive?” Vinyl returned over to the turntables, and fussed with them, seemingly unconcerned. “Real expressive.”

“I- You-”

“You’re older than I thought though, since that first one was from fifteen years ago-”

“I am not!” The insult snapped Octavia out of her shock. “That was released when I was sixteen!”

“. . . Huh.” Vinyl glanced back, her face a mirror of Octavia’s own surprise, handled better. “And you don’t come from music ponies? At all?”

“Not in the slightest.” Octavia sniffed. “You dare assume I must have? You elitist-”

“No no, shut up, that’s not what I mean.” Vinyl waved a hoof frantically, as if to swat away her words. “It’s just freaking amazing. You’re just freaking amazing. I was musically trained from the time I could stand on four hooves and you’re still better.”

“Nat. . . Naturally.” Octavia reacted before she could quite process what was being said. Her usual bravado snuffed, for lack of fuel. What was Vinyl saying to her? “Manehattan disagrees.”

“I mean, sure, whatever, but still. You’re some kind of genius, apparently.” Vinyl looked up at her, and smiled. Without Vinyl’s glasses between them, it was almost unbearable to meet that gaze. She was so joyful, so genuine. The expressive eyes Vinyl hid away bore her heart in them, a raw spring of wild, free emotion that threatened to sweep Octavia away.

“Stop this.” Octavia felt the blush from earlier returning in force, and quickly fled to her own stage, fumbling with her cello case. “You aren’t meant to be complimenting me. We trade insults, and that is all.”

“I just call things like I see ‘em” Vinyl’s speakers crackled to life behind her. “Good or bad. Or old. You are still a year older than me, by the way.”

“Shut up.” Octavia removed her cello tenderly from its case, and began orienting herself to stand alongside it. She could feel Vinyl’s eyes on her. The silence stretched. “Are you going to rehearse? Or will you stare at me like a stone age pony?”

“Oh, well I could, I guess.” Vinyl shrugged, and played a single thump of a beat. “But I think it’d be easier to work around you. If I start, you’ll get drowned out, probably. It’ll still be tricky but-”

“You wanted to. . . collaborate?”

“Well sure, why else would I have studied all your albums? I have some mixes I did, but it’d be cool to hear you live. . .” Vinyl trailed off under Octavia’s gaze, perhaps mistaking consideration for fury. “O-or not, you know, whatever. It was just an idea I had, that’s all. We don’t have to.”

Octavia rebalanced herself on four hooves. It was a painstaking process, lowering herself without putting too much strain on the wood of her instrument, balancing herself against it, and then it against her so she could grasp it in her teeth to set back down, gently. She hopped off her stage, not trusting herself to speak yet. Vinyl, nonsense pony that she was, immediately cowered behind her deck.

“You have made, ahem, ‘remixes’ of my work?” Octavia murmured. Vinyl poked her head out. Her eyes, usually shielded by glasses, held genuine concern, or maybe fear. Was Vinyl truly afraid of her? Octavia supposed she had struck her, once. “I am not going to strike you, Vinyl. I am genuinely sorry I did before, and certainly will not do so again.”

“Oh, heh, right.” Vinyl laughed weakly. “Yeah, totally, I’m just, you know, hamming it up. Anyway, yeah, I’ve been practicing on some of your old music so that I could drop some sweet beats on your classic stylings without, you know, screwing them up.”

“I suppose I could. . . demonstrate what I had in mind?” Octavia’s voice remained hushed. She was not sure why, but she feared this moment was fragile enough to shatter with a touch. Or with the wrong word, spoken too loudly. Vinyl hopped off the stage to stand before her, the unshielded eyes still so open, so vulnerable. 

“That’d be good, yeah. Again, only if you want.” Vinyl shrugged, nodded, then shrugged once more. “It was just a dumb idea I had, you know, idly. Definitely didn’t spend all week on it.”

“Vinyl.” Octavia picked up her cello once again, balancing it against her shoulder. Vinyl looked up at her, not unlike her mother’s old herding dog. “You Nonsense pony. I will happily demonstrate what good music sounds like.”

“Cool.” Vinyl said simply, plopping down on the grass. A thin string of magic reached towards her bags, wrapping around her shades, which were folded and stuck through a strap.

“No.” Octavia said, without thought. “Leave them.” Vinyl scrunched her nose, but the magic dissipated. Octavia took a deep breath. She had not felt nervous performing in nearly a decade. But right there, in that moment, there was the slightest tremor.

She began. Octavia had planned a piece that was complex, but quiet, easy to fade into the background, yet enough to hold a pony's attention if you listened for it. It wasn’t intended for a solo, per se, let alone a rapt audience. Yet Vinyl watched her like there was nothing else in the world. She found herself adding additional flourishes, to justify the attention paid. Each time she did, Vinyl would react, a slight perk of the ears, a twitch of a smile. It was invigorating, someone paying that close attention. She found herself playing more forcefully, the bow dancing across the strings effortlessly, her hooves steady on the difficult grip.

With the piece completed, she let her hoof drop, and began to settle herself back on all fours. Vinyl blinked, as if surprised, and then began applauding furiously. Octavia waved a hoof dismissively, though her cheeks were red.

“O-only you would be so impressed by such a piece, nonsense pony.” Octavia cursed the stammer in her words. 

“You coulda played whatever and it’d be the same amount of amazing, I think.” Vinyl remained seated, idly tapping her fore-hooves between her hindlegs. “You’re sorta the common denominator here. But if you want me to be really impressed, you could always play something else. . .”

“Perhaps, but would that not distract from our purpose here?” Octavia felt, dare she say it, flustered. How could Vinyl say such things with a straight face?

“Oh horseapples, you’re right.” Vinyl zipped back over behind her setup, giving her an expectant look. “In that case, maybe once more from the top? I’ll see what I can do around you without drowning out the amazing.”

“Nonsense statements from a nonsense pony.” Octavia shook her head, allowing her mane to cover her blush, and her smile. “Very well. One, two, one and two and three. . .”

=======================

Half an hour slid by, the two of them working together in melody, few words exchanged, for few were needed. Octavia had prepared herself to squash Vinyl’s melodic ‘improvements’, but the other mare had stuck to her word of working around Octavia. It was quite a novel experience, in all honesty. Prior to breaking out as a soloist, she had ever been forced to bend around the whims of Frederick or other quartet members.

Vinyl had added selective percussion, and a slight layering of what Octavia mentally termed ‘magical’ sound, for its resemblance to the sound of unicorn horns sparking to life. The resulting collaboration was not terrible, all things considered. It retained it’s previous qualities, with Vinyl’s edits it was perhaps a somewhat less ambient piece, but that was just fine with her.

“Perhaps a little something extra in the lull towards the middle?” She suggested, surprising herself with needing to prod Vinyl into additional additions. She was yet more surprised that she wanted to.

“Mm, yea. Let me see what’d be good there. . . Maybe take it from three measures up? I’ll mess around.” Vinyl tugged the keyboard closer with magic, tapping at it. Her eyes held a similar fierce joy as before, and it was infectious. Octavia was enjoying this. Dramatically more so than she had expected. She never enjoyed a single session with her old quartet this much. 

Octavia peeked over at Vinyl once again. Her tongue was clamped between her teeth, as she concentrated on . . . whatever it was she needed to do to make her music. Her head bopped slowly to a beat audible only to her. Her horn gleamed, sliding sheet music across her vision, comparing to something on her instrument, casting her face in shades of blue to match her mane, contrasting her blazing eyes. She was. . . radiant, just as she had been at the piano all those weeks ago.

A simple, terrible thought stuck in Octavia’s mind at that moment. One that had been long growing, but so well buried it evaded detection. Unfortunately, the usual coating of ribbing and rivalry had been yanked back,  the covering of annoyance and anger long since blown away, revealing the stark truth. Her admiration for Vinyl, long held in abeyance by Octavia’s own pride. Built atop the admiration was the makings of their friendship, forged by time spent in verbal sparring matches and drunken rescues, inexplicable charm from Vinyl, and Octavia’s own loneliness and long unmet need for kind words. This was alloyed with Octavia’s fascination with Vinyl’s life, and the many, many things about her Octavia failed to comprehend. Atop those was an uncovered, unfortunate, and undeniable layer of emotion. The beginnings of a deep and abiding love.

The emotion was hot to the touch of her mind, blazing the cherry red of melting metal, much as Vinyl’s eyes. It burned away the rest of her thoughts, her objections and confusions, leaving her mind empty of all else. With naught to temper it, her mind was set to a boil, the pressure to act upon it building within her. If not now, when?

“Vinyl.” She said, her voice came out hoarse.

“Sup?” Vinyl had set the percussion to play, but looked up, confused, as her cello remained silent. “Don’t like it? I haven’t even started yet!”

“On the contrary, actually. I am having a marvelous time.” Octavia spoke slowly, the better to hoof-pick each word. “In fact, I-”

“My goodness, you two are here early!” 

Both musicians nearly jumped out of their coats. Three ponies had evidently arrived, unbeknownst to either of them. The first was a familiar looking unicorn with a tidy black mane and a severe pair of glasses, which were quite charming on her. The second was a Canterlot unicorn with enviably long legs and a blue-and-green mane that had been carefully braided and done up with the colors separated and intertwined.

The third was Her Terrestrial Highness, Princess Twilight.

“Your Highness!” Octavia slipped into a bow, as gracefully as she could with her cello yet resting against her back. A glance at Vinyl showed she was doing the same, with slightly more elegance. Octavia supposed she had practice.

“Rise, please. Your music is beautiful, don’t stop on my account!” Princess Twilight waved them up with a hoof. “Though I suppose since you’ve already stopped we might as well introduce ourselves.” 

“We’ve met.” Said three voices in unison. Octavia blinked, as did the Princess. Vinyl knew these mares? Unless her eyes deceived her these were important ponies! Thankfully the Princess was quicker to demand answers than Octavia, though she did so with excitement, rather than trepidation.

“Vinyl is my sister, your Highness.” The bespectacled pony spoke first. Octavia felt her eyes widen. Vinyl’s sister? “I reached out to her in regards to performing when Astral asked after her.”

“And I am simply an avid fan of her work.” The Canterlot unicorn, who must be Astral by process of elimination, spoke next, her words gushing. “We happened to meet after one of her shows a month or two ago.”

“Ah yeah, no way I forgot that.” Vinyl said, with a half-smile and a wink. The motion was somewhat. . . sultry. Octavia’s stomach did a sudden flip. The blazing red of her pure emotions prior now held a coating of ashy gray dust. Oh. Of course. Octavia knew. About all this. She knew Vinyl had had intimate relations with other mares, perhaps even many other mares. She knew this. Why was it such a nasty surprise to be confronted with it? And why, She thought. Did it have to happen *right now?* The Sidereal Princess of Love may as well have descended herself and slapped me right upside the muzzle! 

Raven pulled the Princess aside to review other preparations. Octavia turned back to Vinyl, increasingly desperate to get her words out. Unfortunately, Astral was sashaying over to the pair of them, and Vinyl’s eyes were tracking her, alight with an emotion Octavia had not seen in them before. It lit a rather different fire in Octavia, a dark and furious blaze.

“Vinyl.” Octavia said again, Vinyl glanced over, but jerked a forehoof up once, a somewhat rude ‘one second’ gesture.

“Guess that explains who requested me.” Vinyl said, leaning half over her turntables, a smug smile on her lips. “Couldn’t get enough with just the show and ‘afterparty’, I see.”

“You put on quite a performance.” Astral fluttered her lashes, lowering her volume and moving closer. Octavia did not miss the seductive sway she had suddenly adopted. “You have a skillful ear, and know just what your audience wants.” 

“You forgot to mention my dextrous hooves.” Vinyl’s eyebrows bounced. Octavia choked on air. “You know, for pushing buttons and flipping switches?”

“Vinyl!’ Octavia said, louder.

“Mmm, your horn is not bad either. . .” Astral half stepped up on stage, forehooves planted in front of Vinyl. 

“Not Bad? It's essential. It’s how I-” Vinyl’s horn flickered to life, as did the power to her speakers. “Turn things on~” Astral let out a very unladylike guffaw, clapping a hoof over her muzzle a moment later. 

“Vinyl!” She faux chastised, demurely, with a wave of a hoof that said plainly ‘do go on’. 

The pounding of blood in Octavia’s ears grew to such a deafening volume she could no longer hear what was being said. Her gaze continued to flicker between the two ponies. Astral did not move any closer, but she did writhe in place. Vinyl let out a laugh of her own, that hungry fire still in her eyes as they caressed the mare in front of her. So distressed was Octavia that she failed to notice the lavender hoof extended to her, nor the voice speaking. With a start, she finally turned her eyes to the royalty before her.

“A pleasure.” Octavia said, by way of default. Her voice trembled slightly as she shook the hoof. The Princess smiled. 

“I’m sure you’re focused on your work. I get the same way.” She said, kindly. “Let me ask again: Are you and DJ Pon-3 going to perform that piece at the party? She said it was your call. I really enjoyed it, for what that’s worth.”

“We-” Octavia hesitated. The whole idea had gone sour for her. Her thoughts were still disorganized, and she forcibly quieted them, trying to smooth over her rumbled consciousness until only blank white remained. “We certainly will if you wish, Your Highness.”

“Oh, well, I suppose I do wish.” Her Highness chuckled. “But you seemed to be having so much fun, it really came out in the song.”

“It was a mere dalliance.” Octavia said, her mouth jumping out ahead of her thoughts, but a surprising amount of venom remained within her. “How wonderful that something good came of it.”

“O-kay. Good, well, I guess that’s one thing off the old checklist.” Her Highness actually produced one, checking off a tick box next to incomprehensible scribblings that only barely passed for writing. “I see Ladies Astral and Raven have this all well in hoof. I’ll leave you to it! Oh, make sure to get frosted cookies, they’re Cadance's favorite!” 

The assembled ponies bowed as Her Highness departed. This, most unfortunately, left Octavia alone with Vinyl, Vinyl’s sister, and Astral. She found herself unable to keep a glare from her gaze as it passed over the assembled unicorns. 

“The other musicians should be here soon enough.” Astral spoke cheerily into the frosty silence. She began fussing with the stage decorations, a rosy blush still on her cheeks. “Until then, why don’t we have some light refreshments? I had the kitchen send up lemonade and oatcakes~”

“I’m starving,” Vinyl said, with some surprise. “Lemme at 'em!”

“I had them send up some with authentic Crystal Empire syrup, the ones on the blue plate. Just for you~” Astral’s slightly singsong voice continued. Vinyl’s ears perked right up. Octavia gagged. What a miserable mare. Not nearly as miserable, however, as a certain other pony who was far too free with her affections! She stalked over to the table and seized one of the cakes from Vinyl’s plate. 

“Saccharine.” Octavia said, bitingly. Her mind remained unable to wrangle her heart back into line, and bitterness pumped through her veins. “Is this truly your taste, Nonsense Pony?” 

“Aw, the nonsense is back?” Vinyl sighed dramatically, either not noticing or not caring about Octavia’s exceptional salinity. “I like syrup for breakfast. I don’t usually eat it because I’m already getting kinda tubby, but-”

“You know plainly that is not what I am actually speaking about.” Octavia hissed. “I am being metaphorical.”

“Oh I get it. Savage takedown of Astral outta nowhere!” Vinyl turned to look at her. “Or is it a rip at me? I’m not honestly sure. Look, Octy, if you want more of my attention, all you had to do was ask~”

“What an offer!” Octavia snapped, Vinyl’s insincere and patently trite compliments now only fueled her fury. “I’m sure it has been made to every mare in Canterlot by now! I feel so. . . honored to be part of such an expansive club!”

“Thanks for the compliment?” Vinyl’s eyes searched her face, evidently unsure if this was fun banter or not. 

“You are unbelievable. Of course it was not a compliment!” Octavia let out a derisive snort. She was reminded forcibly of their first meeting, a sleeping Vinyl ignoring the awards, or else casting salacious looks about her.

“Yeah, I figured.” Vinyl sighed, sliding her glasses back on, head turned away from Octavia. Her magic even fumbled in her bags for her headphones. “I was sorta hoping you’d chill out if I didn’t engage. I’m sorry I ignored you, I just got distracted.”

“I’m surprised you were not drooling.”  Octavia quieted her voice as best she could.

“Look, I said I was sorry.” Vinyl looked back at her. “Was it just me ignoring you or do you have some other problem?”

“I have countless other problems.” Octavia snarled. “As if that one was not enough!”

“Oooookay. Look, I’m gonna go over there for a minute, maybe we can pick this up later when you’ve chilled out a bit and are making sense.” Vinyl slid her headphones over her ears with a sense of finality.	

“That is what you do, isn’t it?” Vinyl’s response did nothing to soothe Octavia’s anger, which flared up hotter still.  “You run and hide. You block out the world, so you need not hear that which you disagree with, see that which displeases you. For everything else, there is alcohol, yes?”

“Pretty much.” Vinyl laughed, it sounded one degree away from sincere. She tipped her glasses down to wink at Astral, allowing syrup from her held oatcake to drip suggestively onto her tongue before she ate it as lewdly as could be possible. Astral tittered, and blushed a practiced amount. “Ya got a point buried in there somewhere?”

“I- You-” Octavia guttered. She did not have a point, not a cohesive one. She had been interrupted before she could state the root cause, and she certainly couldn’t announce it now. “You- You know full well why I am angry! It is about that mare-”

“I could make an educated guess.” Vinyl rounded on her, sudden fury etched on her features. The cadence of her words mimicked Octavia’s, or more accurately, Octavia’s typical speech mimicked the speech that was Vinyl’s mother tongue, which she wielded with a grace Octavia could never attain. “It is unbecoming of me to indulge my base urges so freely, or so publicly? It disturbs you to see evidence thereof in your daily life? Or perhaps it is merely that you wish what is best for me? I suspect you have a twelve-step plan prepared for me?” Vinyl laughed, a perfect, measured giggle, carefully half smothered with a hoof. It cut Octavia right to the heart of her, a reminder of every snobbish teacher, every miserly critic that had ever dismissed her without thought.

“You are twisting my words.” Despite all their verbal sparring, Octavia was unused to being on the back hoof. A portion of surprise replaced part of her anger. She found herself taking a physical step backwards. “I was just-”

“Allow me to make my position perfectly clear.” Vinyl stepped forward, half closing the distance, precisely crossing hoof over hoof like a fencer. Her voice was even, utterly precise and devoid of emotion, a rapier in her magical grip. “Your concern for my affairs is neither welcome nor, indeed, helpful. Do not presume to know what is proper for me. Do not presume to dictate terms to me. If my company has ceased to suit, you may take your leave at any time.”

“Ya can’t mean that.” Octavia’s own voice slipped, so stunned was she. “I jus’ meant-”

“I am well aware of what you intended.” Vinyl turned half away, one disdainful eye still on Octavia. “My ways offend you, and you would see the behavior that bothers you removed, for then I would be simply marvelous.”

“Yer already a wonderful pony. I wasn’t sayin’-”

“Indeed. You were not saying anything novel.” Vinyl turned fully away, taking another perfect, cross-hooved step. “My homosexuality offends you. I believe the common phrasing is that ‘something must give’. My proclivities are ensconced within the deepest truth of myself, and so it is you and our friendship to which we must bid farewell.” 

“That’s not why- You cannot be serious!” Octavia gasped, anger mixing with shock and a measure of fear. They were friends. They could not be parted so easily. Not after what they had endured and built already! “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?! That you can walk away so easily?”

“Sorry Octy.” Vinyl turned her head, removing the glasses. Her usual attitude was back, if subdued. It reminded her of a morning in Vinyl’s hotel room, so long ago, where Vinyl had reintroduced herself. “But I’ve been there before. It’s my mom’s favorite refrain. And just like with her, I won’t ever be what you want me to be. Better a clean break.”

“I- You- You still have to perform with me!” Octavia said, wildly, desperately. “You cannot just quit!”

“Sure I can. I’ll miss the bits, but I can.” Vinyl slid the glasses back on, and popped the headphones over her ears. “Have a good life, Octy.” She walked over to Raven, who merely nodded, as if this was utterly mundane, even expected. She escorted her sister away into the garden, a comforting hoof on her shoulder.

Octavia was left there, alone, soggy oatcake in hoof, thoroughly divorced before she could even be wed.
> Vinyl, Chapter 6: I told you so
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I told you so.”
> Octavia Chapter 6: Expert Advice
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Aaaaall aboard for the Express to Ponyville! Aaaaaall aboard!” The conductor was far too close to Octavia for the volume at which he shouted. She adjusted her bowtie as a subtle sign of her irritation. This was her first day off in more than a week, and this was hardly how she wanted to spend it, particularly after the quantity of wine she had consumed the previous evening. But her sister was getting married, and Octavia just couldn’t bring herself not to attend, despite the fact a wedding was the very last thing she wished to see.

She bid Parish farewell, he was remaining to perform with Frederick and the quartet, a fact for which he had apologized profusely yesterday, and again this morning. Octavia did not mind, save perhaps for what it represented. She was honestly unsure what she was going to do when he finally moved out, which seemed a closer prospect by the day. Some part of her had thought -or assumed- that Vinyl would fill that space. No chance of that now. 

Octavia’s calls had all gone to voicemail, the same cheery voice saying “Don’t bother with a message, I never check this junk!” She knew it was ancient because it still used the name Ivory. Her texts received similar treatments, unremarked. She cursed herself every day for her pride, her anger, her stubbornness. Her jealousy. She could have run after Vinyl right then, explained herself, and spent these past eight days in joy. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. She thought, gloomily. Vinyl evidently has her pick of mares, and I am no great beauty. Perhaps the result would have been the same. But then she and I might have remained friends, at the least.

Octavia let her head drop against the window as the train began to pull away. Her eyes gazed sightlessly at the raindrops on the glass. She didn’t cry. She was not a pony who cried easily, or indeed, almost ever. But the buildup of foul emotions over this week made her wish she could. Any outlet for these feelings would have been welcome. 

But there was none. She sat in miserable silence, watching the rainy gray landscape pass by. She barely moved. She hated how she felt. And she hated that she had become the very type of pony she could not stand. She had never been able to stomach ponies who were so melodramatic about their relationships, for good or ill. And now here she sat.

Several hours, or perhaps several weeks, passed. The train screeched as it pulled to a stop at the Ponyville station. Octavia stood by rote, hefting her instrument, strapping it onto her saddle. She departed, walking out into the gray haze. 

The scent of nature and earth filled her nostrils. She breathed deep, relishing it. Ponyville was larger now, than when she had been a filly, but it evidently retained the rural charm.

“There she is! Octyyyy!” Octavia was struck by an avalanche of slate-colored fur and the spikes of a short cropped mane. Octavia, to her surprise, wobbled, and slowly toppled, landing in a pile of barely contained luggage, with the filly atop her, nuzzling.

“It’s been for-ev-er!” Rockroot beamed up at her older sister. “Y’all been slacking off, haven’t you? I didn’t expect ya to fall right over!”

“I have had few occasions to actively increase my strength, it is true” Octavia smiled the faintest of smiles. “But dare you forget, you were but a rowdy youth when I left. And behold, what is before me but a marvelous full grown mare?”

“Listen to her, she even talks fancy now.” A softer voice, from above the pair. Octavia jumped to her hooves, looking straight at the pony. A scruffy, off-black coat over lean old bones, face well wrinkled around a smile.

“Mother.” Octavia said, wrapping her in a fierce hug, which was returned with every bit of power she remembered. Age had done nothing to Winter Root’s strength, which had always been more than enough to split frozen dirt and rock with the ease of cracking a walnut between her teeth. “I-” 

“Shh. Y'all're tryin’ to apologize, I can tell.” Mother murmured, a hoof stroking Octavia’s mane. “An’ I don’t want to hear none of it. We’ve been followin’ you in the papers, even on the tv. You make your old mum proud, Octy.”

“I have missed you.” Octavia whispered. Tears threatened, but retreated once again, to her dismay. She settled for a deep sniffle. “All of you.”

“Blossom is still workin’ on getting everything ready, or she’d be here too.” Rocky said with a chuckle. “Y’know how she is, everything's got to be just so. She sends her love an’ I know she’s excited as all get out.”

“She had best be, considering this is her wedding.” Octavia let out a genuine belt of laughter. “If our darling sister was not eager, I would question the wisdom of the festivities!” 

“C’mon now, let's get you down to the farm, settled in.” Winter hupped Octavia’s cello onto her back with practiced ease. “Your old room’s right where ya left it, dusted it out this morn’.”

“Oh you need not have-”

“No daughter o’ mine is stayin’ in some overpriced tourist trap thats suckering poor pilgrims come to visit Princess Twilight.” Winter alternated shaking a grumpy hoof and performing a quick Sun-Moon mantra motion. It wasn’t the correct salute for the Terrestrial Princess, and Princess worship itself was rather outdated, but the familiar gesture made Octavia smile all the same.

“Oh, did you hear? Octy did you hear?!” Rocky bounced along next to her, Octavia’s saddlebags somehow having made their way onto her withers. “The princess! The Crystal Princess! I guess she’s our new sister-in-law’s cousin’s best friend’s sister! She’s gonna run the whole shindig!” She sighed dreamily. 

“She. . . what?” Octavia blinked at that flood of information. Rocky repeated it, perfectly verbatim. Their new sister in law would be Cinnamon Cider. Cinnamon’s cousin. . . the Apple girl? The Apple girl’s best friend’s sister was a princess? “. . .That’s auspicious. This Cinnamon must really love Blossom then.”

“Didn’t need a Princess to tell us that.” Winter Root chuckled, “Was obvious jus’ watching her.  She’s head over tail, real sweet too. Was a real help with the work this winter. You’d like her, Octy.”

“I have no doubt.” Octavia’s head swiveled as they trotted through town. Everything seemed bigger and better than it had been. “It seems as though there has been a large amount of construction.”

“Ayup, lot of that. Ponyville’s the center of Equestria right now.” Rocky said cheerfully and incorrectly, though Octavia could understand the feeling.

“I was thinking,” Octavia said this quickly. “And only thinking, mind you. . . That I might move back into town.”

“What???” They said in unison. Rocky was excited. Mother was, more insightfully, worried. You could never pull one over on Winter Root.

“Parish is likely to move in with his coltfriend in the near future.” Octavia said, pausing for a moment to admire the new City Hall. “That will leave me to pay for my current apartment in full. . . and in truth, Canterlot has lost much of it’s glamor in my eyes. I am not certain it is worth the increased spend.”

“If’n you’re mentioning it, it means you thought it through better than I have.” Mother said, after a long moment. “Always the overthinker, you are. Long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I will be pursuing the same dreams I always have.” Octavia reassured, even if in truth, music itself had soured for her somewhat. “Naught else will change. . . I will likely be traveling a large amount, but I think this will be comforting to me.”

“Whoopie!!!” Rocky cheered, bouncing higher and higher. “We’re gonna be throwing a second party then, right after the wedding! I’ll get Pinkie on the horn!” 

“Please do not.” Octavia said, already tired by the mere thought. “It will not be official for some time yet, in any event.”

“Ayup, bit early for that, can’t blame the girl for bein’ excited though.” Winter gently chastised them both. 

Octavia opened her mouth to respond, and allowed it to silently fall open instead as they crested the last hill separating the Root family farm from the Town. Not only was it far more expansive than it had been, it was lavishly decorated, in colors of the two bride’s coats. Blossom’s dark maroon, and what must be cinnamon’s warm orange. It gave the celebration an autumnal hue, which was worked into the theming, all about the harvests and fruits of love. Roll upon roll of fabric had been draped from trees and fences and phone lines, snow had been swept up into neat piles or pressed into ice and carved. Cornucopia of delicious-looking, magically frozen fruit sat every three seats along great long tables, around which the families would sit, one per side. Old Earth pony tradition. Why sit around an empty room for a ceremony when you could have it around a full table?

“It is beautiful.” Octavia said simply. 

“Rocky, go get your sister's things up to her room.” Winter carefully slid Octavia’s cello case off her shoulders and onto Rocky’s. Winter waited until she had bounced off down the path to the farmhouse before turning to Octavia.

“Now what’s the matter, string bean?” She said, quietly. “You got a face like you’ve been suckin’ lemons or choppin’ onions.” The ancient nickname brought the ghost of a grin to her face, rapidly banished by the specter of actually answering the question.

“My apologies.” She said, stiffly, unshed tears taunting her again. “This is a happy day. I do not mean to-” She choked off, looking away. Her mother wrapped a hoof around her withers, tugging her into a hug. “The- The friend I mentioned? She won’t be coming, after all.”

“I know what ya need.” She said, tugging Octavia towards the house as inexorably as the earth tugged her towards its center. She plowed right on through the half open door, passing through the foyer, nearly unchanged since Octavia’s youth, only new photographs on the rickety old shelves and peeling walls showing the passage of time. On into the living room, tucked away in the back. This too was quite similar, the ancient couches had been covered over with new blankets, and there were new wheat-print curtains on the sunroom windows that overlooked the Ponyville tributary. There was a new TV, as well, clearly Rocky’s purchase. Seated primly on the couch across from it with a large paperback book was a dazzling pink alicorn, who could, in a completely literal sense, only be one pony. She was, for lack of a better term, absolutely stunning. Octavia found her eyes tracing the slender legs, the well shaped wings and- For goodness sake, Octavia! Just because you have ‘figured yourself out’ does not mean you should be ogling every mare you see!

“Princess, we got us a problem here!” Winter said amicably, nudging Octavia forward, which thankfully shocked her from her staring. At least momentarily. “One gloomy sister of the bride with what seems like a broken heart ta me.”

“Oh dear, sounds serious!” Her Sidereal Highness did not stand, instead she set aside her book and patted the couch next to her, flashing a charming smile, with eyes that invited and penetrated. Octavia’s eyes widened another fraction past what she thought was their maximum, to say nothing of the furnaces in her cheeks. 

“Um” She said, eloquently.

“Octavia Melody, yes? I watched your performance some months ago with Princess Luna. You were breathtaking.” Princess Cadance patted the couch more insistently. “I did not know you were related to the bride! Though I do see the resemblance now, of course. You have your mothers muzzle, and very nice eyes. Please, sit down?”

Octavia sat. 

“Before you feel too guilty, know it is part of my magic.” Cadance said, kindly, turning demurely behind her mane under Octavia’s unrestrained gaze. If it was intended to diminish her attraction, it failed spectacularly. “Ponies who are in love -with anypony- naturally feel some of that towards me, in the same way Princess Celestia heats a room and nurtures growth, or Princess Luna soothes a nightmare and a worried mind. So please don’t feel guilty, okay?”

Octavia nodded, precisely at the lowest point of her confidence in her ability to speak.
“Now, if I may?” Waiting for Octavia’s second nod, the Princess ignited her horn, and immediately burst into tears. Octavia’s confusion redoubled, and panic edged in. What had she done now? She was afraid to lay a hoof upon the perfect creature, and afraid to do nothing. She settled for frantically waving her hooves in Cadance's general direction, as if fanning her, or just encasing her in an invisible sphere. 

“Wh- Pri- I am so sorry!” Octavia spluttered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Cadance sobbed, seizing Octavia in a hug, which effectively paralyzed her, sending her spiraling into a haze of soft fur and appealing scent and oh sweet Celestia. “I cry only because you will not, Octavia! Oh, the hurt within you could crush another pony. You are so strong. . . and you have been so, so alone!” 

It took Cadance several minutes of hugging and sobbing before she regained control of herself. She carefully wiped her eyes, which had not smudged one whit, blew her nose, and took several deep breaths, with an accompaniment of hoof movements, in and out. Octavia watched this patiently. She could not explain it, but she did feel marginally better. Perhaps the Princess truly could cry-by-proxy.

“You are a pony of great passions, Octavia.” Cadance said, softly. “It is inspiring, how you put your whole heart into every little thing. Your music, your family. . . How cruel that you had to choose between them!”

“It was my choice, and I could have done more to balance both. . .” Octavia trailed off. Could she have?

“Perhaps, but it tears at your heart.” Cadance rested a hoof on one of hers. “And on top of that, your best friend Parish, whom you love so dearly, despite the fact he is unable to return your affection!”

“I do not wish for his affection in that manner!”

“And yet, he is still leaving you.” Cadance murmured. “You do not begrudge your friend his happiness, but you will miss him fiercely, will you not? Love for a lifelong friend is no less powerful than a romance.”

“I-” Octavia could not come up with an objection. She was going to miss Parish. More than she had ever admitted to herself. Small wonder she had been so short with him of late. She made a mental vow to make it up to him.

“Not to mention. . .” Cadance continued, her eyes shimmering with new tears as they gazed into Octavia’s. “Your latest passion. Just an ember, right now. With equal potential to blaze fully to life or be snuffed to ashes. And what a tragedy it would be to see it snuffed!”

“It is already snuffed,” Octavia said, bitterly. “I let jealousy get the best of me, and now I pay the price.”

“It is no more snuffed than a hooded lantern.” Cadance seized Octavia’s hoof. “Hiding something behind steel does not cause it to stop existing. You are careful, so careful, never to show your passions, though they burn as bright as the sun. What frightens you so?”

Octavia thought for a long moment. She considered her life, in its entirety. She had been so excited when she had been accepted into the conservatory in Canterlot. She had wanted to work with others who were as passionate as her, those who were talented and driven. And for a while, it was wonderful. Alas, the world catches up to everypony, and passion alone does not build a career.

“I am unsure if afraid is the right word.” Octavia said, finally. She kneaded a bit of knitted blanket between her hooves. “I merely put it into my work, rather than expressing it myself. I found that ponies found much to say against my background or attitude, but they could say little against my music.”

“And for your non-musical passions. . .?”

“They inspired songs.” Octavia shrugged. “Each of my family members has several. Parish has three. And Vinyl-” Her breath caught in her throat. Vinyl. Cadance gave her another hug, and an encouraging smile.

“Vinyl has one. It is not finished.” Octavia continued, her voice small. “Maybe two, if you count the one we were working on together. It was- It was wonderful. We connected. But my words could not reach her, and my passions ruined it. Now I cannot even bring myself to weep.” Octavia felt the tears again, and willed herself to cry, to let it out. She could not. She had crafted her mask too well, and now it would not leave her face. Cadance gave her a knowing glance.

“Perhaps. . .” She said, slowly. “Tears are a way of shedding one's emotions. Pardon the metaphor, but it’s like throwing up for the soul. If your emotions will not come out that way, maybe you need to express them your way.”

“With music?”

“Exactly!” Cadance smiled, benign and loving. “And I do not mean just your sadness. There are as many languages of love as there are ponies in Equestria. For many, it is words. Some it is touch, or visual mediums. For you, and I suspect Vinyl as well, there is another. Finish that song. I think you might have better luck.”

Octavia felt a weight lifting from her. A slight bloom of hope cracked the hardened surface of her emotional lava. Lava which, as every Earth pony knows, makes the most fertile soil. She would finish the song. Whether it reached Vinyl or not, it would give her closure on the matter. And one way or another she would continue, head held high.

“Thank you, Princess.” She said, her voice was strong once again. Clear and crisp. She looked up into Cadance's eyes and nodded. “You are very wise.”

“Oh, just lessons learned from experience.” She chuckled, hooking her forehooves around each of Octavia’s. “You may not believe it, but I had a rather tumultuous courtship of my own! But there is no doubt it was worth every bump and scrape along the way.”

“You are correct. I do not believe it.” Octavia laughed in return, allowing the Princess to tug her to her hooves. She almost stumbled, overwhelmed by a bone-deep tiredness long buried under her sorrow. Cadance caught her, causing another round of furious embarrassment to rush through her.

“Whoa! Close one.” She winked, Octavia wobbled further. “Come on, let us go greet the brides to be. And then get you back in here for a nap. Emotional burdens can be almost as exhausting as physical ones.” 

Octavia made her way back out of the house. She hugged her mother once more, and was hugged in return. She was almost dazzled again by the decorations, everything seemed that much brighter now. She stepped around a small gaggle of giggling fillies, perhaps some cousins here to be flower girls. Cutting through the open-air kitchen, which was ready and waiting to cook up the feast for tomorrow.

There, in the midst of the chaos, was her sister, Winter Blossom. The festivities bloomed out from her like her namesake petals. Flanking her on each side was a powerful mare. One was tall, speckled red over brown, with a foaming mug as a cutie mark. The other was a familiar bright orange, trio of apples on the rump. The two flanking mares hopped at each point of Blossoms hoof, moving or removing things. Ponies of all sorts parted around them as Blossom added a personal touch to each and every aspect. A frazzled looking pegasus was practicing styling her mane as she moved, hovering over Blossom like a raincloud. Blossom glanced at Octavia and Cadance as they approached, and did a furious double take, to the pegasus’ dismay.

“Octavia.” She said, warmly. “I’m so glad ya’ll could make it. Means a lot to me. To us.” She threw a hoof over the shoulders of the mare next to her, who doffed a five gallon hat. Applejack did likewise, minus the grin.

“Blossom. Of course I came.” Octavia stepped forward into an embrace, surprised, but not displeased, when Cinnamon joined it as well. She truly had been away from home for a long time if she was unused to hugs. “Nothing could keep me away. You look. . . radiant.”

“She’ll be lookin’ more radiant in her dress tomorrow, m’sure. Wish I knew how much.” Cinnamon said with a grin. 

“You know it’ll be bad luck to see the bride before the weddin’.” Blossom said, teasingly.

“Well shucks, nopony told me.” Cinnamon sniffed in mock frustration. “Woulda kept my outfit secret too.” The five ponies laughed. Octavia included. Half an hour ago, this would have hurt her. Now it merely complimented the glow in her own heart. She gave them both another squeeze. 

“I been lookin’ forward to meeting you. AJ here-” ‘AJ’ made a hoof motion across her neck quickly, which Cinnamon ignored. “AJ told me about you. Guess her new marefriend thinks the world of ya.” 

“Oh, Octy, you know Rare?” Blossom beamed. “I reckon that makes sense, since ya’ll are both fancy types.She’s making my dress, you know.” 

“So you and Miss Rarity have made it work, then?” Octavia marveled a little at that. “The last time I saw them together Miss Rarity had. . . well, she had coerced me into espionage upon her future marefriend here.”

“What?!” All three of the others rounded on her. Eyes wide, ears perked up at the promise of gossip. Cadance’s face in particular, both eager and somewhat ashamed of it, make Octavia burst into giggles. Cinnamon was practically bouncing, Applejack just silently tugged her hat down over her face.

“I admit, it was partially my fault.” Octavia allowed a shameless grin to live rent free on her muzzle. “Miss Rarity was teasing me about my own crush, and I wanted to get her back, which perhaps worked too well, since we ended up in the bushes outside of Applejacks motel room. . .”

“Say what now?” Cinnamon leaned on Blossom as she wheezed. Cadance was trying and failing to hide a furious chuckle behind a hoof. Applejack was now staring up at the sky, as if beseeching Celestia for aid.

“I speak only truths. But I cannot say I regret it, since had I not been in those bushes, I likely would not have fallen in love myself.” Octavia pressed a hoof to her thumping heart. Saying it out loud was like releasing a long captive bird from its cage. “Surely you remember her, Applejack, the drunken filly you took back to your room?”

“What?!”  Blossom demanded, her ears, mane, and tail defying gravity to stand straight up. There was an audible groan from her hairdresser.

“T’weren’t like that, so you can all stuff your eyes back in yer heads.” Applejack had a rosy blush on her freckled cheeks. “Filly just needed a kind ear and someplace to bunk after gettin’ chewed out by a certain somepony.”

“I was rather angry with her that evening.” Octavia admitted. “I take partial culpability for her state. But again, had I not. . . perhaps we would not have had the heart to heart discussion the next morning which was the seed of our friendship.”

“I reckon Rare and I weren’t much different at first. Always fightin’ like a viper and a mongoose.” Applejack smiled, eyes wistful. “You had best be careful though, she’s a flighty one. Too used to people cagin’ her. Try and tell ‘er how to be and she’ll run for the hills faster than you can blink.”

“I- What?” Octavia blinked.

“She told me a bit about her mum and all.” Applejack scanned Octavia’s face. “Which I’m guessin’ you didn’t know. Vinyl’s ma was real controlling, tellin’ her who she could see, what she could do, all that ‘nob-less o-bilge’ stuff. Don’t reckon her old marefriend was much different. She’s used to folks dear to her tryin’ to put a collar on her. Don’ make that mistake.”

“That. . . explains a great deal.” Octavia slapped a hoof to her face. It struck with enough force to make a small thunderclap, which felt entirely appropriate to the magnitude of her mistake. “I will not ask how you discovered this, but would that you had told me a week ago, before I allowed my emotions to run away with me and do exactly that.”

“Well then you are up a creek.” Applejack said. The frankness of the statement forced a wheezing laugh out of Octavia. 

“You are not wrong.” She took a breath, an easy smile lingering on her muzzle. “But we’re not here to talk about me. Come now, Blossom, what can I do?”

“Ya’ll being here is plenty.” Blossom smiled back, incandescent happiness plain on her face. “Matter’a’fact, the only thing I want for you is to find what I found with Cin.” Cinnamon wrapped Blossom in a hug again. They almost glowed together, a sparkling aura worthy of an alicorn.

“If that is the case, then I must beg my leave for now.” Octavia hugged them both. “I need- Well, foremost, I require a nap. Then, I must compose!”
> Ivory, Chapter 7: Once More, With Feelings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ivory Keys stood on the balcony, gazing out over the gardens. They were a decent approximation of the ones in the Princess’ Castle back in Canterlot. Decent, but much smaller, and generally much less impressive. Just like the family that owned it. Boom. Gottem. It was a shame, because central Equestria was absolutely gorgeous normally. Could have let that shine, but no, they just had to put on this sad little mockery of Canterlot. Really said it all.

WIth a chuckle to herself, Ivory drained the champagne from her fluted glass. That was the only upside of these fancy parties, she could drink without needing to sneak around or flash a fake ID. The downsides were literally everything else. The stifling dresses, the snootiness, the annoying colts thirsting for either rump or money. She just wanted to get back to school. At least there she’d be away from mom.

“Hey filly~” A voice from behind her, close. She leapt about a foot clear in the air, rounding on the pony who had crept up on her. 

She was a pegasus, but not their hostess. She was clad not in a dress, but a dapper, long tailed suit that curled about her wings and cutie mark. She was tall, with a wingspan to match, and lithe, powerful limbs. Her mane was cut short on one side and swept off to the other, rakishly over the left of her muzzle, which bore a sardonic grin.

“Do not sneak up on me, please.” Ivory said, stiffly.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to.” The newcomer strode by, leaning forehooves on the railing. “Just needed to get some fresh air, like you I’m guessing. Pretty stuffy in there, huh?”

“Trying to get on my good side?” Ivory asked, plastering on the most hurtful sneering smile she could muster. “Did mother put you up to this? Do you have a son or brother I’m supposed to meet? If so, let me cut you off at the pass. I am not interested in romance of any kind.”

“I do have a brother, but. . .” The pegasus cast an appraising eye over her, mane to tail. “You look like fun. I think I’d rather keep you all to myself~” 

A heady blush immediately covered Ivory’s face, then her neck. The pegasus’ eyes roved over her once again, and then met her own. Ivory opened her mouth, and just let it hang there. What just happened?

“My name’s Tradewinds. No title, just a buisinessmare. What’s yours?” The pegasus just plowed right forward. Her eyes stared off into the greenery, no longer looking at Ivory. She had scored a point and now mounted an effective defense. Ivory wasn’t used to coming out behind in social exchanges.

“Ivory Keys. Marquise of Rubiton.” Ivory leaned on the banister next to Tradewinds, attempting nonchalance. “Do you need a quick rundown on titles? I can explain if you do, though I doubt it matters much to you who funds your business ventures, no?”

“First off, rude. Second, hang on.” Tradewinds seemed to do some quick math in her head. “So that’d make you. . . But wait, you can’t be that old-”

“I am twenty, for the record.” Ivory sipped her champagne. “Go on, you’ve clearly studied well for this encounter. You’re really selling me on the fact that you are not selling me something.”

“. . . Your mom is the duchess?” Tradewinds said, after a long pause. 

“You almost seem sincerely ignorant.” Ivory laughed, draining the rest of her glass. “It was entertaining. Thanks for the brief relief from boredom, but I fear I must refill my glass, so, goodbye.”

“Hold up, if that’s the problem-” Tradewinds took a step closer, a rakish grin conquering her features. “Why don’t we just blow this taco stand? I’ve always wanted to be the legionnaire in shining armor, and you’re basically a princess, right? We could reenact a fairy tale!”

“What?” It was such a bizarre thing to say that Ivory burst out laughing. It was all she could do to stay upright as she gasped for breath. “That was terrible and made no sense on every level. What, exactly, was that mixup of racial lore supposed to be? A pickup line?”

“Well,” Tradewinds scooped up one of Ivory’s hooves, caressing it gently with her wingtips. Ivory’s laughter faded, blush returning in full force. “It made you laugh, didn’t it? Come with me and I promise that whatever else, you won’t be bored.”

“I-I can’t. Mother has servants watching the doors.” Ivory sighed. “Not that I’m even agreeing, mind you!”

“Who said anything about doors?” Tradewinds flexed her wings, grinning. “Have you ever flown with a pegasus before?”


=======


Vinyl stirred. A stabbing lance of sunlight struck her, and some sort of grunt emerged from her. She sucked in a breath, and rolled away from the sun. The movement awakened her awareness of her body, and she gagged. Her stomach was in open revolt, churning and writhing like it was trying to escape. Her head and hooves throbbed with waves of pain, and the rest of her body felt like she had been hit all over with hammers. 

More importantly though, she needed a bucket. Like, right the buck now. Her eyes scanned the room, and her magic snagged one. Too late. Thankfully, it seems like her stomach was mostly empty, and she spat out only the remaining alcohol and acid. It burned her already charcoaled throat, and she groaned, quietly. This was a bad morning. One of the worst she could remember, probably. Top five, at least. She dry heaved a few more times, then wiped her muzzle with a hoof, getting a nice dusting of dried mud over it in the process. Blech.

With the most pressing issue out of the way, she began to take stock of where she was. Judging from the second, unused bed, the horrible decor and the really old TV, she was in a motel. Vinyl poked her head into the bathroom and closets for good measure. So, she was alone in a motel. Good start. Now she just had to figure out where the motel was, and if she’d been alone the whole time.

Vinyl began to try and coax back her memories, like coaxing back a cat you had scared under a couch. Headache and hangover aside, her head was filled with something not unlike molasses, maybe related to exhaustion or hunger, or both, which made it very difficult. Last night remained an utter blur, though memories of Octavia’s disdain last week, unfortunately, came back first. How many times was she going to fall for this? Fortunately, concern overpowered heartbreak in this moment, and she was able to shove Octavia from her mind, where she would hopefully stay.

She made to take a peek past the ugly brown-red curtains, but the glare of the sunlight stopped her cold. Maybe hold off on that. She decided to hunt for her phone instead, which was thankfully there, on the bedside table. It was unlikely, then, that she was in real trouble. Her saddlebags were next, tucked away in a closet neatly. There were bits, her cards and such still in there, as well as four tiny glowing bottles. Well, very doubtful anyone had robbed her either, not and left all that.

She was about to give up on this when she spotted one of those little racks of pamphlets, a little all-you-can-eat of tourist traps. All of them had one thing in common: Las Pegasus. Her legs threatened to give out again. How the heck had she gotten all the way here? Did she have a gig? She honestly wasn’t sure. It had been a bad week. She’d be the first to admit it. But she’d never actually woken up in Las Pegasus before. It seemed like the punchline to a half-joke. She fervently hoped she hadn’t gotten married during her blackout.

Some half-and-half-pragmatic-and-idiotic part of her brain suggested starting with a shower. Weird sleeping places aside, she was a mess. Her coat was matted, her hooves were muddy. Not to mention the vomit. And it’d be that much easier to get up and face the day if she treated it like any other day. Depressingly, this really wasn’t that out of the realm of normal for her. Did she have a problem?

That pleasant thought hounding her, she slipped into the bathroom, locking it up tight and ensorcering the door and window for good measure. There was a new toothbrush and paste in the sink, and a bottle of her favorite mane and tail shampoo. Huh. What? Whoever had dumped her here knew her, at least. Was that good or bad?

Whatever. It was here, she’d make the best of it. She cranked the temperature up as high as it would go and stood underneath it like every heroine in every bad romance. The thought made her chuckle. The scalding water unkinked her coat, and began to massage away some of the aches and pains of whatever she had been doing. WIth the aches fading, she began to feel the exhaustion in full. She was curious, but every time she thought back towards the past week, Octavia’s specter raised its angry gray head, and she retreated. 

Unfortunately, even this crappy shower had that weird magic that showers have, the ones that make a pony get all introspective and junk. Vinyl’s jerk of a brain, being denied access to recent memories, cast further back, and teased Vinyl with her half remembered dreams. Vinyl shuddered, despite the heat. She’d dreamed of Tr- Of Tr- Tradewinds? Her brain fought itself in a three round cagematch just thinking of the name. Princesses alive, she was an absolute disaster, wasn’t she? She closed her eyes, and tried to empty her thoughts. . . empty them like a big ol’ bottle of whiskey. . .


=======


“Dang, filly. I didn’t know you could shake it like that!” Tradewinds wheezed as the pair of them bellied up to the bar, panting. Ivory laughed as well, breathless. She hadn’t known it either, but she wasn’t about to say that. Ballroom hadn’t really translated, except for a sense of rhythm. Tradewinds pushed a hoof twice towards the roof and winked at the barmare, who started pouring them another round. A double.

“I find myself really enjoying this music.” Ivory mused, looking around at the club. It wasn’t packed, but it was busy. “It’s rhythmic, but complex. I’m thinking some kind of zebran influences? Zebran and old pegasi drum music perhaps?”

“Buck if I know,” Tradewinds tossed back her double, and shook her head with a wince. Her eyes surveyed the crowd. “I just like shaking my flank.”

“That makes sense. You are kind of a slut.” Ivory smirked. She covered her eyes as a strobe light hit them directly. “I’m not sure about all these bucking lights though. They give me a headache.” Tradewinds rolled her eyes, and flicked a pair of round sunglasses off a snoozing drunk with her wingtip, catching them on the other wing and passing them to Vinyl.

“There, problem solved. And you get a cool accessory at the same time,” She chuckled, covering the act with a stretch of the wings. “Spice up that bland look.”

“What kind of idiot wears sunglasses inside?” Ivory put them on anyway. They were slightly purple tinted, which did help, actually. Made the light show rather pleasant, in fact. “Besides, these don’t fit. Put them back. If you want to give me a gift, you should buy it.”

“You’re little miss moneybags over there. Buy your own glasses.” Tradewinds seized another drink, swirling the amber liquid without taking a sip. She glanced sideways at Ivory through lidded eyes. “You ready to get back out there?”

“Maybe, but tell me something first.” Ivory slammed her own drink and stared Tradewinds in the eye. “You must have figured out by now that Mother doesn’t even like me. You aren’t going to get anywhere with her by buttering me up or sneaking me out. Yet this is the third time you’ve done it. Why are you still doing it?”

“Why?” Trade turned to face her, a feather pressed thoughtfully under her chin. “Is it so hard to think I just like you?  Not a title or a bag of money, but you, the pony?”

“Yes.” Ivory said, bluntly. She rapped a hoof on the bar for another drink. Nopony here bothered to check her ID, which was lucky. “Nopony is ever friends with me for no reason. They always want something.”

“Buck. You need therapy, Ives.” Trade gave her a sympathetic look, which turned slightly sinister as she leaned in. “I guess I wont say I don’t want anything from you. I know you said you weren’t interested in romance, but I gotta admit I kinda am.”

“With another mare?” Ivory turned away, hiding her blush.

“Gotta tell you, Canterlot toffs are the only ponies in Equestria that make a big deal out of that.” Tradewinds scoffed. “Nopony else cares. Yeah, I like mares. Back home that’s about as noteworthy as being left hooved. Maybe less, cos it’s more common.”

“I see.” Ivory sipped the new drink. Her head was pleasantly buzzing now, all the better not to think too closely about that fact. It would make her mad, most likely.

“I see. . . you being evasive.” Tradewinds prowled around her to get back in her field of vision, a grin sneaking on her muzzle. “I’m whispering sweet nothings here. What do you think?”

“I think. . .” Ivory couldn’t help but giggle. “I think you need to try a little harder. I am used to rather extravagant flirtations, after all. You’ll need to really work for it.” 

“Literally throwing rocks at your window and sneaking you out like a Shakeshoof play isn’t good enough?” Tradewinds cast a wing dramatically over her forehead. “You’re killing me, Scratch.”

“Scratch?”

“Yeah, like, y’know, money? And that classic line?” Tradewinds sighed. “They can’t all be winners, alright? But I like nicknames.”

“Scratch.” Ivory turned the word over in her mouth. She kinda liked it. Maybe not with those connotations, but. . . Something to think about. “I don’t get that reference, but I’ll accept the nickname.”

“Nice!” Tradewinds puffed up, like a lake effect cloud. As she turned smugly away, Ivory snuck a little kiss onto her cheek, and was nearly knocked off her stool as the pegasi’s wings sprang to attention. Ivory felt her own blush intensify, heat spreading through her whole body-


=====


Vinyl yelped as the water pouring on her turned ice cold. Very awake all of a sudden, she  fumbled with her magic for the tap, breathing a sigh of relief as she shut it off. Great. That was just what she needed. All of her muscles that had relaxed somewhat from the heat were back to the enraged state they had been in when she woke up. And her headache was back too. Great. 

She scuffed herself dry with magic and one of the towels stacked by the closet, which was surprisingly fluffy and nice. She shook out her mane as best she could, trying to keep the short side from flaring out too bad. She’d be a mess either way but she could at least try and be a hot mess. She wandered idly to her bags as she ran the towel over her head, hoping she’d find some painkillers.

“Hey. I, uh, brought breakfast.” A voice. Familiar. One she’d heard just moments ago in her dream. The towel ceased moving. Vinyl’s hoof froze midstep. Her bags dropped to the floor with a thud. Her horn sparked and went out, leaving her blind under the towel, and happy about it. There’s no way. That was just her imagination. She was still tripping or something. She’d totally cracked. Something.

She took a few shallow breaths, counted to ten. Set her hoof down before she fell over. Delayed a little more. Thought about hoofball. Finally pulled the towel off her head. Did she want to be proven right? Or wrong? She glanced over.

Tradewinds sat on the other bed. A grease stained paper bag by her side, and a tablet on the bed in front of her. She had matured. Her youthful charm had been sharpened and developed into a mare in her prime, her curves padded out a little, her wings larger and glossier, her mane clipped a little shorter, a pinch of sharp makeup. Vinyl felt the bile rise in her stomach again, and she seized the same trash can, wheezing into it. 

Unfortunately, there was nothing left in her to reject, and she was forced to set it down, and face her ex. 

“Greasy food’s supposed to be good for. . . that.” Tradewinds said. She nudged the bag closer with a wing. Her eyes were fixed just above Vinyl’s head, like she wanted to look at her but couldn’t. “Seems like you had a rough one, so-”

“What,” Vinyl said, or rather screamed, surprising herself. Her voice ripped loose like a living creature, a poorly trained dog tugging its owner down a trail after a cat. “Are you doing here?! Why am I  here? Did you. . . Did you kidnap me?”

“What? Whoa! No!” Tradewinds leaped up, and hovered backwards a few wingbeats. “I was looking out for you, I-”

“I don’t want jack from you!” Vinyl realized her horn was sparking, a gleaming barrier brandished before her. Years of magic self defense classes acting on their own. She was less her own pony and more a mishmash of wild instincts. “What are you taking that you would possibly-”

“You texted me!” Tradewinds shouted back, a note of pleading in her voice. She hovered close to the ceiling, out of easy reach. “You said you needed help, and from what I saw, you really did. You want me to leave? Fine, I will. But I came because you asked, Vi.”

“Don’t-” Vinyl’s voice cracked. A tear leaked from her eye and she evaporated it with a spark of magic. “Don’t call me that. I didn’t mean to text you, believe me. I’d rather sleep in a ditch than talk to you.”

“That’s fair. I get it.” Trade settled to the ground, gently. She stayed away, eyes still tracking the air above Vinyl’s head. “You just seemed like you were- Well, you know. On a bender. You okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sun-cursed peachy.” Vinyl snapped, vaporizing every tear that dared escape from her traitorous eyes. It was a full time job. “Just got dumped again by another insane, jealous mare for an incredibly stupid reason. Sound familiar?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Trade said. Her voice was quiet. Her hoof traced a shape idly on the carpet. Vinyl waited for a snip or quip, but she didn’t continue. That, somehow, made her even angrier.

“Oh yes, unfortunate.” Vinyl spread her hooves, as if preparing to charge the pegasus. “It must have been so unfortunate getting free money for your stupid buisiness. How much did mother offer you again?”

“It was a lot.” Tradewinds scuffed the ground. “But it was my dream, Vinyl. Would you have given up music for me?”

“That’s a load of horseapples!” Vinyl shouted again, her voice giving out midway through ‘apples’. It did not return. “False dichotomy! You didn’t need her money, just like I didn’t! I proved it! You could have made it work just fine! I wouldn’t have dumped you for bits!”

“I’m not you, Vinyl!” Tradewinds was shouting now as well. “I’m not smart or skilled or lucky! I don’t have your talent. Even without your mother or her money you’re a bloody genius! I’m just a nopony!”

“You were enough!” Vinyl wheezed, hunching over as her exhaustion rose to claim her, sinking its claws into her muscles, her mind. Her horn flickered out. “You were funny, and you were kind, and you were mine. Now you’re hers.”

“I’m not hers, Vinyl. I never was.” Tradewinds took a hesitant step forward. “I could be yours again, if you want. I never stopped, as far as I was concerned.”

“As if I could trust you again.” Vinyl whispered. Her tears were dry now, as was her anger. All that was left was charcoal in her soul, and a wry grin on her muzzle. “Nopony wants Vinyl Scratch because of Vinyl Scratch. That’s just as true now as it was when I was Marquise Ivory Keys. Mother, you, Stellar, even Octy. You want money or status or some platonic ideal of Vinyl Scratch, not me, the pony.” She and Tradewinds finally locked eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment. 

“You have money to get home?” Tradewinds asked, finally. 

“Yep.”

“Alrighty. I’ll pay up here for the room, so, have a safe trip.” She opened the door, pausing midway out. “You have my number, obviously. . . Maybe someday you’ll let me prove you wrong.” 

Vinyl collected her stuff quickly, and scampered out after. She didn’t look around. She kept her eyes on the pavement. There was a part of her, a tiny, miserable part of her, that would gladly take Tradewinds back. Of course, that part of her also whined about making up with mother, or Octy. And even if Tradewinds was wrong about everything else in her sorry life, she was right about this.

There was one thing Vinyl would never trade, not for gold nor jewels nor love. Her life.
> Octavia, Chapter 7: Composition of the Heart
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The wedding, naturally, was not perfect. In classic fashion, strong winds blew in from the Everfree at the eleventh hour, carrying away many of the banners and streamers. Someone had fallen asleep midway through the cooking of the main course, and as such each guest received a heaping helping of charcoal with the rest of the meal. Worse yet, the podium sank slightly in the mud overnight, such that the ceremony took place at an angle, and the brides’ dresses were smeared.

None of that mattered. 

Cinnamon giggled her way through a set of vows that she may have ad-libbed to suit the situation. A few of them had puns. Blossom wept with joy to hear them, and even Cadance was spotted dabing away a tear as she declared them wed, and bid them kiss. The two shone so bright the sun dimmed in comparison. The rest of Ponyville came together under Princess Twilight and her friends, organizing a brand new batch of food, which hit tables just before the toast was due to be given with a mug of hot spiced cider.

After that was the party. Manehattan Music award winner Fiddly Twang treated them to a lively dance set. Cask upon cask of the Apple family’s finest were tapped. Octavia danced her hooves down to nubs. Her cheeks ached from smiling. The celebrations carried on into the evening, only breaking up when dangerous looking rain clouds began to be pushed in by the local pegasi. The brides and their families took the dregs of the party into the cozy living room to watch the rain fall. 

The cider came with them, of course. Applejack and Octavia had hustled the barrels inside, tucking them on every available kitchen surface. It was a tight squeeze, but they managed it without getting too soaked. Octavia was now nestled into a heap of cushions by the fire, a steaming mug before her, a pleasant buzz in her head. An exhausted Blossom snored softly, her coiffed mane unraveling as she leaned against Cinnamon’s flank. Cinnamon herself was chattering away with Rocky. Mother was working on the crossword, as always, having set a crackling jazz record to play. Octavia smiled to see the old record player still kicking. After all, it had inspired her own career, so many years ago.

Applejack reentered the room, a trio of mugs balanced on her back. She settled down on a blanket of her own opposite Octavia. The largest mug quickly disappeared in a blur of sky blue, as Miss Dash seized it, practically bouncing with anticipation. She sighed with delight after the first sip, drifting down like a feather to drape herself over the Earth pony. Miss Rarity was more dignified, carefully lifting her own and Applejack’s mug with magic before settling down next to her, hooves tucked beneath her. As one, the two mares planted kisses on each of Applejack’s cheeks.

“Thank you kindly, Darling.” Rarity said, giving Applejack a careful nuzzle. She had already drawn blood with her overly-filed horn once this evening. 

“Yeah, thanks for bringing out the good stuff!” Dash was anything but careful, plopping herself down on her back, head whacking into Applejack’s midriff with a snicker. For all her vaunted taste for cider, Dash seemed to be quite a lightweight. Or she had drunk more than Octavia had seen. Or, more likely, both.

“Yow! Watch that thick skull of yers, Rainbow!” Applejack groused, pulling her hat down over her face to hide her rosy blush. “Between you breakin’ my bones an’ Rare impalin’ me with that dang thing, I’ll be lucky to survive the evenin’.”

“I’ll impale you all right.” Rainbow chuckled to herself, taking another large gulp of cider. Rarity and Applejack rolled their eyes, though Octavia chuckled. 

“This is all your fault, you know.” Rarity harrumphed loudly in Octavia’s direction, though she could not fully suppress her smile. “None of us would be stuck with each other had you not taken me along on your ill-fated spying mission.”

“Oh yes, truly.” Octavia drawled. Her accent was peeking through, but for the first time in a long time, she did not care. “My spyin’ mission, of course. Definitely wasn’t ya’ll’s idea, Miss Rare. An’ now look at ya. You are really suffering, I can tell.” 

“Dude, you-” Rainbow cut off, succumbing to another bout of drunken giggles. She rolled around, wings flailing for a moment before recovering enough to speak. “The look on your face was priceless! Didja think I was that hot drunk filly catching you peeping?” She lost herself to laughter again.

“I cannot imagine why I would think you were Vinyl.” Octavia deadpanned. “Since you are clearly not drunk. Or attractive.”

“Yeah, thats- hey!”

“That’s enough outta you, Dash. Leave the poor gal alone. You ain’t exactly Cassanova over there yerself.” Applejack whacked Rainbow with her tail. Rainbow seized it with her hooves, hugging the tight-tied tail like a stuffed animal. Octavia smiled. Applejack put a hoof to her chin. “Come to think of it, we used to always be buttin’ heads too. You reckon that’s the key to romance?”

“Ugh, I should hope not. Although I suppose no small number of romantic novels include that in the premise-” Rarity considered, looking somewhat mortified. “. . . That cannot be a universal thing, can it?”

“Can say for sure it’s not.” Cinnamon chimed in, with a mischievous grin. “Blossom and I weren’t ever fighting like that. I was proper romantic, helpin’ with chores and flexin’ my legs, no fighting needed.”

“No reason to not do both.” Octavia took a long sip from her mug, savoring Cinnamon’s namesake cider. “You should wed a pony-or ponies- that both compliments and challenges you, to keep you at your best, no?”

“Oh, look at the expert over here. Heads up Princess Cadance, Octavia is coming for your job!” Rainbow chuckled, pointing an accusatory hoof in Octavia’s general direction. “Have you ever even kissed a mare before?”

“Rainbow, you can’t just-”

“Naturally.” Octavia said, evenly. Every head swiveled to look at her. She took another sip, and did not continue, closing her eyes and humming instead. One did not simply tease Octavia Melody without getting taunted in return. The silence stretched. Rarity was the first to crack.

“And?” She said, pointedly.

“We were at the conservatory. We split up to focus on our studies. It was mutual.” Octavia said, to a collective groan. “She was a wonderful pianist though. Perhaps I have a type.”

“. . . Great. Yep, you’re definitely an expert.” Rainbow tipped her empty mug up, catching a few stray drops on her tongue. “Did you even, you know-”

“I reckon that’s enough cider for you, Dash.” Applejack cut her off, swatting the mug from her grip with a swish of her tail.  

“I think we all wish to know the answer, though~” The ruddiness of Rarity’s white fur betrayed her own intoxication as she bounced her eyebrows at Octavia.

“That was most of what we did, actually.” Octavia chuckled, evidently tipsy enough herself to not be embarrassed by such talk. “We had little time or money for dates and sweeping romance, but there were plenty of hidden nooks around the school. It was romantic, in a way, but likely not in the sense most ponies mean.”

“It sounds romantic to me, like a forbidden love, perhaps?” Rarity considered, hoof to chin. “I could see it on shelves, if the writer was talented enough. ‘Amor in Allegro’, perhaps?”

“If anypony would know romance novels, it’d probably be you, Rare.” Applejack gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek.

“Forget that, I wanna hear the juicy details!” Dash said, though the rosy blush on her cheeks said otherwise.

“She was a pianist. That’s all I will or need say on the matter.” Octavia could not fully suppress a snicker, and Rarity joined her. Rainbow blinked and thought for a moment before blushing.

 “Apropos of nothing, I should really get home to my husband.” Cadance smiled slyly and stood up. She had consumed a greater quantity of cider than any of them, but she did not seem even a pinch unsteady on her hooves. “It was wonderful to be part of such a delightful moment, and to spend time with both of your families.” Octavia wrapped her in a tight hug, hoping to wordlessly convey how much the Princess had helped her. Cadance squeezed her in return, and departed. 

“I’m gonna hit the hay m’self.” Winter Root yawned, tossing aside the newspaper. “Ya’ll should get your overworked wife to bed there too, Cin. Rest of you kids have fun. Gotta get rid of all this cider I bought somehow.”

“Please, ma’am. It’s on us.” Applejack tipped her hat forward. “You were good friends of my folks, an’ now you’re kin too.” Winter grumbled, but did not protest outright. Rainbow Dash lifted all four of her hooves into the air.

“Woo! Free Cider! Get me another, barmare!” She cheered.

“You definitely don’t need any more.” Applejack rolled her eyes, but smiled. Rarity chuckled and gracefully wobbled to her hooves, collecting the mugs with magic that shimmered in the dim room. Rocky slipped off the couch to join Octavia in her blanket nest by the fire.

“How’s your song coming along?” She asked, wriggling herself deeper into the pile. “I heard a few snips while I was heading to the bathroom last night.”

“Technically it’s a sonata.” Octavia put a hoof around her sister. “And it is progressing well. The first two movements are completed. The third is the hardest, since it is to convey my feelings in the present. . . Ahem. Yes, it’s going well.”

“It’s gonna be great.” 

“It may be the best piece I have written in a good while.” Octavia gave Rocky a squeeze.

“Why don’t you play it for us then, darling?” Rarity returned, with two full mugs and a half filled third. She passed the latter to Dash, who didn’t seem to notice, but nodded along with her words. “Perhaps that will shake loose some creative cobwebs”

“That’d be awesome, dude.” Rainbow chimed in. 

“I do not know about that.” Octavia hesitated, holding up a hoof to see if it wavered. “I have had rather a good amount to drink. It would likely be a rather imperfect performance.”

“Don’t know if ya noticed, Octavia, but perfect ain’t really anything a thing can be.” Applejack said, bluntly. “Yer music is real pretty, though, an’ we ain’t critics, just a group of yer friends.”

“Well then.” Octavia was somewhat taken aback.

“She does this. Don’t mind her.” Dash said, ineffectively trying to knock over an unmoving Applejack. “C’mon now, we’re all waiting! We know you’re a gold medal at this stuff, give us a show!”

“Fine! Fine. If you insist.” Octavia fetched her cello and other accouterments, while everypony else took up box seats on the rickety couch. Octavia rested the cello against a chair while she set up a small speaker, attached to her phone. She hadn’t been able to do much electronically, but it felt insufficient to use only what she was comfortable with. Reaching out to another pony, especially in love, meant stepping out of one’s comfort zone. She should do no less musically, if she was to convey what she intended.

She pressed play. It was then a race to get stood up next to her cello. One hindered by her substance intake. She did manage it, though, just in time. She began to play. The first few bars were rough, and her hooves threatened disobedience. But then the beat picked up, and she fell in step with it. The electronic accompaniment was quick, almost frantic, and she wove between it. Alternating quick notes to match, and longer held to contrast. It was mildly discordant, and with reason. It spoke to her first meetings with Vinyl, the turbulence that surrounded them, the arguments, the anger. And yet, the curiosity, the feeling that perhaps they had similarities. That spark that had prompted them to keep clashing. She closed her eyes, allowing scenes to flash through her mind as she played, her hoof delicately pinching each string.

She slowed for the second, reflecting the relative peace that had begun to form between them. A more resonant baseline, to show Vinyl’s growing presence in her life. The discordant themes faded, replaced by neat, elegant sweeps and quick series of building melodies. This part was the hardest to play, her bow ankle growing sore with the alternating rapid and long movements. This was the middle stage. They weren’t fully in harmony, not yet, but something was growing, be it rivalry or friendship. The melody rose and fell in swells, the ups and downs of any new relationship, the electronic elements and the cello growing more in sync as it progressed. It rose to a crescendo, speaking to her own newly discovered feelings. Abruptly, it ended. The baseline fell away, leaving only Octavia’s cello, playing softly, slowly fading into silence.

“. . . That’s how it ends?” Rainbow spoke into the silence, her eyes wide. “That- That sucks!” She was so on the nose that Octavia burst out laughing. 

“Yes. . . Yes it does.” She allowed herself to slump against her instrument, her bow slipping from her numb hoof.

“Reckon that was sorta the point, Dash.” Applejack bumped the pegasus, tipping her on her side. “Y’know, symbolic.”

“It is marvelous.” Rarity had a silken handkerchief in her magical grip, gently wiping away at her eyes. It came away black with eyeliner. “Emotional, full of meaning, and from the heart. Miss Melody, you are a true talent.”

“Save that praise for when and if it is successful.” Octavia gently tucked her instrument back into its case. She ran a hoof over the wood grain. “I am still unsure where to take it from there.”

“Well duh.” Rocky said, to thunderous silence. She blinked, and looked around at everypony else. “Well, maybe the next one, you need her to help you with. It’s supposed to be about you together, right?”

“. . . Duh, indeed.” 
> Vinyl, Chapter 8: Compromising Positions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sorry colts and especially fillies, I think if I do another encore, they’ll actually kick me out!” Vinyl called, her hoarse voice amped up with magic to be heard over her music. “So thank you, and good night!” She hopped down from the stage. The Bubble she had taken before the show had mostly worn off, but gravity still pulled on her more like a suggestion than a demand, and she had been easily able to hoist herself around with magic during the show. Which was good, because her hooves were crazy sore, and no amount of potion-fueled euphoria would drown out their complaints any more. She loved dancing, but it was much easier to just flop like a ragdoll in her own magical grip at this point.

Vinyl had been playing shows basically nonstop. Part of that was the garden party shaped hole in her finances. The other was that, well, any downtime at all was basically an invitation for disaster. When she wasn’t playing live, she booked studios and got hype going around a new album so she couldn’t back out of doing one. Her latest had only just hit shelves and digital distributions, but whatever. Whatever filled the hours. When even that well ran dry. . . Well. Disaster. Either mental gymnastics that tied her in knots and left her miserable, or the usual cause-and-answer to all her problems.

Crossed Wires gave her a high hoof as the two swapped places, Vinyl heading backstage to rest and Wires onstage to start packing up. The filly had really been blossoming over these weeks they’d been working together. Vinyl had been busy enough to hire two other fillies to help with her equipment, since she’d taken to bringing the keyboard with her too, and Wires, ‘Wired’ as she went by now, had stepped up to show them the ropes. She’d also shaved half her mane, painted her face up, and grown out her tail. It was a really good look, honestly. If Wired wasn’t firmly in the ‘daughter’ category, Vinyl would have been all about it. As it was, Vinyl just gave the fillies following Wired a hard mom look. They wilted appropriately and kept their eyes clear of her flank. Good.

Vinyl collapsed onto a couch in the greenroom. It was sorta gross, just like the bar it was in, but not gross enough to overpower her tiredness. She tucked the jacket she had been wearing under her head and willed herself to pass out. Unfortunately, she was still too full of adrenaline for that, yet way, way too tired to get up. Oh well. She supposed she could just lie here forever until she starved. That was probably fine.

“Iv- Vinyl.”

That got her up.

“Mother.” Vinyl said, trying her hardest to keep her voice even. She blinked repeatedly, as if she’d been hit with a bright light. “Uh, you’re here, physically? That’s. . . Very unexpected, I’m going to be honest.”

Harpsichord Delight, old Harpy, was a small pony, but her presence filled a room like the stench from a rotten egg. She wore an elegant half dress, short enough to stay off the ground, but far too formal for any not-wealthy-enough-to-have-a-personal-tailor pony to wear around town, especially to a dive bar. Epaulets draped over her shoulders, and two golden chains with attached ruby and emerald teardrops were tied between the buttons on her chest and her right shoulder. Her mane and tail were luxuriously long, long enough to drape along the ground were they not tied up in elaborate knots and bound with gold chain and gemstones. Two stallions flanked her, standing demurely four hoofsteps back. One was a large earth pony, the family butler, Salt and Pepper. The other-

“Dad!” Vinyl straight up gasped. She rushed forward, twisting her hooves around to wrap him in a hug, which he returned in force. The two of them balanced precariously against each other for a long moment.

“Vinyl.” He said, smiling. Comet Tail was a taller Canterlot breed unicorn, willowy, kept slim and trim by a regimented light exercise and diet routine. Definitely didn’t look old enough to have a daughter Vinyl’s age. Each time Vinyl saw him, the apparent age gap between him and Harpy seemed to grow, which made her laugh. She gave him a final squeeze and stepped back.

“Good to see you too, Salt and Pepper.” Vinyl said, nodding at the butler. That much wasn’t a lie at least, he’d always been nice to her.

“My lady.” He bowed, his rich voice rumbling like a sweet baseline. “A pleasure, as always.”

“How was the charity season, pops?” Vinyl said, eying Harpy out of the corner of her eye. She was being remarkably patient by not immediately shutting down any non-her-centric conversation, which was weird as heck. 

“Both enjoyable and productive.” Dad said, with a genuine smile. “The Element of Generosity did a Canterlot tour not too long ago, and seems to have inspired ponies.”

“Hey, that’s awesome!” 

“How are you, sweetheart?” His eyes held worry. He would never come right out and say it, but he had been worried about her ever since Harpy kicked her out. Maybe even before.

“Ah you know. Keeping busy.” Vinyl smiled.

“Maybe a little too busy, hmm?” He ruffled her hair gently with a touch of magic.

“Indeed” Harpy interrupted. Apparently that was as far as her fragile patience would stretch. “It’s rather inspiring, save for some of these locales. Still, I have heard rumors of another album, and the sales figures for your latest release are inspiring. It seems you have really made something of yourself.”

“Against all odds?” Vinyl smiled, wryly. She adjusted her shades to better block out the view of her mother. It didn’t work as well as she’d hoped, Harpy having the same piercing ruby stare that Vinyl herself did.

“I didn’t say that.” Harpy’s voice was coated in audible plausible deniability. 

“It’s fine, I know what you meant. And I appreciate the compliment.” Vinyl moved back towards the couch, magically fiddling with her headphones in a clear ‘buck you’ manner. “But if it’s nothing urgent, I could really use a nap. I have a few minutes left before my techs finish up, and then I’m probably getting on a train somewhere.”

“Your next show is also here in Canterlot. I researched this before I came here.” Harpy brushed a speck of dust from her epaulets. “I have a proposition for you, while you are in town.”

“Uh oh. And you brought Dad because. . ?”

“Because this concerns the whole family. I invited Inkwell, but she is away on royal business.” Harpy took a sharp breath, as if she had stepped on a nail, and spoke quickly. “I am considering rescinding your disinheritance.”

That got Vinyl’s attention. 

“. . . Are you sick, or something?” She asked. Harpy could have told her Celestia was going to snuff out the sun, and that would have been less surprising to her. Vinyl wouldn’t have thought there was a force on earth that would get her to change her mind on that. It kinda pissed her off, honestly. She lived on the streets for months, and now that she was starting to make her own future, she wanted to give it back? 

“I am not sick. Though your concern is touching. I appreciate it.” Harpy said, cold as winter. “If I may return the sentiment, is it true that your arrangement with Octavia Melody has been terminated?” That statement hit Vinyl like a punch to the gut. She had just managed to scrub Octy from her mind, and now this.

“Yes.” She said. Her voice came out hoarse, like the no good traitor that it was. 

“Unfortunate. But perhaps not unexpected.” Harpy nodded. She motioned to Salt and Pepper, who began opening a small briefcase. He constantly looked like he was about to break it to pieces. Harpy continued. “Your indiscretions with her when you were intended to spend time with Silver did not escape me, however I found myself more pleased that you were independently spending time with a proper partner than irritated with your proclivities. It caused me, with some difficulty, to combat my own disfavor for compromise.”

“That’s one way to say it, I guess. If you want to say as little as possible with the most amount of words.” Vinyl chuckled, and accepted the opened briefcase. It was chock full of those little tabbed folders in two neat stacks, each with a name on it in gold letters and an inked image of a cutie mark. “What the heck is this?”

“My compromise.” Harpy said. “Inside you will find dossiers on potential partners. All appropriate partners for the future Duchess of North Canterlot. The mares, this time.”

“Huh.” Vinyl opened the first one. It was pretty boilerplate. Nice photograph of a pretty mare, mane a little too neat. Some basic information about her family, hobbies and talent. Pretty standard flirtations as far as nobility goes. She returned the folder to the briefcase and closed it. “I admit, it’s not what I expected, not even a little bit. I can take a look, at least.”

“As for your end of this compromise,” Harpy continued on, with all the grace of a rogue carriage pulled by a bull, smashing through a china shop and the orphanage next door. “You will  select and court a partner, either from this collection or one I have approved, and you will be reinstated as Heiress. If you do not do so, not only will the disinheritance be retained formally, but you will additionally be legally compelled to return the tens of thousands of bits I have given you over the years for services that were not rendered. Along with appropriate compounding interest. I have three accountants working out the precise details now, but it is safe to assume it will not be an insignificant amount.”

Vinyl sat down, hard. Her already over tired brain tried to work out exactly what that would mean for her finances. Not that she had a snowball's chance in the Sun. If it was taking three appropriately marked ponies on Harpy’s payroll to figure it out. . . Sweet unholy moon and the cursed stars above it. She had no idea how bad it could get, and that was the scariest thing. 

“There’s the mom I know and love.” She managed to say, after a long moment. She wasn’t sure Harpy had blinked once in that time. “Just out of curiosity, did you buy out Tradewinds because you hadn’t yet gotten to the compromise stage of your life yet, or was it because she wasn’t worthy or whatever?”

“Column A, Column B.” Harpy said, coolly. “In addition, her venture did turn out to be profitable. A worthwhile investment on all fronts. I still do not approve of her as a partner, if you were considering-”

“Trust me, I wasn’t.” Vinyl hauled herself to her feet, her exhaustion from before was nothing compared to what she felt now. “I’ll look. That’s all I’m promising. I have one or two ideas of my own, maybe.”

“Very good.” Harpy smiled, for the first time. “I look forward to a successful courtship. You seem to have no difficulty with that, at the very least.” She stretched out a hoof for a hug, which Vinyl gave, very, very, reluctantly.

“Are we good?” Vinyl said, weakly. “Because I think I could really use my nap now.”

“I believe we have accomplished what we set out to do. Thank you for your efforts, Vinyl.” Harpy turned on her heels and marched out. Vinyl hugged her dad real quick before he trotted after her. Salt and Pepper followed dutifully, as always. 

Vinyl slunk back to the gross couch and dropped back onto it. Unfortunately, she was still the perfect combination of exhausted and keyed up to do little except suffer furiously. After adjusting position for about the eighth time, she pulled out her phone. She wasn’t sleeping anyway. Might as well find something to do. And despite everything, there was really only one pony she could call right now.


====


“I really needed that.” Vinyl flopped over onto her flank, nuzzling her head into Astral Brilliance’s shoulder. Astral chuffed breathlessly, and wrapped her hooves around Vinyl, digging their tips gently into her shoulder muscles. Between that and the natural, almost worrisome level of body heat coming off the pony, Vinyl felt like she was melting slowly into mush. But it was a dang nice, satisfied kind of mush.

“It surprised me to receive a call back from the infamously amourous Vinyl Scratch. It seems like you have had a hard day. Perhaps a hard week, or hard month, too?” Astral murmured, working her hooves in circles that widened, tracing the outlines of Vinyls shoulder blades. “I believe the average rock is less tense than you are at the moment.”

“Would it be too melodramatic to say I’ve had a hard life? Ow!” Vinyl yelped as the probing hooves found a particularly large knot and dug into it. “Apparently yes, huh?”

“You have certainly been busy lately. I regret that I could not make it to more of your shows.” Astral tipped Vinyl over onto her stomach, the better to get at her back. 

“Your duties keeping you busy?” Vinyl stifled some kind of embarrassing noise. Dang, filly knew her massages.

“Part of what drew me to your style of music is the late hour at which it is often performed. That’s a blessing when you only regularly get free time at night.” Astral leaned her whole weight on Vinyl, pushing the breath out of her in a whump. “Obviously I have since grown fond of it for other reasons.”

“You-” Vinyl wheezed, trying to suck in enough air for a laugh. “You’re really bad at this whole flirting thing.”

“I’ve been told that. A lot, actually. I should probably try and learn.” Astral chuckled, letting up on the pressure, her hooves now dancing lightly up and down Vinyl’s spine. “Not that it stopped you from calling me, hmm?”

“Sorry if I interrupted work or whatevs. Didn’t expect you to call back when I got the hard hang up.” Vinyl hummed contentedly. She could almost forget about her mother. Almost. At least she might be able to sleep after this. “What do you do, anyway?”

“I’m a bureaucrat.” Astral said. It was a quick answer, the kind of quick that probably meant it was a practiced lie. Vinyl chuckled. Astral gave her a look that said she knew that Vinyl knew, before allowing herself to flop down, nuzzling her cheek into Vinyl’s cutie mark. “I know, not very exciting.”

“I’d say you’re plenty exciting.” Vinyl grasped the air where her shades usually were with magic, and winked. “See? That’s how you flirt.” Astral didn’t reply, instead nestling deeper into the snuggle and humming.

“Unrelated,” Vinyl said, trying to sound as don’t-give-a-buck as she could. “But I assume I’m not the only pony you fail at flirting with, right?”

“No. . . Why?”

“Just curious. Not judging. I’d say it’s a good trait. Not being stuffy.” Vinyl tried to keep her voice airy. This wasn’t exactly a maximally romantic moment, but she couldn’t really think of anyone else. Maybe Astral was chill enough that she would take a Duchess Consort title without locking Vinyl up in loveless monogamy forever. “I uh, well, my mom’s been hounding me about getting married lately, and I’m, uh. . .”

“Not the marrying type?” Astral sat up, folding her hooves under her. Her voice was teasing, but Vinyl winced at the withdrawal of affection. 

“I probably could be, I just have terrible luck with any long term relationships. Except business ones, I guess.” Vinyl rolled over, focusing her vision on one of the crummy paintings that likely covered holes in the hotel walls. “And my mom’s a duchess, so that doesn’t help.”

“Harpsichord Delight. She’s a good leader, by all accounts.” Astral shifted, her voice more businesslike, and yet softer. “I’m uncomfortably familiar with the pressures of the peerage. You have my condolences.”

“Hah!” Vinyl snorted. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it, isn’t it? At least we’re rich. In theory. I’m disinherited, technically, so. . . Anyway, that was a very smooth rejection of the question I hadn’t popped yet, well done.”

“I do what I can.” Astral wrapped her longer body and hooves around Vinyl once again. “I’m sorry. I am completely honest when I say it’s not you. I really am not in a position to wed anypony at all.”

“Huh.” Vinyl chewed on that for a moment. What kind of nobility wasn’t supposed to marry? That was super weird. Unless she was just a functionary? But she said- Hmm, but then why couldn’t she if she wanted? Weird. Very weird. “Well, no big deal. I’m sure I’ll figure something out. You just seemed like you could be chill about it, which would be ideal.”

“Why is this necessary? You are doing well for yourself.” Astral’s question was gentle, not demanding, clearly trying to help. Vinyl felt herself curling up tighter despite it. “It doesn’t sound like you even want your title.”

“Well, if I don’t, dear old mum is going to loan shark me.” Vinyl sighed, fiddling with Astrals well groomed fetlocks.

“I have a friend who could look at your finances, if you like. I’m sure we can come up with a solution.” Astral gave her a squeeze. 

“I could probably handle it, honestly.” Vinyl hesitated, long held truths willing themselves to be let loose after being caged up for freaking forever. She swallowed them, bitter as whiskey. “I’m just tired. Bucking exhausted, actually. Maybe this would get everypony off my back.” 

“Then let’s speak no more of it.” Astral half-stood, peering over Vinyl to look at her face. “I can’t wed you, Vinyl, but I can be here, if that helps. I’m fairly sure you didn’t call me for therapy, in any event.”

“Well, true.” Vinyl chuckled despite herself. “You paid for the room the whole night, right?”

“I did.”

“Good.” Vinyl leaned in for a kiss. 
> Octavia Chapter 8: We've Got Jackets
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Octavia tapped her hoof in time with the beat, feeling her neck extend forward as she braced for the drop. She let her head begin to bob as it did, the release of tension echoed throughout her body. Delightful. She had grown to appreciate the complexity of electronic melodies over the past couple weeks, particularly when they weren’t too bassy. Just enough. She pulled out a notepad, thinned down from repeated use, and slid a note to the bartender.

“I do not suppose you have chocolate milk?” She wrote. The bartender gave her a look of pure disgust, and shook her head. Octavia sighed heavily, and just tapped her glass. Straight vodka, then. Potato mash, naturally. None of that wheat or rye based nonsense. She accepted the new glass and turned to face the stage again.

Vinyl truly came alive behind the deck. Vinyl on the piano was beautiful. Vinyl in her element was radiant. Octavia had mistaken the shadow play on the wall of the allegorical cave for the light of the true sun. The tension and release she could build was masterful, pulling Octavia along like she was afloat in a storm. Vinyl was-

She bit her lip, and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt further over her head. No. She must not get too caught up in the moment. She must remain hidden, tucked away. She was here for inspiration only. Seeing Vinyl, beautiful and wild, was only a marvelous bonus. She sipped at her beverage, forcing herself to close her eyes and ‘vibe.’ Perhaps it was the breakneck pace of the shows, but Vinyl had improved since Octavia had last been able to attend. Her track transitions were nigh seamless, dropping not one whit of tension as the music changed. Judging from the crowd around Octavia, everypony was more than pleased with the energy, too. 

Octavia took mental notes, but she was nearing the limit of what she could glean from the shows. Regardless of how Vinyl was feeling, she got up on stage, grinning, dancing, and playing like she was a filly at hearths warming. Every time. Despite what Stellar had said about her behavior in the in between.

With an audible groan from the audience in question, Vinyl’s last piece dropped to a soothing post climax lull, and then slipped resonantly into silence. Octavia allowed herself a sigh of disappointment, and turned back to the bar. One more round, and then back to her empty apartment. She was almost looking forward to traveling again, even a hotel room felt more alive than her home sans Parish.

“Hey, filly.” A voice, raspy, with a hint of a Cloudsdallian accent. A pegasus, about her age, lithe and strong, pulled herself up on the stool next to her. Octavia cooly raised an eyebrow at the newcomer, who wilted slightly. “Uh, can I buy you that round?”

“. . . You may.” Octavia said, cautiously. “As long as you understand that is all your bits will be buying.”

“Yowch. Fair, but ouch.” The pegasus laughed. She had a nice laugh, ringing with genuine joy. “As it happens, I’m not after that. Though if you change your mind la- Err, never mind. I’m mostly just here because my misery loves company, and I thought yours might too.”

“Who says I am miserable?” Octavia took the refilled glass, and took a long sip. 

“You’ve got the look of a pony with an itch you just can’t-” She winked, a foalish grin stretching her muzzle. “Scratch. No judgment, it takes one to know one. I’m Tradewinds, by the way.”

“Hello.” Octavia said stiffly. 

“Yeah, hi. Been meaning to talk to you at the last two shows I saw you at, but never had the opportunity, I guess.” Tradewinds rambled, leaning backwards, balancing against the bar on her wings. “I guess that’s kinda telling about me, but you were also there, so, not like you can judge me too harshly, I reckon. She’s a savant, right? Nothing quite like it.”

“We could be biased.” Octavia snorted. “But. . . yes. I had little taste for this genre of music before. Now I find myself enjoying it. Odd, indeed.”

“Mmm. You won’t find many like her. Neon Lights maybe, but he doesn’t have the same passion.” Tradewinds sighed. “So. . . What's your name?”

“Octavia.” Octavia said, slowly. She could not put her hoof on it, but something about this pony rubbed her the wrong way.

“Octavia. . . Octy?” Tradewinds had the look of a pony struggling to put two and two together. “She mentioned you.”

“Did she?” That got Octavia’s attention. An uncomfortable sensation built in her stomach. That could not be good.

“Uh, yeah. Not to assume, but. . . She mentioned another jealous mare dumping her, and then you in the same breath as me and her mom, which. . .” Tradewinds winced. “Not a flattering comparison, to put it mildly.”

“Her mother? Harpsichord Delight, of the Canterlot philharmonic?”

“Well sure, but she’s also Duchess of North Canterlot. Kind of a big deal.”

“What?” Octavia blinked, looked down at her glass, and then cleaned her ear with the tip of a hoof. “Say that again?”

“Duchess, yeah. Vinyl’s nobility.”

Octavia let her head droop into her waiting hooves. That single statement explained so much. Octavia herself had been scarred enough by mere brushes with such elitism. She couldn’t imagine how hard it had been for Vinyl. Rebellious Vinyl. Sensitive Vinyl. Affection-starved Vinyl.

“That explains what happened between us.” Octavia said, finally.

“Yeah? You get possessive?” Tradewinds winced. “That’s a big no no with her. Learned that the hard way.”

“Is that why you two separated?”

“Uh, well, not exactly.” Tradewinds looked away. “It’s complicated, right? You know how it goes.”

“Tell me.” Octavia insisted. “It could help me to understand the circumstances around my own mistakes.”

“Listen, it’s kinda personal-”

“So is everything I have told you, including my very name.” Octavia stood, squaring down the mare. “From the tiny scraps I have pried from Vinyl, she seems rather traumatized about it, and I would know why.”

“Uh, in the weeks before we split, we got in a big fight because she was spending time with a stallion. I thought it was one thing, which it really wasn’t, but I got snippy and she absolutely wrecked me about it.” Tradewinds slumped. “And then I made a huge mistake a few weeks later and . . . yeah.”

“You cheated on her?” Octavia guessed. Her mind was buzzing, chemically and otherwise.

“No, worse.” Tradewinds took a breath. “But it’s a bit of a story.”

“I don’t believe either of us have ponies to get home to.” Octavia said, perhaps a bit more cruelly than intended. “May as well. I would strongly prefer to avoid repeating your mistakes.”

“Seems like I’m acting against my own interests there.” Tradewinds narrowed her somewhat bloodshot eyes.

“I myself insulted a mare she had been intimate with, and may have caused her to think I was disgusted with her proclivities and attempting to change who she was.” Octavia said, dully.  “There. Now tell me your story.”

“. . . Are you disgusted with her proclivities?”

“What?” Octavia blinked. “I am here chasing after her. My only previous intimate partners have been mares. Certainly I am not.”

“Just because you’re that way doesn’t mean you aren’t kinda grossed out by yourself too.” Tradewinds said, in what she clearly thought was a sagacious tone. “Or maybe it’s the number of mares that’s the problem?”

“Hm. Perhaps.” Octavia filed that away for later examination. “I am a demanding mare, that much is true. I expect a great deal from myself, and others.”

“You seem kinda angry, too.” Tradewinds snickered.

“It’s something I am working on.” Octavia glared, remembering Vinyl’s original nickname for her. “Now, your story? Or am I merely getting fleeced for mine?”

“Sure, sure, whatever.” Tradewinds sighed, rubbing circles on one hoof with the other. “So, I met Vinyl at some kind of soiree. I was there with my brother trying to drum up investors for our business. When I first met her, I had no idea who she was, I was just taking a break from brown nosing to get my flirt on. I doubt you’ve ever seen that side of her, but she’s a perfect lady when she wants to be.”

“I have seen a glimpse of it.” Octavia pondered, remembering the ice queen Vinyl had briefly become during their fight. “Even still, I can barely imagine it, to be honest.”

“Heh, yeah. She’s definitely changed.” Tradewinds continued. “Anyway, it was irresistible to me. We snuck out of the party to hit up a bar. We did this a couple times, I’d fly her out so her mum didn’t know. I actually introduced her to EDM, for the record. Anyway, originally I was half hanging out with her in the hopes she could help me with a sponsor, but as you know, she grows on you.”

“Like mold.” Octavia smiled, despite herself.

“Uh, yeah. Guess I don’t have to hype her up to you. She was amazing, basically. We started dating after a while. I don’t know if you got to that stage. . ?” Tradewinds waited for Octavia’s headshake before continuing. “Oof. Sorry. Well, we dated for a few months. We were getting serious. At least, I was. That’s when that thing with the stallion happened. She’d always been flirty with other mares at clubs and stuff, and I saw her with him . . . Hindsight, no duh that her mum set her up with the guy, but at the time. . . Well, at the time I was an idiot. We had that fight, and right as we were starting to make up, her mom found us. Or maybe she already knew?”

“She, um, confronted us. Me, mostly. Read me the riot act, talking about Vinyl’s duties as future Duchess and so on.” Tradewinds took a deep, shuddering breath. “She told me I wasn’t worthy of her, which, like, no crap, but ow. And she said that she knew we were unhappy, and that it’d never work out, but if I hastened the end along. . . she’d give me my startup money, in full. That business was my dream, and I-”

Tradewinds cut off, suddenly. She clutched her face. It took Octavia a moment to realize she had struck the pony. So blind was her fury that her hoof had moved on its own. When Tradewinds turned back, she had a sardonic grin on her muzzle.

“Yep, that’s about what I expected. I’d like to say, though, Miss Philharmonica, famed soloist, I’d like to see you give up your career for anypony, even Vinyl.” She said, bitterly.

“That is what is referred to as a false dichotomy.” Octavia growled. “When I quit Horseshoepin’s quartet, a pony offered me much the same kind of choice. Were I to leave, I’d be ruined. Were I to stay, riches and dreams. I did not take either option, and behold, my solo career blossomed.”

“Huh. She said almost the exact same thing.” Tradewinds sighed. “Whatever. That's the story. If your point is that I screwed up, believe me, nobody knows that more than me.”

“Yes, you did ruin your relationship, but you ruined more than that!” Octavia’s temper was running away with her, as mystery after mystery revealed itself in her frantic mind. “Vinyl carries that scar with her everywhere she goes! She hoards money, likely terrified of needing it to retain relationships! She starves herself rather than buy breakfast, then throws money at everyone she knows.”

“It’s. . . not as bad as all that, is it?”

“She purchased me a thousand-bit cutie mark monogrammed cello bow. It was made from ironwood, horn carved by Everfree deer.” Octavia said, flatly. “All as a thank you for getting her a taxi home when she was drunk exactly once. When I rescued her from sleeping outside one evening, she tried to replace my whole cello, and when I balked, she got me a starspider silk tie instead. Another thousand-bit expense.”

“Buck me.” Tradewinds said, quietly, after a long moment. Her feathers utterly deflated.“I really screwed her up, didn’t I?”

Octavia let Tradewinds stew in her own self-loathing, turning her attention back to her drink. Her fury was ebbing, but only slightly. Rather than fade completely, it turned inward, at herself. In hindsight, this was painfully obvious. How had she not figured this out? Four and four make eight.

The silence between her and Tradewinds stretched. Both sipped their drinks. Neither moved away from the other. It seemed like misery truly did love company. Octavia was just considering breaking the silence when a pair of hooves tapped them each on the back.

“Miss Tradewinds. Miss Philharmonica. What a pleasant surprise.” A shiver crept up Octavia’s spine at the voice. It was colder than a Ponyville winter. “What brings the two of you here? As if I need even ask.”

Octavia turned about. Before her stood a presence to rival a princess, emanating from the perfectly sculpted and groomed body of a small unicorn. Harpsichord Delight? Here? Why? She was flanked by two stallions, a vast butler and a waifish masculine ideal who could only be her husband. Tradewinds seemed as lost for words as Octavia was, neither mare said anything, at least not quickly enough.

“Convenient, as it turns out. I came here to speak with Vinyl, but I would like a word with both of you as well. Perhaps in my limo?” She turned on her hooves, marching out without even the pretense of waiting for an answer. Her butler remained behind, the better to shepherd the two mares. Tradewinds and Octavia glanced at each other as they were politely but inexorably ushered outside. 

The Duchess’ limo was parked across the entirety of the entrance, and was watched by two unicorn mares in black glasses and blacker jackets, with barely visible weaves concealing coat-of-plate. Bodyguards? Octavia suddenly felt like she had her first day of conservatory; wildly out of her depth. The right hoof mare clicked open the door for them with her magic, allowing them to step up into a vehicle that could have passed for a small apartment. The Duchess was pouring amber liquid from a bottle shaped like the moon, craters and all. The three small glasses she poured likely cost more than Octavia’s gala dress.

“Fillies. Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the sides of the room, while she sat at the end, in the position of power. “I know you’re both busy, so I will cut to the chase. Tradewinds, you are coming dangerously close to reneging on our deal.”

“She asked for me.” Tradewinds said, defensively. Her voice was defiant, but she couldn’t meet the Duchess’ eyes. “Am I not allowed to respond if she does?”

“I let that occasion pass unremarked because she initiated it. The obsessive attendance of her work afterwards, however, is unacceptable.” Harpsichord floated over the glass of brandy, a somewhat innocuously threatening motion. Tradewinds took it, but did not drink. “Or did you no longer have need of my patronage?”

“Perhaps I’m thinking it was a mistake to accept it in the first place.” Tradewind’s eyes were locked on the carpet. Harpsichord’s own narrowed. 

“That is your prerogative.” She said, cooly. “Consider, however, that I have it on Vinyl’s own authority, as of moments ago, that she would never consider you as a partner again. Weigh that in your mind as well. No need to answer, your presence or lack thereof at Ivory’s next show should be enough.”

“. . . Understood.” Tradewinds sipped her drink, wincing. 

“You may go now.” Harpsichord turned away from Tradewinds. It was as if the pony had ceased to exist. The Duchess refocused her attention on Octavia as the defeated pegasus slunk from the vehicle. “Now, Miss Philharmonica. May I first say it is an honor to see you again. Your last performance in Canterlot, the Lunar Serenades? Beautiful. I nearly wept to hear it.” 

“That is. . . kind of you?” Octavia searched the mare’s face for truth, and found no answers. She took a sip from her own glass. She suppressed a wince. Truly undrinkable. Vinyl clearly came by her alcoholism honestly.

“If it is not too forward of me, I would give you my card.” Harpsichord produced it in a puff of magic. “Your talents are more than worthy of my orchestra, and I would be pleased to offer you both orchestral and solo positions on our performances.”

“Oh my. I will. . . consider that most generous offer.” Octavia tucked the card into her tie, overworked mind churning. What did this mean? Was this her offer as well? Was she also to be tempted away from Vinyl by promises of fame and success?

“And on that note, let us discuss my daughter.” Harpsichord drained her own glass, daintily fixing her lipstick with a twist of magic. “I admit, I was pleasantly surprised to see you two together at first, and more so for later encounters. Vinyl, however, has informed me that you are no longer en flagrante, yes?”

“We, ahem, never were?” Octavia fought and lost to a blush.

“And yet here you are.” Harpsichord’s bulldozer-like stare pressed Octavia flat, squeezing her secrets from her.

“W-well, I have interest in her, I suppose, even still.” Octavia wriggled uncomfortably under the gaze, struggling to retain some scrap of her dignity.

“Excellent.” Harpsichord smiled. There was no warmth or happiness there, only a smug satisfaction. “Then pray continue. I suspect Vinyl may be more invested in her marriage prospects after my meeting with her moments ago, so you will have competition. However, should you need my assistance with your courtship, you need only ask. You are my favorite horse in this race, I admit.”

“I- Thank you?” Octavia’s head spun. To call this unexpected would be to call a dragon an iguana. This had blindsided her with the force of an army of charging minotaurs, which then took up residence in the china shop that was her mind. This would be helpful, certainly. . . but did she want to win Vinyl back this way? It felt dishonest, or disingenuous at the least. 

“It is no trouble at all, my dear.” Harpsichord poured another glass of the vile liquid for herself. Octavia shook her head violently when she proffered one to her. “Do you require transport?”

“No! No, I should walk this off.” Octavia set her thankfully empty glass down and stood, then paused at the door. “Actually, I have one remaining question.”

“Perhaps I have an answer.”

“When Vinyl and I fought, there was a pony at the heart of the conflict. She was apparently in charge of preparing the Canterlot garden party.” Octavia explained, carefully watching the Duchess. 

“Raven Inkwell is in charge of the Garden Party this year.” Harpsichord raised an eyebrow. “And she and Vinyl are quite close, as sisters should be. How did she cause such a conflict?”

“No, not- Inkwell herself told me that this pony was in charge.” Octavia blinked, confused. “Tall, bluish unicorn, Canterlot ancestry. “Her name was Astral Brilliance. She and Vinyl seemed. . . close.”

“Yet another conquest of my daughter’s wild living.” Harpsichord waved a hoof dismissively. “Perhaps Inkwell hired her as a party planner?”

“Inkwell seemed to defer to her.” Octavia shook her head. “Even Princess Twilight spoke to her as if she were a noble. If she is, you must know her, no?”

“There is no Astral Brilliance in the peerage.” Harpsichord said, bluntly. “As far as I know, this pony does not exist.”
> Vinyl, Chapter 9: The Masks We Wear
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vinyl lost herself staring at the crystalline chandelier overhead. The manifold crystals dangling from strings refracted the light into ten thousand brilliant spots that danced in her vision. Whoa dude, check out the colors.

“. . . To which I responded, Oh, darling, surely you can relate, with your own hooves in such a state. . .” Her date droned on, a look of vicious satisfaction on her face as she recounted past victories. Vinyl sighed and placed bits on the table, catching the eye of the waitress, who nodded. 

Vinyl excused herself to the bathroom. Her date hardly seemed to notice.

. . .

“Have you ever considered dying your coat? You’d look great in pink, I think.”

“Uh, nah, I'm pretty happy with it.” Vinyl said, defensively.

“You know I’m a renowned stylist. If you’re to be my wife, you will have to dress and groom appropriately-” The sharp unicorn sniffed slightly.

“Yeah, and if I show up to my work looking stiff with a pink coat, I lose all my fans.”  Vinyl shot back. “We’d have to agree to keep out of each other’s business, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!”

“. . . Yeah who are we kidding, this isn’t gonna work.”

. . . 

“. . .which would have been fine, except there were a bunch of zebras there. You know how they can be-”

“Check please.” Vinyl sighed.

. . .


Vinyl huddled deeper into her jacket. Pegasus Seasonal changes be darned, spring always came late to Canterlot. The snow was retreating, but the cold was absolutely giving them the rude hoof gesture. Vinyl was basically an expert meteorologist at this point, given how much she was standing in the cold waiting on her dates, or standing in the cold waiting on taxis, or getting impatient and just walking back to a hotel in the cold. . .

This was a miserable combination of the first and second. Astral finally had a free night after, like, two weeks, so she and Vinyl were going to go eat gross cheap food. After days of trendy restaurants, nothing sounded more appealing than that. Well, except for maybe the hotel afterwards, heh. Real shame about Astral being some weird noble but not noble thing where she couldn’t marry. She’d be pretty darn perfect as a wife, honestly. Vinyl was a little smitten, she had to admit. Unusual for her.

“Vinyl!” A melodious, refined voice. Vinyl turned that direction, a big grin on her face. Her magic seized a little package from her jacket pocket.

“Ah, there you are. Got you a lit-” Vinyl’s magic faltered, and the box fell from her grip. The hoof-bracelet within managed to escape its imprisonment and made an immediate break for a nearby sewer drain, rolling between the grate before Vinyl’s magic could catch up. “Oh for Celestia’s sake!”

“I am so sorry!” Octavia said. She sounded it. Her brilliant purple eyes were full of sorrow as they held Vinyl’s own in a long gaze. “I-I am sorry. Again. You are not wearing your glasses, and I-”

“Yeah, I was on a date, whatever.” Vinyl ignited her horn, sending little globs of light down the grate, hunting for the gleam of gold. Luckily, the thing hadn’t gone too far, wedged as it was on a stick. She managed to wrap a tendril of blue magic around it and pull it slowly free. “Do you need something? Sorta on my way to another one.”

“Um, well.” Octavia frowned, her eyes wavering. “You have very thoroughly scrambled my train of thought. As has my own foolishness. Here, let me clean-”

“Got magic. Don’t need your help.” Vinyl said, shortly. She avoided looking at the mare, the better to confront the pitiful beast that whined with loneliness in her chest. “You might want to find your train and then get on it. Stellar will be here soon and I don’t need you throwing a fit today.”

“You are due an apology for that behavior as well. It was- I was jealous.” Octavia said, speaking quickly. Her voice was raw with emotion. “I cannot apologize enough, in fact. My behavior was most unbecoming and I would dearly love to make amends with you. That is why I’m here.”

“Let's see how long that keeps up.” Vinyl said. She was wise to this tactic. Everypony was really keen on apologizing until they had to actually keep up with what they promised to do or not to do. “Any particular reason you’re picking now as opposed to any other point in the past two months?”

“Well, yes. I was not going to bother you, but I fear you might be in danger, and that forced my hooves.” Octavia produced a small compact full of some kind of green goop. “You should keep this.”

“Danger? What are you talking about?” Vinyl raised an eyebrow, still avoiding looking at Octavia. “And what the heck is that crap?”

“It is a zebra-made salve. It will force changelings to reveal their true form.” Octavia spoke quickly, as if rushing to beat Vinyl to the punch. Lucky for her, Vinyl was too stunned to say much of anything. “We- I was concerned about you. I fear that Astral-”

“Oh for Celestia’s sake! You’ve got to be kidding!” Vinyl snapped. “Some apology this is!”

“That is not the- I do not care if you have a relationship with her!” Octavia said, her eyes screaming that she was lying. “I am trying to protect you!”

“Uh huh, right.”

“Your mother said-”

“Oh, mother said! There’s a word you can trust!’ Vinyl laughed bitterly. This was too rich. “Of course she put you up to this. Are you dumb or are you straight up cruel?”

“There is no Lady Astral Brilliance!” Octavia spoke over her. Her voice was low, but intense. “She checked, and I checked again after, just to be sure. There is no such pony, either in the peerage or in Celestia’s cabinet. I’m sorry, Vinyl, but it’s true. I can show you the list if you wish.”

“That-” Vinyl took a deep breath, and seemingly inhaled all of the unspoken doubts she’d had about the pony herself. She choked on them, hacking and coughing. Octavia hovered, obviously concerned but unwilling to put a hoof on her. Good. “That’d be just my luck. I found the one pony in Equestria that’s chill, and she’s a fake.”

“I really am sorry. I hope it turns out that we are wrong.” Octavia said, sincerely. Vinyl finally looked at her. She was as lovely as she remembered, a little like she hadn’t slept, but- No. Stop. Never again.

“But not too sorry, right?” Vinyl quipped.

“No. I am quite serious. I do not wish any more hurt upon you, Vinyl.” Octavia nervously brushed a hoof over her mane, smoothing out a couple rogue hairs. 

“Well, whatever.” Vinyl sighed, the What-has-my-life-become type. She wasn’t ready to forgive Octavia. Not for words alone. But she’d accept the olive branch, as it was. At least for now. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Working. The Garden Party must go on. You are missed.” Octavia’s voice was still strained. “And . . . I am working on something. For you. A proper apology.”

“Uh, what?” 

“It is not yet complete, but I hope you will. . . entertain it, when it is.” 

“Suuuure?” Vinyl said, backing away a couple steps. “Why are you making it sound so creepy?”

“No! That’s not-” Octavia clapped a hoof to her forehead hard enough that a bruise immediately started forming. “My apologies, I just mean- It’s a process. I want to be sure you know I mean it, and not- I wouldn’t have bothered you if I was not worried- I will leave now. Goodbye!”

Vinyl watched her run away, fighting with all her might not to smile. It was convincing. More convincing that Trade had ever been. She could almost believe it. Almost. She seemed genuinely sorry. And very flustered. She was curious about this apology, as long as it didn’t turn out to be something crazy. Maybe it was best to receive it in a public place, just in case Octy had gone totally crazy. No following her into any dark alleys or eating any pastries she might offer.

“Everything all right, Vi?” A pair of gentle hooves settled over her back, along with a comforting weight.

“Tell me that’s you, Astral. I can’t take any more crazy today.” Vinyl smiled, effortless this time.

“It’s me. You’ll have to tell me about it. Perhaps over some hayburgers?”

“Oh sweet sunlight, that sounds great.” Vinyl sagged. “If I have to eat one more exotic salad, I think I’ll straight up implode. Those things suck more energy out of you than they give, I swear.”

“Well, some of them actually do. It’s for weight loss.” Astral fell into step besides Vinyl. “Err, how many did you eat?”

“. . . Too many. I guess that explains why I feel like I just popped about three vials of Bubble.” Vinyl laughed. “Maybe we should get three burgers.”

Astral laughed, and the two of them lapsed into comfortable silence, their bodies just barely touching as they strode down the street. Astral’s height, as always, was weirdly comforting to Vinyl. She reached into her jacket again for the gift, but her magic found something else, first. The compact, full of goop. 

Am I really gonna do that? Vinyl wondered. I’m no fan of changelings. Still get the occasional nightmare, even. But if she is one, she’s doing a heck of a job being sweet. Or maybe that’s just mind magic? Gah!

“Something wrong?” Astral bumped her, nearly knocking her over. She was almost as strong as an earth pony, sheesh. 

“Ah, well, nah. I got you something, though!” Vinyl brought out the leg band with a small burst of blue sparkles for flare, making the gold dance and gleam in the setting sun. “Just a little something, because I appreciate you~”

“Aw, Vinyl, you shouldn’t have.” She took it, but a slight hint of reluctance, almost disgust, crossed her muzzle. 

“What, gold not your color?” Vinyl teased.

“Oh, no, I feel guilty accepting any gifts at all, to be honest.” Astral sighed, but slipped it on over her hoof. “I’m sorry. It is lovely though.”

“Ah, is it a work thing?” Vinyl asked, her ears pricking up despite herself. “What did you say you did again? Not-quite-a-noble?”

“Law, Vinyl.” 

“Right. Sorry, head like a sieve.” Vinyl laughed, even as her heart sank. She’d said bureaucrat last time, right? How do you get caught in a lie about your own job? That’s like infiltration one oh one. She hadn’t even really been trying.

“For the record, Vinyl, the only gift I want from you is your company.” Astral beamed at her, nuzzling her briefly. “No physical objects required.”

“Ah, well. Maybe you can accept just one more then. You’re always complaining about your headaches, so. . . A salve that should help.” Vinyl grinned as best she could. She pulled out the little compact, scooping up just a little with a magical hoof. “Just dab a little around the horn. Works like a charm. Or maybe it is a charm, heh.”

“Oh! That’s actually very thoughtful. Thank you.” Astral smiled, but backed away. “I’m actually just fine right now, but I’ll definitely use it later.”

“Oh come on, you were complaining earlier on the phone. Just let me get a little-”

“No really, I’m fine- It’s gone now, no big-” 

Vinyl jabbed the magic hoof at her, and she ducked, retreating. Vinyl advanced. Her face had lost all humor, and a trickle of sweat ran down her nose. Vinyl’s heart sank. How would she even know what this was if it wasn’t true? Bucking horseapples. With a feint and a twist of the horn, she managed to get a glob smack in the middle of Astrals face.

Immediately, Astrals appearance began to fuzz. The fur around the spot began to run, like paint splashed with acetone.  Purple ran away and faded to pure prismic white. The horn grew, extending like a telescope. The legs stretched yet taller. A pair of glorious wings burst first from the fuzz. With a final shudder, Astral was no more, only the pink eyes remaining the same.

In her place, stood Princess Celestia.

Several ponies sharing the road with them gasped. They only had a brief moment to be amazed, for just seconds later, both white ponies vanished in a pop of magic. 

Unfortunately, Vinyl reappeared.

They were alone. Somewhere. A room. Fancy, maybe. Vinyl’s eyes gazed over it sightlessly. Her eyes wouldn’t focus on anything else besides the pony she thought she knew.

“You have questions, I’m sure.” Celestia said, her voice tactful, and a little sad.

“Y. . .” Vinyl hesitated for a solid ten seconds. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“I am happy to answer them.” She settled on a small couch. She left a little space, but called no attention to it. 

“I mean. Why, I guess?” Vinyl asked. Her voice was remarkably calm. Maybe she was in shock. She eyed the spot, but elected to stand.

“It is tricky enough to make a connection with another pony as a civilian. As you are well aware.” She folded her perfect gold-shoed hooves. “Perhaps you can even understand being judged by position first and personal qualities last.”

“Uh. Yeah. Tell me about it.” 

“Alas, a roguishly charming mane cut and a pair of dark glasses is not quite enough to disguise myself.” Celestia smiled, a little mischievously. “As for keeping it up so long, I had no such plans to. I had visited your show merely for a night off. Our connection afterwards was a pleasant surprise, as was you arriving for the Garden Party. I had no intention of turning our dalliances into a regular occurrence, but. . . these things sneak up on all of us.”

“Guess so, huh?” Vinyl scrubbed a hoof hard through the back of her mane, making bits of it stick out in all directions.. “At least now I get why you can’t exactly marry me. Heh.”

“Indeed.” Celestia chuckled, not unkindly. “So, how would you like to proceed, my little pony? I will, of course, understand if you wish to terminate our meetups.”

“That seems kinda. . . mean.” Vinyl said, awkwardly.

“I am no stranger to rejection, Vinyl.” She smiled that smile again. It made Vinyl’s heart swell slightly. “As you yourself said, I am rather terrible at flirting. I will not hold it against you in the slightest, particularly given the circumstances.”

“Well, I don’t really want to do that either. I’m not even mad, I’m just-” Vinyl considered “Freaking tired, really. It’s just one more thing that’s not what I expected it to be. My hooves are getting brush burns from all the rugs that keep getting pulled from under me.”

“That is entirely fair.”

“So. . . I probably just need some time, I think.” Vinyl sighed, taking off her glasses to look at the Princess plain. “I feel like I probably should be mad, but. . . I like you. Or, I liked Astral, I guess. And you’re still her, mostly, if I get the vibe, so. . . Yeah. Probably. In a week or so. Which, given your busy schedule, which actually makes more sense now. . . by the next time we meet up anyway.”

“More than fair. I look forward to it.” Celestia beamed. “Ahem, do you have somewhere you’d like me to teleport you back to?”

“Uh, just the burger place, I guess. I’m still freaking starving.” Vinyl groaned. “Or just to the hotel. I’ll get delivery or something and brace for more potential bride lunches before my show tomorrow.”

“Truly, the life of a noble.” Celestia’s horn sparkled gold, and Vinyl felt gentle tendrils wrap her in a warm, magical embrace. “You have Astral’s number, if and when you feel like a rendezvous.” 

“Sure thing. One favor?” Vinyl grinned broadly as she began to vanish. “Lose the Astral look next time we’re alone. I think I like this one even better.”

The last thing she saw was a spark of red on the Princess’ cheeks.
> Octy, Chapter 9: Vomit for the Soul
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Octavia allowed her head to ‘bang’ rhythmically as she played back what she had just written. These beats were, in fact, comparable to her family's potato stand in terms of sheer freshness. She believed she was finally getting the hang of the ‘drops’. Speaking frankly, the key seemed to be relying more on her own musical instincts than on any theory as she knew it. In fact, thinking about it in reverse, some of her favorite classical pieces had drops by other names. 

She spun one of the strange plastic disks on the. . . ahem, deck, underhoof. The meeting with Vinyl today had inspired her greatly. She’d made excellent progress. She restarted the song to listen once more. Maybe a little more here-

A shadow from the window covered her, and she jumped. Cadance was waving. Her face was serious. Octavia raised an eyebrow. Cadance gestured to the lock, wings flitting in a graceful hover. Octavia stepped over a cluster of wires and let her royal friend in.

“What, pray tell, was wrong with the door, your highness?” Octavia asked with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sure the door is functional, Octavia.” Cadance smiled back, slightly acerbically. “The ears of the pony who would be answering it, however. . . those might require a check up.”

“Oh my, my sincerest apologies. I was rather engaged in my work.” Octavia gestured vaguely at the deck and the headphones. Something about Cadence’s demeanor was making her nervous. “Electronic music is much more complex than I understood it to be. I feel somewhat guilty for calling it mere noise for so long.”

“. . . Is this still the song for Vinyl?”

“Yes indeed it is! It must be perfect, as I’m sure you understand. I was rather inspired by a . . . chance meeting I had with her recently.” Octavia smiled. She hadn’t heard back from Vinyl yet. She was a little worried, but Vinyl was a smart filly. She would certainly be able to expose Astral for the fraud she was. And Octavia did not wish to become overbearing. No no. Vinyl would reach out on her own terms.

“How about a little break?” Cadence said, her strained smile returning. “I happen to be on my way to lunch with some other friends. . . It would be lovely to have you accompany us!”

“Lunch, you say?” Octavia considered, but found her eyes returning to the deck. She still had so many little changes to make. . . when Vinyl and her did reconnect finally, it needed to be perfect. She would not let this fade away. “I should really continue working. I must make time to practice for my own performances as well-”

“You’re not doing that?” Cadence asked, shock writ across her muzzle. “Octavia, when was the last time you ate lunch with friends? Or, um, at all?”

“Don’t be silly, Cadence, I am not so lovestruck as to forgo food.” Octavia laughed, waving a hoof airily. “Though I will admit, with Parish having finally moved out, I have had little occasion to eat with other ponies. It’s no trouble. Now that I am not paying rent on the apartment-”

“You’re not?!”

“Well, no, why would I wish to live there by myself? I travel enough. I am in hotels most of the time in any event.” Octavia shot Cadence a look. “You seem nervous, Cadence. Are you quite all right?”

“Um, yes, absolutely!” Cadence grinned nervously. “Are you quite sure you will not dine with us? Miss Rarity has come all the way from ponyville-”

“Miss Rarity has? In that case I simply cannot turn her down.” Octavis pushed VInyl to a corner of her mind. She did not stay there, but it was a symbolic gesture. Octavia cast about for her coat. “It has been several weeks since the wedding. I would like to see her.”

“Weeks? Erm, Good! Good.” Cadence exhaled. “Come on then! We have reservations. . .”

Cadence remained somewhat stiff throughout the walk to the restaurant. That was fine with Octavia, she had minimal smalltalk to contribute as it was, with her head full of music and love. Cadence led her to an outdoor patio space, and a large round table towards one of the edges, overlooking the beautiful Canterlot mountainside. Rarity and Applejack were seated next to each other, both with loving smiles on their muzzles as they argued violently over appetizers. Parish stood quickly, wrapping his hooves around Octavia before she could settle.

“Oh! Parish! Lovely to see you.” Octavia hugged him back, absently. “It has been a few days, truly an unthinkable distance between us.”

“Try a week and a half, dearest.” Parish squeezed her. “I was getting worried.”

“Oh pish, I have been busy, that’s all.” Octavia settled down at the table, and glanced idly over the menu. “Miss Rarity, Miss Applejack, a pleasure. How are our respective in-laws settling in?”

“Oh they’re cozier than a litter of barn cats.” Applejack said, adjusting her hat. “You mighta known that had you come to the housewarming Rare invited ya to-”

“Applejack!” Rarity hissed, shushing her. “I know you must have been busy, darling. You were sorely missed, however-”

“Missed?” Octavia searched her memory. Had she gotten an invitation to a housewarming? She couldn’t recall one. 

“Octavia informed me that she is no longer living in her old apartment.” Cadence said, pointedly. “Perhaps that is why she is missing our invitations?”

“. . . You left the apartment?” Parish asked, a frown on his face. “I thought you loved it there. . .”

“It was a lovely house while you shared it with me, Parish.” Octavia frowned right back. What was with everypony today? “Without you, it is a lonely place indeed. I was no longer comfortable there. Even a hotel room felt more lived in.”

“Oh, Octavia. . . Forgive me, I didn-”

“Come now!” Octavia slapped the menu down, glaring around at her friends. Her famous temper was roaring to life in full force. “What is the purpose of all these questions? Am I a suspect in some sort of theft? An act of treason, perhaps?” 

“Erm. . .”

“Well, that is. . .”

“I reckon so, yep.” Applejack said, probably the only blunt instrument sharp enough to neatly cut through the hemming and hawing. “More to the point, we’re worried about ya, sugar cube. We shoulda said as much instead of steppin’ around this acre of eggshells.”

“I-” Octavia blinked slowly, looking around at each of her friends. Each looked back with a slightly different cocktail of emotions. Pity. Concern. Frustration. Love. Her anger fizzled. “I don’t understand. I thought this was-”

“It might be a bit more of an. . . intervention.” Cadence said, kindly, but firmly. “We are worried about you. You seem to be struggling a little.”

“I- I wouldn’t say that.” Octavia huffed. Struggling? She was doing fine! “As I said, the apartment was no longer a sound financial investment-”

“And you didn’t pick up another one? Are you just living out of a hotel?” Cadence pressed. “What about your mail? What about your phone? The door? You don’t seem to recieve or answer any of them. None of us have spoken to you in almost a week!”

“W-well, I had a performance to give, among other things.” Octavia sniffed. “It was very highly reviewed, I’ll have you know-”

“I don’t doubt that, but-” Cadence seized Octavia’s hoof with magic, holding it up. “You’ve worn right through your calluses. So much so you’ve been favoring your hoof on the walk here. Have you done anything but play music?”

“What else should I be doing, exactly?” Octavia tried to muster up her temper again, if only as a defense. It did not answer her call. Her eyes trace sightlessly over the menu again, desperately avoiding these words. 

“I know it’s not what you want to hear. . .” Cadence said, carefully. She floated over the table with a single wingflap, ready to hug Octavia. “But you should consider. . .well, allowing Vinyl and yourself to travel different roads. You should still finish your song, but maybe you should do it for yourself, and then allow yourself to move on. Or at least prepare yourself to do so. I- We fear you’re becoming somewhat obsessed.”

“Obsessed?!” Octavia said, still unable to conjure her temper. It rang true even as she shook her head violently, shaking the words loose. “No. . . I am not. I am merely a determined mare, that is all!”

“Octavia. Regardless of what you call it, it is unhealthy to accuse your crushes new lovers of being magical infiltrators.”

“‘Specially when they turn out to be princesses instead.” Applejack said, kindly, but no less bluntly. “That’s a Royal screwup an no mistakin’ it. You been honest with Vinyl. Reckon it’s time to leave it fallow.” 

“Princesses. . ?” Octavia said. She suddenly felt very faint.

“Astral Brilliance is a civilian identity sometimes held by Princess Celestia.” Cadence clarified, clearing her throat several times. “We don’t blame you, perse. . . you couldn’t have known, but-”

“Princess Celestia. . ?” Octavia wobbled, leaning on the table. Her breath came in gasps as her heart stumbled on its usual rhythms. “Oh no no no. Vinyl must think- And how am I to compete with that?” 

“Breathe, darling.” Rarity was at her elbow. Her face was concerned through the strange blurring effect it had on it. Was her vision failing?

“I am fine, I am-” Octavia followed a drop of water as it fell, landing on the tablecloth. Then a second. “Is-Is it raining?”

“Darling?”

Octavia reached up, a blistered hoof tracing the path of a large salty tear. Crying? No. She never cried. But the evidence was unmistakable. Moments later, the full force of the shattering of her heart struck her. Her friends were right, were they not? She had been living a fantasy. 

With a lurch, she pushed away from the table, ignoring the muffled cries. She ran the whole way back to the hotel, dodging ponies left and right. The elevator took too long, so she took the stairs, stumbling as she went. The instant she closed her door behind her, she took a shuddering breath, and let it out as a wail. She couldn’t remember a sound like that ever escaping from her before. A pink blur hovered at the window, so she fled further, fumbling with the door to the bedroom and slamming it shut, snapping the lock. She dropped then and there, her energy spent, her hooves trembling too much to continue.

And for the first time in fifteen years, Octavia Melody cried herself to sleep.
> Vinyl, Chapter 10: Cut like a Diamond
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vinyl angrily yanked at the collar of her jacket with a magical grip. It straightened, but the force of the pull rumpled the other side. She let out an audible growl, and a stallion sharing the bus stop jumped. She glared at him, and he moved to the opposite end of the double benches. What the heck was his bucking problem? What was everypony’s bucking problem? She was so tired, of fussing over her looks, of freaking out over money, of these stupid dates. What was even the point? She might as well just accept her financial ruin. All these fillies were stuck up, miserable b-

“V-Vinyl Scratch?” A timid voice. Vinyl rounded on it, and froze. A gentle looking mare stood before her, clad in a wispy green dress. She had luxuriously long eyelashes protecting marvelously wide blue eyes, which fluttered as she blinked in surprise at Vinyl’s expression. A pale pink coat and long blonde mane completed the look. Vinyl’s anger died on the vine. This filly could have been yoinked right from her subconscious. Or her recent internet searches. Gah, definitely don’t think about that right now. She seemed to almost sparkle in Vinyl’s mind. No, wait, she actually was sparkling!  She smiled slightly, her polygonal pupils widening. Her mane and coat glittered and refracted light as she demurely fidgeted with the braid her hair was tied in, bound with golden bands.

“Um. Yep, that’s me! Also Ivory Keys, as the dossier probably said, but I prefer Vinyl. Which you seem to already know, so that’s cool.” Vinyl babbled, tugging at her collar again. “And you are Lady, um, Tourmaline Luster?”

“Um, yes, that’s m-me.” She blanched, slightly, her muzzle wrinkling adorably. “Feel free to call me Mal, or Mally. It’s. . . kinda cumbersome.”

“Mal.” Vinyl smiled. “I can dig it.”

“Dig it like . . . a gemstone?” Mal smiled back, the slightly gremlin-ish grin at odds with the way she hid half her face behind her braid. “I’m sorry, I’m still sort of adjusting to, well, existing again. Things have changed since the Crystal Empire disappeared.”

“I. . . honestly can’t tell if you’re joking.” Vinyl chuckled.

“I am. Mostly.” Mal blushed slightly. “Um, so what are we eating?”

“Well, I’ve been hanging at this fancy place, but. . . maybe we should try some authentic local cuisine and get pizza or something instead.” Vinyl hoped fervently that she’d say yes. “Do you have pizza in the Empire?”

“We have plenty of glamor and eye-catching flair, yes.” She blinked innocently, her grin widening slightly. “Or, wait, sorry, you’re a musician. We do have stringed instruments, yes!”

“I- Uh. Uh oh.” Vinyl removed her glasses to wipe a tendril of sweat from her forehead. “Um, I meant the dough disk with cheese and stuff. . ?”

“Oh, yes, we have that too. And that sounds perfect. Split one half and half?” She smiled, sincerely this time. Vinyl’s heart fluttered.

“Sure, I know a good place. They have really big slices, so we could probably just get a couple of those-”

“Vinyl, I know I st-stutter sometimes, but I definitely didn’t there. Half and half?” She blushed again, deeper crimson this time, glowing like little drops of ruby in her crystalline coat. “S-sorry. I really, um, like food. And, s-something about you just. . . makes me feel comfortable dropping my pretenses. Sorry if that’s, um, improper.”

“No, no, that’s good! Don’t apologize, please stay like this, if you want. Uh, I don’t know if we’ll finish a whole pizza but hey, I’ve eaten so many weight loss salads I could probably use the calories.” Vinyl laughed, taking a few steps outside the glass enclosure. “C’mon, this way. No need for the bus, we can walk and talk, yeah?”

“Yeah!” The shorter filly fell into step beside her. Close beside her. Vinyl swallowed.

“So, uh-” She began, just as Mally started “V-Vinyl, I-” They glanced at each other, looked away. Vinyl wished she could have choreographed dancers that well.

“You first.” Mal prompted, flicking her head nervously, her ears flopping forward and back in adorable distress. Vinyl fought the urge to stamp her hooves and squee. 

“Erm, so, the dossier mentioned you play an instrument?” Vinyl struggled through the cute-mare-mental-daze for a conversation topic. “Which one?”

“Flute! Oh, and drums too, a little. Mostly for festivals and dances and stuff, everypony knows a bit.” She bounced up and down a little as she spoke, and Vinyl caught her eyes tracing the rise and fall of the dress fabric, the hint of a cutie mark underneath, also bou- Eyes front, Scratch! She stealthily pinched herself with magic on the side opposite the mare, and tuned back into what she was saying. “-dancing, but I’d like to learn modern ones, and music too. It’s, um, part of what interested me about, um, this.”

“Well, sure, I could talk your ear off about different types of EDM, but let's be careful what cans of worms we open.” Vinyl chuckled sheepishly. “It’s hard to put the worms, uh, back in the can. Once they’re out and wriggling around all gross.”

“I like opening things, regardless of what is in them.” Mal giggled behind a silver-shod hoof. “Even gross things.”

I got a gross thing that you cou- No! Snap out of it! Vinyl couldn’t suppress a furious ‘snrk’, even with one hundred percent of her willpower. Sheesh, what’s wrong with me? I guess dumping motherbucking Princess Celestia kind of left me high and dry, huh?

“-are you, Vinyl?”

“Right! Yep!” She said, out of habit, trying to yank her focus back on the conversation.

“Yep you. . . were thinking something lewd?” Mal blinked.

“Guh. Uh. No, sorry, I just got- I would never- Err, not on the first-” Vinyl flailed.

“I’m sorry, I was just teasing! I didn’t say that at all. You were just spacing out, so I-” Mal produced a hoof-fan from her saddlebags, snapping it around the wrist and fanning herself. “I just don’t know what came over me.”

“Oh, I’ll- DAMMIT!” Vinyl slapped herself hard across the muzzle with a magical shockwave. She followed it up with one from the other side, straightened up, and continued. “Gah, sorry. I’m just tired. I need to get my head on straight.” 

“It’s okay, I’m honestly glad you seem as nervous as I feel! It would be lousy if it was just me here floundering around. . .” Mally nuzzled her briefly. Vinyl felt her tail and ears snap immediately to attention, even at the friendly touch. “Oh, fiddlesticks! I could have said ‘not straight, certainly’, couldn’t I have?”

“Hah! That would have been a good one.” Vinyl grinned, pulling open the door to the pizza place and holding it for her. “You’re a real gem, Mally.”

“Yes? I am a gem.” She blinked in confusion, pausing in the doorway.

“No, I mean- A rarity. Something precious?” Vinyl blushed, fidgeting. “Errr, if that’s not too forward to say?”

“Get a room, schmucks! And get one out of my dang way!” A grouchy mare with a manehattan accent yelled, and the two lovebirds jolted, leaping out of the way to let her pass. They caught each other’s eyes, and snickered, cheeks flushed. 

“S-So, Pizza?” Mally asked.

“Please. Anything to keep me from putting my hoof in my mouth again.”

====

“. . . So I still say it was understandable that she left-” Mally continued, her voice impassioned.

“Sure, maybe it made sense in her crazy mind, but it totally bucked over everybody else!” Vinyl pushed open the pizzeria door, holding it once again. “Are you sure you’re not cutting her some extra slack because she’s the hot one? And can shoot lightning out of her wings?”

“That’s not what it’s about! It’s about her backstory and her trauma!” Mally headbutted Vinyl affectionately. “And she’s not even my favorite. I like the main girl the best, her shadow dragon rage form is soooo cooooool.”

“Ah, I see. So you like the strong idiot type, eh?” Vinyl blinked. “Wait. . .”

“What?” Mally blinked innocently.

“Haha, never mind. I’m just imagining things.” Vinyl chuckled, settling her shades back over her eyes, despite the darkness. “So, where are you staying? I should walk you back, it’s getting late.” Mally paused by a planter of small, fragrant trees, looking back at Vinyl.

“That’s probably not a good idea.” She said, her voice small. Her eyes met Vinyl’s, digging deep. They were huge, and filled with emotion, desire even. Vinyl felt a flicker, a blaze starting deep in her belly.

“Why not?” Vinyl stepped closer. The wind shifted, blowing the scent of the mare towards her. A spicy, earthy scent that made her feel a bit like she’d popped a bottle of Spark, and a fire had lit in her belly.

“It’s only the first date, after all.” Mally’s eyes drifted half closed as she fluttered her crystalline lashes. Vinyl swallowed, feeling a team of mini Vinyls shoveling coal furiously into that stomach fire. “It’s probably safer to say our goodbyes here. . .”

“Safer. Yeah, that’s probably true.” Vinyl laughed. It came out nervous, and she internally swore at the mini Vinyls, who shrugged. “I mean, I feel pretty safe, but. . .”

“Oh?” Mally was suddenly very close, her face filling Vinyl’s vision. All she could see was her. All she could smell was her. All she could hear was her voice, low, and passionate. “Maybe you shouldn’t. I know I don’t, with that look in your eyes. . .”

“Urk.” Vinyl grunted. The fire in her belly was spreading, trickling through her blood. She felt like charcoal and like melting ice, all at once. A sudden image of staring and leaning in towards Octavia ran through her mind. And the uppercut that followed. Mally leaned in instead, chasing that thought away. 

“What’s wrong, Vi?” Mally breathed, her muzzle inches from Vinyl’s. Even her breath smelled sweet, what the heck? The flames within swelled, rising to a fever pitch. “Are you thinking of somepony e- Meep!” 

Vinyl pressed her lips to Mal’s, smothering a squeak. The flame beast within roared its approval, the emotional equivalent of the best bass drop. The small mare pressed back, her tongue tracing Vinyl’s with almost prehensile flexibility. Vinyl could feel the heat of her, the soft fluff of her chest pressed against her own. The moment warped like heated metal, stretching into a cherry red eternity. Vinyl was slowly consumed by the fire, rising to a burning blaze before crumbling away to ash.

“Oof!” Vinyl’s legs finally gave out, and she nearly collapsed. Confusion and embarrassment washed over her.  “U-uh, jellylegs? I, uh- I mean- this has never happened before! I swear, it- I’m just in a bit of a dry spell!” 

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Mal pulled back, licking her lips, her eyes wide and innocent. Oh no. “I- I mean, I was- What happened?”

“Uh, n-nothing. Was just wishing you goodnight and uh, apologizing for the uh, surprise kiss. . ?” Vinyl babbled, trying subtly to stand up in a totally-cool-not-weird-at-all way. 

“Hee hee. . . It’s okay. I told you it was probably better to say goodnight here.” Mally blushed, rubbing a fetlock bashfully with her other hoof. “Goodnight Vinyl. I had a really nice time. You have my number. . . if you decide that you’d like a second date-”

“I would.” Vinyl said immediately. The fire began to rekindle slightly, even as she wobbled on her hooves. 

“Hee hee! Okay! How about next week?”

“How about tomorrow?” 

“I want to. . . but I should go home for tomorrow. Day after?” 

“That works.” Vinyl grinned. “We’ll do something cooler. I’ll cook dinner and play you something. . . or something. Text me.”

“I will. Goodnight again, Vinyl.” Mally snuck a final kiss onto Vinyl’s cheek before trotting away with speed, her cheeks burning red. Vinyl sighed. This was a proper hate-to-see-you-go-love-to-watch-you-leave sigh. Been a long time since she had one of those. Good date. Guess you really do just have to dig through a ton of awful to find something good. Well, aside from embarrassing myself super hard in the middle of the street but hey, I’m pretty used to that at this point.

The filly escaped around a corner, a spring in her step. As she vanished from sight, Vinyl immediately felt exhausted, drained. She had a powerful urge to chase after her, but tiredness and integrity won out. Wow. What a filly. Where had she been hiding? Well, apparently in a nonexistent empire, but still. Vinyl began to meander back to her own hotel. She’d been planning on maybe texting Astral- err, Celestia today. . . but that could wait. She wasn’t really in the mood anymore, strangely. Maybe, gasp, an early night, and a few practice rounds of cooking dinner, before she totally blew it on the next date. . .
> Octavia, Chapter 10: Plots and Plotters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Octavia padded quietly out of the bedroom. Morning sunlight was beginning to peek in through the windows. Evidently she had slept through dinner and the night as well. She felt very drained, as if she had cried out all that made her Octavia, and only the body remained. Cadence had once said it was like vomiting for the soul, and Octavia supposed that was accurate, though she wasn’t sure how much soul remained.

Cadence herself was seated on the couch, fast asleep. Even in unconsciousness, her hooves were primly folded, and her face was immaculate, not a single smudge on her makeup. The sight made Octavia’s heart quicken for just a moment, before succumbing back to emptiness. That was a dead end. As dead an end as her pursuits of Vinyl.

She tiphoofed across the room to where her deck stood, still glowing softly. Her hoof hovered over the “delete” button. If she was a good pony, she would press it. Clean this whole affair from her mind and. . . get back to life. Whatever life had been before Vinyl had careened through it, throwing aside gray curtains to allow brilliant white and blue light to shine within. Octavia could scarcely remember what it had been like. Her hoof trembled.

She set it back on the floor. No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. One way or another, she would get no peace until this was completed. Cadance’s words were true. This was as much for her as for Vinyl. Closure, as miserable and final as it was, was all she could hope for now. She pulled a blanket softly over Cadance, slipped her headphones over her ears, and began to play.

Much like her tears, the music began to flow. Perhaps she had been unable to write an ending before because she didn’t know how it ended. Now that she did, it was simple. Almost too much so. She closed her eyes as tapped keys and marked notes, her vision too blurred by tears to see in any case. Measure after measure emerged from her sorrow, like clouds from a pegasus factory, casting gloom and rain over her soul. Hopefully to wash these feelings away, in the end. 

What she hadn’t understood before was that this, this misery and desperation, this was the ending. Somber. Quiet. No great final swell of conflict or redemption. The last drop had been the last movement, their fight. All the rest of the song would be a slow withering of something beautiful. The instruments, classical and electronic, finally together, but playing different songs. They diverged further and further, until Vinyl’s faded completely, leaving only Octavia’s, playing a mournful love softly, and quietly, until it, too, vanished into silence.

Octavia sat. Her stomach rumbled. The sun was completely gone behind the buildings, only reflections of the sunlight remained. She’d been at it all day, evidently. She glanced around. Cadence, bless her heart, had stayed all this time. As if sensing Octavia’s gaze, she caught it as soon as it landed upon her, sharing a soft smile. Octavia could not return it, so she nodded, instead. Cadence seemed to accept that, and returned her attention to a stack of scrolls in front of her, though not without rolling a cart of still steaming food towards Octavia. A mix of savory and sweet scents hit her nostrils, and her stomach rumbled again. 

Octavia pulled the headset off. It was a lush spread. A large plate of elegantly prepared pasta, and a large tray of cookies and pastries. A bottle of wine and a smaller bottle of vodka, potato this time, sat alongside in buckets of ice. There was even a little carafe of chocolate milk. She glanced again at Cadence, who smiled without looking up.

“Everything you could need to fix a broken heart. Comfort food. Sweets. Liquor.” She chuckled. “At least, everything I would want. I hope it is to your liking. I consulted with Rarity and Parish on what you would like. . . they came by earlier but did not wish to disturb you while you were working.”

“You even got the proper potato mash. I owe you both a great thanks.” Octavia chuckled. Her voice was hoarse, first from sobs, and second from disuse. She pulled the stopper with ehr teeth, and took a sip. Ice cold, crystal clear, and strong as anything. Marvelous. She dug in immediately, tossing a generous measure of liquor into the milk, and swirling it roughly about. With that settled, she dug into the pasta with gusto. Her mother had always told her to feed a broken heart, and she wasn’t about to stop now.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Octavia raised an eyebrow at Cadance, who shook her head. Octavia made her way over, unlatching it and swinging it open.

Vinyl stood before her. 

Octavia immediately recoiled, a thousand emotions flooding through her. Vinyl merely chuckled, and stepped back.

“Sorry, sheesh, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Her voice had an odd, almost dreamy quality to it. Had she always sounded that airy, that carefree? “Err, not to drop in all of a sudden, but Mal here really wanted to meet you, and wouldn’t let it rest after she heard we’d had a falling out. . .” 

A small crystal pony waved shyly from around the doorframe. Vinyl smiled at her as she took a place at her side. Octavia’s already shattered heart was ground to a slightly finer powder. She was pretty. Petite. Shy. Definitely Vinyl’s type. From the looks in their eyes, they’d found that out already. 

“W-we don’t have to stay long. I just wanted to make sure you two made up!” Mal said, in a trembling voice. Octavia was thankfully too shellshocked to roll her eyes. “You’re clearly very important to Vinyl, so. . . I thought it would make you both happy.”

“She’s not wrong, er. . .” Vinyl rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. Octavia realized with yet another shock that Vinyl’s glasses were nowhere to be seen. Her eyes were fully on display, slightly glassy though they might look. It looked like she'd just woken up, despite the late hour. “I do miss you, Octy. I’d like to be friends again.”

“F-Friends, right.” Octavia was not sure if she wanted that. Or, more accurately, was not sure if that is what she needed right this moment. But could she turn Vinyl down, either? “Certainly.”

“Oh, thank Ce- Err, thank goodness.” Vinyl sighed with relief, flashing a smile at her, then at her companion. “I was being a bit of a stubborn mule myself, so. . . Sorry about that.”

“Not at all. Th-the fault was all mine.” Octavia looked down at her hooves, praying to anyone who was listening to let that be the end of it. She was too emotionally exhausted to cry any more, but this was still unpleasant.

“ . . . Sorry, but can I use your restroom right quick?” Mal asked, rather suddenly. “I have a bit of a. . . erm, makeup emergency.”

“Y-yes?” Octavia started. The pony smiled at her as she rather aggressively shouldered past her.

“Thank you so much. Vinyl, why don’t you wait here for a minute?” Mal glanced at her, and Vinyl, inexplicably, took up a position quite obediently in the hallway, staring straight ahead like a royal guard. “Mind showing me, Octavia?”

“Um.” Octavia nodded numbly, and led the pony through the suite to the bathroom. She could feel the collateral damage from Vinyl’s eyes, but for once, it wasn’t Octavia’s flank they were watching. She fought back a deep frown.

“I wasn’t lying when I said Vinyl speaks of you very often.” Mal said, once they arrived. Her voice was still quiet, but no longer held the notes of shyness. With a careful hoof, she ran matching glittering lipstick over her muzzle. “It’s rather endearing.”

“Thank you?” Octavia blinked. She found her eyes tracing the hoof, her heartbeat quickening. What on earth was with this pony?

“Ordinarily, I don’t mind sharing. Goodness knows Vinyl is not my only partner.” Mal turned to Octavia. Her eyes flickered, as if for a moment they were made of greenish smoke. “Unfortunately, this is business, not pleasure, and so I cannot tolerate any competition. Thankfully, you’ve mostly destroyed your own reputation already, so all we need is a little nudge. . .”

“What do you-” Octavia filled her lungs to speak, or scream, or something. What exactly she was going to do, she was not sure. Regardless, she never got the chance. The malfeasant filly before her removed a compact full of familiar green goop, dumped it over her own head, and screamed first. In an instant, Vinyl and Cadence were at Octavia’s side. Cadance gasped, and Vinyl rushed to Mal’s side. 

“N-no, I did not-” Octavia spluttered, her voice dying as Vinyl shot her a look of pure loathing. She felt her heart seize, slowing, nearly stopping all at once. Cadance seized Octavia in a gentle magical grip, as though she was dangerous.
“I-I don’t understand!” Mal sobbed into Vinyl’s shoulder.

“What is wrong with you, Octavia?” Vinyl snapped, ushering her fiance out of the room. “Let that teach me to give second chances, I guess. Goodbye forever, for real this time.” A door slammed, leaving Octavia alone with Cadance, who slowly rotated her so they were face to face.

“. . . I’m very disappointed in you, Octavia.” Cadence said. Her voice was resonant, the voice of a proper Princess, one Octavia had seldom heard. “How did you let yourself go this way? If nothing else, Octavia Melody is disciplined. She doesn’t attack fillies! Especially not citizens of my empire!”

“I did not! I swear!” Octavia babbled. “She- That is, she did it- I did nothing!”

“What did she do? Besides having come here, quite bravely and kindly, to attempt to fix a wrong she saw?” Cadence set Octavia down, and turned tail. “Enough. I will go check on her. You remain here. If I find you have escaped, I will be very cross.”

“Cada-” Octavia cut off at a glare, freezing in place. She pressed on, desperately. “Princess, please, you have to believe me! I did not do this! I would not do this!”

“I wouldn’t think so, Octavia.” Cadances fury broke, just for a moment. She lingered in the doorway. Sadness filled the gap. “But you have clearly let paranoia and jealousy change you. I thought of you as a friend, but I feel I barely know you anymore.”

“You know me.” Octavia begged. Cadance merely shook her head, and departed.
> Vinyl, Ch. 11: What else is there to say?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mal. Mally. Tourmaline.
> Octavia, Chapter 11: Octy's Eight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, that is the present situation.” Octavia tossed back the shot of vodka, prompting the filly across from her to do likewise, immediately choking on it. “For Celestia’s sake, it’s like you’ve never been drunk before.”

“No, that’s definitely not the problem.” Tradewinds wheezed, smacking herself in the chest with an elbow. “This crap just tastes like gasoline! Where the heck did it come from?”

“My family farm.” Octavia stared back cooly, gently lifting the bottle in the crook of her wrist. “Another?” It wasn’t really a question.

“. . . Sure! Did I say gasoline? Haha, everypony knows gasoline is delicious!” Trade slumped, shaking her head like a dog. “. . . So be straight with me. Vinyl really scored with the actual Princess?”

“It appears that way.” Octavia took a long sip. “And a Queen, perhaps.”

“Well. Fudge.” Trade sighed, and tossed back the glass once again. She let her head slowly droop, muzzle first, to the table. Octavia wordlessly refilled the glass. 

“Fudge indeed. However, in this instance, it may be a blessing in disguise.” Octavia set down the bottle, crossing her hooves on the table between them. “Since Her Highness might be a potential addition to our little two mare crusade.”

“You think so?” Trade glared at the glass, staring it down like it had insulted her. “Is she gonna care that much?”

“I happen to know from scuttlebutt that she once flew to Ponyville because her student had a temper tantrum.” Octavia pressed, leaning forward. “I think there is a good chance. That is, as long as you yourself agree.”

“I hate agreeing to stuff formally, it always goes awry.” Tradewinds ran a hoof through her already too spiky mane. Octavia followed it.  “And yes, I realize that’s literally my job. Don’t say it. I have to say, though, that you seem to have become very Vinyl-ish yourself. Hard drinking, calling up strange mares, causing problems for the nobility. . .”

“You say that as though you are either complaining or disparaging.” Octavia sipped her cup, casting a cool glance at the pegasus. “If you have tired of my company, or have issues with Vinyl, I will cheerfully take myself elsewhere-”

“Whoa, sheesh, it’s just a joke! Obviously I don’t want that, c’mon.” Tradewinds flared out her wings, which were, admittedly, quite large and pretty. Octavia’s eyes traced them, and the powerful limbs they were attached to. “And yes, I’m in. I want to help Vinyl. Maybe I even need to help her. Even if she never wants to see me, I need to do something to make up for how bad I blew it, and no time like the present.”

“Excellent. In that case. . .” Octavia tapped her hooves. “I believe you are familiar with the attack on Canterlot? Royal wedding, huge mess?”

“Sure. Yeah. Why?”

“I have reason - multiple reasons- to believe that the same villain is at play here.”

“You can’t be serious. That Changeling Queen is after Vinyl?” Tradewinds wheezed out a laugh, banging her hoof repeatedly on the table. Octavia waited patiently for the storm to pass. Trade slowly wound down into a concerned stare. “. . . You’re serious?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Her considerable shapeshifting talents. Talents that are resistant to usual methods of detection.” Octavia stamped on the plush carpet without taking her eyes off Trade. The Pegasus wriggled uncomfortably under the glare. “Some degree of mind-affecting magic. And a large amount of insight and acting talent that allows her to form herself into the perfect partner for a potential victim. I don’t know why she’s interested in Vinyl, she told me plainly that this is business for her, so perhaps she’s being paid. It matters little in the grand scheme of things, however. The bottom line is that Vinyl is in trouble, and we are the only ponies who are capable of helping.”

“Sheesh. I dunno, this is. . . well above my paygrade. But it is Vinyl. . .” Trade hemmed and hawed, nibbling on the tip of a feather. Octavia growled softly, her ears flattening against her skull. “Whoa, hey, chill, please! Of course I’ll help. I just don’t know what exactly I can do. . . I’d have to think-”

“Do not, please. You are clearly not very good at it. You are here to look pretty and give me legitimacy as I present this case to the princess.” Octavia hid a sigh of relief, slapping the ancient book closed. “We go tomorrow, first thing. I suggest you rent yourself a room and sleep off the vodka you are clearly too uncultured to appreciate.”

“Okay, three things.” Trade jabbed a hoof upwards thrice, a vaguely offended look about the muzzle. “First, Ouch. I’m a Feather 500 company head, I think I think just fine. Two, I think I’m more handsome than pretty, and I’m proud of that~” She preened, smoothing over her rakish mane cut with a slick hoof. 

“Acknowledged.” Octavia stared expectantly. “. . . and three? You are failing spectacularly to sell me on your supposed Feather 500 mental prowess.”

“Can it! It’s just this gasoline. The, ahem, delicious, delicious gasoline I can’t stop drinking!” Trade rapped the table, flapping her wings nervously. “Look, can’t I just crash on your couch or something? I don’t feel up to wandering Canterlot right now, and this place is sorta. . . pricey.”

“Hah! Did you not just furiously brag about your company? You can afford it.” Octavia guffawed, pushing herself to her hooves.

“I’m a savvy buisinesspony specifically because I don’t waste my bits.” Trade hovered backwards, keeping herself in Octavia’s view. “C’mon, Tavi. Pretty please? Cherries, the whole nine?”

“Fine. If you will remain out of sight and silent. I need my rest for tomorrow.”

“Won’t even know I’m here. Unless you want to~” Trade winked and rolled over in her chair, curling into a tiny ball of feathers and fur. Octavia’s eyes rolled of their own accord. How did she find herself in the company of such strange fillies? She moved towards the bedroom, snapping up the vodka jug in her mouth as she went.

In typical fashion, she had just shed her tie and gotten prepared to sleep when a knock sounded at the door. Also typically, she contemplated ignoring it. Unfortunately, she was just tipsy enough that her brain was able to insist, foolishly, that it might be a distraught Vinyl. And so, with laborious steps, she made her way to the entrance, and pulled the door open.

The air pressure equalized, and it seemed to take Octavia’s breath with it. The pegasus that stood before her was not Vinyl, but she was striking. She bore an asymmetric mop of blonde mane, one side loose, the other tied in a traditional pegasus braid, matching her tail, a short cut shock in her bangs was dyed a beautiful sky blue. Her coat and feathers were a soft, flowery yellow, and her wings were ruffled, but long, and elegantly shaped. This radiant filly smiled nervously, opened her mouth, and asked;

“Ah, hello Miss Octavia. Is Miss Vinyl Scratch here with you, by any chance?”

“No, she’s not.” Octavia felt embarrassingly drunk and unkempt, and really, truly, did not want to talk about this, particularly with whoever this floozy was. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Oh. Well, the front desk said you were booked here with a filly when I asked after you, but I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed.” She didn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed. Even a salacious look would be better than pure disappointment at the lack of Vinyl. And the disregard for her own presence. “I realize now I know very little about you except for what Vinyl told me. And that my sister adores your music and wanted me to pass along her appreciation for your original compositions.”

“Well, I thank your sister for her impeccable taste.” Octavia tried to inflect the statement in such a way that implied And no thanks to you for disturbing me. “But you could not be more incorrect. There is no Vinyl or any other filly in here. Now, if you’ll pardon me-”

“No other filly, huh? I see how it is. Who is- Whoa, hello there gorgeous. Do those wings go all the way down?” Trade leapt clear over Octavia’s head, casually colliding with and then leaning against the doorframe, one hoof worrying a loose bang. 

“She was asking after Vinyl, actually.” Octavia said, sharply, as the radiant pegasus giggled. “Which we don’t know anything about, do we? So, if you’re quite done. . .”

“You too, huh? Well, you- OW!” Trade winced as Octavia slammed the door on her midriff. “Some ponies, sheesh. I was just saying, this filly has the look of somepony who just got Scratched with extreme prejudice.”

“You cannot possibly know that by looking at her.” Octavia glared.

“Maybe you can’t. But check it, she’s totally Vinyls type, she’s all dolled up to slay at like 11pm, prime club time, and-” Trade caught the door on her wing as Octavia tried to slam it again. “And! She came up here to pester you even assuming you and Vinyl were booked into a hotel together, so. . .”

“Ah, well. . .” The newcomer grinned broadly and slightly sheepishly. “This may not have been the most well thought out course of action in my life. . .”

“Then lie and say she’s wrong, you idiot!” Octavia snapped, slapping a hoof to her already bruised forehead. “Don’t buy into her smug insight! She’s just making it all up. Trade, will you either get back inside or go outside fully to flirt, so I can slam this moon-cursed door properly?”

“Octavia, maybe we should just hear her out. C’mon, I’m sure you have gasoline enough for three fillies-”

“Not on your life, this is thrice distilled, pure potato, small batch only-”

“Thank goodness for that. Seriously, I’d rather drink gryphon gin-”

“No, I didn’t come here to drink. Just to check on her.” The filly nodded politely at the bickering pair. “Tonight was the second show in as many weeks she’s canceled, and I just wanted to make sure she was alright. So please, don’t put yourself out on my account.”

“Canceled gigs, eh?” Trade glanced at Octavia, who slammed the door on her wing again. “You think that could be the bug bit- GAH! Enough with the door- OW!” 

“That’s enough, Trade. Sorry, Miss, we cannot help you.” Octavia clamped her jaws around Trade’s tail and yanked her back inside. Most unfortunately, the filly managed to slip by the rapidly slamming door and step inside. Octavia blinked, her beleaguered mind still processing the physics of the act.

“Perhaps. . .” The filly said, and removed her bracelet, blossoming from stunning filly to Celestial Princess. “I can help you, instead.”