The Best Songs Come From the Soul

by Quicksear

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, DJ P0N-3, Dark, Octavia
Length: 25542

Vinyl Scratch was the foremost modern artist in all of Equestria, known for putting her heart and soul into her music. No one ever imagined how far she was willing to go.

Octavia and Vinyl Scratch have worked together for years and have risen to greatness on the love and support each gave the other. But as time goes on, things start coming apart at the seams, revealing the true origin of Vinyl's greatness, and the dark depths from which stems.

Published 2013-05-14 19:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-21 10:22:42 UTC

2. Dissonance

The next day I woke up feeling much refreshed. As usual, I went down to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. Stretching luxuriously as I walked down the stairs, I was surprised to see Vinyl washing the dishes. As in with water and soap, not her usual attempts at sonic scouring, which had led to several complaints and one or two hospital admissions.

I welcomed the change as I said good morning on the way to the fridge. Vinyl looked uncomfortable about something, and I thought that, considering my actions last night, I should at least be friendly. "Vinyl? Are you feeling okay this morning?"

My friend shook her head and pointed over to the table. "Lyra sent you a letter."

I looked at the opened envelope on the table, realization dawning as I stared, horrified. "Vinyl! You opened my mail!"

Vinyl dropped the plate she had been scouring and turned aggressively to face me. "So what? I thought we didn't have anything to hide! And here I find a letter saying, what? That you are welcome to move in with another mare whenever you feel ready?! I thought we were gonna stick together, you and me!" She looked on the verge of tears.

I knew I shouldn't have kept it from her, but she still didn't have the right to be so angry. "Oh, no secrets? Then what do you have hidden in the basement that I'm not allowed to see? And what do you care, you haven't seemed so interested in ANYTHING for the last few months!" I grated out, drawing myself up in righteous anger.

"What?" Vinyl spluttered for a second. "You don't let me into your recording room either, unless you need help fixing the stuff I installed! You've never been down to the basement since I moved my stuff down there, even when I asked. That's my space, to get away from YOU!" She jabbed a hoof in my direction animatedly. I noticed a bandage halfway down her left foreleg as she did so.

She had gone and injured herself again, no doubt. Lately she had often come out with an injury of some kind, never with an explanation other than vague references to accidents I had never heard happening.

I looked at her calmly. "You see, Vinyl? You do need space. I need space. From all of this. From you, from our work, from us. I'll get Lyra to help me move into her spare room this morning."

I turned walked to our bedroom. I began packing my stuff as tears rolled from my eyes. I was crushed that such a memorable relationship would end just like that. I heard a door slam back on the first floor. Vinyl had disappeared into her hole in the ground again. It was probably for the best; Angers could flare if we saw one another again, and somepony might say something she'd regret later. If there was any hope left to be had. I had hoped to break the news softly, after Lyra made all the necessary arrangements for me, but after the confrontation, I knew there were few bridges left standing between us. With that in mind, I made good on my word and informed Lyra that very hour that she would have a new roommate by the end of the day.

Lyra was very comforting as she helped carry all my belongings across the street to her cottage with the ease that came with magic. I was quickly installed in the room once occupied by Bon Bon, since with the increase in her business, she had opened a new shop in Canterlot, and was only in town seasonally from now on. Lyra had been depressed for weeks after Bon Bon had accepted the deal, but she seemed happy to get another friend installed, at least in the manner of having somepony else to pay a share of the rent. Of course, this situation had suddenly become much more complicated. Lyra was shocked to hear me relate the story of the morning's argument.

She... didn't know you were planning on moving...?" She asked me in a quiet tone as we walked back across the street for the final few things of mine. "Well, that isn't quite right, Octavia. You should apologize for that. Vinyl may be a bit odd sometimes, but she certainly cares for you."

I didn't want to agree, but Lyra was right: I had to apologize if I ever wanted a chance at the least, a civil friendship with Vinyl. Against my better judgement and pride, I complied and, with Lyra following, trotted to the door one final time. It was still unlocked, and the interior of what used to be my home called comforting memories to my mind. I ignored them. I walked over to the basement door while Lyra gave me and encouraging smile from the entrance, before trotting away with the last of my things to my new residence. I took a deep breath and knocked a hoof against the wooden doorframe.

I couldn't hear anything from the other side of the door. I assumed this was because Vinyl had yet to remove the sound suppression spell she had grudgingly raised on my request, so that I wouldn't have to hear the racket every time she set up for a new song. This, though, didn't stop from feeling the disconcerting vibrations that ran through the entire building as I knocked. It felt as if something really heavy had just fallen, but over and over and over again, in an unceasing discordant chorus.

After a few moments, it stopped, and then the door opened a crack. "Oh, ya done, Octy?" Vinyl barely poked her snout out of the doorway. Her voice was hoarse and quiet, as though filled with the combination of emotion and pain I know she only ever dared give into with me.

I was a bit shocked to hear her like this. And even more so to see a small blood smear on her cheek. "I-I just wanted to say how sorry I am at how things have worked out and...Are you okay, Vinyl? I think you should come out-"

Vinyl cut me off. "I'm okay with you moving out. You are right. You usually are. Now I have a project to finish." She slammed the door.

I couldn't speak. I wandered over to Lyra's house, trying to wrap my head around Vinyl's actions. If she didn't want me there anymore, then so be it.

I just hoped she wouldn't kill herself in there.

Author's Note

Wow, apparently this story did indeed rub some people up the wrong way. If this is the case, gimme a hint as to WHY. Gotta start somewhere.

Otherwise, I won't complain yet. Its about to turn good...or bad, depending, I guess...

3. Digression

The next few days were...trying.

It was surprisingly difficult for me to adjust to my new living space. My new ground floor room was much colder than my old one, being without central heating, and lacking a warm body to share it with. I pushed past that, though: Vinyl and I were through, that much was clear.

Lyra was very supportive despite her distaste for the whole affair, though I think was more due to her own loneliness than any sympathy she felt, for she was still adjusting to life without Bon Bon’s constant presence. Perhaps equally responsible was the blatant rumour running through the town; that I had left Vinyl for Lyra. This was absurd, of course: I would never stoop to such insulting behaviour, and Lyra was far too sweet to ever even think of doing something so callous. Plus, she was still loyal to Bon Bon, despite the distance that divided them. It was adorable to see, actually.

On the third day since my moving in, I awoke early and walked towards the kitchen for my usual glass of orange juice. As I trotted towards the archway, I heard an excited giggle, and the sound of clattering plates. A fluttering in my chest accompanied the memory of how Vinyl used to act every morning in the early days; happiness followed her everywhere, infectious, even when her music had been less popular. Back when we were one.

I forced the memory away and slid into the room to see Lyra excitedly bouncing and gyrating around a levitating piece paper. An envelope lay shredded on the kitchen table. “Good morning Lyra,” I greeted, “What has gotten you in such high spirits?”

Lyra cannoned around to in front of me, where she bounced up and down as she explained: “It’s a letter! From Bon Bon! She’s coming back for a visit! Oh, I’m so happy! I get to see Bonny again before the summer season...!” She continued hopping around the kitchen before her energy spilled over into the living room, leaving me in relative quiet with my glass of orange juice in hoof.

I couldn't help but smile at my friend. She had every right to be ecstatic, even though the visit was only temporary: Bon Bon and Lyra were the closest friends I had ever seen, and maybe even more than that. It wasn't my business to pry into their private lives, though. I should have considered finding a place to stay so that they could have some privacy, but I knew very few ponies in town, and anyway, my thoughts were somewhat preoccupied.

Ponyville was known for its tranquility and peacefulness. Well, in between major catastrophes, that is. Normally, each day is heralded with the silent glory of the rising sun, spent happily in studious labour, and then the cool salve of the night would wash away the weariness of the day. But in these three days, something had interrupted this precious pattern.

Every night had been filled with soundless cacophonies of thumping vibrations that broke the fragile peace of the darkness. Ponies all across town woke up feeling the toneless rhythm, some walking the streets in an attempt to locate the source. Last night, it had been found. Noteworthy had come and knocked on our door to tell us that the epicentre was undoubtedly the cottage I previously shared with Vinyl Scratch.

As if this wasn't disturbing enough, the white unicorn had been seen in the market the evening before. Noteworthy had spoken to a few of the ponies who noted her, and the report was not good. She had been wearing an old black sweater I had left behind when I moved, a tattered thing, and had been particularly dejected. She had not spoken to anypony, and had only bought some fruits and other foodstuffs before posting a letter and returning to the mystery that was now her lonesome life.

As I sat there, thinking about my old friend and her troubles, I began to feel guilty over how I had treated her: It had never been my intention to hurt her to this degree, and I still felt strong feelings for my DJ co-worker despite our falling out. Maybe we couldn't be happy together, but I didn't want her to be miserable now that we were apart.

I flicked my ears as the annoying sound of wood being dragged across the floor reached them. I glanced up and was surprised to see Lyra pulling a chair up to me and sitting down. With a curious angle to her head, she asked, “What’s got you down this morning, Octy?”

“Don’t call me that.” I snapped out before realizing it. I quicly muffled myself and began an apology, “I’m so sorry, Lyra, I don’t-“

“It’s Vinyl, isn’t it?” She said, more a statement than a question. I resisted the urge to deny such a thing, and nodded mutely. After a brief hesitation, she placed a comforting hoof on my shoulder. I flinched from the contact, but allowed it. Lyra awkwardly cleared her throat. “Um...You know what I think about it, Octavia. Vinyl’s a nice pony, but she’s very sensitive. I know you and her are at odds right now, but maybe you should go...talk to her? I’m not trying to be pushy or anything,” She backpedaled from my quick glare, “just...She’s keeping the neighbourhood up at night, and she doesn't usually look so miserable.”

I calmed myself quickly, then took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m sure you’re right, Lyra, maybe I should just check on her. Don’t bother yourself about it, I’ll make sure she’s okay. But you should be happy! Don’t you have a welcome party to plan? Or more dancing to do?"

Lyra beamed at my suggestion, resuming her bouncing immediately. “That’s a great idea! A party for Bon Bon at the train station! I’ll get Pinkie to set up decorations, and Roseluck can get those roses that Bonny loves. I’ve only got two days, I better get on with it! See ya later, Octy!”

She rocketed out into the street, oblivious to my flinch at hearing the old endearment I would probably never hear from Vinyl again.

This ate at me more than I thought it would, and shortly afterwards I found myself outside my old cottage for a second time. I raised a hoof to knock, but I couldn't. I tried to convince myself that it was just nerves, that I would get over it once Vinyl answered the door, But I couldn't do it. Be it shame, or pride, or some other unwanted emotion, I simply let my raised hoof slump against the door as I hung my head and...

What was that?

I looked at my hoof, mentally ordering it to explain the strange sensation. It felt fuzzy, as if my fur was charged with static, and I could feel soft thumps through the thick wood, sometimes dragging on into constant vibrations. I ran my hoof over the door-frame, trying to understand what I was feeling, but no explanation presented itself. I pulled my hoof into the middle of the door, and suddenly felt a shockwave of sound pass over me, pushing me away from the doorway into the middle of the street.

I sat back, gasping. I did not know what had just happened, but the sheer volume of that force must have been audible all the way across town. Yet as I looked around, ponies continued with their everyday lives, oblivious to the immense pain I had just experienced. I shook my head again, trying to clear it. I heard the door creaking, and looked up slowly.

Vinyl looked down at me, her eyes covered by her goggles, her torso wrapped in my sweater, and her face graced with a contorted grin. “Why, hello Neighbour! I am so sorry you got shocked just then. My mute spell doesn't react well when broken, you see...”

I stared at her in confusion. Her voice was painfully cheerful, her grin obviously forced, and the left side of her body conspicuously hidden behind the half opened door. “Vinyl, are you feeling well? You look terrible...”

She ran a hoof through her matted mane and gave a dry, humourless chuckle. “Yeah, thanks Octavia. You aren’t looking too good yourself; you got a little something on your face there.”

I reached up a hoof to my muzzle self-conciously. It came away wet. Looking at it, I noticed a small splash of blood. I quickly leaned over to the window and stared at my face reflected there. I small rivulet of red blood seeped from my nose, an effect of the deafening sound I had been assaulted with. I wiped it away and glared at Vinyl in shock at her callousness.

She simply stared at me. “Don’t worry, I’m great! I have peace and quiet to work on my music whenever I want to, nothing to hold me back. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

There was something about the way she said that, a certain almost fatalistic acceptance that made me take a closer look at the unicorn. “Vinyl, I think you need to come outside, something is really off about you...”

Vinyl recoiled from my advances, stumbling over herself as she leapt back. “No, I’m fine! Just....I have a song to work on. Don’t knock again, or it might...hurt you.” With that, she slammed the door in my face. A sudden shimmer crossed the door, and I knew that her spell was back in place. I stared at it, trying to process what I had seen in those final seconds before she disappeared: my sweater had been unable to hide the smell of copper in the air and the new bandages upon her left leg.

I snorted painfully, pulling back in anger. Vinyl was throwing herself away over this. She had obviously been drinking and must have hurt herself again. How she managed it was beyond me.

I turned and stormed off back to Lyra’s house, right into my room. I slammed the door shut, and sat on my bed.

I did nothing for the remainder of the day except selfishly wishing that Lyra would come home and talk to me, but when the evening came around and I heard the inquiring greeting from the other side of my door, I yelled for her to leave me alone, that there was nothing to be done. In my angst, I threw myself upon my cold bed and attempted to sleep away my troubles.

They followed me, though: All through the night, I was haunted by the seismic vibrations that echoed soundlessly through the empty streets of Ponyville.

4. Soul to Song

It was a long night.

Sleep did not come as I wished it to. Instead, I lay awake, staring at the rafters and shivering in my single bed. The reverberations that were becoming familiar to the rest of the town after four days were only now beginning to truly affect me. The knowledge that Vinyl was still up and working on Celestia knows what come midnight left me unable to find peace as well.

It was almost hypnotic, that silent music playing through the ground. The impact of the beat lulled my mind into nothingness, calming me like a lullaby. And when it stopped in the early hours of the morning, the lack of it was deafening, so much so that the modicum of peace it had given me was replaced with an annoyance towards Vinyl for stopping it. As soon as I thought this, though, I negated such a horrid idea: If Vinyl was getting some rest, then maybe she would begin improving, recovering. Yes, maybe we could all get some rest and everything would be fine...

The sound of a hoof striking wood roused me completely. I could hear the sound clearly from across the street through the soundless night, my window barely muffling it. Curiosity flooded me, and I rolled to the side of the bed, raising to unsteady legs, trotting over to the window to see who could be up so early.

Across the street stood the cottage I had shared with Vinyl. Standing prominently in its facade was the door to my old home, and standing in the slowly opening doorway was cloaked figure of a pony. At first I thought it was Vinyl herself, but why would she knock on her own door? Who else, though, would knock so early at all? The figure wore a simple hood covering their head, but from barely a dozen pony-lengths away, I could see that they weren’t a unicorn. In the doorway before the cloaked pony, a beckoning hoof, alabaster and crimson, waved invitingly, leaving a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach as I watched the shadowy figure nod and, with a feint flutter of concealed wings, push into the building.

*****

It was nothing. A dream. At least that’s what I told myself the next morning. I woke up on my bed, not remembering laying back down. The inviting sunlight was streaming through my window, summoning from my short sleep. I never could sleep in sunlight. Instead of fighting the inevitable, I crawled off my bed, my mind whirring through the now hazy images of the night before. I ignored them, and made my way to the kitchen by force of habit. Lyra was nowhere to be seen, which was odd for the usually permanently energized unicorn.

I prepared a simple meal for myself and contemplated my options for the day. A walk around town would not have gone amiss, though with rumour still high in the town, and news of Bon Bon’s visit, I did not wish to encourage it. The silence in the house, though, put me in mind of my music; I had not practiced since moving, and I feared losing my touch.

With that in mind, I returned to my room and unpacked my cello and bow. Taking great care to avoid scuffing the oiled wood, I stood in the centre of the room, raising the bow to gently brush the strings slowly building to a simple melody, familiarizing myself with the flowing movements once again. Slowly, like a flavour sliding over my tongue, soft, muffled notes of another kind revealed themselves, higher than my own, strummed from somewhere above, floating softly through the floorboards above me. I heard them begin moving, tracing their course with a twitching ear. They floated along the upper hall, down the stairs and finally, with the final notes of my melody, it stopped just outside my door.

I laid my cello back on my bed, curious. The door swung inwards, revealing a very matted and dusty-looking Lyra, holding her namesake with a sheepish smile on her face. “Hey, Octavia. How’s your morning been?”

I frowned as I looked on her frame; she leaned a little awkwardly to her right, her lyre floating beside her in a feint aura, her coat slicked with dried sweat. She had obviously not slept at all well. I stepped forward and guided her through the hall towards the kitchen, answering, “Not all that bad, really, and it was all the better with your beautiful accompaniment. But I must ask; Are you alright?”

Lyra dropped into a chair, rubbing her head and chuckling at herself. “Oh, I’m sure I’m fine. Last night, after...well, I said goodnight to you,” I silently thanked her for not bringing up my shameful behaviour from the previous evening, “Berry came and suggested we celebrate Bonny’s visit! As you can see, we really, really did.”

I wrinkled my nose in distaste at the thought, but I did not look down on Lyra’s fun: I had been there before. Usually next to Vinyl...”Well, I’m glad you had fun, but I must say, that leg of yours seems to have taken quite the beating, Lyra.”

Lyra looked at her own left foreleg. The limb was slightly bluer than usual, bruised, and a wound was barely visible on the inside, hidden from me previously by Lyra’s body and her awkward stance. Now, she rotated the limb, exposing the perfectly round hole. It was deeper than I originally thought, though it had already begun healing. Lyra facehoofed and laughed at herself saying, “Oh, I must have been worse than I thought last night! Berry and I walked home from the Sun’s Flank last night, but I don’t remember much after we reached this street. Good thing Berry was with me. I must have fallen on something, clumsy me.”

I smiled tightly with her as I retrieved a bandage from the hall closet and bandaged the small, perfect incision. With that done, and with Lyra full of cereal, I sat back and tried some conversation. “So Lyra, with yourself so...indisposed, what do you have planned for today?”

Lyra tapped her good hoof to her chin and brought her lyre up in front of her. “I had hoped to practice a tune for Bon Bon’s party, but I can’t come up with anything good enough...until I heard you this morning that is...” She added hopefully, giving me a hopeful look.

I indulged her, and myself, for a brief moment. “Well, it was but a lullaby, but, yes it is quite the piece, and the fact that you managed to play along with me at once is quite impressive. I could teach you the full piece this afternoon if you like. First, you should get yourself all cleaned up, and I’ll get ready, say, in the lounge?”

Lyra nodded avidly and dashed off to clean up. I returned to my room and packed up my cello. What we were going to do required something slightly more cheerful.

When Lyra trotted down the stairs, much refreshed, she looked at me quizzically as I held my old violin ready, wearing an inviting smile perfected for the stage. She waved a hoof at me, a smile spreading across her own face. “Wow, Octavia, I didn’t know you played the violin too! That’s great!”

I turned slightly, displaying my cutie mark. “Well, certainly did not get a treble clef arbitrarily, now did I? Come, let us get started.”

Lyra bounced up and sat at the other end of the couch raising her lyre and bringing her hooves to the strings. She gave a small uncomfortable twist of her left leg before settling down. I looked at her quizzically for a moment before saying, “Lyra, if your leg is troubling you, why not just play with your magic?”

Lyra shrugged and said airily, “I just think I’ll play like this, you know? I mean, you of all ponies will know, playing with your hooves is much harder, and more satisfying in the end. Plus,” she added quietly, “Bonny always prefers it when I use hoof over horn...” To say she blushed lightly in the awkward moment following this comment would be a grave understatement.

I smiled over her slip, and began playing the slow introduction, letting her warm to the music. We played the first few bars a few times, before moving to the next set, letting Lyra learn each methodically. Her light, airy notes added a new feel to the airy tune.

After a few hours, we were grinning at each other, playing new flamboyant twists into old lines, the song evolving in our hooves as we wove the music around ourselves. Eventually, I stopped all together, watching Lyra as she beamed, playing the rising tune with all the heart I had first seen it performed with. I got a little misty eyed, at the memory, and tried to block the pain rising in my chest.

After the few final notes drifted through the house, Lyra burst into light, tinkling laughter, wiping at her eye with her good hoof and beaming at me. “Wow, Octy, that was a blast! Where’d you learn that melody? It’s perfect for Bon bon’s party tomorrow!”

I nodded, saying softly, “It was the first song Vinyl played for me after we moved in together. She even played it on my violin, to impress me.” I smiled at the bittersweet image of Vinyl standing awkwardly, attempting to serenade me with a melody, not knowing she had won me just by trying. I waved a hoof to cut off Lyra’s exclamation, continuing in a stronger tone. “Don’t even dare NOT playing it, Lyra. You've made it yours; I've never heard it so beautifully played as I did just now. You make it...happy again.” I sat up straight, grinning. Lyra grinned too. Suddenly, she bounced up and folded me in a warm hug, chuckling her thanks into my ear before pulling away.

As she did, I saw a red spot growing on the inside of her left leg; the bandage was becoming undone after all the excitement. Clucking my tongue, I guided Lyra back to the kitchen and redressed her wound, still smiling as I replayed her brilliantly clear, light-hearted style of playing. It wasn't just how she played, I knew; It was the way Lyra did everything, making light every facet of her life. She put joy into music, and even if she wasn't a famous artist or renowned composer, she was still one of the greatest musicians I knew. Very few had the skill to take a piece and make it so original, as she did.

That night, Lyra and I sat together talking and laughing and planning for the big day tomorrow. Eventually, the late hour forced us to part, and at once, the all too painful reminder of my lonesome room put memories of that other brilliant, effervescent artist in my mind. The closing night brought back memories of that dream. The silence deafened me, until I heard, or rather just barely felt a light beat playing over and over again. It overlaid its own soundless rhythm, calming me. It almost made me smile before I realized that it wasn't who I thought it was. I sat up and looked across the street. Vinyl was playing again, and the town barely even noticed, but I did. It didn't sound like Vinyl, whose passion and flare drove the music onwards.

No, this was light, covering a sad melancholy, and put me solely in mind of Lyra.

Author's Note

Okay, chaps, a new chapter is finally here!
Sorry about the wait, Life is as Life does. I'll be trying to update regularly, rest assured.

So how 'bout some comments? I'd like to know what you all think so far! have at it!

5. Missing Links

I was beginning to suffer the malady of the working pony at rest: The sun had barely peeped over the horizon before I was wide awake and ready to start the day. Only, I didn't have anything particular to do. I was on vacation after all, even if so far it had been anything but relaxing.

Today, though, was going to be perfect. Lyra was already awake, I could hear her practicing my melody through the floor. She had been so excited about Bon Bon’s return the past few days, and I so happy for her. In fact, since I had nothing else to do...

“Good morning Lyra!” I called out sing-song as I practically waltzed into the kitchen to her tune. As I sat down, I heard a door upstairs open, and the sweet sound trotted up to the table and took a seat across from me.

Lyra beamed me the brightest smile as she finished the song with a flourish and placed her lyre on the table between us. “Morning Octy, I was just practicing for later. Hope I didn't wake you up.”

“Oh, of course not, Lyra. In fact, I cannot think of a better way to awake than to hear good music being played by talented hooves. And speaking of later, would you like any help with the preparations? I have plenty of free time after all; this is my holiday.”

Lyra looked at me something that looked suspiciously like pity and nodded. “Of course you can help. In fact, would you like to play your song with me when Bonnie gets here? I’m sure she’d love it, and after the party, we can all go out for a drink. Berry says she got us this evening on the house.”

I knew she was trying to get me out and socializing, and since I was more or less forcing myself to do the same, I avidly agreed. Lyra clopped her hooves together excitedly and began listing off things she needed to do before Bon Bon arrived this afternoon. In between her chattering about ordering more cake and making sure Pinkie Pie had set up an acceptably over the top party, I caught her order to meet her in the park later that morning, and then She dashed to the door, her lyre trailing her in a lime aura. “Oh, and Octy?” She paused in the doorway, “Could you try and see if Carrot-Top is free to meet in the park later? Thanks, bye!”

As the door swung shut, I sighed. I didn’t feel comfortable with Lyra slipping into using my nickname again, but how could I say no? I’d have to get over it sometime, and if any pony deserved to call me by that name, it should be Lyra.

I made myself my usual breakfast of oats and a glass of orange juice, sorting out the day in my head before putting my plans into action. I wouldn’t have to visit the market until mid-morning, so that left me with a few hours to myself. I could use the time to think and relax, and nothing helped me do that better than to practice with my cello. And so that’s what I did.

*****

Trotting through Ponyville square was much more difficult than I expected it to be. I’d spent most of my time recently indoors, in the hope of avoiding this very reaction, but now that I was in the midst of the busy town square, it was clear that rumours still ran high. I saw Cloud Kicker, a Pegasus that Vinyl and I had been good friends with, cast a hate-filled glance my way and turn aside. I felt a pit form in my stomach at the sight, and it grew when I saw the expression mirrored on the faces of a few ponies around me. I tried not to think about it. In a town as close-knit as Ponyville, a nasty breakup was bound to cause waves.

Still, I never expected this...

I lowered my head and trotted quietly to Carrot-Top’s cart. Her hooves came into my vision first, and I let my eyes trail up slowly, afraid of what I might see. My fears were not misplaced: Carrot-Top looked at me a little uncertainly, waiting for me to make the first move. At least she didn’t hate me. That would make this easier.

“Hello, Carrot-Top, Having a fine day I hope?” I ventured, smiling a brightly as I could.

“Uh, yeah, thanks, Octavia. Here to buy some vegetables?” She asked, looking a little nervous. I may have overdone the smile.

Sighing a little on the inside ,I dropped a bit of the smile and rattled through my message. “Unfortunately, no. You see, Lyra sent me to ask if you might be free to meet her in the park later today, before Bon Bon returns. I’m helping her prepare for the party.”

Carrot-Top nodded and gave me a small smile. I bid her farewell and began walking back home, still noting the less than friendly ponies. I shrugged it off this time, though, and walked away calmly. I couldn’t change their minds. I could, however, be a good friend to Lyra and welcome Bon Bon back in style. That way, I could prove that my intentions were honourable.

I trotted into my room, gathered my cello and bow in their cases and, after a quick nibble of celery, I made my way towards the train station. The outskirts of town by the station were quite busy, and the platform itself was already bustling. Bon Bon wasn't the only pony visiting after all.

I found a nice position on the platform from which to perform, and seated myself in readiness for the train, even though it was a good while away. This didn't matter, since everypony else involved was equally occupied. I saw many of Bon Bon’s friends pacing towards and around the platform through the crowd. Bon Bon was well loved, and her friends could hardly wait for her return. Their attitudes were rubbing off on me. Even though I never really knew the mare since I had moved to Ponyville, well, I couldn't wait to see her. For Lyra’s sake, if nothing else.

I my mint-green roommate approaching across the platform just as a small trace of smoke was noted in the distance. As she sat next to me, I could see that she was trapped somewhere between formal preparedness and excited squealing. And many ponies around us seemed to share her enthusiasm. I smiled and unclipped my instrument’s case, readying myself for our somewhat impromptu performance.

As I stood up on my hindlegs I looked over at Lyra, asking, “Are all your preparations in order? Nothing amiss?”

Lyra shook her head and stood as well, surprising me. She swayed slightly, but clutched her lyre and winked confidently. “Don’t worry Octy, Carrot-Top has the food covered for the after party at home, and Pinkie has the main shindig ready to go! It’s just us, now.”

I nodded and raised my bow. “And we shan’t disappoint!” I turned and faced the train as it slowed and pulled into the station, happy for the start of a happier chapter to recent times.

She never came.

Lyra and I stood as we watched each and every passenger step off the train, our eyes, and smiles, straining to see Bon Bon’s blue and pink mane amidst the crowd, but we never did. Even as the platform emptied, I stood, motionless, straining, glancing at Lyra as her face fell lower and lower, eventually drooping to her hooves. I looked about uncertainly, dropping down myself, and saw the train slowly pull away. She wasn't coming. Bon Bon wasn’t coming?

I heard the lyre clatter to the ground and spun to see Lyra galloping away from the station, and even at the growing distance, I could see her crying.

I felt cold, standing there. In shock. I saw the movement in the corner of my eye, and turned slightly to see Carrot-Top. Her eyes. Confusion. Suspicion.

I didn’t stay. I picked up my cello case and cantered as fast as I could under its weight back home. Lyra was crushed after all her preparations, and she needed somepony to be there for her.

I skidded somewhat awkwardly into our street and trotted with all the balance I had left. I made it to my door and fumbled to open it. Damn unicorn door handles...

“...Octy...?”

The voice I wanted t hear every night, and that I wished desperately was my imagination now.

“Octy, I g-gotta talk to you...”

I turned around, and nearly gasped at her. Vinyl stood, barely out of the shadows on her side of the street, yet her voice sounded as if it were right next to me. I took a few steps closer to see her body clearly. He shrank back, but under her heavy grey hoodie, I could still see bruises spreading. Bandages were nearly invisible against her alabaster coat, marred only by faint blood patches over her joints. Her face, though...her eyes weren’t bright, or dull, or angry. In all my years of working with and courting Vinyl I had never seen the confident light fade, but now it had. She was scared.

She started again, “L-listen, I n-need your help...somethin’s going on with...me. Us. I just need to talk to-“

“Hush,” I silenced her, stepping in closer and raising a hoof to her shoulder. She shied away at first, but a pressed on, touching her gently. “Vinyl, I WILL help you. I know it has not been the easiest while, but you still mean a lot to me. Right now, though, I need to find Lyra. I’ll come around this evening; just stay calm and wait for me, yes?”

She gave me an unreadable look, but nodded. I spun away, and in my rush I failed to see her collapse sadly against the wall behind me.

I trotted through my front door, placing my cello and bow in the hall in my hurry to Lyra’s room. I’d never gone in there before – I’d never needed to – but I could already hear Lyra’s snuffling from the stairs. I opened her door quietly and walked over to her. I laid my hoof on her back and then, after no response, leaned in and gave her a gentle nuzzle. “Oh, Lyra, I’m so sorry...”

Lyra spun and grabbed me in the tightest hug a unicorn can muster, and bawled. I was surprised at the outpouring of emotion, but I held on to her until her own grip weakened, her cries strangled by lack of breath. I made soft cooing noises, and finally said, “Lyra, you know nothing is likely to have happened. Bon Bon probably just missed her train. She might be here tomorrow, or the next day. I wouldn't be surprised if you got a letter to that effect by this evening.”

It seemed to mollify her slightly. She pulled back and looked up at me, hiccuping. “I...I know. I hope...Octy, she’s never been late. Bon Bon is the most punctual pony I know and...I guess was got myself all worked up to see her...I was so happy she was coming.”

I tried to smile reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Lyra, I’ll see what I can find out. You've worked yourself out. Rest, it’ll all be fine.” And so I stayed with her until she fell asleep, before quietly leaving her room. I packed my instrument away and tidied myself up slightly, having become a bit undone after running through town. Now that Lyra was asleep, I could deal with Vinyl.

I had been so short with her earlier, but I had noticed how upset she was. It was good that she was seeking help, given her condition. The more I thought about it, I realized her injuries were clearly the result of something far worse than drunken clumsiness. Had she been mixing with the wrong kinds of ponies? Dodgy colts? Considering she had not left her house much in the last week, I doubted it. And image of the mysterious Pegasus I had seen visiting Vinyl two nights prior jumped into my mind. Had that pony been responsible?

It didn’t matter. Whoever was responsible would get a personal demonstration of how standing on ones’ back legs for hours at concerts could strengthen said limbs. I still felt protective of Vinyl, and I would help through these times if she would let me.

I trotted to her door in the light of the setting sun, and knocked loudly on the doorframe, avoiding the door itself for obvious reasons. Then I stood back and waited. I frowned then, and knocked, louder. Soon I resorted to shouting, not caring that I was drawing attention to myself. I even bucked the centre of the door in agitation, splintering the wood.

But nopony ever answered.

Author's Note

Okay, a little late, and a little longer than usual. But (and this is wholly unusual for me) I'm happy (which means sad) with how this chapter concluded (because it didn't). Yeah, I like parentheses.

So tell me what you thought so far, and I'll take into account in the next chapter. The story is kinda written for you, after all.

Regards
Quicksear

6. Surreality

My eyes opened in the early pre-dawn light, but my mind was a few seconds late. I had taken in the familiar walls and ceiling of the lounge before I remembered myself, but when I did, the comfort of being somewhere so familiar was replaced with near terror.

Why am I in Vinyl’s lounge, on Vinyl’s couch?

I froze, trying to work out why and when I had ended up here. Yesterday...oh Celestia, yesterday. I couldn't believe all that had happened. I lost myself slightly within the memories, but then I got to the long minutes I’d spent at Vinyl’s door. I twisted over to see said door in the hall, and I could make out the timbers from where I lay, the wood split where I had kicked it. For some reason, that is what made it all the more real to me, that which before had still felt surreal. I’d been kicking at that door, trying to get in, and now, I couldn’t quite remember how I had succeeded.

I couldn’t remember anything past watching the sun go down while I waited at Vinyl’s door.

I tried to to leap up, but my hooves did not respond correctly, my left hind leg failing to support my weight at all. I fell to the floor as pain lanced up from the inside of my thigh, burning high into my side. I rolled over and grasped the leg, gritting my teeth until the burning stopped, then inspected the inside of my leg with fearful eyes.

A hole. A wound, perfectly round and deceptively deep, was burrowed into the flesh of my thigh, the sensitive skin feeling as though it had been burnt with fire. Or alcohol. I tried to stretch my leg, but the lancing pain returned with the same fervour it had attacked me with before. I refused to scream, in stubbornness or fear I do not know, but the silence only emphasized its own death.

I was lying on the floor of Vinyl Scratch’s house, groaning in pain, and then I heard music. A single, deep note, so clear in its resonance, pure, dragged on just long enough that I could place it as the tone of a double bass. Then more string-born notes wove themselves into the tectonic vibrations of the bass, which morphed slowly into something more electronic and foreboding. A beat grew from the slow beginnings, and as its tempo increased the pitch of the strings climbed, woven with synthetic sounds into a tapestry so deep it felt like a shroud. And it didn't stop. The volume built as well, shuddering the very floor I lay on, setting me shivering. I remained still, frozen, like a rabbit under the glare of a wolf, unaware of all else but the climbing music, but then it changed. The bass leveled out, and the treble rose higher and higher. Suddenly the bass dropped, blowing away my self-control, even under the screeching accompaniment of a pack of violins.

I hurtled to the door, unmindful of my now bleeding wound, and tried to open it, but at the barest touch, I felt the static dancing through my coat, stronger than before. The door was closed to me: I would have to escape another way.

I glanced at all the windows: closed, locked, even barred. I could not buck my way out, not with my leg the way it was. From where I stood in the front hall, I could see into both the lounge and the dining room. The kitchen and ground floor bedroom were further back, but both had smaller, high windows that I knew would be just as impassable.

That left me with the worst of choices. Upstairs, there were many large windows, letting glorious light into the bedrooms I had once used. Now they were my salvation, my escape from that eerie, driving, terrifying music. But, to get to those portals to freedom, I would have to get to the hall stairs, right next to the basement door.

The pit of my nightmare.

I stared down the hallway. The door that had never opened to me was staring back, a faint light seeping from the gaps around its edges, pulsing in time with the screeching violins and pounding bass, just another sense being assaulted by the electrifying symphony. But it was that very music that finally drove me to move. It was stimulating, forcing me to act upon my thoughts. My hooves moved before I was ready, and I was galloping towards that door, tears streaming down my face every time my injured leg bore my weight, but I was animated by the sound, the light, and the slowly opening door.

It did not open much. Even as I scrabbled at the first stair, I couldn't help but stare at the gap that had opened, spilling it’s light across the hall. And there, dividing the flashes like shadow, was one glowing red iris, marred by a single tear.

I couldn't stay. For the brief second that I saw her eye coloured crimson, I wanted to. I wanted to stay and offer the help her gaze begged, but her music warned me otherwise. It commanded me to leave, As I struggled up the stairs, I saw the door widen, a shock of blue mane falling to, and her lips whispering my name.

Its yours

I made the landing. the second our eye contact was broken, I whipped my head up and glanced at each window, all of them barred. A sob escaped my lips as I struggled further and further from the warning sounds of Vinyl’s song, but it rose to follow me.

It’s your song

The main bedroom door was locked, my old room’s window barred with the frame of my old bed, and the window at the end of the landing was nailed shut. I charged into the upper music room door, jarring it open and numbing my shoulder, but that wasn’t what made me pause. The overwhelming scent of oil and copper struck me like a wall, and I saw reams of used bandages wrapped neatly atop blown-out speakers and partially disassembled equipment I could never name. It didn’t matter, though. because the window was wide open.

Why don’t you like your song...?

I brushed past the dangling contraptions and stained rags, rushing to get to the window. The room was so congested as to seem like maze, but with the music compelling me, I kicked my way through, only avoiding the scarlet-tinged bandages lining the way. I twisted under one of the rags, dragging myself through a pile of scrap that clung to my leg. I growled through my sobs, shaking, trying to make it let go, but it didn’t. I looked back, annoyed, scared at being held from my freedom, at the gadget trying to burrow into my skin.

I gasped, shock and fear solidified into a single piercing note echoing from my own mouth, and through the song netted around me. A new note blasted uncertainly into the music, tearing at my focus, driving me to something more feral. I bit the strange metal cone, with its saw-like edges and clinging hooks, and ripped it off, leaving a shallow cut in my skin, just below my cutie mark. The strange device, only a few inches long but terrifying, fell to the ground and snaked away on whirring circular blades, and the new ethereal note died as it hit the floor.

I was cold. I felt no new emotion at the site of the monstrosity: I’d already been overwhelmed. The window before offered salvation, and I begged it to take me. I leapt thoughtlessly from the second story window of the cottage and hit the flower bed hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. A few feet to the left or right, though, and the beaten ground would had broken my legs with ease. I lay there, feeling the blind panic sloughing off, the need to run peeling away as I realized to music had ground to a halt the second I entered the free air, its final bass note still dragging in my ears, a warning, a rebuttal.

Be free from yourself

I heeded its message, and blearily dragged myself across the street.

I stood before Lyra’s door only long enough to pull it open, and then I pulled myself the short distance to my room, crawling under the covers of my bed, where I rocked back and forth and stared at the house across the street, not feeling safe at all behind a single pane of glass.

And even as my vision faded, all I could see were those blood-red eyes looking back.

*****

‘It was yours. Why did you run so far, so fast?’

I rolled over, snuffling.

‘Why did you run?’

I scrunched up my nose, focussing on ignoring the noise.

‘Why, Octy?’

Knock, knock, knock

‘I’m glad you did, though...’

I rolled over, giving up on ignoring the knocking at my door. Stiffly, I pulled the covers from my head and called out as I squinted through the high morning sunlight, “Yes? You can come in!”

My door creaked open to reveal Lyra, smiling tightly in a semblance of cheer. I returned it, but we both knew the other was lying.

“Good morning Octavia. Sleep well?” She asked, walking in. “You look like you had a rough night. Are you okay?”

Considering her own problems, it meant a lot that she felt concern for me. I smiled a little wider. ”I am perfectly fine Lyra, just another nightmare, nothing too bad. But you, my dear, it looks as though you hardly slept a wink. Come here...” I raised a foreleg, gesturing for a hug, which she gratefully accepted. We embraced gently, simply drawing some comfort from one another for a few moments. I rested my chin atop Lyra’s head, looking out the window. I could see the brightly dancing flowers along the paths in front of the houses, and a few foals playing in the sunlight. They looked happy, and I drew on that.

“So,” I said, squeezing Lyra just a little, “Any news...”?”

Lyra sighed and sat up straight, still against me. “I asked the train clerk to check the records of tickets this morning, he just got back to me: Bon Bon boarded her train yesterday, but she didn't get off in Ponyville. There’s only two stops between here and Canterlot, so she must be either in Hoofington or Withervale. I asked him to check. Maybe she felt ill and had to get off early? It also explains why We haven’t gotten a letter: there aren’t any Pegasus Express flyers in those towns.”

“That makes sense,” I nodded slowly, “And since Derpy serves as the Express flyer around here, the letter could have easily gone missing anyway, bless her heart. Well, I’m glad you have a lead. I’ll help where I can, you know that, right?”

Lyra nodded and smiled. Then she stood and shook herself off. ‘I know, Octy, I know. Oh, and how did the chat with Vinyl go, is she doing any better?”

I smiled sadly. “Well...I plan on finding out.”

My answer surprised her, I could see, but she hid it well. “Oh...Okay. Well, its almost mid morning, but I made us some breakfast, so join me when you’re ready...?”

I nodded and thanked her, watching her close the door with that little smile finally sticking. i was happy that her problem seemed so easily solved, but as I lifted the blankets and looked at the hole in my leg, bleeding into the covers, I realized that my own may be far more complicated than I thought.

Author's Note

Okay, so another little mini-experiment, also technically and interlude, but since its pretty clear, I make it to be a chapter.

So you got a chapter after all! YAY!!
Anyway, feedback is as always appreciated. The next chapter should be coming sooner.

Regards
Quicksear

7. Collateral

An Evil was nesting in the heart of Ponyville.

I could not sit comfortably that morning, despite the delicious breakfast Lyra had compulsively made for us. I shifted my weight away from my now bandaged thigh as I stirred my roasted granola, avoiding the uncomfortable glances Lyra threw my way. A white bandage on a grey coat was hardly inconspicuous. Thankfully, though, she did not question me. If she had, I may not have been able to keep my thoughts to myself.

Vinyl was falling apart. I feared she was mad. How long had she been like this, secreting her inexplicable sorcery in her basement? What could its purpose even possibly be?

Vinyl meant enough to me to risk finding out. As I sat there, engaged in light conversation and forcing as much cheer as I could into the sweet nothings, I was thinking over how to set about investigating. First, however, I had to make sure those still with me would be okay.

I leaned over the table and laid a hoof upon Lyra's, "Lyra, will you need any assistance today? I am here to help if you need it."

She smiled wanly. "Oh no Octy, I couldn't impose, and anyway I got it all planned out: I'll take the morning train to Withervale, and if Bon Bon isn't there, on to Hoofington. Don't worry, I'll be back tomorrow. With Bonny."

She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself as much as me, but I would respect her decision. After all, I had my own problem to deal with. I smiled and nodded. "Okay. I wish you the best of luck. I'm sure Bonny is fine, but if you need anything, just send a letter and I'll be right there, no matter what, okay?"

She hugged me shakily, moved by my offer. I wanted to stay there with her, comfort her further, but my facade was cracking under the weight of my thoughts, and I bid her a hasty farewell. The image of her sitting there forlorn and alone tugged at my emotions as I walked away. I couldn't help a dry smile: I guess that's why they call her Heartstrings.

*****

Ponyville was as busy and cheerful as usual that day, the only exceptions being the few ponies I knew to be close to Bon Bon and Lyra. I caught a few curious glances as I walked towards the market square, and even more once I began passing through it. But I ignored them, my mind settling upon the one source of information in this town. If anypony knew how to deal with Vinyl, surely it would be the Princess's personal protege?

"H-hey, Octavia! Hello!"

Oh, please, not now...I turned and faced the vendor behind her loaded cart in the unusually sparse market, "Good morning Carrot Top."

The usually fiery mare looked a little unsure as she rounded her stand and trotted up to me, but all I could think about was how hard it would be for me to remain calm for long. However, something stayed the excuse in my throat as she found her own words, "Listen, Octavia, I'm sorry about the other day, I was just...oh my stars, your leg!"

"Yes, I injured myself a mite..." I looked back at the twinging limb, only now noticing it had begun bleeding again, "Ah, I see..."

"Here, let me." Carrot Top nudged me around the side of her stand, overriding my faint objection as she pulled out a first aid kit, "I'm a volunteer nurse at the clinic, okay, I know what I'm doing, just let me help you out."

"Well, thank you," I muttered awkwardly, trying not to feel embarrassed about another pony handling that part of my body. As the bandage fell away under Carrot Top’s ministrations, I heard her gasp. Making sure nopony could see us in the dubious privacy of her stall, I looked awkwardly back at the mare staring intently at my inner thigh.

“Carrot Top, please don’t feel offended, but this is...weird. I’m going to ask you what’s wrong...?”

She shook herself and pulled away, winding the bandage up and getting a new one from her first aid kit, “Oh, sorry, I was just...Look, I need to ask you where you got this injury.”

“Uh...” My mind went dead. I couldn't tell her where I got it. I didn't even know myself, not for sure, “I...fell, rather awkwardly admittedly, but I don’t see how-”

“Liar.”

I blinked, stunned. “Excuse me?”

Carrot Top pointed at my wound, “You didn't fall onto something to get that, that’s clearly cut into you. Almost looks like...razor blades...” She gasped, “Octavia, what did you-?!”

“Shush!” I hissed, shoving a hoof in her mouth. Then I slumped down. I felt so tired...”I know it isn't pretty, but I need to get going, so if you could give me back my bandage, I’d like not to bleed all over your carrots.”

“Oh, sorry,” She noticed the trickle of blood, and, finally, bound my damaged leg back up with a fresh bandage. Then she turned to me, so that we faced squarely. Just as I was about to thank her:

“What did you do to Noteworthy?”

This was rapidly becoming a rather confusing conversation.

“Carrot Top, I don’t even know Noteworthy. Other than a conversation we had the other day about Vinyl...”

...Wait...

“Well, he’s at the clinic right now,” She said testily, pointing at my leg, “with a wound exactly like that drilled into his barrel. He came in screaming bloody murder about the ‘cowled mare flying from the moon, stabbing him with purple’. If you’re doing something, I’ll have to-”

“I need to speak to Miss Sparkle...” I whispered.

Carrot Top looked confused, “Uh, Octavia, Twilight and the Elements of Harmony left for Cloudsdale two days ago...”

“What?!”

My outburst left Carrot Top taken aback, but she explained, if cautiously, “There was an ‘altercation’ in Cloudsdale; apparently some very sensitive information or equipment was stolen from the Weather Factory, and something is unstable...I’m just an earth pony, I don’t understand all the jargon, but it’s all in the papers. You’d have to be stuck under a rock not to have heard about it.”

“I’ve been...preoccupied, Carrot Top...” I droned, staring blankly at the cartside of the stall. Who would help me now...?

“Octy, one question,” Carrot Top started abruptly, “Bonny, her not coming home...did you have anything to do with that?”

Well this could only go well...”No. Carrot Top, I didn't. I would never do anything like that to another pony, especially not to a friend. Just seeing Lyra these last few days....Of course I haven’t had time for anything else, my life is falling apart around m-me...”

That’s where my composure fractured. All my years training in upper class stoicism only left me crying quietly into Carrot Top’s mane as she hugged me uncertainly. The weight of the last few days dropped from on high and buried me for those few minutes. I only resurfaced when I heard Carrot Top distantly turning customers away so that she could hold me. I was making a scene. One thing I didn't need right now was undue attention

I pulled myself together. I had things to do, dots to join. “T-thank you Carrot Top, but I’m sure you have better things to do. I’ll get out of your-”

“You’re hiding something, Octavia.”

This mare didn’t know when to stop.

I looked her straight in the eye and took a shaky breath. “Yes. Yes I am, but I’m not the one you should be worried about. Please, I have things that desperately need doing.”

Carrot Top stared back for a moment, thinking. Then she raised her chin boldly. “Well...so long as you promise you’re not hurting anypony-”

“Of course not!”

“-then I’ll help you. Something’s not right in this town, and you’re square in the middle of it. I don’t want to see more ponies hurt like this.”

“Well I...” I didn't know what to say. I was caught between gratefully accepting and just running away. But then something caught my attention; “Wait, how many ponies...?”

Carrot Top raised a brow. “Vinyl, this pegasus from out of town, Lyra the other day, Noteworthy and now you.”

Of course. Lyra, the pony who took me in. Noteworthy, the pony who found the source of the music. And now me.

“Listen, is there any chance I can talk to Noteworthy? I think he may be able to solve a few pieces of this for me.”

She looked skeptical, but hesitantly nodded. we finally left her stall, her taking the lead towards the border of town, where the clinic sat amidst the calming trees. I tried to blink the redness from my eyes, but I knew it was in vain. We reached the Clinic, and with a few easy words, Carrot Top brought me to a ground floor room labelled ‘recuperation’.

She made her way to Noteworthy's side and checked some of the blinking screens before gently touching the colt on the shoulder. I was surprised to see his eyes immediately open as he stared blearily at Carrot Top. She bent and whispered something in his ear before waving me forward.

As I complied, I couldn't help but take in his condition: his blue coat was marred with faint bruises, his one eye looked slightly swollen, and of course, there was a swath of bandage wrapped about his middle.

"Somepony's here to visit you Noteworthy, okay?" I heard Carrot Top coo, before she turned to me and said, "The doctor decided to keep him sedated til his wound closes, so be patient."

With a small assent, I sat next to the bed. I didn't really know where to start, so I began.gently; "Hello Noteworthy...how are you feeling?"

His eyes instantly locked with mine, and he held the stare for a few seconds, just long enough to be uncomfortable. Then he muttered softly, “...She found you?”

I frowned. “I...who do you mean, Noteworthy, who was looking for me?”

His eyes widened as he shook his head slowly. “Oh no, you aren’t fooling me again! Flitter came down, struck me with purple, And she wasn't Flitter, she was her, and now she’s you! Oh no, you’re not gonna get me, you’re not gonna...get...me...”

My eyes were wide as I looked at Carrot Top dialing up the sedative. She motioned me to the door, and I slowly backed out. I leant against the wall outside Noteworthy’s room, bellowing breaths as my mind galloped a thousand miles an hour through possibilities I never could have thought of before, and all of them terribly bad. I needed help. A soft cough pulled me out of my reverie, and I found myself looking into a worried pair of emerald eyes.

“Octavia, please, what is going on...” She pleaded glancing down the empty hallway before looking back at me.

I stared at her a moment longer, then sighed..“Carrot Top, if you get involved in this, I don’t think I can promise you’ll be safe.”

She gulped, but nodded . “I understand. What do you know?”

So I told her.

Author's Note

It's late, but I think it's worth it!
I kinda went and wrote a one-shot in TBS's slot, so soz 'bout that, but you should totally give that story a read, it's my best.
Self-promotion over, now time for comments! Pweez?

8. Tangent

Ponyville was a spider's web.

I was happy Lyra was out of town. Now I had the space to finally set my mind to cracking Vinyl's secrets. Ponies were hurt because of her: it was no longer about her and the damage she did to herself, or our relationship, or me. She had made it about more than just her safety, but about that of all the ponies I knew, and that I couldn't allow.

But why hadn't I wanted to stop her before?

I had known Vinyl was hurting herself long before this, even back when I had thought we were strong together. Or had I? No I...I don't think I did. I ignored the obvious to protect my own comfort, just like I had when our relationship had floundered. And then, when all hope was lost, I jumped ship and left her to her own devices, stewing in angst I should have spent all my energy curing.

I could not allow that to happen again. But unfortunately, the two events were one and the same. When Vinyl and I drifted apart, is was not our careers, stress, or even Vinyl's hidden violence, but my own apathy that was to blame. When I had struggled, she had raised me up. When she had burnt out, I had watched her fizzling. And then I'd snuffed her out by walking away. If all that was left of Vinyl was in that basement, with its whirring machines with their teeth and unknown purpose, then I would expose her. But if there was any chance, any at all, of my Vinyl being there somewhere...

...I would bring her back.

*****

"So...So what do we do, Octavia?"

Carrot Top looked a little pale, but her eyes were hard. I had told her everything I knew, everything I’d seen or could be sure of. I'd even told her almost everything about my ordeal in Vinyl's house, the not-dream that had wounded me. Almost everything...

It’s your song.

Some things I could not speak of. I looked at Carrot Top across the table of one of Ponyville's cafes. I didn't know which, save that it was probably the most public place in town. Eyes were our safety now, and so I said, "We need to stick together. A moment apart and we risk being caught off guard, but even a unicorn would think twice trying to take on two strong Earth Ponies. Other than that, we need to figure out what Vinyl is doing. Put the puzzle together, so to speak."

Carrot Top nodded. “Okay. So far, we know that Vinyl is targeting-”

“We don’t know that for sure yet...” I mumbled.

Carrot Top shot me a glance but continued nonetheless, “-is targeting ponies either connected to you, or anypony investigating her. I don’t know how she does it without being seen, but maybe she’s learnt a teleportation or cloaking spell?”

I shook my head, “No, Vinyl’s skill-level is very directed. Other than standard levitation, her magic is limited to sound manipulation and shield spells.”

“But you said yourself that her magic has gotten stronger.” Carrot Top pointed out, “ That Mute Spell that hurt you the first time?”

That was true. I thought about it for a second, before saying, “Yes, her magic seems stronger, but it’s still her magic. It was still her old spell, not a new one. I don’t think magic is the answer here; too many unicorns would have been able to trace it.”

She conceded to my reasoning. “That makes sense. I don’t know many unicorns, so I’ll trust you on that. All we have to go on then is what we’ve seen of Vinyl herself or the ponies injured so far.”

“And the music itself,” I thought out loud, “but if we go on ponies injured, we have to count Vinyl as well: nopony has suffered more than her.” Carrot Top did not look convinced. I continued, “So that makes, her, then Lyra, then me, then Noteworthy. But why Noteworthy?”

“He was snooping around town yesterday after he read the paper. Seemed like he had one of his journalist moments, but he didn’t say anything. I only noticed cuz he didn’t buy his usual carrots.” The orange mare said. She stirred her cup of tea joylessly, and I realized that our cups must be stone cold.

“Lyra wasn’t snooping about,” I said, “She came home drunk one night and woke up hurt. But...she did say she and Berry Punch got lost. Maybe they went to Vinyl’s accidentally? I’ve known Berry to knock on our- Vinyl’s door on especially ‘fun’ nights.”

Carrot Top’s brow beetled in thought. “Um...well there was that other pegasus who was hurt...wait, have you seen Berry lately? I don’t think I’ve seen her in days.”

“...Neither have I.” This was worrying. What if Vinyl was taking ponies and...doing things to them, hidden in her basement. That could not be allowed. I looked at Carrot Top. “I think we should go make a housecall.”

*****

“Octy, this seems a bit soon...”

I looked at Carrot Top behind me. “I know. That’s the idea: nopony will be expecting me to come knocking. Nopony thinks I’ve got it in me. Especially not Vinyl. I haven’t seen her outside in days.”

Carrot Top looked at the house ahead of us with wide eyes. “I-I still think there’s something we’re missing, though.”

I gulped too; I didn’t want to do this, but I wanted to confront Vinyl. Face to face. Even just to see her again, to see her eyes. I hoped they would be their usual magenta; her eyes dipped in scarlet brought terror to my heart. All I was going to do...was knock. Once. And if nothing happened, I would leave. Carrot Top would be right behind me, across the street, ready to back me up.

Not that I expected anything to happen of course. All I had to do was knock and wait. Move along, Octavia, I thought, Time waits for no mare. I took a step towards Vinyl’s door, then froze.

This was my cowardice: I could not actually touch that door, nor go near that house. I had it in my head that I had to, that this was the only course of action, that I had to prise it open and see Vinyl, but there was no way my legs would carry me there. So I settled for the yellow option. I threw a cobble.

It struck the door and bounced off.

Carrot Top gave me a deadpan stare. “Seriously? Octavia, I thought you were - wha’?”

I looked from Carrot Top to the door again, to see it swing slightly open.

My breath caught. I stared at the door as it opened fractionally, letting the shadows within seep out. I cowered.

“Well?!” Carrot Top stood, staring at the door, daring it to reveal something, anything, after our day’s build-up. It was just after midday, and the ponies that were usually in the streets were either working, out playing, or at home. I saw only two ponies distant, up the lane. Even so, Carrot Top stepped forward. I hissed for her to stop, but she didn’t hear me over her own voice; “Everything I’ve heard, seen? And this is it?!”

She trotted across the street to the doorway, slowing to a shuffle as she poked her snout at the wood. The door creaked open more. Carrot Top looked around inside the darkness. Then she swore.

She spun to face me. “Octavia, there’s nothing in here!”

I blinked. “What? Nothing? Nothing at all?” I stood and made a tentative step towards her.

“Well,” Carrot Top turned around and stuck her nose back into the building, “Its a bit dark, but nope, there’s nothing-”

And she was gone.

I saw her tail disappear through the door, and in the blink it took for me to process what was going on, the door began slowly closing.

“No!” I leapt across the street as fast as my legs could throw me. I reached the door as it gained momentum and shoved my hoof into the jam as it shut. I barely felt the pain, though. I shouldered the door, mindless, blasted it open, and surrounded myself with shadow. The light behind me forced the darkness to retreat, but it relinquished it’s prisoner sluggishly, and not unharmed. Carrot Top lay on her knees, her head low, choking on more than the blackness. I skidded to a stop just behind her and grabbed her tail. Sobbing through the orange hair, I pulled her backwards out of the shadow, only to hear a burningly familiar whirring noise.

And suddenly, the building was filled with music. Resounding in summer chords and morbid harmonica notes, the breath of fear blowing reeds of confusion, hidden beneath the chords that bespoke strength in the face of all odds, resistance.

Meanwhile, Carrot Top choked on her own blood.

I felt something pulling back against me, trying to keep Carrot Top inside. With each tug, the music spiked, in time with Carrot Top’s gasps. I stopped pulling to step forward, and stood against the darkness. There it was: A cable snaking across the floor, leading to Carrot Top, and there, clutched in her hooves and buried in her soft throat, was a toothed monstrosity, eating into her skin. And above it all, all the blood, all the pain, were her eyes. They did not beg, nor cringe in fear. The darkness would have to fight to take this mare.

I leaned down and looked at the miniature metal demon biting into Carrot Top, and the cable that connected it to the nothingness in the house. Without a second thought, I bit it. The writhing black cable severed, leaving the biting metal head sawed into my friend's throat. The music died with the whirring of the teeth, and Carrot Top collapsed. I skidded back to Carrot Top’s tail and dragged her to the doorstep, my eyes never leaving the darkness.

But the darkness was not alone.

A pair of magenta eyes stared sadly out at me. I stared back as I hauled Carrot Top out of the house of nightmares, even as the tattered book slid across the floorboards and landed against Carrot Tops’ foreleg. She shifted, but I couldn't see why, aside from her grasping the book loosely and letting it be pulled with her.

I watched as the eyes flashed scarlet and the door slammed shut.

Vinyl...

The blast of music had not reached the street: a mute spell well-cast had preserved the peace of the town, but not my peace of mind. I scrambled across the street to the safety of my own home. I knocked the door open, sending a letter on the ground flying, and dragged the injured mare to my bed, her blood melting into the sheets as I bundled her up.

I watched her eyes close as I flailed in panic. I bit the evil metal contraption sunk into her skin and twisted. The teeth buried in her throat pulled loose, and I felt her try to gasp in air, but as she was, blood blocked her lungs. I had precious few moments. I needed to clear her airway. I looked about for anything I could use.

Pipe. I needed piping. The first aid kit! Lyra had one in her room, I recalled. I raced upstairs and grabbed the kit. rushing back downstairs, I broke the case open in my rush and scattered it’s contents everywhere. I fumbled with a piece of surgical tubing, pushing it into Carrot Top’s wounded neck. I held it there, forcing it in, hoping for one rise of her chest to indicate the success of my rushed tracheotomy. None came.

In desperation, I grabbed the other end of the pipe in my mouth and sobbed a breath of my own, blowing through the pipe and straight into Carrot Top’s lungs.

Her chest rose and fell. And did so again. And again, without my prompting. She was alive.

I collapsed beside her, crying out and sobbing into the pillow. I looked at her, making sure my mind was not playing tricks with me, and I saw her one eye open. She did not move more than that, aside from her hoof, which let a certain book fall to the floor.

I looked at it. Blood did not obscure the name scratched into the cover: Octavia.

There was nothing I wanted more than to burn it. I stepped out into the entrance hall and kicked the book out, away from me. It landed open, displaying rows of neat horn-writing. But I didn’t notice that. What I saw was yet another piece of writing: the letter I had failed to see. And now, it’s title hit me like a ram’s head. It too, read ‘Octavia’, and it too, was in neat, concise horn-writing. but scrawled across the the bottom, almost painfully in bad hoof or mouth-writing:

If you ever want to see them alive, go away and never come back.

Author's Note

Yet more editing done by the rather patient MrPockets. He made it actually readable after I rage-wrote this one day. So yeah, yay him!

Anyway, hectic plot clues EVERYWHERE in here. Hoping y'all caught them, because its a rocky road ahead.

9. Past and Present

I hadn’t had to call for help, nor had I had the strength to. Ponies had come when they heard doors slamming and somepony crying. Me crying. And I’d sat there in the middle of Lyra’s living room, clutching that damned book and letter to my chest, sodding breathlessly while nurses, guards and friends had washed around me and taken Carrot Top away.

Just another pony on Vinyl’s growing list.

I wanted nothing more than to curl up and fade, cease, or at least forget what I had seen. It was maddening, crushing. But even I knew that was why I could not be left alone. And I wasn’t.

I may have said little and thought less, but within an hour of that poor pale unicorn finding us, I knew there were even more rumours. Carrot Top had been found on my bed, soaked in blood, her throat ripped apart cruelly. But at least she was alive. I was thankful for that. Even as I found myself being led forward by by an anxious-looking young guard, she’d woken. Of course she couldn’t speak, neither for me nor against Vinyl. But she’d tried.

Imagine the confusion of the gathered medical and security ponies when the pony nearest her death had struggled towards the pony most thought was to blame?

But I was to blame. They’d asked me questions once we reached to hospital and got Carrot Top stable. I’d answered truthfully about what I’d done, but every question about Carrot Top’s wound I refused to acknowledge.

You see, I’d opened Vinyl’s book.

*****

March 8th, Year 1001

Wow, this is weird. I don’t even know what to write in a diary. Octy seems to think I just absolutely HAVE to start one, though. I’ve heard it a dozen times: ‘You need to order your thoughts, Vinyl, have you never heard of organization, Vinyl?’ I don’t why why I have to write it all down in some book Octavia made me get when I could spend my time telling all of it to her.

Hey, that’s a great idea! How would my Diary like to be called Octavia?

*****

A diary. I don’t even remember making her start one, but apparently she had. And named it after me. Here, just maybe, I had a chance to unravel time, go back to when Vinyl was still my Vinyl, and see where it all went wrong. And so I had kept my mouth shut when I was questioned in the waiting room just outside Carrot Top’s ward at the clinic, waiting for the moment when nopony was looking to open the book at another random date, looking for anything important, anything at all, to help me understand why Vinyl had fallen so far, perhaps too far to ever pull back.

*****

June 16th, Year 1001

Hey Octy!

Guess what? The real Octy just agreed to move in with me! Yeah, I’m pretty excited. I know it’s early days for us and all, but I think things are gonna work out great. I don’t know why I picked Ponyville, maybe cuz I know so many ponies there, maybe because it’s quiet...I need some quiet. I’ve had my eye on Octy for a while, and I’m sure she knew, but after that whole thing with Blueblood banning her from the concert hall, and the show we - I put on to get Octavia’s band back in, she’s warmed up to me as well. Despite it being my fault she was banned in the first place, damn my big mouth…

That was a couple weeks ago now. Octavia’s manager kinda-sorta quit on her, said something about ‘an absolute publicity nightmare, the horror!’, but that doesn’t matter. I already manage myself, surely I can keep a hoof on her career too? I do owe her.

I wouldn’t want to let her down.

*****

She’d always been so confident, so self-assured that I was secure and happy with her taking it upon herself. I’d never once felt that she didn’t have everything she needed firmly in-rein. I don’t think she ever doubted it either.

So their guards’ and doctors’ questions fell on my deaf ears while I waited for them to give up. And give up they did, growing impatient with my vague murmurs and disjointed nonsense. They thought I was crazy, in shock, that I’d need to be ‘observed’.

Good.

*****

January 2nd, Year 1002

Hey Octy.

Sorry it’s been a while. The radio station had another fire - I should take Tavi’s advice and get less...flammable equipment. Heh. It makes for a great joke though.

I just got back from Tavi’s latest recital. I had no idea how famous she would become! The fiasco (Octy’s rubbing off on me, clearly) with Blueblood, the concert and the Radio Station has just sent her popularity skyrocketing like a megaspell! I’m happy for her, so happy. And I’m getting a nice cut of it too, being here official manager now. Not to say I don’t feel a little envious, of course, she’s rolling in bits right now. I’ve scheduled two shows of my own for next week. I don’t know how I’ll make it to them, but I’ll have to make a plan. I gotta keep DJ PON3 up to Scratch!

I have a couple ideas for songs I plan on working out once this thing with Octy is worked out.

I haven’t told you about that, have I? Yeah, the other day, Octy comes home and tells me Brass and Harpo got together. I thought it was great. Weird, but great. Octy though, she was quiet. She’s been doing that lately, I dunno why. Goes and practices more and more while I’m trying to nap. I usually end up sleeping in the basement so she thinks I’m busy working, don’t want her to know how tired I am. She might feel bad - worse, as it happens.

Now though, I think I need to ask her what’s up. She played stiffly tonight, kept looking over at Beauty Brass and Harpo. I think she admires their relationship. They're doing all the normal lovey-dovey romantic stuff. Me and Octy never did any of that. We’ve been pretty much going out for, what, ten months? We’ve never done much, though. Dates, sure, enough for the media to know it’s official. The odd moonlight kiss, we’ve even slept in a same bed, but she gets shy of anything more than that. She says she loves me, and I believe her, but I think it’s family. They're pressuring her to find some le de da stallion rolling in even more money than she is. Whatever is bothering her, though, I’ll be here. I’ll keep doing what I’m doing, show her that I can be worth her love, that I can be respectable like she wants. I’ll wait for her to open up, because a mare like Octavia?

She’s worth waiting for.

*****

Vinyl, I never knew. I never knew you read me so well, or fought so hard to earn my love. Didn’t you know you had it? I was...waiting for you…

Carrot Top didn’t let the doctors take me to my own ward. She nearly clawed herself after me when they led me out of sight. I didn’t know what they were doing until I found myself swaying in front of a bed staring blankly at it’s bleached linen, tears in my eyes a book in my grip. And a look over my shoulder found me looking into her bright green eyes, questioning, concerned, but not scared. Not giving up, like I was.

I found it warming somehow, but also humbling. Here was Carrot Top, a simple mare by volition, a pony I’d never so much as looked at before. But there was more to her than just that. She was compassionate, strong and capable. And even from the horrifying position of her hospital bed, she was looking at me, silently giving me the strength to continue. Strength I’d never had. In the same way, I’d somehow managed to overlook Vinyl’s hidden weaknesses. And now it was too late.

Only it wasn’t. I could see it Carrot Top’s eyes; that seeking, hard look. Her resolve burned hotter than ever, not weakened at all by her injuries. Where I had run from my fear of that place, Carrot Top would, without a doubt, have faced it head-on, were she capable. And now that roll had passed to me.

I drew on her strength then. I heard, in chilling clarity, the vengeful music that had played over Carrot Top’s intrusion. Music, I felt sure, encapsulated this mares undying steadfastness more than anything else.

...Wait…

In a flurry, I spun back and tore open Vinyl’s diary, seeking it’s secrets.

*****

August 23rd, Year 1002

Hey Octy

I have some bad news. My show got cancelled. It was the last chance to play my new soundtrack before the album release, but that’s okay. I make plenty of bits as is. Not as much as Octavia, sure, but she’s playing at high-class gigs. I‘d know after all. I organize the damn things.

Either way, I need to seriously settle down and write some new songs myself. My last album sold real well, even if it was just a bunch of remixes I threw together between naps in the basement where Octy wouldn’t find me. Wouldn’t want her to be worried.

It’s worth it, though. I think my iced-over Octy is warming up, aren’t you? I loved the gift on our anniversary, I really did. That show was great, I loved what I saw of it! Any show Pinkie Pie throws is a total laugh! I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I promise. I was just...so tired.

Three shows, Octy. Three! I know I said I’m used to not much sleep, but I still need some. And if you keep moving your recitals to days I have shows as well, on top of K-Kolt Radio? You're gonna break me.

I think I found a solution though; I got a letter today from this mare in cloudsdale. Pegasus, of course. She says she has some new equipment that might speed up my music production! And if I produce faster, produce more, I’ll have more time to go to shows with you, more time to make up for my silly mistakes, more time to sleep. Maybe we can go for that walk in the park I missed on Hearts and Hooves Day last time.

Anything to keep you happy as you are. Anything for Octy.

*****

Pegasus. Cloudsdale. Equipment. Genesis.

*****

September 5th, Year 1002

Hey Octy, the new kit’s here.

I told you about that cloudsdale mare. She looked real creepy though, all dressed in a long black cloak and stuff, didn’t even know she had wings til she started flying the boxes in. She sold this stuff to me real cheap, even helped install it. She didn’t tell me what it did exactly, other than it being a ‘more direct connection to the muse’ or something, but I found out. Oh, did I find out.

And you’d be terrified.

It’s good that you were out with Lyra and Bons today. I know you don’t like blood. I cleaned it up though, real well. It’s this new stuff though. It’s scarey, Octy, but...brilliant.

there are these little metal buzzy things, right? I thought they were like microphones or something, for collecting sound? Well, I was right, just not like I thought.

It hurts, for a bit, but when it gets a taste for you, it stops biting. They make music, Octy. Straight from my thoughts, the music comes out how I want it. The first time one of these things bit me, I tried to get away, but the music it played stopped me. I started all high and scarey, but when I made the connection, that the thing in my leg played the song? It changed. It plays what I’m thinking about, so it played an epic.

You won’t like it, but the music is good. I can put up with a little pain if it means I won’t miss any more time with you.

But we won’t be sharing a bed tonight.

*****

Music straight from her thoughts. Leaching straight from her soul. Those violent, angry beats after we'd broken up. That sweet happy string-music when Lyra had come home bleeding. The heavy base-and-cello that horrible day I fought free of that house. My Song.

Oh Maker, Vinyl, what did you get yourself into?

*****

April 18th, Year 1003

Hey Octy

What’s wrong? You haven’t spoken to me for a while, not properly. It’s never anything more than ‘what’s wrong Vinyl, where have you been Vinyl, why are you bleeding Vinyl?’ I want to tell you! But you won’t listen!

You’re Octavia Philharmonica. Everypony in Equestria knows you don’t need me, you stick around because you want me. And if I told you my last album, the only album I’ve ever produced that outsells yours, was written in blood? How could you ever want me again?

And I need to make music. I can’t be some nopony standing next to an icon, how could you want me then? I need to make music. I need to make music. I need to make more music.

Angel came by today. That’s what I call her. She doesn’t mind, so long as she gets paid. So long as she can keep selling those stolen soul-drills to me. I need more. I know that if I can just figure out how they tick, I can make a better way to use them. Then I won’t have to bleed. Then you can stop worrying and get back to doing what Octy does. Just be beautiful again.

I can win this, you’ll see.

*****

No Vinyl, you obviously couldn’t.

*****

October 12th, Year 1003

Hey Octy

Angel’s been here. I don’t know when, or why, really, but she’s left more soul-drills. These ones are different. Sharper.

I think I’m getting blackouts. Time passes and I don’t see it. I heard you knocking earlier, Octy, but you didn’t come in. It’s not locked, you know. Though it should be. Its a mess down here. Wouldn’t want to scare you…

Woah, I just did black out. I need to get this drill out. I think I’ve overused it. They go bad after a while, eat you up and make no sound. They get bored. They want new blood. I wonder, Octy, sometimes I wonder what music you’d make with one of these? Mine is...well, mine is ME. It sounds like my very essence is singing for me. I want to hear what your soul sounds like, too.

No! I won’t, never! I’d never hurt you! If I have just a few more weeks, I can get my little prototype working. I’ll make the best music ever and won’t hurt anypony ever again. Then I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you, because I know you have questions. You just don’t know what to ask.

Honestly, neither do I.

*****

You never did find enough time, did you Vinyl? They broke you, didn’t they? She broke your mind.

I broke your heart…

*****

February 28th, Year 1004

Why Octy?

I read your mail, you silly mare. I know you’ve read mine. It’s okay when it’s a bill, a silly little bill you never had to know about, but it’s not okay when you decide to tear my heart out and take it with you?!

Take it Octy, it’s yours anyway. I’m not really me anymore. I spend more time than I can even remember staring at nothing, and even more time staring at pictures of you.

Wasn’t I worth your love anymore? I’m successful now, just like you! Two more weeks, Octy, I had time off! I know I’ve been down lately. I’m sleeping more but I’m still tired, so tired. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever really woken up. This morning I wish I hadn’t.

You’re gone. You’ve been gone for a while, though, we both knew it. I tried harder, Octy, I stopped experimenting made music to get my album out in time for our holiday. I was going to take you to Baltimare. The tickets are useless now.

Angel says I need to focus. Get a grip. Forget about you and move on. Make more music. Well she found out how hard making music her way really is! She got one of her own drills in her leg. I hope it scars.

I’m not me without Octy, but I’m not me without music. But the music takes me out of me, leaves me hanging in the air, leaves Vinyl Scratch behind, leaves her tired. If she’s so broken, what do I have to go back to?

A world without Octavia, that’s what. And that just isn’t worth it.

*****

Oh Vinyl, why did you never tell me? Why did you wait until it was too late to save yourself?

Save yourself from your idea of me?

*****

March 3rd, Year 1004

Oh Maker, Octy, what have I done?

I don’t remember it I swear, I never would have done this. I don’t know who, I don’t know when, but somepony's been here. The cables are outside, all the way up the stairs, in the lounge, in my bedroom. In your bedroom, Octy. I know the date. I know it’s been three days. But I remember hours, only. Nothing else. But I can hear the music, Octy. I can hear it playing. It’s not me. It’s not me. It’s not any of the tunes I've heard. No.

It was you, wasn’t it?

Its your song.

You came back for me, tried to save me? Tried to get in here and beat the pit this house has become, save the husk that Vinyl Scratch is.

Maybe you didn’t, maybe I called you? Vinyl Scratch has been doing weird things lately, things I haven't told her to do. I told her to say no to Angel, send her away. I told her to stop making music.

She doesn’t listen. Sometimes I can be her, if I have to. I can still save you. And me. Maybe I can end it all? Maybe I can be Vinyl again.

Be Vinyl~

Be what you want again.

Be Vinyl~

‘BE̶ ̧N̢͜O̴̧T̶!͡’

*****

Her last entry. The last words a sane Vinyl wrote, laid in paper mere not even two days ago. But that last line…

I scrambled, trying to find where I’d seen that same messy script, that same awkward hoof-writing that most certainly was not Vinyl.

The letter.

I pulled out and for the first time gave it any consideration. All I knew was that same hoof-writing was scrawled in a threat across the letter’s face. A letter, I now saw, that was from Lyra:

Dear Octavia.

I found Bon Bon. She’s in Withervale General Hospital. Nopony can tell me what happened, but they say it was a mugging gone wrong. What pony would do such a thing? I don’t know what to do. I know you’re probably busy with Vinyl - I hope things are going well - but if you could spare a day, I need somepony to…

The rest was illegible under the scrawled line; ‘If̵ y̡ou ̀e͜ve҉r̴ w̕ant to se̴ȩ t͝he̢m̷ a̴li͡ve̷,͞ go a͘wa̵y̡ ̸an͢d͏ n҉ev̕er͠ ̢c҉omè b͏a͞ćk͘.̵’

Missing links and misdirections written by a hoof I didn't know, but one I despised. Bon Bon was hurt, and there was no way I could believe that was unconnected to what I was seeing around me.

Lyra needed me.

Carrot Top needed me.

Vinyl needed me.

My thoughts were torn only for a moment, though. As I finally looked up from both the diary and the letter, Carrot Top’s eyes held me riveted while a memory flashed before my own;

“Octy, I g-gotta talk to you...”

“L-listen, I n-need your help…”

“I’ll come around this evening; just stay calm and wait for me…”

The time for waiting was over.

Author's Note

HEH HEH HEH
I heard some people wanted answers. So I gave you some. Or at least the right questions to ask.
This was the chapter we all were waiting for, I think. And I'm so happy (sad) to have finished (started) with this. Oh, here it comes, folks....
Edited by the Great and ...Something... ShouldNotExist, thanks a ton mate!

10. Preemptive

Nights at hospitals aren’t as quiet as you might think.

I spent hours lying on my bed, my attention divided between checking on and talking to Carrot Top, and reading the heart-rending diary entries Vinyl had written in the brightest and darkest moments of her life. Every entry was a reminder of times we’d spent together, every line an inspired insight into our lives, or some painfully funny situation, jokingly written to brighten up the series of events that showed Vinyl’s slow and unswerving descent into madness.

In every syllable, I knew I was losing her~

Bump. I looked over at the bed next to me. Carrot Top looked back, giving me a slight nod, like she had every half an hour since nightfall. Every photon of light leached from the air had increased my nervousness tenfold, but every time I saw the strength in her olive eyes, I grew a little of my own. And I hated myself for it.

I’m relying on her. I’m relying on a pony who can’t speak, can hardly breath because of something I pulled her into. She’s hurt beyond my worst imagining, and here am I looking to her for solace. And she wasn’t the only pony I’d hung on to in hard times. The other was currently tearing herself apart at the seams in a hole in the ground, a refuge she’d retreated to to overcome her own limitations, to force herself to bear the weight I has leaned upon her shoulders. Now she was lost in a prison that kept her from me.

Not for much longer, if I could help it. And so that’s when I started listening to the sounds of the night-shadowed building around me. The tick of monitors plugged into my friend, the clop of nurses’ hooves in the halls, one or two cries from other patients. One harsh bark from a nearby ward that I just knew came from Noteworthy. And through it all, somehow cutting across the entirety of my senses, was a deep bass thrumming, a long, bare beat so beyond perception no sane pony would pay it heed. But then again, no sane pony would believe where it came from, either.

Thump. Carrot Top opened her mouth, and breathed out a sighing hiss, nothing more. I listened, though, because listening was what I was doing. It took a few seconds, but in the insurmountable gap between the sounds of the building and the sound of my fear, her barely audible voice matched beat for beat with the distant, chilling bassline.

“You hear it too?” My voice was hoarse, dry, loud in the silence. And suddenly, the building sounded quieter than a mausoleum. Carrot Top’s forced hiss stopped, the white noise clearing with the haze in my mind. She looked at me as she did when she knew I needed it, but this time it was different. She nodded slowly, her eyes never once leaving my face. Hours ago I’d been near giving up, my conviction broken, but now?

Now, the music called me.

I stood, hearing the buzzing, whirring, stepping and crying, and focussed on none of it. Instead, I walked around to Carrot Top’s side, resting one hoof on the beeping machine that measured her life. Measured, but didn’t protect.

“I’m sorry, Carrot Top,” I whispered, my eyes dull, “I can’t let this go on. Too many ponies. This is my fault, and I’m going to fix it.”

She didn’t move. She just stared at me, watching as I leaned down and bit the cords that monitored her health. And as the machine they led to started screaming its warnings, she watched me punch it into silence. I shook my wrist wanly as I turned back to her. “They’ll be here to protect you. Goodbye, Carrot Top. I hope I’ll see you again, when it’s done.”

She watched me leave, I know. I could feel her eyes on my back as I padded as softly as hooves could out of the ward and beyond the nurses and guards rushing the opposite way. Scant minutes later Carrot Top was surrounded by loudly chattering nurses trying to salvage what they could of my vandalism, and a few golden-armoured guards desperately searching the ward for a trace of me. No matter how loud they questioned the only pony who saw me leave, they never got an answer, though considering the small smile Carrot Top wore, she wouldn’t have answered either way. And when they finally spread out to search for the mentally unstable musician they saw me as, they were chasing nothing more than a charcoal ghost in the night.

*****

One of the best parts about Ponyville were the quiet nights. The soft contours of thatched cottages and the odd shingled bungalow along winding quaint alleys lined with fresh flowers and paved with cobbles or bare beaten earth, the way the shadows fell over private corners but let the starlight fall about unhindered. Ponyville at night was so beautiful that nopony felt the need to light it. Not many ponies knew to fear the dark.

A grey ghost in between the houses, I walked around the western edge of town. I was avoiding the town centre, where the younger crowd might still be awake. Search parties would be out soon. I’d have to end this before that.

Reentering the winding paths of the town I wove my way back towards my own neighbourhood, with all it’s familiarities. I saw a bench set into a secluded screen of hedges, two small images engraved into the stone backrest. A lyre and a trio of sweets. Two mares I knew had commissioned that bench, and had sat there happily many a day, bickering over who was sitting correctly or not. A bittersweet memory now, of ponies I knew nowhere near well enough.

The spread boughs of the town library could be seen over the rooftops, bathing the market square and northern edge of the park in silent shade. The library was empty now. Nopony was there to help me. My hooves clicked over the odd stone, and my tail swished across the ground behind me, my little addition to the night sounds, my small accompaniment to the near-imperceptible sound running up through my legs.

Long and low, that song begged me to run away, a warning that called me clearer than a lover’s touch. I saw nothing in the shadows darker than what I’d seen before, nothing to scare me as much as that I would face. It was a quiet night fraught with sound. A peaceful darkness over unbearable tension I couldn’t let myself feel.

All this I thought as I sat across the street from that house, staring up at it in the night and wondering why it all had to come to this. No, I didn’t know what I was expecting to see. No, I wasn’t at peace with myself, or calm. No, I wasn’t ready to face anything for love. I had no idea what I was getting throwing myself at, and I was shaking in my skin with fear, unwilling to think about what I would do within the next few hours, because rightly, I didn’t know

All I knew was that at some point in the dead of night, a figure would fly up to that door and knock on the doorframe. The the music would stop, and the door would open. Neither pony in the doorway would notice the pair of violet eyes watching them from across the street. Not that it mattered. To me, that didn’t matter. What mattered was the pony opening the door. What was left of her. Vinyl was a slave to herself. All I did know was that I’d either free her from what she had become…or end it all.

It was the same thing, really, in the end.

*****

Not an hour later, the music stopped.

I lay flat there on the ground, behind a hedge, where I’d been the whole time, lost in thought, merely watching, noting the little things. I peaked out through the roots of the plants, focusing on the uninterrupted view of the foot of Vinyl’s door. I saw the way the grass crawled up the doorposts, but stood away from the door itself, seemingly pushed away by some force. I heard a quiet tapping from within, like soft hooves across floorboards. I saw the grass before the door fall against the wood before the door creaked open to admit the night, revealing, for half a second, one alabaster leg.

Then she landed.

In an instant, four hooves hit the dirt in front of the door. I could not see this pony beyond the knees, but even that much was hidden beneath a bulky ashen cloak. All I could see of the pegasus Vinyl had called ‘Angel’ were four grey, bleached hooves, the colour of old bones, under the stone-grey coat that brushed her colourless fetlocks. No cloak, though, could hide a voice.

“Open the door, Scratch.” a tone made monotonous from weariness and years.

Dry, reedy came the reply; “Why?”

My heart flipped. Both voices were so different, yet the same. Familiar. Angel’s dull, low monotone, rough and uncut, and Vinyl’s faint rasp, a far cry from her beautiful tenor she had serenaded me with on summers’ eves. No fight was in her words. I could hear the death of her spirit, and so could Angel.

“No games this time, Scratch. They’ll be here soon. Then you’ll have your accompaniment.”

“I-I don’t need accompani…” Vinyl’s words were cut off by the sharpest note I’d ever heard.

My ears splayed back as I staved it off, but the piercing sound actually hurt. Burning not only in my ears, but across my tongue, under my eyelids, in my nose, with the smell of smoke and the taste of coals. My skin crawled with chill as the whistle rose and fell, a new unearthly sound tailored to break a pony. I would have done anything to make it stop…

I heard the door open further, and the note trailed off.

“Good girl.This is a good weapon you made me, Scratch.”

I picked my head up just in time to see a grey coat and somehow even greyer tail sweep into the black, and the doorway began closing. I slowly released a breath as the lock clicked shut, and I sighed into my hooves. So Angel had come, as I’d expected. Somehow, she’d made noise a weapon. She’d turned despair into a sound. Or Vinyl had. No doubt I’d helped her with that. either way, I’d destroy whatever had made that note when I found it. First, how to get in…wait.

I looked at the door. The grass verging the step leaned easily against the wood, scrunched up by the closing door, just like the grass either side against the doorposts. Vinyl hadn’t redone her muffle spell. Now was my chance!

My heart leapt into my throat. The time for thought was past. I’d bent my mind to this, now was time to bend my will...I’m doing it again! Move, you silly mare!

I stopped thinking about what the pegasus Angel had said, and began a sort of awkward sideways shuffle, the fur of my barrel brushing the ground as I scurried like a rat across the street. I immediately took a short dive into a flower bed, into a remarkably perfectly-sized indent; the same flower bed I’d landed in two days ago, jumping in terror from my old bedroom window. I looked up. The window was closed.

I looked at the door, still unenchanted, still easily overcome with a little strength. I thought back to what these two twisted ponies had said. Accompaniment. So far, Vinyl was the only player. She didn’t need skilled artists, did she? Somehow, I didn’t think Angel meant bringing in a renowned quartet for a special recording. No, all they needed was live meat.

It started again. A very low, thrumming bass note. almost string but not quite, a mixed sound that dug at me. As if from a distance, I heard a lone violin playing, erie in its solitude, mourning what was to come. A sound that, for me, threw a haze over everything else. I raised my head curiously, shrugging off my fear, to try and catch a single note more of that lone player. Instead, it disappeared completely.

I suddenly found myself lying as I was in a leafy bush, my head popped up like a duck, staring off into the distance. I shrunk back. What was I thinking? I needed to focus. Get inside, find Vinyl, and~

My eyes found a sight of a curtain fluttering above me. The window above me was open

“Knew you wouldn’t take a hint.”

I looked up with barely any time too see the bone-grey hoof that blacked out my vision.

Author's Note

Lookit, a chapter.
So I kinda did this without an editor, but I checked it a few times. Hope I didn't miss a lot.
The reason for no editor? I was excited. Why was I excited?
Hold onto your seats, fellas

Regards
Quicksear

11. Inescapable

“...Octavia...?”

My head swayed slightly, hanging from my shoulders as I flicked an ear in the direction of the voice I couldn't hear.

“...Oh Celestia, why is this h-happening…”

My nose twitched under the assault of an overpowering scent of copper and oil, while my legs jerked in their bindings. A shadow passed over my head, but I didn't see it. I didn’t feel, see, smell. I could taste though. I could taste wet cotton. And I could hear. In fact, I heard to the exclusion of all else.

A single note had started. I’d been sleeping, but it had woken me, only to bury me. A single note to begin with, and then a plethora of barely distinguishable strings and other sounds weaving their way into my brain. Double bass, cello, violin, a harp distantly, and I could almost hear a trombone...yes, I could here horns of various shapes and sizes reaching to me as well. They all trickled through the air like syrup and surrounded me. I knew each and every instrument by heart, because it was all I could focus on.

Plus, I’d heard it all before.

It’s your song.

My eyes opened wide.

“O-Octy?!”

“Shut up!”

I glanced left. It was all I could do from where I was. I was surrounded by darkness, but familiarity bore me. I was in Vinyl’s old dining room. The fitting for the chandelier had been re-purposed, and now was hung with a dozen thick ropes that trailed the room, many leading to me. One wrapped around my neck and tied off at the stair railing, holding my equally bound forehooves just off the ground. I tugged once, but then my eyes fell upon the rest of the room. in front of me, flicking in agitation, was a grey tail. Not a natural grey like my own coat, but a chilling, empty grey that begged colour to return to it. Beyond it, I saw a similar mane, flanked by bone-like foggy wings the beat the air, and a raised hoof, poised to strike.

“Otcy!”

“I said shut it!” The hoof came down, and cut off that high, terrified voice. It died with a whimper. Only once it was gone did that familiar musical voice reached my mind, and I jerked forward, spitting through my gag.

The pegasus spun to face me, and I gasped back again. Her very skin seemed pulled back, leaving her snout and cheekbones standing out in prominent silver under eyes so bloodshot they glowed crimson. But all I saw was the pony on the floor, the cyan-green mane, it’s white streak marred by the slightest smattering of blood. I choked against my gag.

“You shouldn’t be awake,” Angel’s sick sing-song voice boiled against me, and I glared at her twisted smile as she walked up to me. In the darkness, hundreds of pitted scars reflected moonlight off her drained coat. She stared at me lopsidedly for a moment. Suddenly she huffed, “You aren’t supposed to be awake. Vinyl said she knew your song. Go back to sleep.”

I growled through my sodden rag. Defiant, like I’d learned to be.

Angel’s eyes hardened. “Spirited I see. We can use that.” With that she turned tail and left, heading into the hallway, past the stairs and down into the depths.

“...O-Octy…”

I turned back down to Lyra, lying on her side against the dining room table, her head propped up against the hardwood. The punch to her face had slammed her head into the table, and even in the dark I could see bruises forming around both her eyes. One vindictive punch. Anger rose in my breast.

“...Octy, w-why...where are we? Where’s Bon Bon?”

I couldn't answer her. The music around us redoubled, somehow subtly changing in tempo. This time I could hear a saxophone, and an incongruous almost jazzy jingle trying to play over the low melancholy symphony that so reduced me.

Lyra’s ears perked up, her eyes flashing, “Bonny…?”

No! I jerked back against my bonds. I heard Lyra whimpering, struggling against her own. She didn't know what I knew, but it was clear nothing good was to come of this. If Bon Bon was here…

“Then you’ll have your accompaniment.”

I stared at my bonds. The ones around my fetlocks were three twists of tough hemp, the one about my neck I could feel to be the same. My rear hooves were held off the ground by a tie under my belly, left to kick free in the air. I twisted to look behind me. I suddenly felt my balance shift; I was falling. With a nicker, I thrashed to right myself, but I failed. I heard a whirring of saw-edged teeth, and pulled back abruptly. When I stopped swinging I found myself staring straight at a tight bunch of soul drills dangling right above me, their articulated jaws aimed at my face as if they could sense my skin. I was hanging upside down now, my hooves all in the air, tangled in the ropes about my body, still off the ground.

I narrowed my eyes. Since when was there an Earth Pony ropes could bind? I pulled my rear legs up, ignoring the burn of the still-raw injury in my thigh, and kicked the ropes around my forelegs. It took a few tries, once or twice missing and hitting my own legs only, but the bruises were worth it. The edges of my hooves weakened the rope enough for me to pull them apart.

With my forelegs free, though bleeding, I snapped the gag tied bridle-fashion about my head, and then it took no more than a few snaps of my teeth to free my neck. My head hit the floor hard enough to send a burst of sparks across my eyes. They danced in time with the music.

But it was different. Overworked. The song was not pure. And I knew why. Angel was right, Vinyl knew My Song. But she wasn't playing it. I kicked my hindquarters free and wriggled back, nearer to Lyra. I looked my friend over, mortified and disgusted at what I saw. She’d been beaten. Bruises crossed her neck, her back. Her hooves were bound, and her horn clearly shellshocked, maybe overchanneled? Either way, her magic was useless. She was not gagged, but it was clear her mind was not all there. Probably a concussion, or one of these invasive Songs. Vinyl had Lyra’s too, after all.

I pulled the bindings from Lyra’s hooves and nosed her side. “Come on Lyra, please. I need you to get up. Please, dear…”

Lyra’s head lolled a bit, but she pulled her hooves under her and blinked. “Octy, who...she took Bon Bon. She took us both. I d-don’t know how...there were others Octy, so many. I tried, but I’m not a fighter. I’m j-just me…”

“And that's all you need to be, “ I whispered hurriedly, “Lyra, I know this is scary. It’s terrifying. But you need to go get help, alright? I’m going to buy you time, you just go into the street and shout as loud as you can manage. Ponies will come, and it’ll all be over.”

Lyra nodded shakily. “You’ll save Bonny?”

“With any luck,” I muttered, “I’ll save them both.”

It was dark in the house, the discordant music somehow dimming it even further. Everything looked grey. Everything except Lyra. She stood up, almost luminous green, shaking off her injuries admirably. She looked about, and I gestured towards the front door as I moved to the edge of the stairs. I peered around the railing, down the hall and into the open basement door, into the black. I waved the all-clear, and Lyra stumbled the door. Too late I heard the buzzing static, and suddenly the music stopped. I spun to face Lyra, just as she engulfed in a bang and a flash.

It was backlash from the muffle spell. How I hadn't thought of that was insane: of course Vinyl had recast it. I cringed back from a lick of heat, but it reached me as less than a warm breeze. The spell’s backlash was much more muted when broken from the inside.

“Owww…”

I looked up at Lyra, standing dazedly in the entrance hall, looking back at me curiously. “What was…”

I heard a click and a whir behind me. I saw Lyra’s eyes widen, and I looked back in time to see a grey blur burst past me like a fog, driving through the air and holding a soul-tap outwards like a spear. Angel sneered coldly as she crossed the room at blistering speed, aiming straight for Lyra. One instant, Lyra was twisting away, the next, she was staring down at herself, at the faded hoof driving the metal demon straight into her chest. And a harp joined the deathly choir.

Lyra gasped, slipping forward to her knees. A long cable traced from the basement to the device eating into her flesh, piping her essence into the dissonant song weaving itself into the air. Even as I watched, as Angel turned to face me, I saw Lyra’s coat bleaching.

I’d felt anger. I’d felt fear. I’d felt hopelessness and conviction both, but I hadn’t ever felt Hate. A driving force the likes of which no one should feel. I took a step to the right and stamped hard on the cable tethering Lyra to the building. I heard the teeth stop grinding, and the music stuttered, losing it’s lyre.

Angel saw my eyes, but I doubt they glowed as hers did. “Oh, Octavia,” she growled, “you’re going to regret that.”

I didn’t back off, of course not. I’d see my hoof down this devil’s throat before I gave up. I lowered my head and pawed the ground, saying nothing. I planned my move.

Angel moved first. Her dry, matted wings flashed to life, and she dove towards me. I leapt forward as she did. What a clash it would have made. But instead, I aimed low, hitting the ground and rolling towards Lyra, trying to blast the door open with sheer force and carry her out. Then I noticed that Angel too, hadn’t aimed to hit me. In fact, she’d hit her mark.

Angel sprung back down from the ceiling and slammed into my side, knocking my head to the floor and pinning me, arresting my movement. No matter how dwindled her limbs appeared, they were filled with months of hard-livings’ worth of sinew and muscle, all locked around my chest. I couldn’t push her away, nor free my forelegs. My rear hooves, though, found purchase against one hall.

I kicked off with a growl, spinning our locked bodies around and, with a twist, I flipped us over. Angel’s head met the floorboards with a jolt, and her hold weakened. I kicked myself free and jumped for the door. Lyra was coughing lightly, looking curiously at the drill buried, dead, in her chest. She raised a hoof to tap it, but as she did, a piercing note sliced the air. Sliced my concentration. I fell forward, clutching my head. I saw enough to know Lyra was similarly affected. Even in her state, she collapsed to her side, screaming til she was reduced to panting in pain.

And here was I, seething. I heard the song playing over it all drop to one incredibly powerful bass note, so low it shook the timbre of the building. It smothered the whistle for a moment, enough for me to gain my senses. I swung my body back, glaring murder at Angel. The pegasus was shaking her head roughly, holding a long almost flute-like instrument in one hoof. She opened her eyes and noted me hackling, and she raised the accursed whistle to her mouth again just as I charged. It met her lips as my shoulder met her ribcage at full speed. I knocked her back, tumbling, until I saw the maw opening before me. I skidded my hooves, trying to stop myself, but Angel savagely gripped me. With a grin I could almost hear, she pulled me over her own head and threw me straight down into the pitch-black basement.

The music surged. I felt the edges of the stairs dig into my back, then again as Angel landed on my chest before pulling me over her again. She slammed me down on the stairs twice, and one last time on the floor at the bottom, using my momentum to drag me along in a loop. When we finally stopped, I was dizzy, in pain, and scared. All I could see was her menacing grin an inch from my nose. “Welcome to your hell, Octavia.”

Then she turned on the lights.

A static net of bright blue raced over the ceiling and lit the chilling scene. Angel propped me in a corner beside a huge whirring, winding machine, and let me look out over the room.

Cavern-like, the dark walls of the empty cellar stretched away, but I needn’t see them. Everything was right before me, hemmed in by walls of heavy recording equipment, walls of switches and spinning plates, decks and contraptions I’d never care to name. Tapes ran across a few reels. and tall glass cylinders rose from bastions, filled with a ghostly thin luminescence that danced to the music. In the middle of it all was soft bed, its bloodsoaked sheets strewn aside as the pony there twitched, probably thrashed before the strength had left her. Her cream coat was ruined with blood, bruises and cuts. And soul-taps. Three of them, I could see: one in her belly, one burrowed into her foreleg, and another into her neck, where her faded blue-and-pink mane had been pushed aside. In the corner I could see another pony bound, unmoving, her purple coat and mane barely hiding the pain she’d suffered. Berry Punch.

My eyes, though, were drawn upwards. There, in the mass of pulsing blue and swinging cables, was Vinyl. All along her back, studded into her legs, her chest and her neck, were not drills, but...plugs? Jacks. The ones along her spine were plugged into dangling cables, and a faint whine emanated from the ceiling where they disappeared. At Vinyl’s hooves was a table, strewn with wires and scrap plates of steel. Her horn glowed a sickly grey as she moved dozens of parts into each other, rebuilding, creating while destroying from her perch in the rat's nest.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Angel purred beside me.

I punched her as hard as I could.

“Now, none of that,” She sneered, “I need you strong for Vinyl.”

I stopped trying to hit her, “Wha...What?”

“Bright as you are, you probably haven’t worked this out yet.” Angel punched me back, just hard enough to make me dizzy. My eyes traced her as she slithered toward the bed. Her mane seemed to shimmer with...pink? “You think these things are, ahem, Plug and Play? Oh no. It really takes it out of you, to make a tune. I would know.”

She swung up onto the bed, staring at the prone form of Bon Bon there. But she spoke to me. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” She spun back to me, staring, waiting.

“I can’t say I do.” I spat, trying to right my vision.

Angel cocked her head, then raised one scar-addled forehoof to her mane, holding it’s ragged edges up, almost in a ponytail. “Bright pink hair, purple streaks, olive coat? And, of course, a little more meat on these bones.”

I just stared back at her and she spun and choked a laugh. “Canterlot Orchestra Auditions for fourth seat violin, six years ago! I was going to be the only Pegasus in the all-unicorn orchestra, but then some hick Earth Pony came along and took the spot! My shining moment, my only moment, taken by a pony who just a year later, upped and chose the cello anyway!”

She spun on a hoof again, to stare at me. “Oh, I tried. I tried so hard. But, I ended up back at my family’s home in Cloudsdale, penniless, working for the weather factory just to pay bills. Sure, there was some demand for a ‘flying fiddler’, but I could do better! All I needed...was a break.”

She sat down, staring up at the doorway. “My brother gave it to me. I was actually young then, and pretty enough. Can you believe it? He showed me around the weather factory. Wonderful, boring place, that.. I got a few admirers there, though, other, equally bored ponies. They showed me some amazing things. They showed me the Development Wing.”

“Cloudsdale has always been...independent,” She continued, now eyeing Vinyl as I was, watching her work away as Bon Bon grew still, “They make all sorts of weird and wonderful thing up there. ‘Pegasus magic’, fancy technology that could do things nopony else dared try, not even your fancy unicorn friends. I found out why.”

She idly scanned the taps buried in Bon Bon’s skin, the yanked one out. Bon Bon merely shivered. Angel threw the bloodied piece at my hooves, and I scurried back. “These were originally meant to be ‘thought recorders’. When normal means failed, the builders used others to achieve their ends. My brother? He built these. It wasn’t until I tried to look at one closely, a curious filly, that either of us found out what they could really do.”

Angel wandered over to a corner and hauled out a matted saddlebag. From within she withdrew, strangely, a vinyl cover. Splashed across it was a bright and cheery olive coated, pink-maned pegasus bearing a polished violin and a cheery smile. I read the name, recognition dawning.

“Featherbright.”

“Ahah!" Angel called out. “Yes, that was it! I was called Featherbright! Happy, raggamuffin ne'er do well fiddler, a rising star!”

I stared at her, disbelieving even as I said, “Then you disappeared. One day you were charting and the next it was as if you’d never raised a bow…”

“That’s when,” She gestured at herself disgustedly, “this started happening. First my coat faded, then my mane. Then my eyes went redder by the day. In a month, I went from recording new songs, to trying desperately to get rid of them. The drills. They don’t leave though. Not even if you throw them from the tallest cloud into the darkest forest, no. They stay in your head. You can hear the music, no matter what you do, it never leaves you. And you never grow back. It just gets worse.”

Angel turned back up to Vinyl. “Nearly done, Scratch?”

No reply. Angel’s head flopped back over painfully, flashing my a upside down grin. “Vinyl’s making the cure. Once the drills take your Song, you can’t really get it back. You just hear the shadows. But Vinyl’s taken other ponies’ songs too. I tried that. My brother was a big stallion, but his soul just fizzled. Vinyl, though, she’s a genius. You know that? Not only at her turntables either. She built those things. She built all of this. And now, she’s learned to take other Songs and use them to replace what she - what WE lost. So far, “ She waved at Bon Bon, “Vinyl can delay the breakdown, the deterioration. But a few tweaks, and a soul as strong as yours? Or that other mare upstairs, even? Well, maybe then Vinyl can fix me.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “Why...why us? You came here...because of me?”

“Hah!” Angel barked cruelly, “No, you self-centred fool. Though when I heard that Vinyl Scratch had shacked up with you, I knew it wouldn't be long til she broke. A pompous fop like you to grind her down? All it took was a nudge from me before she caved like a house of cards. Much easier than the others.”

Tears wanted to come, but I let anger wash it away. My hooves found the floor. “Others?”

“Oh yes,” She swung about nonchalantly, “Dozens, maybe more. Most died. Some think I’m going to help them. The last of them were even kind enough to take care of your friends in Withervale. And then bring them here, that was sweet. They'll probably be dead in the morning, though.”

“You sick, perverted monster!” I cried and launched from the wall. I dove towards Angel, teeth gnashing. But I didn't get there. Angel sidestepped and brought up a forehoof, soul-tap poised. My momentum carried me past her as she plunged the drill deep into my hip.

I’d felt this pain before, but it was different. My inner thigh still burned with hellfire if I moved too fast, but this...It was cold. It filled me with lethargy, a creeping tiredness that overwhelmed my anger, my fear. I felt rather than heard the shift in the music, for the moment it lasted. I heard a slow, mournful violin slice through the bass-and-horn, slice through me. As I stood trembling, Angel staring at me victoriously, I dully remembered the tune, even with all its embellishments. It was My Song.

“Now go to sleep, Octavia. Relax. It’ll all be over soon.” Angel purred.

“Y-Yes...it’ll all be over soon...” I mumbled, looking into her red eyes.

Her smirk lasted only as long as it took for me to grip the cable of the drill in my flank. “It’ll all be over for YOU!!”

I lunged forward, whipping the cable up with the last of my strength, looping it about Angels scrawny neck and pulled. She hacked and fell into the floor, just as I did the same. I made sure to fall on the cable. She tried to pull back, but I refused to move. Instead I raised my head and screamed at the glaringly white pony hanging down from above, “Vinyl!”

“S-She can’t hear you," Angel snarled. With a sudden jerk, she pulled aside and twisted out of the cable, resting a hoof on my neck. “She can’t hear anything I don’t tell her! She gave me her Song, you idiot! You know what you can do with a Song? Play a pony’s soul back to them and you control them!”

“I know...” I rasped. I looked past Angel, up at the ceiling. The cables were stirring.

“And you thought, what? The sound of your lovely voice would wave her? Please, She’s dead, you fool.”

I saw a shock of blue. Not in the lights, but in a mane. It was my turn to chuckle. “I’m not the fool. You’re playing my Song to the pony who loves it most? She’s heard it before...She can hear me now...” I was fading, so tired.

“Why won’t this bitch just give up!” Angel spat at me through the tunnel my vision had become. And while she glared daggers at me, the cables along the ceiling popped loose.

The Songs ended.

I heard a hoarse nicker:

“Because which pony ever claimed to control the Great Octavia Philharmonica?”

“What? Scratch, what are-?” Thats when Angel saw it. Vinyl hung in place, her hooves and magic still holding shards of metal, her eyes blood red, her lips twisted into a crazy smile.

A sing bassline reverberated through the building.

“You promised, Angel. Deal’s off.”

Angel turned to look at me, eyes wide. It was an exquisite moment. Angel dove forward as Vinyl fell in on herself. Angel grasped the base of the drill buried in my hip and tried to pull it out, seal the hole in her control. I grabbed the device over her hooves and, against every stinging instinct, pulled down. I felt it hit bone. The teeth sawed through me, seeking to go deeper, all they needed was a push, and they snagged. Angel froze a second too long in panic, looking at the vengeful demon in white behind her. The bleached Pegasus started up, wings spread, dashing for the door above.

Then Vinyl screamed. She’d pulled every fibre of herself, of shard of metal close to her body as she doubled up, and then in a split second, she flung it all outwards in a flash of brightest blue, a circle of flying death. A thousand fragments peppered the machines about us, slicing cables, chipping discs, shattering solid metal and raining steel into the back of the Pegasus only halfway to the landing. Angel never saw it coming.

Neither did I. In the pulse Vinyl threw out, a strand of my mane fell into my eyes. It was so faded I could see through it. In the moment of fire and terror, all I could feel was a soft warmth, all I could see was Bon Bon shuffling on the bed, and a faint purple stirring across from me. And I was happy. All I wanted to do was close my eyes, cut out that horrible grinding noise going on inside me, maybe hear the soft chords of a violin.

I got neither. Instead, the mashing going on in my body stopped, cut off. I felt a real warmth slide against my side, comforting, and a voice, raw with emotions and fear, whispering.

“I’m so sorry Octy...”

And I fell into the abyss.

Author's Note

Soo...

End Recording

It's a cold world I woke to.

I do not remember much, and what I do may be suspect. Glimpses only, of electric blue, flashing orange, red, white. A single glistening pool of magenta as soft lips brushed my face. Soft, silken warmth and a spattering of rain.

I did not see what became of that place. But I heard enough. In the early morning hours, Ponyville was rocked by a shocking blast of sound and light. Only three ponies had been out that night, and only they saw the roof lift off of Vinyl’s home, engulfed in white fire, sprinkling the entire street with timbers, burning thatch and shards of shattered glass.

The guard was immediately called, not that they’d needed the cries. The blast had been seen from across town, at the clinic. I’ve heard that Carrot Top nearly shook herself from her bed at the sound of it.

When ponies gathered at the destroyed cottage, they had feared the worst. But then a filly, roused from her sleep and scared at the sight, tripped into a shocking discovery.

All of us, lined beside each other in the flowerbed, wrapped in old blankets under a scrap of iron. Bon Bon, Lyra, Berry Punch and myself, huddled together under a sheet of metal that had been assumed to be mere detritus from of the blast. I cannot imagine the terror of that filly, hiding beneath the cover in fear, only to come face to face with us.

We’d been rushed to the clinic, filling the largest ward, all the doctors and nurses there to try and save us. Berry had been hurt the most. The taps had been plunged into her multiple times in an effort to find a Song she didn't really have. Bon Bon had been used up nearly to passing, but her leg and neck would heal. Her belly, and her bruises from before, though, would take longer. Lyra had been very lucky, the haphazardly thrust device in her chest missing her heart be a hairsbreadth. Overall, I was lucky. Only one injury, to my hip. The bones and joint were ground away, but it was not life threatening. But there was no doubt about it: I would not stand to a cello again.

But we all survived, in a manner of speaking. Berry Punch is now a changed mare. She seeks a quiet life now, out amongst the farms. Maybe she’ll start a vineyard? Now that Carrot Top is healed for the most part, she has promised to help her fellow Earth Pony. They both seem to see things differently now.

The first thing Bon Bon did on waking was close her Canterlot store to be closer to Lyra, and the first thing Lyra did was sell her Ponyville cottage to move to her mare’s side. It was an adorably awkward situation for all who saw it, but the Mayor of Ponyville quickly solved the issue. Lyra and Bon Bon moved into a smaller cottage closer to the park. I hear they take walks there every day.

Me? I woke up later. The doctors couldn't tell why I was so fragile of constitution, and once I woke, I never told them. All they could see was a mare whose bones had healed as well as they would, whose body was as well as medicine could make it. But no.

When I awoke, I awoke to the soft, calmest trill of a violin, a single note I could swear came from just beyond my window. I opened my eyes and saw the beautiful sunshine through my faded mane and smiled, drawing a deep breath in peace. And the music stopped.

It’s still there, sometimes. Angel was right. The music never stops. I hear it in the quiet, gnawing at me, yet calming at the same time. The Song I hear is not the one of fear and force Vinyl first drew from me. This one is settled, in balance. It finally harmonizes well.

I don’t know what that means, really, for me.

Angel was right about many things. There’s no going back. Not for me, as my mane and frailty attests, and certainly not for her. All they ever found of Angel was a single charred skull.

But of the mare we all want to see, the mare the Royal Guard seeks from border to border across the land, the mare I swear I hear in my head, there was never any trace.

Vinyl Scratch, the foremost modern artist of Equestria, the pioneer of radio for the masses, the champion of the telephone, and of glowsticks, is gone. Not a sight, sound or scent of her has been seen since. Every time I hear the soft tune in the back of my head, I think of her, and every time I wake up on soft mornings, see the mist in the valley and hear another violin just beyond my window, I cry for her.

She was many things to many ponies. Hero, idol, ruffian, but at all times she was strong, brave and obstinate. I loved her for it. I catch myself thinking sometimes, that I never showed it enough, that if Vinyl and I had been better, Angel’s lies wouldn't have gotten to my Vinyl and cracked her like thin glass, but I stop myself. This wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t Vinyl’s either in truth. I can’t even bring myself to blame Angel, a pony brought so low by anguish, pain and loss.

This story has aired on three radio networks and is available for sale in all major centres, along with the last songs Vinyl Scratch produced, saved on the single record in the wreck of her house. If any pony, anyone spots her, please...

I just want my Vinyl back.

Author's Note

The cold empty pit in the stomach you get when a good story is over is a thousand times worse when you are really into writing it. And I can't help but think that' I'll come back to this. There's still a story here...
So anyway, to those who stuck to this, thanks for tagging along! Hope you enjoyed the ride, and keep an eye out. I have the usual penchant for sequels.

Regards and signing off.
Quicksear

1. Familiarity Breeds Contempt

Vinyl Scratch, the infamous DJ Pon-3, had always been known for being a bit of an eccentric. Her music was completely original; never before had its like been heard in the history of Equestria, and its popularity was matched only by her own.

And yet, she had decided to make her home in little Ponyville. Nopony really understood this, since she had been offered residences in really every major city in the land. And why she would decide to live in a small town two hours away from her radio station simply made no sense.

In fact, as I boarded our usual train headed for the K-Colt station just outside of Canterlot, I couldn't help but think that my roomate has been acting a bit off canter lately. It was probably a good thing that we weren't actually going to be airing today, since she was due for a holiday after three years of single-hoofedly managing the entire show, plus both my career and her own. Anypony could be forgiven being stressed by so much responsibility.

Today we were meant to give a tour to our first ever substitute DJ's and show them the workings of Vinyls massively complicated equipment. Of course I'd leave that to her, since only she actually knew how the damn things worked anyway. Instead I was due to have lunch with Beauty Brass to cover what would be happening in relation to our ensemble during Vinyl and my upcoming hiatus.

I spent the train trip in relative silence next to the unicorn that had done so much for me over the years. But knowing that did not help the awkward silence that had built up not only this morning, but over the past few months. There simply was nothing to say. I had always counted on Vinyl's garish behaviour to start anything, but lately she had been subdued, rather staring out the window, or spending all her time in our Cottage's basement with some equipment she had been working on.

I wasn't particularly interested in any of that, it would work itself out. Vinyl always found a solution to her own problems, and mine, in the end.

I got out of the train carriage once we stopped and with nothing but a cursory farewell I headed to the city centre and Beauty Brass.

Brass was at least easy to find. Not many ponies ordered a meal in a voice loud enough to make the waiter superfluous. "Brass! You're scaring the foals three blocks over!" I teased as I took a seat opposite her.

She quickly muffled her voice before greeting, "Oh, sorry...Hello Octavia."

I at least was well used to Brass's sousaphone voice, but it was a little over the top for others. The glares shot at us were tinged with recognition as the other patrons heard our famous names. With practiced poise, I ignored them, rather continuing with Brass; "Well, I heard you order. I take it you went ahead and ordered my usual-?"

"Yes yes yes, now tell me...What is your plan for your...Holiday?" She said in what was for her a suggestive and conspiratorial tone.

I laughed a little, but mirthlessly, and replied, "Brass, really...Well, that may not be on the cards anymore, that is to say-"

"Oh? What happened! You two were getting on so well last time I saw you together!" She cut me off. Again.

I shook my head impatiently, "Brass, let me finish. Yes, Vinyl and I...Have feelings for each other, but what with working together, and all the pressure lately with our recording deals both coming through...No, I don't think it can work. In fact," I said cautiously, not sure if I should share this, "I'm thinking of moving out. Lyra has already offered me a place to stay."

Brass's eyes flared at the news. "But why? You love that cottage!"

I looked down, wishing the food would hurry up, and sighed. "Yes, I do...But lately Vinyl has been getting...Odd. Her music is getting better and better, but her head always seems to be elsewhere. She is short tempered and never makes jokes anymore. I...I am not very well suited to her at the moment. I tried to be affectionate, to help her, but she doesn't want it. She always used to try and get me into the basement with all of her old stuff, but now, I'm not even allowed to open the door. I don't know what happened, but we have drifted apart."

Brass cocked her head and looked at me thoughtfully. "I can't imagine you being affectionate, sorry Octavia. I'm sure you know the situation best, but shouldn't you try to just...stick by her? After your holiday, I'm sure you'll both feel much better and maybe you two can start over?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so Brass. This...Vinyl and I-" I tried to say, but Brass interjected.

"Just try! You two were so happy! Look at Harpo and me, we are completely different and we are okay-"

"BRASS!" I hissed over her speech, "I know that you have a wonderful relationship, but things aren't so smooth on the other side of the pond, understand?! Good day!" I stormed off, not hungry, just angry. Brass thought she knew so much just because she had found herself a nice colt. Well good for her, but things weren't so simple for me.

I should not have stormed away, but I could never go back and apologize, even if I was now terribly hungry. Instead, I ordered a few doughnuts from a vendor down the street and trotted around the streets of Canterlot.

When I fell into boredom, I returned to the K-Colt building. Vinyl noticed me and hurried to finish her tour, and immediately after seeing the interns off, she walked up beside me, “Hey,” she said, “When did you go to doughnut Joe's? Didja get me a cinnamon swirl?”

I felt momentarily guilty for forgetting to think of her, but maybe it was for the best; if I was going to go through with my decision, then it was time to begin parting. As such, I simply shook my head, and stood away from her, ignoring her confused look. We walked together back to the train station and got the first train back to Ponyville. Vinyl started explaining something to me about some or other pony she had spoken to, but I was too depressed by the days course to pay attention, and eventually she drifted into silence as well.

When we arrived at our cottage, I stormed to the guest bedroom, too wound up to even think of sharing a bed.

Vinyl stood at the door behind me, a worried frown hiding behind her shades. "Hey, are you okay Octy-?"

I slammed the door and went to bed. I didn't need her then, and I ignored her presence.

"Oh...Okay, well...Goodnight..."

Author's Note

Okay, my first Vinyl and Octavia tale! I do truly love this pair, but when I was asked if I could write this type of story, I couldn't turn it down. Turns out, at the time, I couldn't. Now I can. If you dislike breaking this pair, or any bad portrayal of either, then I'm sorry, this ain't for you. For the rest, hang in there, this is going to get interesting.

Note of Silence

Two months ago, the world was rocked by one of the strangest stories heard in a thousand years. No demi-gods were involved, no evil creatures from enchanted forests.

No, it was much more invasive, subversive than that. Nopony suspected anything til too late, and then? Then Ponyville was rocked by an explosion.

Ponies the world had forgotten had gathered that night to die, victims of clockworks from another time, mourning the loss of themselves. That night, five innocent mares nearly lost their lives. And from the morning light, Vinyl Scratch was never seen again.

To face that which she destroyed, she must fight powers far beyond her knowledge and uncover truths never seen by sane eyes.

This is her story, and that of the Taken.