Octavia's Reprise

Chapters

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

Canterlot’s elite and noble were gathered once again in the grandest concert hall in all of Equestria. Thousands of wealthy and otherwise lucky ponies were in attendance, and the cultural grandeur their tickets promised to them did not disappoint. Rows of seats trickled down almost without end until leveling out in front of a wide stage adorned with the finest curtains on either side, with a much larger one pulled high up above a small assortment of musicians. There were four in total, each playing a different instrument, yet harmoniously melding their music with that of their neighbors into the most dulcet symphony many in attendance ever had the pleasure of hearing, save for those of prominence who frequented the theater — and its performers.

Octavia’s eyes were closed as she pulled a bow across her cello with the grace and rhythm of a true expert. She gently inhaled the familiar notes surrounding her, allowing the tones to fill both her body and her spirit. Her craft was her life, and so great was her practice that playing her instrument came more naturally to her than speaking to a peer. Then again, why wouldn’t it? She spent her formative years studying rigorously, knowing full well what she wanted most in life, and this concert was a continuation of the realization of the dream she formed so many years ago.

Even as the final chord of the night’s ultimate piece echoed in the vast room Octavia did not open her eyes. She didn’t have to open them to hear the hoof beats of approval. She didn’t have to open them to know that every pony in the audience stood from their seats without hesitation to show their respect. She wouldn’t even have to open them to read the paper in the morning to see the latest review of her performance, because she already knew what it would say. The words written would be the same every critic in every Canterlot paper used to describe her concerts.

“Perfect.”

“Exemplary performance tonight, Octavia.”

“As always, Parish.”

The night’s performers were packing up their instruments while the dull sound of ponies shuffling out of the auditorium struggled to reach any further than the door to the stage behind them. Octavia settled her cello into a blemish-free carbon fiber case lined with a rich red silk, her bow in an unassuming pocket within the case’s lid. Once secured, Octavia stepped through the strap on its side to situate it on her back.

“Would you like a hoof there, Miss Octavia?”

The grey mare whipped her head around, and her long dark hair blocked her eyesight for a mere moment. She gazed at the stallion who addressed her with bored violet eyes. He was an unassuming individual: a dirty-brown coat topped with an off-grey mane. His copper eyes looked happy, if a little nervous.

“The only reason you are on this stage is because a hoof was needed to raise and lower the curtain,” Octavia said coolly. “I hardly trust the care of this case and the instrument inside of it to the professionals who made them, much less to somepony whose occupation requires no more than a collective thirty seconds one or two nights a week.”

“I do other things…” The stallion’s words were without conviction, and no ear received them; the cellist had already left.

Octavia decided to walk home. She didn’t trust the occasional bounce that even the sturdiest of carriages could not avoid, and it was a lovely afternoon; the pegasi really outdid themselves generating the perfect weather for the wedding taking place that day. Octavia couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of indignation at the thought of the ceremony; because of it, her concert took place much earlier in the day than usual, as a good number of patrons (including many of the establishment’s financial backers) received invitations to attend both of the day’s events. She also felt a little sore that neither she nor her colleagues were contacted to perform at said wedding, despite it being one of the most important and sophisticated events in recent history. In fact, she caught wind that a pegasus from Ponyville was put in charge of the music. Octavia scoffed to herself. Ponyville… Now there was a hick town she hadn’t thought about in some time. Even so, she couldn’t complain too much; she still performed, and she was well compensated. Perhaps if she were in a good mood that night, she’d join the crowd waiting and watching for the newlyweds’ carriage out of the city.

The cellist’s thoughts kept her mind occupied until she arrived at her apartment. The flat could almost have been considered a home in some regards; it had two floors, with a kitchen and living area on the landing, and two bedrooms just up the stairs. Despite a large amount of space for a single pony, the home was scarcely furnished. The living room had a fireplace on the far end (though it was rarely used), a simple yet pristine couch across from it, and a narrow bookshelf holding an assortment of memorized songbooks. The kitchen was just as if not more barren, as the shelves and cabinets were seldom stocked.

Octavia crossed the entryway, closed the door behind her, and proceeded up the stairs while moving carefully so the hoof rail would not rub against her cello’s case. At the top of the stairs she entered the room on her left, set the case down, and stepped out of the strap connected to it. She propped it up on a stand against the far wall, next to another of the same size, one slightly bigger, and one just longer than her front legs. These cases alone would have made the room the most decorated in the apartment, but a few shelves around the room were adorned with plaques, certificates, and trophies celebrating various accomplishments. As she looked at them, the corners of her mouth pulled back into what could only be described as a smile, although some would argue that thought had they seen it for themselves. As she left the first room she eyed her neatly made bed in the one across from it, considering for a moment whether or not an afternoon nap would be completely out of the question; she hadn’t done such in years. The trend would continue as she decided to take the afternoon she now had available to visit one of her favorite outdoor cafés.

The tables outside the café were sparsely populated, if at all, though this was nothing Octavia felt the need to complain about. Not long after she sat, a mare with an off-yellow coat and light blue mane approached her with a smile and gave her a menu before trotting away to another table. Octavia opened the menu and glanced over it, despite already knowing exactly what she wanted. To her dismay, her favorite tea was no longer listed among the drink specialties.

“Excuse me,” Octavia said to the waitress, who was on her way back to the kitchen, “but are you no longer serving the ‘opal essence’?”

“No,” the mare replied with a sheepish grin, “we’re kind of out of stock at the moment. We hosted a dessert competition last week, and it proved to be quite popular among those in attendance. I think Princess Celestia had three or four pitchers’ worth herself.”

“Princess Celestia?” Tacky though a dessert competition was, Octavia couldn’t help but feel a little self-satisfied with the idea of sharing a palate with royalty. Even so, this was clearly shaping up to be one of her least favorite days in recent memory. “Disappointing, but very well. I’ll take a cup of your jasmine tea then.”

“Right away, ma’am.” The waitress gave a short bow before disappearing into the kitchen again.

The cellist sighed and broke her trademark prim posture to rest her head on her hoof. She eyed the other customers with disdain. They all seemed to be enjoying the pleasant afternoon air, chatting and laughing with colleagues over a mid-afternoon snack. Not one of them appeared distressed in the least to hear the finest tea the establishment could offer was unavailable. Surely there was no justice in the world. And what in Celestia’s name kept blocking the sun?

Octavia was now vaguely aware of a certain darkness sporadically covering one or both of her eyes. At first she thought it was simply clouds drifting by, but these shadows were moving far too fast to be moved by wind, or even from a pegasus pushing one along. Isn’t the sky supposed to be clear for the wedding anyway?

Without warning, the sound of breaking glass rampaged around Octavia. She jumped with a start. Her head rotated with fervor to each of the buildings around her, but not one showed a single broken window. She then focused her attention on the other customers with an angry glare, wondering which of the uncultured dolts broke the establishment’s fine china. To her surprise, everypony around her looked just as startled as she did. On the horizon she noticed a pink hue she couldn’t recall ever being there rapidly disintegrating.

Somepony behind Octavia shrieked. She turned to see a pink mare with long blonde hair pointing up into the sky. Octavia followed the mare’s hoof to see what looked like green fireballs descending all over the city. Loud bangs, crunches, and booms echoed from where each of the spikes of energy hit.

Several ponies were screaming. More still were running, though if the various directions of their movement were any indication, no one could find any place that was safe. Octavia, however, did not scream or run. She continued to sit, as though patiently waiting for her inferior tea, with the exception that a look of horror was plastered across her face. She briefly snapped out of her confusion when one of the green bolts plowed straight through a tower to her left, only a few meters from where her legs still had yet to decide on a course of action.

As if to add to the fear coursing through her body, Octavia spotted a dark figure rising from where the green flame came to rest. It was about as large as a pony, but clearly not a pony at all. A black exoskeleton glistened in the warmth of Celestia’s power. Piercing teal eyes followed ponies running in every direction before focusing on one who stayed still. The creature opened its mouth and let out an inequine screech. It then flared its translucent wings and charged straight for Octavia with its single blade-like horn pointed directly at her chest.

Octavia remained frozen in both body and mind. It was as though every part of her being abandoned her, save for her vision, left to process what she was experiencing on its own. It watched as the unrecognizable monster before her drew ever closer, its eyes fixated, and its dagger-like horn hungry for the flesh sitting in front of it.

I like your mane.

Octavia yelped and finally sprang to life. In a knee-jerk reaction, she slammed the table her hooves had been resting on and sent the half opposite her crashing into the chin of her assailant, causing it to stumble backwards, tripping over its hole riddled legs in the process.

The cellist ran. She didn’t know where to, as long as it was away from that… thing. What was it? She’d seen a number of creatures in her life, more often than not in her audience as guests from a foreign estate, but nothing she was familiar with came anywhere close to the monstrosity she so narrowly escaped.

She turned a corner, and her galloping strained for a moment to maintain her balance. Not that it mattered, as she came to a complete halt almost immediately. Two more of the creatures stood in front of her, and their heads turned towards the sound of hooves screeching in the street. After a beat, both demons' faces contorted into what Octavia could only surmise was their version of a smile before they were engulfed in an emerald blaze not unlike the ones that brought them from the sky to begin with. Although the spontaneous combustion only added to Octavia’s terror, a small twinge of relief hit her; something else had consumed the beasts. Her heart only beat faster when she was suddenly looking at a pair of mirrors, though with the most sinister of grins rather than the look of absolute fear she could feel stretching across her eyes and gaping mouth.

“Oh, sweet Celestia!” she cried on impulse.

“Oh, sweet Celestia!” the doppelgangers cooed in a mockery of her own voice and alarm.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

“Get away from me!”

Octavia ran harder than ever before in her life. She routinely went on a trot during her mornings in an effort to keep up her appearance, but never moved with enough vigor to warrant getting sweat in her finely groomed fur. On this day she found herself sweating enough to make up for each and every day she refused to. Despite how hard she ran, she could hear the sounds of identical hooves just a few short paces behind her.

Turning another corner in an attempt to lose her pursuers, her heart threatened to jump out of her throat when she found herself standing in front of an alley with a high marble wall at the other end. She turned to go back the way she came, only to be blocked by her newfound twin sisters. They stopped running at this point, opting instead to step slowly towards her with satisfied smirks. Clearly they relished Octavia’s almost non-stop heartbeat more than they did the actual capture of their target. Octavia walked backwards until the marble wall stopped her.

The two identical grey mares opposite the cellist encased themselves in green flames a second time, reverting to their true natures. They cackled at the sight of the little pony, and a sound like knifes against porcelain bowls invaded Octavia’s ears. They were mocking her. Once they had their fill of one another’s laughter, their eyes met and they nodded before turning back to their prey. The panicked cellist was trying to make herself as small as possible, but she still couldn't lose their sharp blue gaze. The monsters pounced, and Octavia covered her face in her hooves. Just above her head she heard one of them screech, but something about it seemed off. She wasn’t an expert in the noises the things made, but it almost sounded as though the creature’s voice was laced with… pain?

Death taking an unusually long time, Octavia looked up to see her would-be killers no longer in the air above her. In fact, they were sailing backwards at quite the pace, already a good hoofball field or two away from her and flying further still. She couldn’t help but notice the pinkish hue she spotted on the horizon now spanned her entire vision, though it grew dimmer the further the two fiends flew. It was almost as if the color was pushing them along with it. Octavia now noticed several other black specs surrounding her assailants, also being flung far and away from her at a similarly speedy pace, though not one was flapping their strange insect-like wings. In fact, their departure looked entirely involuntary. She could see one larger bug, almost Celestia’s size, at the center of the speeding mass. Her screams barely reached Octavia’s ears. It was then accompanied by something else: cheering. Octavia was used to polite hoof beats, but cheering was something a little more unfamiliar. Ponies near her were celebrating. The threat was over. Life would soon return to normal for the ponies of Canterlot, and they could go back safe to their friends and family, grateful for the chance to see loved ones once again.

Octavia returned to her apartment. She moved to flick on a light, but missed; her body was shaking terribly, and she was still trying to get complete control over it again. She gave the switch a second swipe, this time landing her mark. She made for the stairs, and found ascending them more difficult than most days. As soon as she managed to reach the top, she made for and collapsed onto her bed, and gripped a pillow to her chest as though it were her one anchor to the world. She shivered hard and panted for breath. The once calm and refined artist waved one hoof in front of her face, and with it she regained her composure; her body stopped convulsing, and a stately expression retook its place upon her features. Within moments, her body shook yet again, and the muscles in her face strained to maintain its form. She gave another wave, clawing desperately to some sense of serenity, but this lasted shorter still. The quiet, dignified musician shuddered and finally let out a wail that on any other night would have garnered a noise complaint. She buried her face into the pillow, and her wailing continued in full force with tears to now accompany it. Not once in her life had she been so overcome by emotions. Sure, she’d felt fear before, like the time she was almost late to her first professional performance, but this was worlds more harrowing than that memory. Even during the moment in question she kept herself quite calm; the only sweating she so detested was done on the inside. In fact, she hadn’t shown many emotions at all since she was a filly. Not since…

Octavia stopped crying and took a moment to breathe. After a few deep gulps of air, she gently released her anchor and put all fours hooves back on the ground. She slowly crossed the bedroom and went into the other across the hall. The cellist looked around the room, took in the sight of the instruments she’d collected throughout her career, and gradually moved her gaze over a nearby shelf that was covered with small trophies.

After staring at one trophy in particular for a while, Octavia took the award down and turned it over a few times in her hooves. “1st Place” was all that was written at the base of it. The phrase was far from uncommon in the room, but Octavia still could not help but stare at it. There were no other words, symbols, or any sort of insignia on it to tell more about its origins. Clearly it was for something important; why else would there have been a trophy? The golden cup maintained Octavia's focus until she realized that the memory of its achievement was simply not going to come to her that night. She replaced the trophy on its shelf, then stepped back from it to look at its neighbors and all of the other prizes that decorated the room. She soon discovered that first award was not at all unique, as Octavia couldn’t remember where almost half of the trophies in the room originated, the thrill of their capture long since passed.

What was the purpose of this room? Octavia told herself that it was a room dedicated to celebrating her accomplishments, but if she no longer celebrated them, then what was the point? Suddenly the collection of gold medals and blue ribbons meant nothing to her. Not after the experience she just had. What she really needed was what all the other ponies in Canterlot were celebrating that night; somepony they can hug. Somepony they’re happy to see each and every day, even if it took an event like that day’s invasion to show them that. Octavia wasn’t partial to affection. Ordinarily she refused to even allow herself to be touched, save for the occasional hoofshake with somepony of great influence, and even then it took quite the importance on the pony’s part for Octavia to consider extending her foreleg.

Octavia fell back into her bed and stared at her ceiling in silence. She pulled her damp pillow close, wishing it could hold her tight in return. She found an almost dry part on the wad of fluff, and proceeded to dampen it as well.

Author's Note

Author's Note can be found here.

Chapter Two

Octavia woke to sunbeams beating against her eyelids. As her mind crawled back to reality, she recalled the events of the previous day, and her entire body began to ache. She moaned and pulled her pillow over her eyes before throwing it from her; the sensation that it had recently been dipped in a pool proved too uncomfortable to bear. She looked over to her dresser to see her alarm clock no longer resting on top of it. The device was instead lying broken on the floor; Octavia surmised that it must have rang itself straight off. She felt a twinge of annoyance at both not waking up at a decent hour and needing to purchase a new clock, but replaced these feelings with one of gratefulness for the chance to escape reality for just a few hours more.

The cellist rose from her bed and stepped into the bathroom at the end of the hall for a shower. Her coat was in need of a very attentive grooming, but most of her time was instead spent standing in front of the faucet, letting the water wash over her. She didn't leave until the water cooled to a temperature no longer tolerable. After drying herself off, Octavia descended the stairs into the kitchen, wanting nothing more than a cup of coffee. As she opened the cupboards, she found them slightly more bare than usual, as she quit drinking coffee a few weeks prior for fear of the caffeine affecting her perfectly refined performance muscles. Grumbling to herself, she conceded that she would need to leave the apartment despite not wanting to see a single pony that day.

As Octavia walked, other ponies were going about their daily business, albeit with much happier demeanors than normal. The previous day’s invasion appeared to have given them all a new appreciation for life. This only irritated Octavia further; her head lowered with each passing pedestrian, and her scowl grew.

Before long the target of her outdoor venture loomed in the distance. It was a small stand that displayed a number of periodicals for sale and offered coffee to patrons to have with their morning reading. It wasn’t up to Octavia’s standards by most accounts, but it was the nearest place she could buy a latte from her apartment, which she didn’t want to leave that morning in the first place. As she approached it, she passed by two mares happily chatting about the recent events covered in their newspapers.

“Oh, did you see the dress Princess Cadence wore for the wedding? So extravagant!”

Octavia grumbled to herself. Didn’t these ponies have anything better in their lives than celebrity gossip?

“I’m just glad they were able to stop the changeling invasion. I’ve never even heard of the things! Says here they feed on love, but they were also defeated by love! Oh, how romantic!”

“And ironic, if you really think about it.”

Changelings… So that’s what they were called. Octavia shuddered as hundreds of images gathered from only a few minutes of the previous day flashed before her eyes.

No. Not now. Not before she’s even had her coffee.

The vendor at the stand greeted her with a bright smile. “Howdy, miss! Can I get you something?”

Octavia rolled her eyes at the rustic greeting, but otherwise tried to keep her annoyance as non-visual as possible. “I need a latte. No cream, no sugar.”

“Sorry, miss, but you need to get up a little earlier than that for a coffee here.”

“What?! But it’s hardly even—” Octavia cut herself off as she realized just how late in the morning it was. In fact, one would be hard-pressed to consider it morning at all anymore. “…Fine. Well, what else can I get?”

“Just the papers, magazines, and tabloids you see here, ma’am.”

“I’m not much of a reader. Sorry for troubling you. I’ll be on my way.”

“No trouble at all, ma’am!” the cheery vendor called after her. By this point Octavia’s grumbling became much more audible, and her desire to ground the dirt in front of her into something drinkable greater. Having to walk past the gossiping mares a second time did nothing for her attitude.

“Ooh, lookie here! It says they hired a DJ out from Manehattan to play for the reception. Wouldn’t you think they would just get one of the many fine musicians around here to do the job?”

Definitely doing nothing for her attitude.

“Oh, I know! And just look at her! Looks pretty young, from what I can gather. Didn’t even think somepony like a princess could enjoy that kind of music… If you want to call it that. Oh, Celestia, how do you even pronounce that stage name of hers? I assume it’s a stage name; I can’t imagine somepony actually naming their foal that…”

“I’m not sure… DJ Pawn-ee? DJ Pony…?”

“I think you’re supposed to pronounce the three, dear.”

Octavia froze in her tracks. She turned to look at the two mares, both of them a portly and older sort. They couldn’t be anything other than sisters, looking at them. One was a light blue unicorn with great big curls in her blonde mane, and the pegasus sitting opposite of her was an exact reversal of colors.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Octavia said, “I couldn’t help but overhear. Who does that paper say was the disc jockey at the wedding?”

“One Dee Jay Pawn Three!” The pegasus sister squealed, sending both mares into a tizzy of giggles. “Oh goodness, just look at her hair!”

The paper was pushed closer to Octavia, who pulled it towards herself slowly, disbelief in her eyes. It wasn’t the front page picture, but it was in the Canterlot Times’ section covering the wedding regardless. There in one picture were two ponies behind a large, modern turn table. The caption below stated one vaguely familiar pony was named 'Pinkamena Pie', but Octavia didn’t need a caption to tell her who the other was. She really did have pretty unique hair.

After a few seconds of staring, Octavia tore her eyes away from the photo in order to scan other images for the same pony, the back of her neck heating up all the while. She stopped dead on another photograph, although this one did not have the DJ in frame.

“Rarity?!”

“Oh, you know the designer as well?”

Octavia looked up from the paper. “Designer?”

“Oh, surely you jest!” the middle-aged unicorn said with a flick of her hoof. “That filly made the wedding dress! Not to mention she has a line or two in Hoity Toity’s shops these days…”

“And she’s from Ponyville of all places!” her pegasus counterpart chimed. “How does decent culture even make it that far out?”

“Oh, I know!” The mares went into another giggle fit, but Octavia was hardly paying attention. A number of emotions gallivanted about in her mind, and each vied for the top spot of her attention. In a daze, she turned to leave, still clutching the paper.

“Hey! Young filly! That’s a Sunday edition! If you want one, go buy your own!”

Octavia turned and woke from her trance. “Oh, I’m… I’m so sorry. Here. Yes, I will go get my own.” She returned the paper to the now not-as-cheery sisters before turning back to the stand she had just hotly walked away from moments before.

“Well, hello again, ma’am!” the vendor said with a sunny disposition. “Change your mind?”

“Yes. Which of these periodicals cover the wedding yesterday?”

“Oh, I reckon all of ‘em do,” the stallion said with a wave to the stacks beneath his counter. “Though you may want to avoid the tabloids; just some tripe about Princess Cadence secretly being a shape-shifting monster in there.”

Octavia browsed a number of covers, occasionally pulling one down and flicking through it before draping it over her extended foreleg. The vendor watched her with some curiosity. “I know what they say about first impressions, but you really didn’t strike me as a current events kind of pony, ma’am. Kind of seemed stuck in your own little world.”

“Yes, well…” Octavia answered with hesitation, “I guess… I guess that’s changed a little bit.”

“Lady, after yesterday, I’m not sure what’s the same anymore.”

“Yeah…” Octavia sighed. “Neither am I.”

Octavia sat in her bedroom with newspapers and magazines spread across her floor. She combed each of them as finely as possible, but still only had that first paper the elderly mares showed her as one with a picture and mention of the DJ.

She stared at the picture, taking in every detail, wondering if there was any way she could be mistaken but also knowing there was no possible way for her to be. The white face in the photo grinned at her, and her thoughts looped over themselves over and over again until they were connected to one from the previous day. A thought that had only been there for a split second before an overwhelming fear that encompassed her entire being was replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

I like your mane.

* - * - * -

“What?”

“Your mane. It’s pretty…”

“Oh… Thank you.”

Octavia was standing in her new bedroom with a unicorn her own age — her new roommate. The filly’s body was a slick white, her eyes a pleasant magenta, and her cutie mark a black double quarter note, but what really made her stand out was an electric blue mane that stuck out in every direction.

The silence was staggering.

“Um… I’m going to go for a walk… Get used to the campus,” Octavia said, reintroducing sound to the world.

“Oh… Can I come with you?”

“Um… No, that’s okay. You can stay here if you want.”

“Oh… Yeah, that’s okay.” The white filly pawed the ground with her hoof, eyes locked upon it.

Octavia was far from her comfort zone. Manehattan was a very long train ride from her home in Ponyville, but if her still fresh cutie mark was any indication, this was where she needed to be. Ponyville had a school, but it was a small, single room school with only one teacher. It really couldn’t offer much along the lines of a proper musical education. It did help her find her special talent at least; she spent what felt like years trying everything from acting to debate to martial arts before a fateful music class made a purple treble clef appear on her flank.

The budding musician had mixed feelings about leaving. On the one hoof, she finally knew what she was meant to do in life, and wanted nothing more than to go out and pursue it. On the other, she didn’t want to leave her parents, especially her mom; no one was better at lifting the spirits of a young filly fearful of not knowing what to do with her life than her own mother. But those days were over, and the school teacher Miss Jubilee insisted that studying abroad in Manehattan was the best thing for the filly. Reluctant though they were to so soon have an empty nest, Octavia’s parents agreed that it was best if their daughter was ever to be truly happy.

Octavia was having a pretty hard time being happy at the moment though. As she walked the grounds, taking in all the new sights, sounds, and smells, all she really wanted to do was run home and snuggle up to her mother. It didn’t help that she was being forced to share a room with somepony she didn’t even know.

The grey filly became vaguely aware that some other kids were talking rather loudly a few yards away, and looked over to them out of curiosity. Her stomach dropped when she saw her new roommate crouching with fear in the center of a circle of other foals, tears making their descent down her white face.

Octavia stepped with trepidation closer to the scene, and snippets of what was being said grew louder and clearer.

“Well, we all know your parents didn’t get you in here.”

“C’mon. You know the school just feels sorry for you.”

“What’s with your hair, anyway? Can you not even afford a comb?”

“Stop…” the filly on the ground sobbed. “Please, just leave me alone…”

“Or what? Is your mom going to make us?”

“She said leave her alone!” The circle of foals turned to face the voice Octavia didn’t even know she had.

“What, and you’re going to make us? Where is that accent even from?”

“I bet it’s one of those hick farm towns, like Hollow Shades, or Ponyville…”

Octavia could feel her cheeks reddening, but suppressed it. Before retorting, she stood herself up tall, stretched her vocal chords slightly, and made some mental notes to avoid pronouncing the letter ‘R’. “Actually, I usually talk like this,” she said, in her best (and rather convincing) Canterlonian accent. “I just figured I would need to dumb my tone down to talk to you simpletons.”

The circle of foals looked at one another before one spoke up. “So, what, you’re from Canterlot or something?”

Octavia smiled. Her ruse was working. “Indeed. And I don’t think I have to explain how that makes me better than you. So when I say you have to leave her alone… you have to.” Her mind wasn’t coming up with the best Canterlonian idioms, but she hoped her adversaries would be too dumb to question it.

“Why would somepony from Canterlot be here?” one inquired.

Darn.

“Are you suggesting that the school your parents sent you to isn’t very good?” Octavia asked.

“What? No, I didn’t—”

“Hey! This is a really good school! My dad says only the upperest of the upper class get to come here!”

“I didn’t—!”

The circle of antagonists turned on one of its own, and with the distraction Octavia helped her new roommate to her hooves.

“Thank you… If you hadn’t… They…”

“It’s okay,” Octavia assured the pony in her forelegs. She let her go so they could both walk together.

“My name is Vinyl, by the way.”

“What?”

“Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch. I never…” The unicorn filly drew a deep breath. “I didn’t say my name when we met…”

“Oh… Well, if it makes you feel better, mine is Octavia Melody.”

“That’s a pretty name. It’s like… It’s musical. And you like music too…” Vinyl made a motion towards Octavia’s treble clef-shaped cutie mark.

“Oh… Yeah, well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Octavia said with a small smile. Vinyl smiled in return, but there were still traces of sadness there.

The white filly continued. “Yeah, it’s much better than my name… It reminds me of rocks scraping together or something. Barely musical at all…”

“Hey, no, I think your name is cool too!” Octavia was about to back her statement up, but she admittedly found her arguments lacking. Vinyl smiled a little bigger regardless, and in doing so told Octavia that the thought was good enough.

“Um… were you still walking around campus?” Vinyl asked. She broke eye contact. “I mean, if you want to be alone I wouldn’t want to—”

“No! Um, I mean, yeah,” Octavia said. “I’m still kind of figuring out where everything is, but you can join me if you want.”

At this, Vinyl started jumping in each step. “Ohhh this will be so much fun! I’ve never had a friend before!”

“Really?” Octavia felt both confused and sad for some reason. “Why? Are you mean?”

“What? No! At least, I don’t think so…” Vinyl lost the spring in her step. “I grew up with a bunch of other fillies, but none of them were ever really my friends…”

“Sisters?” Octavia asked. She never heard of a bunch of fillies all living together. How many foals can one family have?

“No, I…” Vinyl swallowed. “I don’t have any sisters. I don’t have any family…”

“What?” Octavia was just getting more confused, and more sad. “How can you not have family? What about your mom and dad?”

Vinyl looked like she was going to start crying again. “I don’t have a mom and dad. I don’t know where they are. The ponies in the house say that someday I’ll have a new mom and dad, but…” Now she did start crying. Tears in her eyes, Vinyl turned to Octavia and said, “I just want to know where my old ones are.”

Octavia was now on the verge of tears herself. She never heard of such a thing before; how could somepony not have a mom and dad? What would she do if she never had her mom? With that thought, she started crying alongside her friend. “Listen… I have a really nice mom, and a really nice dad. I can share them, if you want… You know, until your new ones—” Octavia was cut off by a mound of blue hair in her face; Vinyl had pulled her into a close hug and showed no signs of letting go.

“You’re so nice, Octavia,” the unicorn filly said. “No one has ever been this nice to me. I just want to keep saying ‘Thank you’ until I die.”

Octavia couldn’t help but giggle a little bit. “You don’t need to do that, really.” She pulled Vinyl back so she could see her genuine smile. The grey filly's smile turned into a frown as a look of concern crossed her face. “I don’t know if my parents’ll be able to pay for school for you though… I mean, Daddy already said that they would have to buy less food to be able to pay for me…”

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Vinyl said, rubbing her eyes and voice coming back to her. “When my cutie mark showed up, some ponies came by and said they were going to let me learn here and that nopony would have to pay for it. I didn’t know what it all meant, but Sister Sunshine said—”

“I thought you just said you didn’t have any sisters!”

“No, ‘Sister’ is her name! I think. Anyway, she said it was a really good idea for me to come here. ‘Once in a lifetime,’ she said, and I’ve heard that enough to know it means something really good.”

“Well, isn’t that obvious?” Octavia asked.

Vinyl shook her head. “How? So far all that’s happened is that I’ve been picked on…”

“Yeah, but you also met me!” The grey filly stood on her hind legs and puffed out her chest. “And I’m going to be the greatest music player in all of Equestria!”

Vinyl laughed and playfully pushed the grey filly off balance. “No, I am!”

“We both are!” The two fillies giggled with glee in the grass, rolling around in the blades of green for no reason other than it somehow made them laugh even harder.

“C’mon,” Octavia finally said, catching her breath. “I think I saw the cafeteria this way, and I’m getting kind of hungry.”

“Me too!” said Vinyl, getting to her hooves. “Thank you!”

“What? But I didn’t—”

“Thank you!”

“What?”

“Thank you!”

“Vinyl, stop—!”

“Thank you!”

“VINYL!” Octavia pushed her hoof up to the white filly’s mouth, silencing her but not even coming close to hiding her wide grin. In fact, her smile only got wider, and her eyes adopted a certain gleam. Octavia pulled her hoof back in an instant.

“Ew! You licked my hoof!”

“Thank you!”

“Vinyl, you can’t keep saying ‘Thank you’ until you die! I want you to say other things too!”

The girls adopted a new set of giggles as they continued towards the cafeteria. On that day, they both met their very first and very best true friend. And neither could have been happier.

Author's Note

Author's Note can be found here.

Chapter Three

The papers strewn across Octavia’s bedroom floor had attained something of an order with periodicals now deemed useless in a tidy stack in the corner, and those considered otherwise turned to pages with significant photos facing the mare who purchased them. Octavia gazed across each picture, and although she still found no other traces of her childhood friend on any of the pages in front of her, quite a few featured a different recognizable pony mingling with the bride, groom, bridesmaids, and other guests.

Octavia determined that the white unicorn with gorgeous purple hair had in fact designed the bride’s dress, stood with the other friends of the bride at the altar, and, yes, did have a line or two in the finest fashion establishments in Canterlot. One picture even showed her standing beside none other than Fancy Pants, one of Canterlot’s most prime ponies worth knowing, and a frequent hirer of Octavia's for his various social gatherings. Octavia found nothing to help her directly achieve what she felt she needed to do, but she at least had a start.

It wasn’t hard contacting Hoity Toity; not for Octavia, anyway. Having performed at a few of his formal conventions and even modeling a hooffull of lavender pieces that her eyes complemented perfectly did rather put her in good standings with the most prominent of ponies. After a quick visit to his office in uptown Canterlot and no small amount of flatteries, Toity gladly wrote down the telephone number of Ponyville’s fashionista for Octavia’s use.

Octavia glanced back and forth between the note written with perfect quillmareship in her hoof and a few of the pictures that littered the carpet in front of her. A small lump formed in her chest; she didn’t know why calling somepony she hadn’t spoken to in years was making her so uneasy. After what felt like an hour (possibly two), she picked the receiver up off the nightstand next to her bed and dialed back each number on Hoity Toity’s note, hesitating a few moments before entering the last digit. As a ringing sound echoed curtly from one end of the receiver, Octavia’s heartbeat quickened its pace. A part of her hoped that the jingling would last a few minutes and give her proper justification to hang up and accept that no one would answer.

*Click*

“Thank you for calling the Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique. If you’re calling to have an order—”

Octavia sighed; the prepared tone of the voice on the other line told her that she would be leaving a message soon, though she hadn’t prepared herself with any thoughts of what to say. Perhaps she would just hang up and try again at a different hour.

“I’m sorry, dear, is something the matter? You sound somewhat exasperated, if I may…”

Octavia’s heart threatened mutiny in her chest. “I’m… I’m sorry. For a moment I thought I hit voicemail.”

“Oh, perish the thought, darling,” the voice assured. “I apologize if my frequent catchphrases and dealings over the phone have become rather… rehearsed. Rest assured, I am no machine, and am fully ready to take on any orders you require!”

“Rarity…” Octavia uttered, her lips getting used to a name they were once much more familiar with. “It’s… It’s Octavia.”

The line was silent for a moment. Octavia almost wondered if her voice had not been loud enough to carry to the other end. That, or perhaps the mare back in Ponyville simply did not want to respond to somepony who—

“DAAARLING!”

The reintroduction of the designer’s voice gave Octavia such a start that she fumbled with the receiver for a moment before replacing it next to her head.

“How are you, dearie?" the voice continued. "Oh, I haven’t heard from you in ages! Last I heard you were starting a promising career on the orchestral scene in Canterlot; is that true?”

“Yes, yes it’s true,” Octavia admitted, her heart lowing back to its normal pace again; listening to a voice from her past that was clearly happy to hear from her calmed her a great deal.

“Oh, fabulous! We all knew you had talent, but my, my, good for you for proving it to the rest of Equestria!”

Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle a small bit at the adulation. Her stomach panged ever so slightly as she did so, as though a muscle long since worked was being stretched. “Yes, well, I have certainly been keeping busy. The aristocrats here do so enjoy their quartets.”

“Oh, that’s so good to hear, darling. Have you played much in the grander theatres? I want to know EVERYTHING.”

Rarity’s eagerness for catching up continued to lighten Octavia’s mood, changing the conversation from bearable to rather pleasant. “I imagine I’ve played in all of them by this point,” Octavia said, “save for some of the shadier ones that have opened more recently in the lower districts. Why, just last year at the Grand Galloping Gala—”

“Oh, dear, you were at that debacle, were you?” This confused Octavia; she wouldn’t put it past Rarity to have read all about the fanciest of formal occasions in Equestria, especially if she had designed a dress or two for the event. Something in the way she inquired about it, however, told Octavia that she had some first hoof experience with the gala’s unfortunate final moments.

“Yes, of course,” Octavia confirmed. “It hasn’t been uncommon for me to attend in recent years. Last year I performed in the atrium with some peers from the orchestral community, and—”

“Oh dear. You must have had the misfortune of being one of Pinkie Pie’s victims, hm?”

The name stretched back and reached into Octavia’s memories, and focused on a picture her eyes had been glued to for a small number of hours. She suddenly realized why there was a sense of familiarity around the DJ's companion behind that sound table; that same pink mane intruded the corners of Octavia’s eyes once or twice as the animal attempted to "liven up" the music, and the final time she did so caused Octavia to stumble over her instrument and cause a few bits worth of damage to it. “Wait, you know that crazed mare?”

“Of course, darling,” Rarity admitted without a hint of remorse. “She’s only one of my dearest friends! I do admit that her… eccentric personality clashed horribly with the little soirée, but then again all of us were having some troubles with our ‘best night ever’…”

“So you were there!”

A small giggle came across the line. “Yes, dear, unfortunately. I had thought myself more prepared than any of my Ponyville friends for the event, but even I had trouble finding my stride, especially with that snoot of a prince…”

“You were the mare following Prince Blueblood that night? The one where the cake…?”

Rarity laughed at the thought. “Yes, with the cake. Ooh, I don’t think I’d ever been so enraged in all my life! Though now I’m able to look back and get quite the titter from the memory. Wait, did you see me in that state?”

Octavia was starting to regret always playing with her eyes closed; how many other moments when she could have seen somepony she used to know have slipped under her always in-the-air nose? “Oh… No… I heard about it more so afterwards. I left in quite the huff after that friend of yours toppled me from the stage.”

“Again, I do apologize for Pinkie Pie’s antics.” Octavia couldn't tell if the fashionista was picking up on her subtle cues that some wounds from the night were not yet healed. Rarity continued, “She means well, even if she doesn’t end well. At least you were able to step out of the commotion before Fluttershy unleashed that stampede of animals. Those little—”

“You know the mare who did that as well?!” Octavia could feel her temperature rising. Rarity’s laughter was now doing little to keep her mind in a happier state.

“As I said, darling, my friends and I all had a few difficulties as the night wore on,” the designer stated.

The cellist did her best to calm down and continue chatting with her nearly forgotten friend. “Were all these friends from Ponyville? It’s unusual to have so many guests from outside of Canterlot.”

“Believe me, dear, I know it. Initially only two of us were to attend, but Twilight pulled some strings and Princess Celestia saw to it that all six of us had our own ticket.”

“Princess Celestia? Twilight?” The names struck Octavia. The reasons why with Princess Celestia couldn’t be clearer, but the second was a bit more of a mystery. She knew that she just recently read it somewhere. “Was she — Twilight, that is — Was she at the wedding the other day?”

“Why, yes! Sister of the groom and all that. I’m just glad the night was able to end well, what with the changeling invasion and everything. My, trouble does seem to have a habit of following our little group, the more I think on it…”

Octavia’s mind was reeling; clearly things of great significance were more likely to happen in a town like Ponyville than she ever anticipated. Each sentence Rarity cheerfully put forth only raised more questions, leading Octavia to wonder just what kind of turbulent yet (though she hated to admit it) exciting life the mare now led. These thoughts were put to the side as Rarity’s mention of the creatures that assaulted the cellist just a day prior brought Octavia back around to the true purpose of her call.

“Listen, Rarity, about the wedding… There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Ah… Of course,” Rarity said with a hint or two of disappointment. “Well, the dresses for the wedding were all custom designed, though some of my better works can be found in Hoity Toity’s shops. But if you want me to spruce something up, I can—”

“No, Rarity, I’m not looking for a dress.”

“Oh?” The designer sounded a little downhearted at this as well, but a tone of curiosity was more present.

Octavia licked her lips before continuing. “Well, in the paper, I saw… I saw that Vinyl was there. Did you see her?”

A sigh responded. “Yes, dear, she was there. In fact, I was the one who asked her to come. We got reacquainted when she came down for a fashion show of mine (even if it did turn out to be a disaster), and after Fluttershy admitted that her birds would likely not be loud or energetic enough for a wedding reception I put in a special favor.”

“Oh… I see…” Octavia was having some difficulty stringing the words to more questions she wanted to ask together. “Did she… Did she mention me at all?”

“Mmm,” Rarity hummed sympathetically. “I asked whether or not the two of you had kept in touch, and she seemed rather… sore at the topic, I daresay. Did you girls have a bit of a falling out?”

“Yes,” Octavia admitted, “A few years ago. I haven’t heard from her in quite a while, but… I was hoping…” The cellist took a deep breath, allowing the few seconds required to do so to gather her thoughts and her strength. “I was hoping to ask if you had a number I could reach her at available.”

Rarity let silence rest for a moment before answering. “Of course, dear. Are you hoping to patch things up?”

“I… Yes.” Octavia wasn’t sure if her answer was honest, but felt that it was what she needed to say for Rarity’s assistance.

“Well, get a quill and paper handy.” The cellist motioned to do so before the sound of her name cut her off. “Octavia, if I may,” Rarity began, “A true friend is not always the easiest thing to come by. I’m lucky enough to have five, and the last two years I’ve spent every moment I can with them without regrets. Well, with the exception of one or two large deadlines looming in the background, but I digress.” Rarity took a short breath before continuing. “My point is that I really don’t know what I would do without them in my life. If this call is really about reconnecting to somepony you used to feel the same way about… Well, I can only be too happy to help.”

“Thank you, Rarity.” Octavia set the receiver face up on her nightstand, and a piece of paper next to it so she could write but still keep her head close enough to hear Rarity’s voice. She took a quill in her mouth.

“Just tap the receiver twice when you’re ready.”

Octavia did as she was instructed, and Rarity began reciting a series of numbers. Octavia scurried the quill across the page in front of her, caring little about quillmareship. When she finished, she removed the quill from her mouth, brought the phone receiver back up to the side of her face, and spoke the numbers back to Rarity, who confirmed their authenticity.

“Do you need anything else, Octavia?”

The cellist shook her head before remembering that Rarity needed a verbal reply. “No… I think that’s it for now,” Octavia said. “I do believe that you and I have a large amount of reacquainting to be done, but…”

“No, darling, really, I understand.” Rarity’s voice was reassuring. “I can tell this is very important to you. Although, in all honesty, you really should come home for a visit one of these days. I’m sure you’d be just as surprised at how much has changed as you would by how much has stayed the same.”

“I’m sure I would, Rarity. Thank you.”

“Oh, and Octavia?”

“Yes?”

“Best of luck, dear.”

Octavia didn’t immediately call the second number now lying in front of her. The thought of it was at least three times as daunting as calling somepony who wasn’t spitting fire the last time she saw her. The fact that Rarity mentioned that Vinyl was still upset about their last conversation didn’t help the small, hopeful part of Octavia that prayed maybe some water had gone under a bridge over the years. Luna had long since done her duty raising the moon before Octavia picked up the receiver and put a hoof to the rotary for the second time that day.

“...Am I really going to do this?”

Octavia’s hoof hovered over the dial for a few seconds before connecting with each number in the sequence as though it was being moved by a force other than her own. Fear shot through Octavia’s chest as a sense of betrayal from her own extremity overcame her.

It didn’t take long for somepony to answer at the other end.

“Yo, this is Pon-Three.” The voice was an odd mix between cheerfulness, confidence, and content.

“Hey, Vinyl, um… It’s Octavia.”

A dead silence greeted the cellist. She could only assume that no other Octavias called this number, meaning the name could only bring one set of feelings to the owner of the line.

“…Hey. What’s up?”

“Um… Just… Just calling to say ‘hi’…” Octavia made a mental note to start preparing things to say before dialing numbers in the future.

“Oh. Well, you just did. Sooo… good on ya.” The voice was laden with sarcasm.

“How, um… how have you been these last few years?” Octavia hoped there was still some way to salvage the quickly disintegrating conversation.

“Me? Things are cool, you know? I’ve gotten pretty big here in Manehattan. The clubs just can’t seem to get enough of me.” The DJ was bragging, clearly, but in a way that almost felt like a personal attack to Octavia.

“Oh, the clubs… That’s… good?”

“Yeah. It’s good. I even played at the royal wedding the other day. I bet no pony thought a common DJ would be playing for royalty.”

“Yes, I… I saw it in the paper.”

“Oh, I made it in the paper? Usually those Canterlot snobs don’t feel the need to mention the ‘music of the peons’.”

Octavia felt as though a knife had gone through her; yes, this was definitely a personal attack. She could tell the conversation was not going well at all, but at least Vinyl had not yet hung up on her. Or rather, one part of her felt that was something to be optimistic about.

“Yes… Well… Maybe now they can see how wrong they’ve been…?” There was no answer. Octavia continued, “I saw that Rarity was there too.”

“Yeah, she’s actually the one who hooked me up with the gig,” Vinyl said, proving that she was in fact still on the line. “She’s doing really well down in Ponyville, you know.”

“Yes, I… I spoke with her recently.”

“How recently? She said at the wedding that she hadn’t heard from you since you left that town.”

“Oh, um…” Octavia felt a small bead of sweat drip down her neck. “Maybe an hour or so ago?”

“Ah.” Another silence permeated the conversation. “Well, I hate to cut this short, Octy, but I need to let you go. I’ve got a new song that I’m working on, and I really want it done before tomorrow night.”

“Oh… You’re writing?”

“Yeah. I write. And I really should be working on that now. So, see ya later.”

“Good—” Octavia was cut off by a clicking sound, letting her know that she didn’t need to finish a farewell. She sighed and let the receiver drop to the floor. After a moment or two, she hopped off her bed to place it back on the hook before returning to her mattress and pulling the sheets up and almost over her head.

She felt empty inside, possibly more so than before their conversation started. Her bed sheets felt like lead against her chest, but she knew that removing them would not make the sensation disappear. She rolled onto her side and gazed out the window. She felt exhausted, but her mind refused to quiet itself long enough to allow her to get some rest. How could she have forgotten about her friend for so long? Octavia had another concert to prepare for in a few days’ time, but now the idea of performing felt… fleeting. The very notion of playing for and alongside ponies that knew her name but not her heart was now an unsatisfying lifestyle. What she really needed was a friend, but the closest pony she ever truly considered as such just made it clear how much she didn’t want to speak with her.

Maybe the ticket wasn’t speaking with her. Maybe—

Ticket.

Octavia pulled open a drawer on her nightstand and dug to the bottom of a number of papers before pulling out the one she was looking for. It was somewhat yellow on the edges; it was clear that it hadn’t seen the light of day in a number of years.

“I wonder if the train to Manehattan still leaves out of Princess’ Cross station at eight in the morning,” she pondered aloud.

Author's Note

Author's Note can be found here.

Chapter Four

“Cool story, Octy.”

“‘Octy’?” Octavia looked at her roommate bewildered. They were a few weeks into their studies at the Manehattan School of Music, and in that time the bond between the two fillies only grew. Even so, some of the things that came out of Vinyl’s mouth still confused the grey filly. “What is ‘Octy’?”

“You are! You’re Octy!” When Octavia's puzzled expression remained unchanged, Vinyl continued. “Guh, it’s a nickname!” she said. “Like, it’s your name, but shorter.”

“Oh… Why can’t you just call me ‘Octavia’ like everypony else?”

“Because that’s not how nicknames work!” Vinyl laughed. Octavia giggled alongside her friend, but she was still pretty confused.

“So, yeah, that’s how I got my cutie mark,” Octavia finished. “How did you get yours?”

Vinyl’s eyes widened. “I’ll show you! Come on!”

“Wait, Vinyl—!” Octavia called out fruitlessly. Her roommate already left their shared bedroom, leaving Octavia with no choice but to follow. She ran after a bouncing blue mane down the main corridor until they reached a larger room with some small chairs and couches for the fillies who lived there. Against one wall rested a large cabinet, its insides lined with a plethora of aged records. Vinyl slowed to a trot as she approached it, opened the cupboard, selected one of the records, pushed a chair up to the cabinet, and placed the disc onto the record table that rested on top of the structure.

“Records?” Octavia asked bewildered. “Those things are so old. Don’t you want to listen to my cassettes instead?”

“Shush. Check this out:” Vinyl placed the player’s needle on the edge of the record and turned a knob on the side until the classic rock music locked in its grooves filled the mostly empty room.

“I’ve seen how records work, Vinyl, but cassettes—”

“Shush! Listen…” Vinyl hovered over the spinning record for a number of seconds, and in an instant placed a hoof decidedly on top of it, giving the disc a sharp jab in the opposite direction. An uncomfortable screech replaced Iron Mareden’s riffs, jolting Octavia's eyes open, and flattening her ears against her skull. Octavia thought Vinyl slipped on the old disc by accident, but then she did it again. And again.

“Vinyl!” Octavia hollered, “Stop that! Are you crazy?! You’re breaking it!”

“I am not breaking it! And you’re not listening!” Vinyl continued her antics, and Octavia couldn't shake the horrible thought of an adult coming to yell at them for ruining a record that was meant for everypony. Then, as she listened to the screeching her roommate was creating, she noticed a pattern in it. There was something almost… rhythmic about the way Vinyl ruined the song it was trying to play. Only Vinyl wasn’t ruining it. She was almost adding to it. Making it her own. Playing her favorite parts as much as she wanted, and having fun with the parts she didn’t like as much.

“I didn’t think I was doing anything that would get me a cutie mark at first,” Vinyl said, eyes and hoof still on the record, “I was just having some fun with an old player that somepony donated to the house. I felt bad at first, since we don’t get many toys there, but it was so old that I felt like no pony else wanted to play with it anyway." Vinyl gave the record a few more playful jabs. "But then it kind of started to feel like music, you know? I don’t really know how to explain it. I did this all day even though some of the fillies didn’t like it, but a few others thought what I was doing was fun too. By the time Sister Promise took it away from me, I probably had my cutie mark for hours without me even noticing!”

“Wow, that’s…” Octavia wasn’t sure what words she was looking for. She was happy that her friend found her true calling, but also could tell why somepony would want her to stop doing what she did then (and was doing now). After a little thought, she decided that it must be a good thing, because it brought her new best friend into her life. “That’s really cool!” she finally finished. “It’s weird, but cool.”

“You think I’m weird?” Vinyl stepped off the record and sat in the chair she was using as a stool, sounding hurt.

“But cool,” Octavia reiterated. “And you’re not weird, but what you did to that music kind of was.”

“But it’s my music! It’s my special talent! That means you think I’m weird!” Vinyl’s voice rose, and a few tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all!” Octavia was shocked at how quickly the mood of her friend shifted; obviously she hit a very hot button for the unicorn filly. Not wanting to hurt Vinyl further, Octavia desperately searched for something that could both explain what she truly meant while also returning a smile to her friend’s face. “Maybe 'weird' isn’t the right word…” she began with hesitation, “It’s just… different, that’s all.” The tears in Vinyl’s eye didn’t dissipate. “But different isn’t a bad thing! I like you because you’re different!”

“So I’m weird and different!” Vinyl’s tears were changing from ones of sadness to anger.

“No! That’s not—” Octavia’s eyes darted back and forth, as though they could find the thoughts and words she needed to salvage the situation. “Look, it’s like this:” She dashed over to a bookshelf lined with age-appropriate stories for any foals who liked their covers. “See all these different books? I haven’t read all of them, but I’ve read some of them. And some of the ones I’ve read I really like! And some… Well, I don’t like them as much, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad… And some ponies like the ones I don’t. Everypony is a little bit different, and likes different things. And some books that I haven’t read yet, I might really like!”

Now it was Vinyl’s turn to look confused. “So… you’re saying that I’m different… and some ponies won’t like my music?”

Octavia sighed. “What I’m saying is that I’ve never heard your kind of music before. It's just really different is all. But just because I maybe didn’t like it at first, doesn’t mean that I won’t ever like it!”

“What makes you say that?" asked Vinyl. She stuck a hoof at the room's bookcase. "Do you like one of those books that you didn’t like before?”

“Okay, maybe the books weren’t the best way to explain things.” Octavia placed a hoof over her eyes for a brief moment before removing it to wildly gesticulate. “The point is, I think I can start to like your music. Because it’s your music. And you’re my best friend, so… yeah,” she finished lamely.

Vinyl looked at Octavia for a few seconds, her face unreadable. After a beat, a large smile replaced every other feature on her face. “Thanks!” she said, a small squeak in her voice. “C’mon, I want to show you something else.”

The grey filly let out a sigh of relief as her white counterpart hopped down from her chair and trotted back to their bedroom. This time Octavia didn’t have to run to keep up. Once there, Vinyl dug a small box out from under her bed.

“After I got my cutie mark, one of the girls who was listening to me gave me this magazine,” she explained, holding up the periodical in question for Octavia to see. “She said I looked just like this mare here:” Vinyl turned to a page inside quickly and easily; the magazine’s binding was used to having this page exposed more than the others.

Octavia looked at the unicorn on the page. She was a bright lime green with a red mane done up in a series of spikes, with one hoof on a record in front of her and the other punching the air. “She dresses kind of funny,” Octavia said. “Do you think her hair just does that when she wakes up, or—”

“She’s called a ‘DJ’!” said Vinyl excitedly, Octavia’s apprehensions lost to her. “That thing I was doing… Other ponies do that all the time! Like, as a job! They go to these club things where lots of ponies listen to them do that thing with records, and—”

“Wait, clubs?” Octavia asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah! At least, that’s what this magazine calls them. I think it’s like a filly scout club, only the room in this picture doesn’t look like—”

“No, that’s not what they are,” Octavia interrupted, her eyes shifting away from the filly in front of her.

“You know what they are?!” Vinyl’s excitement grew.

It took a while for Octavia to rejoin her friend’s eyes with her own. “My mom told me about them,” she began. “She says there’s a bunch here in Manehattan, and that when I get older some ponies will want me to go to one… But she says they’re dangerous. Like, ponies pretend that they’re going to be your friend and have fun, but then they do mean things to you… Or something like that. She didn’t really like talking about it, and just wanted me to promise that I would never, ever go to one.”

Vinyl’s smile faltered. “Aw, how bad could they be?" she asked. "The pony in this picture looks really happy. And look, you can see some other ponies — kind of — who also look really happy! If it’s a bad place, how could they be happy?”

Octavia circled the ground with her hoof; she wasn’t sure how best to explain the bad feelings in her stomach to her friend.

“Octavia…” The filly addressed looked up. The magenta eyes across from her looked pleading. Vinyl put a hoof on Octavia's shoulder and said, “This is where ponies with the same special talent as me go. This is where I’m supposed to go.”

“You don’t know that!” Octavia cried, causing Vinyl to retreat a few steps. “Sorry, I just… You don’t have to go there. You don’t have to go some place dangerous to use your special talent. With this school, you could go anywhere! Even Canterlot! And you can play for nice ponies, instead of ones who only pretend to be nice!”

It was Vinyl’s turn to break eye contact. “Octy… I don’t know… I—”

“Listen: remember when I said that I was going to share my mom with you?” Vinyl looked up confused, and when she saw a pair of somber violet eyes she nodded. “Well, that makes her your mom too. And if she says I’m not supposed to go to a club, then you shouldn’t either.” When Vinyl looked ready to give an angry retort, Octavia put a hoof to her muzzle. “It’s only because she loves us,” she finished.

Octavia could only see Vinyl’s eyes over her hoof, and noticed that they started watering yet again. She removed her hoof to see a smile instead of the frown that earlier accompanied the sight.

“Okay, I promise I won’t go to clubs. Thanks for keeping me safe, Octy.”

* - * - * -

The clubbing district in Manehattan wasn’t hard to find if a pony knew where to look. Even if one didn’t know where to look they could easily find it by following the city’s most obnoxious sounds and trails of ponies looking completely sleep deprived. Octavia wandered the streets with an air of purpose, but her hooves still took hesitant steps out of both fear and a lack of certainty as to where the building she was looking for was located. It didn’t help that the hour was very advanced, and as such spotting anything of help was that much more difficult; turned out the train to Manehattan didn’t leave very early anymore. Octavia wore a black cape and hood to cover her features, fearing that if any of the area’s resident ruffians spotted her fine coat and well-groomed mane they would bother her for bits. Or worse.

Octavia glanced over the front of several structures, each sporting absurd names for both the building and its entertainment. One even had the names of two different musicians, with the phrase ‘Head-to-Head’ tacked on underneath; the idea of two performers playing at the same time in competition rather than as a duet confused the cellist. A sigh of relief was replaced by one of apprehension as she spotted a neon sign over one of the larger clubs that read, “DJ-PON3: ONE NIGHT ONLY”. She cautiously approached the building, noting two rather large diamond dogs at the door with a line of late-nighters leading up to them. As she approached, she saw one cock his head towards the door, and the pony speaking to him ran inside at the signal.

“Excuse me,” Octavia began to the nearer of the dogs, “but—”

“Back of the line.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Back. Of. The line.” The diamond dog turned to stare at her, or at least she assumed he was staring through the reflective sunglasses he and his partner were both wearing.

“I don’t understand. I’m here to see Vinyl Scratch. I think she’s—”

“Oh, you know her real name, good for you.” The dog scowled at her. He lowered his sunglasses. “Listen, you’re not the first pony to pretend that means you personally know her, nor will you be the last. Now if you don’t—” The bouncer cut himself off, his now visible eyes glancing up and down Octavia’s figure. He replaced his eyewear, turned to his counterpart, and whispered something in his ear. The second dog turned to also gaze at Octavia before smiling and giving a small nod back to the first.

“Alright, yeah, go ahead.”

“W-what? Really?”

“Yeah. That door right there, gorgeous.”

Octavia didn’t much like being called pet names by someone who wasn’t even a pony, but was too grateful avoiding a hurdle that she didn’t understand to give it much thought. As the dog moved a rope in front of her, the line to her left gave a collective groan. She turned to look and noticed that it was almost entirely stallions. One mare towards the back screamed, “Aw, come on! I’m twice the piece of hot flank she is, and I’m not even covering any of it in some dumb cape!” Octavia wasn’t sure she understood or wanted to understand the mare’s frustrations.

Once inside, the pulsing music that she could hear three blocks away beat against her skull as though it was trying to find its way in any way possible. And succeeded. She struggled to keep her eyes open before realizing that squinting them shut wasn’t going to keep the noise out. Ponies of all sorts bumped into her intermittently, and although she fully intended to demand that each one apologize, the room was so full of clubbing ponies that moving was nearly impossible, and no pony would have been able to hear what she had to say anyway.

To her confusion, Octavia noticed that most of the patrons there were actually dancing. However, how they were able to call several of their movements ‘dancing’ would be forever lost to her. The floor was a series of colored tiles lighting up at random, sometimes in a strobe-like pattern, and other times as a simple beam of light before drifting back off again. The walls were high with tall speakers spaced evenly across them, and the ceiling was not visible due to the building’s improper lighting. If the pegasi flying above the crowd doing their own acrobatic style of dancing were any indication, the roof was at least two stories up. Directly across from her and only a few yards away (though the mass of ‘dancing’ ponies in front of it made it seem like miles) stood a stage a meter or two off the ground with a large sound deck at the center of it, dwarfed by two more impossibly huge speakers on either side. And there, standing behind the deck with one hoof on a record and the other repeatedly punching the air, was…

“Vinyl.”

Octavia couldn’t hear herself say her old friend’s name, but that hardly mattered. Bracing herself, she started making her way towards the thickest part of the mob of ponies. As she did so, stomping hooves tore her cloak, the unwelcome bumps from strangers grew in intensity, and at some point Octavia couldn’t help but wonder if they were accidental at all. Then a random hoof found itself on a part of her that she didn’t particularly like being touched. She gave a quick, solid buck in the direction of said hoof, and then looked over her shoulder to see a hoofful of ponies falling backwards into others caught between trying to catch them and falling over themselves. The way this crowd was, any one of them could have been on the receiving end of Octavia’s hind legs, and she found herself not caring who among them now needed a new jaw; the kick itself had been a major release. The ponies around her gawked at the scene. Octavia expected them to either yell at her for kicking an innocent pony, or attack the goon who laid hoof on her knowing full well that he wasn’t, in fact, an innocent pony. Instead, they all cheered and danced even harder. Octavia didn’t think she would ever understand what drove so many ponies to places like this.

The grey mare eventually made her way to the stage itself, now realizing just how high it was compared to the dance floor. She craned her neck to get a better look at the DJ, but from her current angle it proved impossible. In Vinyl's defense, Octavia would want to be as far separated from the crowd as conceivable as well. As if to confirm her thoughts, she spotted one unicorn trying to lift his earth pony friend onto the stage using a combination of magic and allowing said friend to stand on his shoulders. At that moment, something shot from the ceiling just above the stage and pulled the earth pony skyward. Octavia looked up to see a griffon holding the stallion and speeding him towards the exit. She could see the unicorn yelling after them, both in annoyance that their plan had so easily been thwarted and in fear that the bouncer may actually hurt his friend. Octavia spotted two more griffons hovering over the stage, their steely eyes fixated on the pegasi bumbling around in the space above the rest of the crowd; clearly Octavia was not the first to realize how unsafe somepony could be in all that mess.

Without warning, the music’s volume dialed back and was replaced by a familiar voice. “ALRIGHT MANEHATTAAAAAAN!” The crowd cheered at the name of their hometown. “YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN AWESOME TONIGHT! I LOVE DOING THIS, AND I LOVE SEEING YOU GUYS EVERY. SINGLE. DAY!” The crowd continued to whoop and holler. “I’M TOLD THOUGH THAT DESPITE THIS, WE STILL GOTTA WRAP THINGS UP.” This time the crowd gave an audible moan. The DJ didn’t find herself needing to yell quite as loud anymore. “I know, I know, huge bummer, but them’s the rules. So this is your official notification of last call. But don’t worry! I’ve still got a track or two to LEAVE YOU WITH!” she yelled, the crowd coming back to its previous roar. Vinyl didn’t appear bothered by having the crowd almost drown her out; in fact, if Octavia didn’t know any better, she’d say she relished it.

The music resumed, and Octavia continued to gaze up at the stage where she knew her old friend was just out of sight. She started to panic; how was she supposed to get Vinyl to notice her? A tap on Octavia's shoulder interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see a green-ish blue unicorn with a brown, scraggly mane, eyes half closed and small smirk on his face, offering a glass with a strange colored liquid inside of it.

“Um, no, thank you, I don’t—” But each word Octavia said got lost in the noisy atmosphere. The stallion apparently heard nothing; he pushed the drink closer and gave it a little twirl. Realizing words weren’t going to get her anywhere, she placed one hoof on the glass and pushed it back towards the pony who purchased it. He looked a little indignant, but ultimately shrugged and turned towards a grounded yellow-green pegasus with orange braids who was having trouble standing. After turning to see who tapped her shoulder, the pegasus excitedly grabbed the drink from the stallion’s outstretched hoof. Two seconds later the mare completely lost balance, eyes closing shut before she even hit the floor. The stallion picked her up in a light blue aura and draped her over his back. A few concerned members of the crowd came over at the sight, but after a few waves and some animated miming from the unicorn they started moving elsewhere, though still giving him uneasy eyes. He made his way towards the exit, unconscious pegasus in tow.

No, Octavia did not like clubs at all.

Chapter Five

Octavia stood outside the club where Vinyl performed that night, pacing back and forth. The streets were now almost completely deserted, the draw of music and drinks no longer bringing anypony to form new crowds. Sounds were sparse other than the occasional police siren and a vagabond gently playing a few sour notes on a violin across the street, hoping to coax out any late night bits into the jar in front of him.

Octavia had waited until the music in the club stopped. She stayed rooted next to the stage as other ponies made their way out, eventually being shuffled out herself by the club’s owners. She tried calling out to Vinyl, but the closer she got to the exit the more she realized that the DJ was no longer on the stage. Griffons were packing up equipment, but the track master herself was nowhere to be seen.

The only thing that stopped Octavia from leaving the area and its creeping darkness was having spotted a moving chariot at the back of the building, Vinyl’s DJ moniker adorning the side of it. When she tried to approach it the two stallions in the chariot’s harness stopped her, and, like the diamond dog guards, didn’t believe she actually personally knew the popular club regular. More security now prevented her from even seeing the chariot — let alone get near it — and so she paced, hoping for any idea that would come to her to get the attention of an old friend. Her thoughts would be clearer if it weren’t for each flat note the beggar across the street repeatedly played.

“Oh, for Celestia’s… HEY!” The cellist could only take so much when it came to butchering the cousin of her favorite instrument. The dry cords stopped abruptly, surprised at the new sound in the air.

“Are ya talkin’ ta me, miss?” The vagrant was a dull blue with a darker and also dull blue unkempt mane. He wore a red flannel shirt overtop a white one, or at least one that used to look white. Both articles had barely enough cloth still on them to be wearable. A simple straw hat kept the worst of his mane hidden from world; if only it could do something for his teeth.

“Yes! Stop!”

The stallion quietly brought the violin and bow to his chest, leaning somberly against the wall behind him. He eventually slid to the cold concrete at his hooves. “Sorry, miss…” The words barely reached Octavia’s ears, but still somehow left an impact on them. She took a few steps towards the stallion slumped on the ground. The sight stirred something within her that hadn't taken a breath in quite some time.

“I… apologize,” she said, though a part of her mind told her it was silly to do so. “I haven’t had the best of days recently, what with almost dying and my best friend refusing to speak to me…”

The stallion looked up at her, almost as though he didn’t quite understand what his eyes were telling him. “Miss, Ah can tell you’ve had some troubles. Truly. But thangs don’t look like they’ve been bad for ya either. You’re quite purty, if you don’t mind my sayin’ so, and that alone makes you better off than most of us in this city.” Octavia’s stomach churned slightly, but also felt a little warm at the words.

“Thank you.”

“And, if Ah may continue,” the stallion said, clearly intent on doing so, “as far as almost dyin’ and yer best friend not talkin’ to ya… Well, some ponies these days would like nothing more than ta have sumpthin’ take ’em away. And a friend fightin’ with ya is better than no friend at all.”

“I’m not quite sure I’d agree with you there…” Octavia began.

“Balieve me,” the vagrant said, lifting his bow and violin again, “ya really should.” The air was once again filled with off keys and improper chords, irritating Octavia to no end. She wasn’t sure what in their conversation gave him the impression that her previous demand had been retracted.

“Why are you still playing?” Octavia asked, resisting the urge to yell a second time. “There’s no pony around to try to get bits from anymore.”

“Oh, Ah don’t play for bits at this hour, ma’am.” The amateur violinist said, trying his best to play more solemn notes. “It’s true, Ah can make a good amount where the crowds come by, but yer right when ya say no pony is around anymore. Other than you and me, a’course.”

“Of course…” Octavia considered him for a moment. “Er, I don’t have any bits on me either, so…”

The stallion chuckled. “Nah, ma’am, Ah don’t aim to ask ya fer any bits. A conversaysh’n is worth a li’l more to me these days anyway. Truth is, Ah just can’t sleep around here. Figure maybe if Ah practice a little, Ah may be able ta actually play this thang well some day.” He chuckled. “At the very least, it keeps the cats away for a spell.”

Something in the vagabond’s words stirred something else in the cellist; another buried memory was making its way to the surface.

“Would you mind if I borrowed that for a moment?”

“Wha? Mah fiddle?”

“It’s a violin. And yes.”

“I know you don’t like mah music, miss, but please don’t smash it or nuthin’… It’s darn near the only thang Ah own.”

Octavia gave him a warm smile. “Don’t worry, I know how much an instrument such as this can mean to a pony.” She gently removed the violin and bow from his hooves, wiping them both briefly on her cloak before standing upright and placing the violin to her chin. At the very least, maybe she could show him how one is properly played. It’s true that she hadn’t played one in a few years, but surely she wasn’t too out of—

SCREEEEEEEEECH

Octavia cringed at the sound the instrument made. While the vagrant guffawed at her expression, she gave the offending hunk of wood in her hooves a good look. She suspected that perhaps the stallion simply didn’t know how to properly tune it, but upon closer inspection she noticed that it had two D strings, an E string in place of a G string (how’d he screw that up?) and had a strong suspicion that the A string had come from part of the beggar’s flannel shirt.

“Are… Are you familiar with the proper way to care for this delicate piece of equipment?”

“Lady, alls Ah know is Ah won that in a poker game, and have been using it to pay mah ante in others since.” Octavia gazed at the stallion sadly, but also with a certain degree of shame. “Now, Ah know what yer thinkin’,” he said, addressing the look, “and Ah know. Ah really shouldn’t be gamblin’ in my position. But that’s just how Ah am. Lookie hur.” He reached down with one hoof and pulled up his two shirts to reveal a cutie mark of two playing cards: an Ace of diamonds, and a two of clubs. “Thangs don’t always go right for me. Ah have mah highs, and Ah have mah lows. Right now is just one of mah lows.”

Octavia nodded slowly, forgetting about the poorly strung violin in her hoof for a moment. After a brief mental deliberation, she gently placed the instrument down and unfastened the front of her cloak. “Here,” she said, handing the garment to the unfortunate pony in front of her. “I really don’t need this, and I imagine some of the nights here can get a little chilly. I’m sorry it’s not as pristine as it was a few hours ago…”

The stallion stared at it for a moment, not sure what to do. He looked back up at her. “You ain’t even played the fiddle yet. Yeh don’t need to thank me. Or pity me.”

“Very well.” Octavia picked up the instrument and recaptured her previous posture, twisting the turning pegs at the top. “I will simply leave the cloak here in the street. Whether or not you decide to take it from the ground is up to you, but I will be most displeased if such a fine article — rips and tears or no — is left in the street upon my departure.”

The beggar considered her words for a moment, and slowly reached out to the garment while the musician mumbled to herself.

“If I just think of playing it across the strings backwards, and really tighten up the E string — well, D string…”

“Miss…” the unfortunate pony began hesitantly, “Just what are yeh gearin’ up ta play?”

Octavia placed the bow to the strings. “A lullaby.”

* - * - * -

The grey filly rolled in her sleep. A dim light was creeping across her eyes, despite her clenched eyelids doing their best to defend against it. She hesitantly opened them to see the source was coming from beneath her roommate’s bed sheets, the white filly’s silhouette black against them.

“Vinyl…”

The owner of the name jumped, causing her head to become exposed. “Uh… hi, Octy. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I can ask you that too, you know…” Octavia hopped out of her bed, almost slipping on the long sleeves of her blue crescent moon stamped pajamas. She crossed the room and hopped into Vinyl’s bed instead.

“Oh… I’m reading.” Vinyl had a magazine at her hooves, more recent than the last one she showed to Octavia but already showing some wear. After about a week of Vinyl showing Octavia each page in that first issue over and over again, the pair discovered a subscription number in the back and, to Vinyl’s delight, discovered that it was still in print. After working together on a lemonade stand they raised enough money to pay the fee, and Vinyl proceeded to spend the two months after anxiously awaiting each monthly issue. She’d already had this one for two weeks though, and Octavia didn’t know what more information her friend could possibly get from it.

“Vinyl, it’s late… We really should try to get some sleep. We have school in the morning.”

“I know, it’s just… I can’t sleep.”

“Can’t sleep? How? You just close your eyes and—”

“It’s not that I don’t know how to sleep… I just… Can’t.”

This was hardly the first time something Vinyl said confused Octavia. She and her roommate came from completely different worlds in her eyes, yet she didn’t mind; it made her feel as though they got to teach one another things they never would have learned on their own. That said, not being able to sleep just seemed too ridiculous to be a thing.

“Okay, well, how come?”

“I don’t know… Some nights I just have bad dreams. And some nights I just can’t stop thinking, you know? It’s like my brain is a machine that doesn’t want to turn off.”

Octavia considered this for a moment. “Well, what is it you think about?”

“A lot of stuff.” Vinyl admitted. “Like, sometimes I think about something stupid I did, and what I coulda done different. Sometimes I get these songs… They’re not real songs, or at least I don’t think they are. And it’s like, the songs are fun, you know? Like you would listen to them and be happy and want to jump up and down, and I just get really excited thinking about them. Like, maybe I’m supposed to make them some day…?”

Some pieces were starting to fall into place in Octavia’s mind. “Have things always been like this?” Vinyl nodded shyly. This explained why Vinyl would frequently nod off in their classes, despite their teachers getting mad whenever she did. Octavia always just thought she was really bored, even though Octavia thought that the classes were really interesting. The only times Vinyl seemed to be awake — really awake — were during the practical classes where they got to actually play real instruments, rather than just learn about them. Vinyl had a habit of getting into trouble here as well, although for playing instruments in ways they were never supposed to rather than sleeping. Just last week she got in trouble for trying to show their instructor that she didn’t even need a bow to play viola and could just tug at the strings using her hoof instead.

“And sometimes…” Vinyl continued, breaking Octavia from her thoughts, “…I think about my mom and dad. Like who they are, where they’re at… Why they didn’t want me…”

“Stop,” Octavia commanded. She understood anything concerning parents was a major source of pain for her friend, but with how often it came up it was almost starting to annoy Octavia how much that pain ran parts of Vinyl’s life. She would never actually tell Vinyl any of this, of course. “I don’t think your parents didn’t want you. They would be just stupid to not have a daughter as cool as you.”

Vinyl gave a small laugh, but her expression didn’t change much.

“And besides, we’re sharing my parents, remember?” Vinyl gave a few quick nods, but still said nothing. Octavia suddenly had an idea. “You know what I think about before I go to sleep?”

Vinyl sniffed and rubbed one of her eyes. “What?”

Octavia hopped back down from Vinyl’s bed, and started digging under her own before pulling out a small curved case. “My mom used to sing to me every night before I went to sleep. I know some ponies say their moms or dads would read them stories, but mine would sing,” she explained, pulling a violin out of the case in front of her. She sat on the floor with her legs sticking forward, her back arched and erect, and the base of the violin between her hind legs. She held onto the instrument’s neck with one foreleg and its bow with the other. In time she would outgrow using this smaller instrument this way, but at this point in time she knew no other way to play it.

“Is that the violin from your cutie mark story?”

Octavia smiled. “No, but it’s almost just like it. I don’t think the school could have just given me one. This one my Auntie Faddle gave to me just before I came here. It’s one of my cousin Fiddlesticks’ old ones.”

“Oh…”

The mention of more members of Octavia’s family looked as though it was doing no favors for Vinyl’s mood. Rather than address it, Octavia decided to continue the trail of thought she started when getting out the instrument. “Yeah… Anyway, when I first moved here, I missed my mom a lot. It was really weird going to bed without her singing to me.” She bowed a few notes out of the violin, turning some knobs to tune it as she did so. “But at night if I thought really hard, I could hear her singing to me, and it really helped. I’ve been sleeping okay since!”

Vinyl snorted. “Well, my mom never sang to me. So I don’t think I can just think about it.” Octavia’s roommate’s words were starting to get a little sour.

“We share a mom now. How many times do I have to keep telling you that?” Vinyl crossed her hooves and looked away from the grey filly squatting on the floor. Octavia continued, “And even if she’s not here right now, it doesn’t mean she can’t sing for you.”

Vinyl’s head rotated back towards Octavia, this time it being her turn to bear a look of bewilderment. Confusion aside, she still said nothing, so Octavia pressed on.

“I’m not really good at singing, and I don’t remember all the words, but I think I know how to play it. I’ve been figuring it out during practicals when we had some down time.”

“Down time? When did we ever have down time during practicals?”

“Well, you never do… Down time for the rest of us is when Professor Baton is yelling at you for trying to use bass drum mallets on the timpani.”

“That’s—!” Vinyl clearly couldn’t find the rest of the words to her response, eventually deciding to punctuate it with another snort instead. “Whatever. Just play it already.”

Octavia would have much rather played for a happy audience than an annoyed one, but decided to forgive her friend and blame the lack of sleep for her attitude. Octavia took a few deep breaths, and slowly pulled the bow to echo the first string of her mother’s lullaby. She closed her eyes, visualizing each note that she had spent the last few weeks trying to memorize. Once or twice a note sounded flat and she made a mental reminder to figure out what the real note was supposed to be, but for her friend’s sake she never stopped playing. Not until a bar or two before the end, anyway.

“Yeah… I haven’t quite gotten to the last few notes yet. But—” Octavia looked up and opened her eyes to address her friend directly, but Vinyl was not facing her anymore. The budding musician could only see a messy blue mane poking out from lavender bed sheets that slowly and rhythmically rose and fell, each action punctuated by a soft snore. Smiling to herself, Octavia put her instrument away as quietly as possibly before getting into her own bed to mimic her friend.

* - * - * -

“Woo! Evening, boys! You guys have any trouble out here tonight?”

“There was this one snobby-sounding mare who kept trying to get back here, but we eventually got her to shove off. Didn’t look like a regular here though; she was way too clean.”

“Probably one of those Canterlot reporter types, trying to get a story or do a review. Funny, usually they’re perfectly keen on bashing my performance without even attending.” The white DJ chuckled to herself, although her laughter had a certain degree of spite in it. She watched as the club’s stagehands loaded up her expensive equipment onto a carriage in the back, where they would take everything to a storage facility to wait until the next gig. The night had been fun, she admitted, although the crowd wasn’t quite as rambunctious as she usually likes to see it get.

“You sure you don’t want us to just take these to The Dungeon right now? I mean, you open that place in a few hours.”

“And have it just sitting outside, unattended? Nah, I’d rather have this stuff locked up until the joint opens. Besides, between the show and the booth we should have made enough tonight to pay you guys for the extra trouble anyway.”

“Alright, if you say so. Just thought we’d put it out there.”

“Yeah, I know. Now go on and get going, or you guys won’t get any sleep either.”

The two stallions at the front of the cart laughed, and in a moment gave the wheels a solid tug before it got some real traction. In a moment, they were off and in the distance.

“Nice work as always, Pon-Three.” Vinyl turned to see the manager of the club standing behind her. “I’m really starting to think you can give MC Wish a run for his money around here.”

“I think you’ve got that backwards,” Vinyl said with a grin.

The club owner chuckled. “Your night’s pay,” he said extending a hoof to pass Vinyl an envelope, which she took in a light blue magic aura.

“Aw, yeah! Now I can finally get that cash to— HEY!” Vinyl opened the envelope, something in its contents causing her some alarm. “This is barely more than half of what I was paid last time I was here!”

“Sorry, DJ,” the owner shrugged, his brown mustache going crooked for a moment, “But last time was during the university’s spring break. This is finals week. The kids come for stress relief, but the bar doesn’t make nearly as much with so many of them needing to study hard in the morning.”

“Well that bites.” Vinyl wanted to take out her aggression on the club owner, but knew it wouldn’t do her much good. A part of her was regretting telling the carriage stallions that she could pay them extra, but in all honesty she was still making enough to spend a little here and there. After all, she was DJ-PON3, the most popular performer in all of Manehattan!

The mustachioed stallion chuckled at the DJ's remark. “Don’t I know it. Do you need a lift home?”

“Nah. I prefer walking; I’m not too far from here. Thanks though.”

“Hey, at least I offered. Have a good night, Pon-Three. Even if there are only a few more hours left of it.”

Vinyl laughed. “Yeah, you too.”

The club owner ducked back into his building, locking things up behind him as he went. Vinyl was now alone outside the structure, the usual sounds of downtown her only company. She had gotten used to the sirens at this point, although they did still have a way of making her uneasy. That one bum was also at playing his violin again. Vinyl severely disliked that guy; she felt like he was just mooching off of her success, always knowing that a few suckers would show up in the large crowds that came to see her. Something was different in his chords today. They still sounded terrible, yet somehow also… professional. Had he really gotten that much better since the last gig he showed his rotten face at?

Vinyl tried to pay no mind to the low grade music, but her mind refused to let it go for one reason or another. In fact, there was something almost familiar about the tune. Where had she heard it before? Vinyl racked her brains, the mystery’s answer suddenly her number one mental priority. It wasn’t part of any of the songs she played or listened to regularly. No, even those she would have been able to pick out from an instrumental version by this point. Perhaps something she heard when she was younger then, back when she was still attending that worthless excuse of a school. They loved this type of music there. In fact, even her old roommate—

No. It couldn’t be.

Vinyl detoured from her path home to walk around to the front of the club she just performed in. She could hardly believe the sight in front of her.

The bum was there, so she had been right in assuming it was his violin. But he was curled up against a brick wall, slumbering peacefully under an expensive (though somewhat ragged) black cloak. The thing that Vinyl had trouble processing was the fact that the stallion’s violin was not being played by its owner, but instead by a finely groomed, prim-and-proper grey mare that looked extremely out of place in Manehattan’s clubbing district.

What was she doing here?

Author's Note

Author's Note can be found here.

Chapter Six

“Octavia.”

The grey mare’s eyes shot open at the sound of her own name spoken by a voice she was once much more accustomed with. She turned her head to its source, a white unicorn with a crazed blue mane.

“Vinyl…”

“I asked what you’re doing here.”

“I…” Octavia was taken aback. Vinyl’s words were very forward, and considering Octavia was losing hope of seeing her at all that night she found herself struggling to respond. “I… I wanted to see you.”

“Well, you just did.” Vinyl replied. Octavia felt a certain déjà vu encroaching her. “Look, I really don’t have time to play catch up here. I barely have a few hours to unwind before my next gig, and I’d really rather spend it doing something I actually want to do.”

“Oh… I see…” Octavia was crestfallen. All of a sudden her actions over the last few hours felt utterly ridiculous. Why was she there? She had a concert herself several miles away with only a few hours to prepare, yet she came all the way to Manehattan on a night train to try to talk to somepony who didn’t want to see her. And for what?

Vinyl glared at her old roommate for a moment or two before breaking the silence. “Sooo… Yeah. See ya.” She turned to leave.

“Wait!”

The DJ spun slowly back around to face the source of her irritation. He expression softened slightly after seeing the pain in Octavia’s face. Something was different. Something in her eyes said that she was not the same mare Vinyl walked away from years prior.

Octavia licked her lips, her mind moving rapidly. “Maybe… Could I just… Could I walk you to wherever you’re going? Maybe?”

Vinyl considered this for a moment. She finally shrugged. “Whatever. It’s a free kingdom.” She turned and started walking away from Octavia, who quickly yet gently placed the violin she had been playing next to its owner before trotting up beside her old friend.

For a solid chunk of time the only sound either made was their hooves against the street. “So what do you do these days.” It wasn’t so much a question the DJ wanted an answer to as a way of breaking the silence that she so disliked.

“Oh… Um, well I play,” the cellist began, “I play in concerts every so often in Canterlot. Sometimes in some of the concert halls, but other times for garden parties and the like as a favor to a peer.”

“So you did wind up in Canterlot then. It’s nice to know you didn’t have to live that lie forever.”

“Yes… Yes, I… I suppose it was a certain realization of a dream…” The way Vinyl addressed it didn’t make it seem as such, however.

“You live there and stuff too?”

“Yes… I have an apartment in the upper district. It’s near many shops and the theatres I play in, so it’s rather convenient.”

“Ah. Upper district. I bet it must be quite the place. Can’t imagine what the rent would be.”

“It’s actually rather humble, all things considered… I don’t spend much time there, so I really don’t need a lot.”

Vinyl snorted, her attention on the path in front of her for a moment. It appeared as though she already used up her usual small talk topics, or at least the ones she could ask without sounding accusing or just plain cruel.

“It’s… It’s really good to see you again, Vinyl.” The DJ turned to face Octavia, the first time she’d done so since discovering her play a tune from their shared past. The look on her face told Octavia that she didn’t feel quite the same way.

“What has gotten into you lately?” Vinyl asked. “First the phone call yesterday, and now a visit out of bucking nowhere. The last time I saw you, you made it pretty clear you didn’t have any interest in seeing me again, let alone trying to be friendly. And that was years ago.”

“Yes, I know, I… I’m sorry.”

The DJ stopped walking, Octavia following suit after a step or two. She wondered if somehow so simple an apology had struck Vinyl the way she hoped her words would since their phone call the day prior. “This is me.” Vinyl said nodding towards a decrepit apartment building. Optimistic thoughts were dashed from Octavia’s mind. “I really need to get some sleep.” She turned a magic lock using her horn’s aura, and moved to step inside.

“Vinyl, I miss you!” Octavia cried suddenly. Her words echoed in the dark alleys that surrounded the tall, shady structures around them. The white unicorn stopped and backed up a few paces to look directly at her grey counterpart.

“Miss me? Why on Celestia’s green Equestria would some stuck-up mare like you miss me?”

“Because…” A well of emotions in Octavia’s chest was preparing itself for a breach. Octavia searched desperately for a way to maintain her composure in front of the mare judging her every word, but the dam inside her finally burst, and skirting around that which had been bothering her relentlessly for days could no longer be ignored. “I almost died, Vinyl!” Octavia screamed. The DJ didn’t move, and her expression remained fixed. Octavia wished she could see past the purple sunglasses Vinyl wore and into the heart of her once best friend. When the DJ said nothing, Octavia continued. “The day of the wedding, when those… things attacked… I almost died. And I think I almost let it happen too. My whole body froze up, like I was watching it all happen from somepony else’s body. One of those creatures came straight at me, and… Of all things, Vinyl… I thought about you. About the day we met. I could have thought about my mom, my first crush, or a performance I would have never had the chance to play in… But I thought about you. And I realized… I realized that I’ve been missing you for a long time. I just refused to admit it.”

An uncomfortable silence presented itself yet again.

Please say something, Octavia thought.

“Listen, Octy…” the DJ said when she finally did, “It’s late. I don’t know where you’re set up to sleep tonight, but you really should start heading that way…”

“Oh…” Octavia was spent. She didn’t know what more she could say to let her old friend know just how bad she’d been hurting inside the last few days. “I, uh… I don’t have a place to stay. I kind of… came last minute.”

“What?” A trip so far away with clearly no planning behind it was very unlike the musician Vinyl once knew.

“I’m certain there’s a hotel around here somewhere, yes?” Octavia began. “Surely it wouldn’t be that difficult to find a room…”

“Are you kidding? You know the big game against the Fillies is tomorrow, right? Never mind, don’t answer, of course you don’t follow sports…” Vinyl said. “Point is, no place is going to be open in the entire city, especially at this hour, except for some creepy joints to the south. And trust me when I say that you do not want to stay there.”

“Oh… I see… Well…” Octavia’s mind ran as fast as it could, though where it was running to she could not determine. What was she going to do?

“…Look, part of me is screaming for even thinking this, but… You can stay here until morning. If you want.”

Octavia’s head and ears sprang up. “Wh-what?” She looked at Vinyl for a moment, looking for any sign that she heard her correctly. “Do you mean it?”

“Don’t get weird about it. I have a couch you can sleep on, though I’m sure it’s not exactly the kind of exquisite furniture you’re used to.”

“Vinyl, I… I don’t know what to say! Thank you!”

“I told you not to get weird about it.” Vinyl stepped back inside the open door, standing just out of the way to show Octavia that she was welcome inside. After stepping over the threshold, Vinyl closed the door behind her, sealing it with another spell. “This way,” she motioned.

Vinyl’s apartment was small, the clutter within it making it feel even smaller. Most of it was a single room with a very worn couch at its center, a desk against a far wall with crumpled papers on the floor around it. A few boxes of take-out were spaced out here and there, giving the place a rather distinct scent. A small hallway led off the main room with a door on either side; a sink was visible behind one, leaving the second to what could only be a bedroom.

“There’s a blanket and pillow over in the corner,” Vinyl said. Octavia looked and saw the slumber companions lying in a space the most devoid of the apartment’s unorthodox decorations.

“Oh, um… Thank you,” Octavia managed. “Do you… Do you have visitors often?”

“More than you would think,” The DJ said with a shrug, heading for the bathroom. “Sometimes ponies just need a place to crash, and I offer it to them. Celestia knows, I’ve needed the same favor a few times myself.”

Octavia’s insides shifted uncomfortably at the thought, but decided it best to not ask about such memories. She collected the blanket and pillow, finding the sides with the least amount of stains before setting them under and over her head and body on a couch that poked at her uncomfortably in a few places. As she lay there, her mind once again stepped back to wonder what exactly she was doing with her life. When the sound of swirling water echoed from the bathroom’s opening door, Octavia turned her head in an attempt to address it.

“Good-night,” she called, her voice passing over a small lump in her throat. A short grunt responded to her before the sound of another door closing echoed forth.

Octavia sighed and stared up at the ceiling, unable to collect all of her thoughts. The day had gone perhaps a little better than she expected, but not nearly as well as she had hoped. She admitted that she had no one other than herself to blame. In a fit of frustration, she punched the back of the couch and rolled onto her side. Why did she ever let a friendship she used to care about so much get like this?

Something in the darkness caught her eye. On the wall across from her sat the only shelf in the entire apartment, and on top of it rested a small hoofful of paper record sleeves, their edges frayed to the point that any records within them were there out of habit more than safe keeping. Next to them was a small box with a rectangular glass lid on top, a scratch or two here and there not quite preventing the silhouette of a tone-arm from peeking through.

Octavia rolled the faded blanket off of her, grabbed the chair from in front of the desk, and moved it just underneath the shelf; the resident unicorn could probably get the artifacts down with magic any time she wanted, but Octavia would need a little bit of a boost. She carefully grabbed and removed the record player from its shelf, not wanting to damage what could be a very old and sentimental possession, assuming it was what she thought it was.

She recognized it instantly.

* - * - * -

“How excited are you?!”

“So excited!”

The two fillies sat together on a train back to Ponyville, paying the white landscape streaming by their windows very little attention at all. Their first semester complete, Octavia was heading home to spend the holidays with her parents. And, because they now shared a mom and a dad, so was Vinyl. She was having a really hard time containing her enthusiasm.

“Young filly, please sit down!”

“Sorry.” Vinyl grinned sheepishly at a disgruntled attendant. She sat and looked up at the lime-green mare, who then turned and proceeded to the needs of other passengers. As soon as she was out of sight, Vinyl hopped down and got into the seat next to Octavia, the one she was assigned to in the first place. “This will be the best Hearth’s Warming Day ever!”

“I know! I can’t wait! And it’ll be so nice seeing Mom and Dad again!”

“It’ll be nice finally getting to meet them too!”

The two fillies rattled in their seats like rockets about to take off, eyes and smiles impossibly huge. If the train attendant weren’t checking on them every few minutes, one could only imagine what the two balls of energy would have done to the car. Then again, if the train didn’t serve complimentary cookies earlier in their travel, maybe she wouldn’t have to.

When the locomotive finally arrived at Ponyville’s station the two fillies were the first off the train. They were also the last, as trying to get back through a crowd of ponies anxious for fresh air proved difficult when attempting to reclaim forgotten luggage.

“Mom! Dad!” Octavia ran to two older ponies, forgetting her bags a second time. Vinyl’s horn sputtered for a moment, but eventually she managed to drag two sets of baggage behind her, one in a pale blue aura.

“Octavia! So good to have you home again.” A mare with a grey coat slightly lighter than her daughter’s pulled the music prodigy into a deep hug, her long mauve hair shielding the filly from sight for a moment. When she finally let go, Octavia ran to the stallion standing next to her and gripped one of his deep, dark blue legs. “Hey, kiddo,” this one said, ruffling her mane slightly.

“Octavia, did you bring a friend home?” her mom asked, noticing a shy unicorn foal stepping hesitantly towards them, the bags she bought for her daughter months before in the filly’s magical grip.

“Oh! Yes! Mom, Dad, this is my best friend Vinyl!” Octavia raced over to Vinyl, throwing an arm around her as though to prove she was more than happy to call her such. Octavia’s father looked at the newcomer with some concern, but her mother gave a warm smile.

“Well, welcome to Ponyville, Vinyl,” she said, her pleasant voice reflecting her smile. “Are you going to be staying with us for a couple of days?” Octavia’s dad looked at his wife with a certain amount of shock, but said nothing.

“The whole break!” Octavia said happily. At this, her father’s look of shock only deepened, and her mother’s face took on a trace of it as well.

“The whole break?” she asked. “Sweetheart, don’t you think she wants to spend time with her own family?”

“Well…” Octavia began. She looked at Vinyl, who had yet to speak, and didn’t look as though she was going to start any time soon. What happened to all of her excitement on the train? “Vinyl doesn’t actually have any parents… So I told her I would share you guys with her! So if I’m sharing my parents with her, that means she can spend Hearth’s Warming with us, right?”

Octavia’s parents looked at one another, their faces indiscernible to the fillies. Her dad shook his head ever so slightly, to which her mom squinted her eyes, boring into those of her husband. She turned back to the fillies, her face once again carrying a warm smile, albeit with a hint of sadness. “Of course, dear. That’s what family is for, isn’t it?”

“Oh, thank you!” Vinyl finally found her voice. She ran up and gripped the mare’s leg tightly. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

“It’s no trouble at all, sweetie,” Octavia’s mom chuckled, gently unhooking the filly from her appendage. Her husband gave the mare a look, who brushed it off with a roll of her eyes. “My name is Minor, and this is my husband Jazz.”

“Mr. Melody is fine,” Minor’s husband grunted.

His wife didn’t acknowledge he said anything.

“Jazz and I were just getting out the decorations for the house,” Minor said. “Would you girls like to help us set them up?”

“YEAH!” The fillies’ cry echoed throughout the town, causing a pegasus to fall from a cloud in alarm.

“We’re barely getting our own daughter through that school, and now you want us to feed another mouth for three weeks?!”

“She’s. Octavia’s. FRIEND.” A quiet argument was taking place that winter’s night in Ponyville, the two voices locked in combat barely more than a hiss. “You know how hard it was for her to make friends here, and to be honest I thought she’d have an even harder time in Manehattan!”

“I don’t care! I mean, yeah, she’s got a friend, that’s great. But we can’t afford this! I’m already pulling double shifts at the farm, and you still haven’t found an opening to—”

“Stop that. We are not going to discuss where the money comes from anymore. We’re both trying very hard, and I still manage to scrape up a little from—”

“Of course we’re not going to talk about it, because then you’d remember that I’m pulling all the weight!” Jazz sneered. Minor looked hurt, and about ready to cry. Seeing his wife is this state softened Jazz some. “Look, we just… we can’t afford it. We’re not running an orphanage here.”

“I never said we had to! She’s just one filly, and isn’t exactly going to be here forever…”

“But you don’t know that! She doesn’t have a real home other than Saint Marey’s… Octavia could bring her home at every break! All summer even!”

“Would that really be so bad? For her to have a friend, and that sweet little filly to have someone? Surely we could—”

“Mom? Dad?”

A young voice stopped two hearts at once, the couple now realizing the kitchen had a third occupant. They both turned to see their daughter standing in her pajamas in the kitchen’s main entryway, rubbing one of her eyes. It was unclear if she was trying to rub out sleep or an invisible tear.

“Does… Does Vinyl have to leave?”

Octavia’s parents looked at each other much like they did at the train station. Jazz gave a grunt, turned towards the secondary kitchen entrance, and walked into the living room, leaving mother and daughter alone together.

“No, sweetie,” Minor finally said, patting her leg to show Octavia that she was invited to join her on her chair. Octavia crawled up, slipping slightly on one of her sleeves. “Your father and I were discussing… something a friend is going through. That’s all.”

“Oh…” Octavia nuzzled her mother’s warm fur, having no reason to not believe her words.

“Why are you even awake right now, my little pony? Do you and Vinyl need me to sing for you again?”

“No, you did fine… Vinyl’s still asleep. I just couldn’t sleep is all.”

“Oh?” Octavia hadn’t given her parents any trouble like this since she was a newborn. Minor knew other foals occasionally would need to join their parents in their bed a few times in their youth, but Octavia always seemed perfectly content in her own bedroom.

“Well…” Octavia began, “Before you came in to sing to us, I asked Vinyl what she wanted for Hearth’s Warming. And she got kind of sad. I didn’t know Hearth’s Warming could make people sad.”

Minor hummed. “I suppose not everypony is lucky enough to have so many wonderful memories about this time of year.”

Octavia continued. “She told me… She told me that she usually just get clothes. She says that she doesn’t mind much, even if she never wears them, because she says the clothes she does have usually get too small.” Octavia looked up at her mother, this time the tears in her eyes apparent. “I don’t want her to just get clothes, Mommy. She’s really nice, and she’s my best friend. I want her to get something special.”

“Like what?”

Octavia stopped crying for a moment and hopped off her mother’s lap. She walked out of the kitchen without a word. Confused, Minor debated if she was supposed to follow her daughter out into the hall, or stay put for her to return. Within moments Octavia answered this for her, coming back with a magazine in her mouth. She hopped back into her mother’s lap, dropping the periodical on the kitchen table.

“Oh, is this the magazine Vinyl was reading when I tucked you two in?”

“Uh-huh. She just got this one last week. She’s almost always looking at this page,” Octavia said, flipping the cover and a few pieces of paper behind it over. She pointed a tiny hoof at a picture of a device listed with a few numbers to the right of it. “Vinyl’s always talking about this. Like, what she would do if she had one and stuff. I told her she should get one, but then she got all sad. It’s a lot of money, and we barely made enough selling lemonade for her to even start getting these…”

“I see…” Octavia’s mother sighed as she looked at the object on the page.

“Do you… Do you think we can get it for her? I think she would really like it.”

Minor looked at her daughter, then back to the page. Even with its ‘special holiday price’, the device still cost a lot more money than Minor felt comfortable spending on her own family, let alone somepony she just met. Times were really hard on them at the moment. She could only imagine what her husband would say…

“Of course, dear. I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

Author's Note

Author's Note can be found here.

Chapter Seven

Octavia woke wearily to the smell of smoke, feeling as though she just closed her eyes only a minute or two prior. A small bead of panic forming in her chest, she roused herself to try to find the source of the odor.

Vinyl stood at the apartment’s small kitchenette, frying pan in hoof, using magic to try to funnel some of the smoke out through an open window. At the sound of a rustling blanket, she turned her head slightly to confirm that her guest was awake. “’Morning,” she said to her.

Barely, Octavia thought to herself. She instead replied, “Good-morning.”

“Here.” Vinyl scrapped a hoofful of scrambled eggs onto a plate and handed it and a fork to the cellist on the couch.

“Oh… Thank you,” Octavia said, taking the plate. “You really didn’t have to though.”

Vinyl shrugged. “The eggs were about to go bad anyway.”

Octavia looked down at the plate, and although the eggs looked a little black she forked a few bites into her mouth out of courtesy. They tasted slightly better than they looked.

“I gotta leave in a few for a gig,” Vinyl said, giving her frying pan a quick rinse in a nearby sink. “I hate to kick you out, but I generally make it a rule to not leave ponies here alone. Nothing personal,” she added, after a beat. “I think Quil Station is open now, so you can probably get a ticket back to Canterlot.”

Octavia was silent, mentally going over her friend’s words and the hours leading up to them. Was that really it? All this way for a hostile sleepover, then back to life as it was? She didn’t feel as though she could simply return to the way she’d been living the last few years. Not anymore.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you still have that old record player,” Octavia said, quietly ignoring Vinyl’s not-so-subtle way of trying to tell her to leave.

“What? Oh. Yeah. That old thing. Turntable.”

“Pardon?”

“Turntable. It’s called a turntable. Not a record player.”

“Oh…”

The room was without sound for a few moments, broken only by Vinyl moving some of her scrambled egg making supplies to new locations.

“Look, don’t take it as a sign that I’ve missed you or anything,” Vinyl said, breaking the silence. “I’m still really mad about what you said to me, even if it was years ago and you’ve somehow forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget, Vinyl…”

“Whatever. I’m still mad.”

Silence returned yet again, and Vinyl was running out of dishes to wash. Given the state of the rest of the apartment, Octavia was surprised to see her washing dishes at all, especially if she really did have some place to be.

“Do you hear from her much anymore?”

“What? Who?” Octavia didn’t really speak to anypony outside of Canterlot’s music appreciative circles, so she really did need Vinyl to be more specific.

“Your mom. Do you hear from her?”

“No…” Octavia looked at the ground, guilt flooding her veins. “I don’t think I’ve spoken to her much at all since graduation.”

Vinyl turned to stare at her, her black-rimmed glasses taking the brunt of her gaze. “What, are you serious? Wow… You really turned into a royal bitch.”

The back of Octavia’s neck started burning up. She rarely took such harsh words against her person, especially since other ponies rarely made them. Even when they did, she usually felt distant enough from the pony in question, believing their peasant tongue to be beneath her. Only those she saw as equals could truly get under her skin. The only thing stopping her from a hot retort was knowing that, language aside, Vinyl was correct.

“I know.”

“Excuse me?”

Octavia looked up at her old roommate, eyebrows now visible above her shades. “I said, ‘I know’,” the cellist uttered. “You’re right. I’ve been treating the ponies I used to love like the dirt I walk on, if I could ever afford to let my precious hooficured legs tread on such.” Vinyl opened her mouth to respond, but Octavia didn’t let her. “I’ve spent the last Celestia knows how many years thinking I was so much better than everypony else, and all because I was lucky enough to have a special talent that rich ponies enjoy milking out of me!” Octavia’s chest was heaving, her breath desperately trying to vent the smoke from the battle taking place within her. It was becoming clear that the dam that broke the previous night had not yet been fully repaired, and as such was failing miserably at holding back this fresh set of extreme emotion. “And oh, did I love being milked like a common bovine! I loved it so much that I threw you into a dumpster, convinced myself that’s where you belonged, and never looked back! I’M THE BIGGEST PIECE OF—!”

“OCTY!” Vinyl finally got a word out. Octavia fell silent, heart beating hard against her chest. “That’s enough, I… I get it. You finally realized that you maybe could have been a little nicer.”

“Not maybe. Definitely.”

Neither spoke for a while; the only sound in the apartment was Octavia trying to catch her breath. When Vinyl finally spoke, her voice had taken on a different tone from the last few hours. “So you really haven’t talked to her in that long?”

Octavia shook her head.

“And you miss her too?”

Octavia nodded feverishly.

“Well, go see her then.”

“What?”

“Go see her!” Vinyl walked back into her bedroom, raising her voice to maintain the conversation. “You came to see me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing,” Vinyl said, returning. She handed a slip of paper to Octavia. “Here. It’s the train schedule for Quil Station. Train still leaves for Ponyville at noon, but you may as well hang onto this anyway.”

“Oh, Vinyl…” Octavia sighed, her eyes on the pamphlet in front of her. “What if she doesn’t want to see me? I mean, you didn’t want to see me…”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was being a little rough.” Octavia looked up and into the eyes of her reflection in the DJ’s glasses. “Besides, I know I’m not an expert or anything, but aren’t mothers supposed to love their fillies no matter what?”

“Well, Father—”

“We’re not talking about your dad. We’re talking about your mom.” Vinyl took Octavia’s hoof and placed the train schedule in it. “Go,” she said softly.

Octavia gulped, hoping that the feelings of pressure in her eyes and nose would go with it. She stared at the schedule in her hoof. If she could make an impromptu trip to Manehattan to see a friend who hated her, what was stopping her from going to Ponyville to see the mare who raised her?

“…Come with me.”

“…What?” Vinyl took a few steps back from the couch.

“Come with me! You used to always go on the train with me back to Ponyville. It was your home as much as it was mine. And I’m sure Mother would love seeing you again too; you were practically a second daughter to her.”

“Octy, I can’t…” The DJ shook her head in disbelief. “My schedule is completely booked up until almost two years from now. And I really wish I were making that up.”

“Vinyl, even the greatest of performers need to take a break every now and again.”

“Oh, and I’m guessing you know that personally?”

Octavia couldn’t tell if the remark was meant as an insult or a compliment, and in response did something she hadn’t done since she was a filly.

“Haha, Octy, you still have some egg on your tongue.”

With a small “Eep!” Octavia retracted her tongue, hoof rising quickly to cover her mouth as she did so.

Vinyl chuckled. “You know what? Sure. Why not. Half my songs are about carpe diem anyway.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. See, that’s the thing about club life. Most of the ponies there are really just living day-to-day, and—”

“No, Vinyl, I mean you’ll really go with me? To Ponyville?”

The DJ gave the cellist a small, harmless punch. “Like I can really let you take a train by yourself. When we were fillies there were days I was convinced you were scared of going alone.”

Octavia laughed. “I was. The way the trains rattled made me think they were going to blow up at any second.”

“Who says they won’t?” The DJ went back to her room and threw a few things into a saddlebag before harnessing it around her stomach. “Oh, wait, shoot, let me make a few phone calls real quick. I gotta let the clubs I’m supposed to be at the next few days know I won’t show, or they’ll think I died or something.”

Octavia giggled, but when Vinyl didn’t her composure became very serious. “Wait, is that a thing? People really think if you don’t show up it’s because you... died?”

“Let’s just say the nightlife here is a lot crazier than you’d think.

Octavia already thought it was pretty crazy, and the fact that her friend lived every day this way was a great concern to her. However, having finally gotten on her good side, Octavia didn’t want to start telling Vinyl what she should be doing with her life.

“Will cancelling a few shows damage your career at all?”

“Nah, are you kidding me? After a few days of being gone they’ll probably be clamoring for me more than they already do. Supply and demand, or whatever.”

After a few calls to various Manehattan club owners (some understanding, some very much less so) the two mares left Vinyl’s apartment and made for the train station. As they walked and talked with fewer awkward silences in between, Octavia dared to feel something she hadn’t known in quite some time: a genuine, Celestia-given happiness.

“Man, that ride was awkward. That one attendant was glaring at us almost the whole time.”

“Which, the green one? Vinyl, I think that may have been the same attendant from when we were fillies…”

“For real? Jeez, no wonder she looks so old. We’re probably the ones who made her that way.”

Octavia and Vinyl laughed together, having spent much of the ride reminding one another of stories long since forgotten. There were still a few sore topics that they both took care to avoid, a certain discomfort letting loose in the air every time one of them got close to breaking that unspoken rule. Those few moments aside, their travel had been rather pleasant.

Octavia looked around her hometown, head spinning on her neck. Rarity had been right; everything that was the same came as a pleasant surprise, and the things that didn’t came as a complete shock.

“How is Quills and Sofas even still in business? I thought it was a dumb idea back when it first opened.”

Octavia laughed, her friend’s thoughts clearly making some of the same loops as her own. “Didn’t you look around the last time you were here? Rarity said you came down for a fashion show or something not terribly long ago.”

“Oh, yeah. No, I didn’t get to look much… I came with this Hoity Toity character from Canterlot. That’s his actual name, not me trying to make a jab at him or anything.”

“I’m actually familiar with Hoity. He was the one who came down for the fashion show? I suppose that would explain why his stores now carry some of Rarity’s lines…”

“Wait, he bought some of those outfits? Dude, I saw those things. They were horrid.”

“I’m only telling you what I know,” Octavia said, not wanting to get into a debate on fashion with somepony who wore sunglasses at all hours of the day and night. “How did you become associated with him, anyway, if I may ask? Not meaning to sound rude, but I daresay he never struck me as much of a ‘clubber’.”

Vinyl laughed. “Yeah, me neither. The clubs would eat him alive. Truth is, Rarity was going over some numbers for ponies to do the music for her show, and see saw my picture in an add. Didn’t recognize the stage name, of course, and even though I was a ways out thought she’d give me a ring anyway. I was pretty busy that week, but somehow I felt like coming down to Ponyville to see an old friend. Guess that wasn’t the first time that would happen to me.”

Octavia smiled. “So after the show you just went back to Manehattan?”

“Yeah, didn’t see much point in hanging around. Rarity was the only pony I knew here, and she kind of locked herself up.”

“’Locked herself up’?”

“Yeah. You’re really underestimating how badly the show went. And you know what a drama queen she can be.”

“Well, what about my mother? You could have visited her too.”

Vinyl looked at the ground as they walked. “I… I had a gig in Manehattan to get to. Besides, it would’ve felt weird being there and seeing her without you around. And I thought… I thought maybe if… If you didn’t want me around anymore, then maybe she wouldn’t either…”

“Vinyl…” Octavia stopped and put a hoof on Vinyl’s shoulder, slowing her to a halt as well. “You just told me a few hours ago that mothers love their daughters no matter what. I’m sure that applies to you too.”

Vinyl looked up and gave Octavia a weak smile. “Does that mean you’re ready to go see her again? We’ve kind of been walking in circles for a minute or two here…”

“Oh… Maybe not just yet,” Octavia admitted sadly. “What about Rarity? I mean, we were just talking about her, and the last time she and I spoke it sounded like there was quite a bit going on her life worth talking about.”

“You could say that again. C’mon, she’s this way,” Vinyl said, leading them down a road. “Yeah, sounds like life’s been pretty weird for her and her friends ever since Nightmare Moon returned. Well, Princess Luna. I’m still not sure which I’m supposed to say anymore.”

“Oh, I forgot that happened here. That whole thing must have given them quite the fright, I take.”

“Fright? Heck they’re the whole reason it ended.”

“Beg pardon?”

Vinyl stopped to look at Octavia. “Rarity and her friends. They found some old gems or something in a castle near here, and somehow those things stopped Nightmare Moon.”

Octavia stood flabbergasted. Could somepony she knew as a filly really have stood against one of the strongest forces of evil Equestria had ever known?

“Doesn’t stop there either,” Vinyl said, resuming her pace. “She and her friends had something to do with that invasion during the wedding too. She even mentioned something about how they used those gem thingies to stop Discord when he came back as well.”

“Discord?!” They went from stopping one of the strongest forces of evil to the strongest force? She had heard that Ponyville took the brunt of his wrath, but even Canterlot took a few shakes before he turned his attention to Octavia’s hometown. A pang of guilt ripped through her when she realized that even in that face of peril, Octavia hadn’t contacted her mother to see if she came out of the horror in one piece.

“Yeah. I think she was just blowing steam at that point though. I mean, how could anypony just happen to be at the center of all that crud anyway? I don’t know, it just seems like way too big a lie for her to actually think she can get away with it. Whether she’s making it up or not though, I bet you never thought ponies in this town could have such exciting lives, huh?”

No, Octavia admitted to herself. No she hadn’t.

“This is it.”

“The old carousel?” Octavia looked over the decorative building, its pink and blue paint a few shades lighter than she remembered. At least she now knew the reason behind Rarity’s shop’s name. “We used to ride it all the time back when we were fillies,” Octavia recalled. “The fake horses never had much detail on them… I remember Rarity used to bring dresses and try to fit them on instead of actually riding like a normal pony.” The cellist laughed at the memory.

“Yeah, well, she does that for a living now.” Octavia laughed again at Vinyl’s statement, but stopped when she realized her unicorn friend was serious. Vinyl noticed the expression change and gave a small chuckle herself. “C’mon, let’s go say hello.”

The two ponies walked up to the boutique. Once there, Vinyl gave it a knock, but when she felt it was taking too long for somepony to answer she gave the door both a push and a pull, but to no avail.

“Hey, what gives? This is normal business hours!”

“Oh, she said she needed to close the shop for a few days.”

The two mares at the door turned to see a third. She was a mint green unicorn with a white-striped mane, amber eyes, and a harp for a cutie mark barely visible behind a pair of saddlebags on her back.

“Hey, wait, I know you guys… Octavia?” the new mare asked tentatively.

“Um… Yes… Lyra, if I remember correctly…?”

“Yup, that’s me. And I’m sorry…?”

“Pon-Three.” The DJ said. Octavia gave her a gentle nudge in the ribs. “Oh, right, sorry… That’s my stage name. I’m kind of used to it these days. You can call me Vinyl.”

“Right… Yeah, I’m not sure if we were ever properly introduced.” Lyra moved close enough to give the white unicorn a quick hoofshake. “Are you both in Canterlot now? Last I heard you were heading that way, Octavia.”

The cellist nodded, but the DJ shrugged. “Nah. I thought about it a lot, but it never really happened. Got kind of big in Manehattan though.”

Lyra smiled, and Octavia turned to look at her. “Really?” she asked, “You thought about moving to Canterlot?”

Vinyl shrugged again. “Yeah, but it’s not exactly the kind of place for club music. The stuck-up ponies there don’t really like trying new things.”

Octavia was about to respond, but decided against it. Lyra then turned to address her. “So, Octavia, what brings you back to the ol’ stomping grounds?”

“Just… Recapturing my past, I suppose,” Octavia answered. “It really has been quite some time. Is Rarity really not here right now?”

“Yeah, she and her friends just left like a day or two ago for Canterlot,” Lyra said, “Something about giving Twilight Sparkle moral support for a test.”

“Really? All the way to Canterlot for a test?” Vinyl asked incredulously. “Sounds like a lot over nothing, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised at how seriously Twilight can take that sort of thing,” Lyra answered. “Besides, with all the craziness those ponies tend to get into, they could be saving an empire or something for all we know.”

“I know they tell big stories, but honestly, even that is getting a little too out there for me,” Vinyl laughed. Octavia wasn’t able to do the same. Knowing that one pony she wanted to see during her visit was back where she just came from was tragically ironic.

“Think what you will, I’m just telling you what I know.” Lyra shifted her saddlebags absent-mindedly. “Anyways, I gotta get going. My roommate really needs these supplies today. It was nice seeing you guys again, though.”

“You live here?” Octavia asked.

“Well, yeah, most of my life. You know that, Octavia.”

“Yes, I just…” Octavia tried to figure out exactly how to word what she wanted to say. “You graduated from Manehattan’s School of Music as well. I imagined you would be using that degree somewhere… else.”

Lyra chuckled. “Yeah, me too. Ponyville doesn’t exactly have any concert halls, even if my lyre does have trouble being heard in most of them. I was living with some family in Canterlot a year or two ago, but moved back here about the same time Twilight did. I can tell it’s been good for both of us though; I knew her a little bit in Canterlot, and she was really anti-social. Cared more about reading than actually spending time with anypony. Can you believe that?”

“A Canterlot pony being snobbish, caring more about her career than her friends?” Vinyl snickered. “No, never.”

“Anyway, she really opened up once she got here. Made those friends she’s always having adventures with. Which again, Rarity—” Lyra said, waving a hoof at the boutique’s door, “—is one of, and, again, is why she isn’t here right now.”

“What about you then?”

“Hm?” Lyra looked up at Octavia, confused by the question.

“You said moving here was good for both you and Twilight Sparkle, but you also said you weren’t working.”

“Who said I’m not working?” Lyra asked. “I mean, yeah, I don’t use my special talent much these days, other than sometimes playing in the park. The ponies there really do enjoy it. It’s kind of nice being able to just play and not worry about things from time to time.”

“Well, what do you do then?”

“I help out my roommate Bon Bon in her shop.” Lyra said, motioning to her bags again. “She makes candies. Although if you’re around her you have to use the word confectionaries…”

“And you’re… happy?”

“Are you kidding? I mean, yeah, Bon Bon can be a real stick-in-the-mud sometimes, but I really can’t imagine my life without her. She’s my best friend.” Lyra shrugged. “Plus working for a candy maker means all the sweets I can eat, which is totally worth it by the way.”

Lyra and Vinyl both laughed, and after a moment Octavia did as well. They eventually let Lyra go, apologized for making her late back to the shop (“Eh, Bon Bon can just deal with it.”), and finally made their way towards Octavia’s foalhood home, where her mother was about to have some unexpected company.

They stood outside of the humble house, neither saying anything, Octavia’s hoof hovering in the air for at least five minutes.

“…You know, if you’re not going to knock, I can do it for you…”

“No!” Octavia shouted, coming out of a trance of sorts. “No, I… I can do it.” Her outstretched hoof started to tremble, but eventually it came down and hit the door three times, each knock louder than the one before it. They stood still, waiting, Octavia’s heart playing a heavy beat. Eventually the door opened; words took several seconds to appear. Octavia swallowed.

“Hi, Mom.”

Author's Note

Author's Note can be found here.

Chapter Eight

The three mares sat and talked in the familiar kitchen for hours, and for a good portion of it Octavia was hoping her torso would regain its normal shape after being on the receiving end of a rib-crushing hug. Vinyl had one as well, although Octavia had yet to see her wince with any of her movements.

“Well, it really sounds like you’re doing quite well for yourself, Vinyl!” Minor’s coat and mane were somewhat paler than Octavia remembered, and a few wrinkles were forming around her eyes, but otherwise she looked exactly the way Octavia remembered her.

“Heck yeah, I am! The Manehattan clubs just can’t get enough of me!”

“Well, I still wish you had found yourself outside of those things, but I am glad that you found something that makes you happy.”

“Aw, they’re not that bad, Minor. I mean, okay, yeah, they’re bad, but that’s what security is for.” Vinyl laughed, and Minor game a small chuckle in return. Octavia took a small sip of her tea, thoughts slightly removed from the conversation.

“I’m just glad to see the two of you getting along again,” Minor said, her eyes returning to her daughter for a moment. “I was really afraid that you both lost something special forever.”

“Yeah, me too,” Vinyl began. “Then this one just shows up out of the blue, going on about how dumb she’s been,” the DJ finished, a hoof jabbing briefly in the direction of the cellist.

“Vinyl, I don’t think I said—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, my words, not yours.” Vinyl gave her old friend a smirk.

Minor tittered again at the playful banter between the two girls she watched grow up. She set her tea down and gazed at the kitchen’s clock. “Oh, dear me, it’s getting late. I should probably let you girls get some sleep. I’m sure you have a full day ahead of you, reliving the glory years and what not.”

“No plans yet, but I’m sure we can figure something out.” Vinyl hopped off her seat and magically moved her tea cup and saucer to the kitchen sink. She gave a wide yawn. “Same room as always?”

“Yes, dear,” Minor said, her staple warm smile across her face. “I know a lot has changed, but the rooms in the house are still right where you left them.”

“No, I meant— Never mind. Octy, you comin’?”

She and Minor both looked at Octavia, who calmly set her tea down before addressing the question. “I think I might stay up a little later to talk to my mom some more, if that’s okay…”

Vinyl shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Just don’t wake me up.” She turned to leave. “Oh, and don’t keep your mom up too late either. She’s not as young as she used to be.”

“Oh, I could still run circles around you, young filly,” Minor smiled. Vinyl gave a small chuckle and a wave before disappearing to Octavia’s old bedroom.

Without the DJ, the kitchen was rather quiet. Despite Octavia saying she wanted a conversation alone, she was having a hard time making one happen. “…Mother, I—”

“Oh, don’t say ‘mother’ dear,” Minor chided. “You called me ‘Mom’ before, you called me ‘Mom’ when you got here, and you can call me ‘Mom’ now. And I know you used that Canterlot accent a lot when you were younger, but you really don’t need to use it on me…”

“Mother, that’s simply how I speak,” Octavia said, her tea now forgotten. “I know I wasn’t born or raised with it, but I assure you that it’s very much become a part of who I am.”

“Yes… I can see that.” Minor took a small sip from her cup, letting her words hang in the air for a moment. “Octavia… Why are you here right now?”

The cellist was starting to wonder if anypony was going to just be happy to see her, and not question her motives behind visits. “I don’t understand… Are you… Are you not happy to see me?”

“Honey, seeing you again probably just added a few years to my life. But the last time I saw you… Well, I felt like you didn’t care whether or not you ever saw me again. Honestly, a few months ago when Discord was here—”

“I’m sorry!”

Minor looked up at her daughter, surprised at the interruption. Fact was, Octavia had been beating herself up over the idea of the deity being so close to turning her mother into a play thing ever since the name was first dropped that day. Her recent trend of breaking perfect composure once again asserted itself into her life.

“I should have called!” Octavia continued. “I heard that monster attacked Ponyville, and I didn’t even think to check to see if you were okay! I’m the worst daughter in the world! You could have been gone for all I knew, and I never even—” her words were stopped by a gentle hoof over her muzzle.

“Let me finish, dear,” Minor said, smiling softly. “I wasn’t actually in Ponyville at the time. I went to see a few friends in Trottingham the day before he arrived. I was never in any danger.”

“But I still could have called!” Octavia moaned. “I could have found out… to know for sure…”

“I know, dear,” Minor cooed. “And to be honest, I was rather hurt that you hadn’t, despite not hearing from you in so long. I was told Canterlot had similar troubles. I also could have called you, but I didn’t. Do you know why?”

Octavia sniffed. “Because I never gave you my number?”

Minor laughed. “Sweetheart, your number is on the counter by the phone. A mother has her ways,” she said in response to her daughter’s open mouth.

“Then why didn’t you call?” Octavia asked.

“Because I knew you didn’t want me to,” Minor said, taking another sip of her tea. “I wanted nothing more than to hear my daughter’s voice again, but I also wanted her to be happy, and at the time I believed hearing from me would have had the opposite effect on her.”

“Then how did you know I was okay?” Octavia asked. “I know you, Mother. You wouldn’t have rested until you knew.”

“Nor did I,” her mother laughed. “But I didn’t have to wait too long. I get Canterlot papers, you know.” Minor stood up and walked over to a series of drawers next to the refrigerator. She opened the bottommost one, extracted a few newspapers from it, and placed them on the table between herself and her daughter. “They’re really quite fond of your performances there. Although most of them say the exact same things, give or take a few words.”

Octavia looked over the periodicals in front of her in disbelief. “You get ‘The Canterlot Times’?”

Minor nodded. “And a few others, but you seem to be in that one the most.

“Mother… These are expensive papers. The cost to have them shipped out here alone—”

“Is nothing compared to knowing that my daughter is living her dream every single day.” The aging mare smiled.

Octavia was at a complete loss for words.

“I’m glad to see you and Vinyl getting along again.” Minor said, trying to help Octavia find more words to speak. “Tell me, what sparked the idea of you two catching up?”

“Oh, um… I’ll tell you another time, Mother,” Octavia said. She didn’t need to keep Minor up all night in grief of how close her daughter came to an untimely end.

“…Are things alright with Vinyl, dear?” Octavia looked at her mother. It was always hard to hide things from her.

“Well… When we got here… I don’t know. You just seemed happier to see her than to see me. I mean, you guys just kept talking and talking and—”

“Octavia.” Minor turned her daughter’s face towards her own so she could wipe the tears from her cheeks. “In all respects, Vinyl was like a daughter to me as well. When you two had your fight, I didn’t see her anymore either. I’m guessing she felt like she wasn’t allowed to see me, not being your friend anymore. Am I right?” Octavia nodded. “That poor thing has been through some real troubles in her life. I think she lost the only family she’d ever had that day. I’m just glad she found her way back here, one way or another.” Minor pulled her daughter into a close hug, careful not to bruise anymore ribs. “As far as she and I talking so much, you only have yourself to blame, dear. You weren’t exactly too talkative.”

Octavia sniffed. When she said nothing, Minor continued. “If you did feel like I was treating her differently than you… Well, maybe that’s because I was still hurt. Vinyl was taken away from me. You, Octavia… You left on your own free will.”

Octavia stopped trying to hold her tears back. She was doing a terrible job anyway. “I am so, so sorry, mother. I am such a terrible daughter…”

“Sweetheart…” Minor moved Octavia’s head so she could look into her eyes. “You are the furthest thing from a terrible daughter. Yes, I was hurt, and now I’m starting to regret saying so because I can see how much distress it’s given you. But you are not a terrible daughter. The fact that you are right here, right now, tells me that you still love me as much as you did when you were a filly. And that is something a terrible daughter could never do. As far as I’m concerned, no harm was ever done. You are here, and you are still my little girl.”

Octavia hiccupped and moved back into her mother’s embrace. “I love you, Mom…”

A tear other than Octavia’s mixed with her own. “I love you too. And I always will. No matter what.”

After a very long hug and a box or two of tissues, Octavia finally let her mother get some rest. The grey mare walked down the hall to her foalhood bedroom, opening the door quietly to avoid waking her sleeping friend. Her friend, however, didn’t seem to be sleeping.

“Oh, hey,” Vinyl said, undoing her reclined position on Octavia’s bed to hop off of it. “I suppose you’ll be wanting your bed to yourself then?”

“Oh, um… I… I suppose…”

“That’s cool. I’m actually pretty okay with sleeping on floors… I guess you probably got rid of the second bed in here when you got older, huh?”

“Not exactly,” Octavia said, shifting a few sheets on the bed. “We just kind of shoved them together. I was getting too big for one, after all.”

“Oh… Yeah, I guess that makes sense. What are you doing?” Vinyl asked, her friend continuing to fuss over some loose sheets.

“Separating them.” Octavia gave the mattress a solid tug. It moved, but the way the sheets folded in its absence suggested a second sat right next to it.

“Here, let me help…” Vinyl grabbed the mattress in her magical aura, gently tugging at it and setting it down on the floor. She slid it across to the wall opposite the bed as Octavia fished some spare bedding from the closet.

“Thanks,” Vinyl said after having two pillows and a few blankets handed to her.

“Think nothing of it. No weird stains, either.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

The two mares settled into their respective beds, their legs dangling over the edge of their mattresses. They laid there, each trying to drift off to sleep. Well, for the most part.

“Vinyl?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you convinced me to come down here.”

The DJ chuckled. “Yeah… Me too.”

* - * - * -

Octavia was almost skipping back to her room. She opened and closed her bedroom door with enthusiasm, forgetting that she had a guest. She almost didn’t see a blue mane flinch under a blanket on the floor. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you!”

“Nah, it’s okay…” Vinyl grumbled. She rubbed her magenta eyes a little, and brought herself up to a sitting position. “I was having a really hard time down here anyway…”

Octavia looked at her sadly. “Sorry, I know my room’s floor isn’t the softest in the world… Would you sleep better on the couch do you think?”

“No, that would be weird,” the unicorn said. “Besides, after sharing a room with you all semester I’m kind of used to hearing you snore when I sleep. Is that weird?”

“I do not snore!”

“You do too! It’s like this: ‘woooo’…”

“You’re lying!” the grey filly accused, though she couldn’t help but giggle at the noises coming from her friend’s mouth.

“Well, I suppose you’ll never know, now, will you?” Vinyl gave Octavia the same smile she always gave Octavia whenever she was having a little fun at her expense. It irritated her, but Octavia also knew that it was just her thing. Vinyl stretched and returned to the position she had been sleeping in previously.

“Hey, do you want to sleep in the bed?” Octavia asked.

“What? But then where will you sleep?”

“The bed too,” Octavia said, shyly circling the ground with one of her hooves. “I mean, if you don’t feel like sharing…”

“No! I mean, I think it would be okay if we shared a bed. I bet it’s lots better than the floor…”

“Okay!” Octavia pounced onto her mattress, Vinyl soon doing the same. “And in the morning, we can ask my dad if he can build a second bed. With how long you’re going to be here, I think it makes sense.”

“Yeah, it kind of does. Your family is so nice,” Vinyl said into her pillow, eyes closed.

“Our family. We’re sharing, remember? Stop forgetting!”

Vinyl gave a soft laugh. “Hey, if we’re sharing a mom and dad, does that make us sisters?”

Octavia considered this for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose it does.”

“Good. I’m glad we’re sisters.”

“Me too.”

“And not like the sisters back at the house in Manehattan. They’re old.” Both fillies giggled at Vinyl’s comment.

A thought suddenly occurred to Octavia. “Hey, Vinyl, do you need me to play my violin to get you to go to sleep again?” When her friend didn’t respond, Octavia propped herself up to peer into her roommate’s face. After seeing closed eyes and a belly softly rising and falling, Octavia decided to follow her friend into slumber.

Octavia’s eyes fluttered opened as the smell of breakfast reached her nose. She gave both eyes a good rub before noticing that the mattress on the floor was missing its occupant. Giving herself a good stretch and allowing feeling to return to the legs that lost a battle with gravity during the night, she carefully stood up and hobbled towards the kitchen. She could hear two voices growing louder as she got close.

“So, the manager’s freaking out, right?” The DJ’s voice was speaking excitedly. “He’s all ‘what are we gonna do, we don’t have a back-up…’ and I was just barely close enough to hear all this. Well, turns out, the deck on the stage was in one of my magazines, and I pretty much memorized the review on it. So I went up to him, and I was all, ‘Hey, I could totally take over’, and he kind of looked at me like I was just some wannabe off the street, and I could tell he wasn’t going to say anything nice, so I said, ‘Hey, it’s either that, or everypony here leaves when they find out there’s no music,’ and that got him thinking.”

“Oh, my! Don’t tell me he took you up on that?” Octavia’s mother sounded overly invested in the anecdote.

Vinyl laughed. “’Course he did, or I wouldn’t be telling this story. Anyway, I get up there, and it’s weird, ‘cause it felt just like it did in this dream I had, like, two days before. Freaky, right? And it all worked exactly the way I imagined it would. I tell ya, that reviewer was spot on. I mean, the bass dial was a little more sensitive than I expected, but I let it slide since I really got the room’s attention that way.”

“Honestly, dear, I’m still a little surprised you wanted to touch that thing after what happened to that poor stallion…”

“Minor, nothing was going to stop me from getting on that stage.” Vinyl chuckled. “But yeah, long story short, I rocked that club as hard as I knew I could, and, well, ‘rest is history.”

“Fascinating…” Minor said, not a single trace of sarcasm in her voice. “So when did these glasses of yours come into play?”

“Oh, you’re really not going to believe the story on that one…”

“Ahem.” Minor and Vinyl both turned to look at the source of the noise. “Good morning,” Octavia said, sitting down at the table.

“Morning, Octy!” Vinyl said cheerfully. “You’re okay with eggs again, right? Your mom’s giving me a few tips. Did you know how much better they are when you add milk?”

Still getting over a morning grumpiness, Octavia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and instead just gave her old friend a smile. “Here, fresh batch,” Vinyl said, sliding gold and brown scrambled eggs onto a plate in front of the cellist.

“Thank you, Vinyl,” Octavia said, happy to have an excuse to replace the previous egg flavor that was still floating around in her mouth for some reason or another.

Minor sat opposite her daughter, fresh cup of tea in tow. “So have you girls decided what you want to do today?” she asked.

“Nah, we didn’t get the chance to talk much last night,” Vinyl said, her words half true.

“Well, I’m sure there’s plenty of old haunts for you girls to explore,” Minor said, taking a sip, flinching slightly at the sensation of a not-yet-cool liquid hitting her lips and tongue.

“I’m sure,” Vinyl said grinning. “I’ve already eaten, Octy, so we can leave whenever you’re good.”

“Duly noted,” Octavia said, a petite forkful of yellow fluff reaching for her mouth.

“I’ll go ahead and leave you girls to it,” Minor said getting up from the table. “I need to pick up some groceries if you girls plan on being here another day or two, and I’m sure you don’t want to spend this entire little venture with an old fogey like me.”

“Minor, don’t even. Wait, what about your tea?”

“Oh, Vinyl, it’s far too hot at the moment. By the time I get back I’m sure it’ll be just right.”

Vinyl shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Minor smiled. “Just put the dishes in the sink when you’re done, and lock the door before you leave,” she said, leaving through it as she did.

“I cannot believe. How nice your mom still is,” Vinyl said once the front door shut behind the subject of her statement.

Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah… I’m glad she hasn’t changed much.”

“Considering how much else has? You and me both.” Vinyl sat down, sighing as she did so. “So you got any ideas on where we should go first?”

“I was thinking maybe we could go by the farm. The sunrise was always really nice there.”

The room got quiet. Vinyl spoke with hesitation. “Octy… Are you sure?”

“My father isn’t there anymore, Vinyl,” Octavia said, rising and placing her plate in the kitchen sink.

“I know, it’s just…” Vinyl trailed off, her gaze avoiding Octavia’s. After a beat, her ears perked up, and a sad look of concern was replaced by a sly grin. “Ooooh… I think somepony wants to see Big Macintosh again!”

“Vinyl!” Octavia’s head whipped around, her eyes wide in shock. The unicorn laughed.

“Well, I see that’s still a hot button! Or maybe you want him to push a hot button… Nudge nudge, wink wink.”

“Vinyl, that is not funny!” Octavia said, her features scrunching up slightly, though eyes still round.

“Remember when you finally told your mom you had a crush on him? Remember when she told you you’re related through that cousin of yours?”

“Yes I remember!” Octavia hissed. The DJ’s smile was unwavering.

Vinyl laughed. “I’m just messing with you, Tavs. You know that.”

“I know, Vinyl,” Octavia sighed. “I’d really rather you not bring that up if we do stumble across him though.”

“Oh, come on! I bet he’d get a good laugh out of it.”

“He might. I would die of embarrassment!”

“And I of laughing.”

The pair did wind up taking their first stroll around the dirt roads near Sweet Apple Acres, named after the charming country family that ran it. They did see the stallion mentioned at breakfast plowing a field in the distance, but they never approached him, despite Octavia’s ribs' new bruises from the frequent nudges by her counterpart.

“Do you think the west orchard still has that fruit bat problem?”

“I’d really rather not find out.”

Every few steps brought back a different memory to the girls, most of them prompting a giggle or two at least, a moment when they had to stop to regain their composure at best. The highlight was most likely stumbling across an old tree house, in which they spent one night before being chased out in the morning by a very angry orange filly a year or two younger than themselves.

“Country folk sure do have some creative names for people they don’t like,” Vinyl mused.

“Yes, well… On the other hoof it was rather silly of us to assume no one actually owned the tree house.”

“Yeah, probably. Looks like somepony is taking really good care of it now. I wonder if that orange pony is still around.”

“I wonder if her hat is still too large for her head.”

Satisfied with their morning walk, the girls decided to head into town for a spell, commenting on and reminiscing over old memories all the while. As the sun started to set, they agreed to look for something to eat. Some of their favorite places from their youth were still around, but a few others closed or changed hooves and now served an entirely different menu.

“What about this place?” Vinyl asked. “Looks like a big gingerbread house.”

“It was a bakery the last time I was here… It looks more like a desert shop now. I don’t think I’d want to just eat sweets and pretend as though I had a decent meal.”

“C’mon, you’re on vacation,” Vinyl said, dragging her friend by a foreleg.

As they stepped inside the shop, Octavia looked around to confirm that it was still a bakery, and there didn’t appear to be any place to sit inside. She opened her mouth to speak to Vinyl, but before she could the DJ in question rang a bell at the counter.

“Just a second!” A raspy, almost nasally voice sounded from another room. The voice sounded friendly, if perhaps a little stressed. A short, plump, light-blue mare with a swirled pink mane came around a corner, smiling at them dearly. Octavia could hardly believe the voice came from her. She didn’t have to for long, though, as when she spoke it was with a voice as sweet as the confectioneries in her store.

“And what can I help you two with?” the mare asked.

“Just about everything,” Vinyl said, craning her neck in every direction, each pastry reflecting off her glasses, mouth salivating past her stretched grin ever so slightly.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place!”

“PUMPKIN!”

“Yes, dear?” the mare called to the first voice, still out of sight.

“Oh, not you, honey-bun! Our daughter! Pumpkin Cake, put the down, young lady! Oof!” a small sound like wood on brick echoed from an unseen location.

The mare at the counter sighed. “Could you girls excuse me for just one moment?” She disappeared back the way she came from for a spell, allowing Octavia and Vinyl to exchange a quick glance. When the mare returned, a small amount of flour showed through her usually pink mane. “Sorry, dearies… Newborns. They can be quite the hooffull, especially without Pinkie around…

“Wait, Pinkie Pie?” Vinyl asked. Octavia stiffened. “She works here?”

“Oh, why yes! Not today though… Why, do you know her?”

The DJ laughed. “We met at the wedding last week. Quite the party animal, that one.”

“Don’t I know it,” the blue mare grumbled. Octavia relaxed a little at this comment.

“Shoot, and I would have really liked to see her again, too,” Vinyl said, Octavia quietly disagreeing. “Is she around town at all?”

“No, she went with her friends to Canterlot just the other day. Took her ‘party cannon’ and everything! Though, it does seem like a bit much just for a test…”

“Oh, that thing with Twilight. I gotchya.”

“Wait, that mare is a part of that group?” Octavia asked. “The one that supposedly stopped Nightmare Moon and Discord?”

“Did, dear,” The mare behind the counter corrected. Octavia was about to respond when the shop owner cut her off. “You seem familiar, miss. Are you from around here?”

Octavia closed her mouth again, unsure how to respond. Vinyl did for her. “She used to be. Octy, for real, it’s okay to talk to ponies once in a while.”

“’Octy’? Oh! Octavia!” The blue mare’s expression increased happily. “I do remember you! Oh, we had barely just moved in the last time I saw you, but I see your mother almost every day. She’s been a real help more times than I can count, I’ll have you know.”

“I… I’m glad to hear it,” Octavia said with a smile.

“Oh! But listen to me go on! You girls are hungry, right?” Vinyl nodded with fervor.

“Can I have a ‘lemon surprise’?” she asked, pointing to a plate behind a glass case.

“You're lucky,” the owner said with a smile. “Those usually tend to go pretty fast. And for you, hun?”

“Hm?” Octavia had been lost in her thoughts for a moment. “Oh, uh… could I just have an apple?”

“Of course. Chocolate covered or caramel?”

“Oh, uh… Just the apple, if that’s alright…”

The blue mare looked disheartened, but said nothing. She put the two orders on the counter, and Vinyl insisted she pay. They took their treats to the park, which was thankfully mostly unchanged. They walked almost out of habit to one bench in particular overlooking a small pond. Other ponies walked and played around them. A soft harp could be heard between bouts of laughter.

“It’s really weird… Being back an' all,” Vinyl said, her first words since her first bite of muffin.

Octavia nodded, but when she noticed that Vinyl was looking elsewhere she spoke her agreement. “Yeah, it is. I can’t believe how much has changed.”

“I can’t believe what’s still the same.” Vinyl took another bit of her pastry, finishing it off. She crumpled up its paper wrapping and used her magic to float it over to a nearby waste bin.

“It really kind of put things into perspective,” Octavia said, after a brief moment.

“What does?” Vinyl asked. She looked up at her friend, watching the small waves of the pond reflected in lavender eyes.

“Everything,” Octavia said simply. When Vinyl didn’t respond, she continued, “Everything that’s happened the last few years. How things changed ponies. Changed me…”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Octy…” Vinyl said, trying to console her friend. “I mean, yeah, you changed a lot… But look at where we’re at now. We used to spend almost every day during the summer in this park. I know you’re not the same pony you used to be, but… I’m glad part of her is still in there somewhere.”

Octavia broke her gaze with the water to smile at her friend. As she looked into her own reflection in the DJ’s glasses, a thought occurred to her. “Vinyl, why do you wear those?”

“What?” Sunset had turned into dusk, and with it most of the ponies in the park had already left for their homes. The evening was now the quietest it had been.

“Your sunglasses. The sun’s down, Vinyl. You were about to tell my mother this morning about them.”

The DJ shrugged. “They make me look cool.”

Octavia shook her head. “Since when do you care about looks?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vinyl asked, her tone defensive.

“Nothing! I always just thought you didn’t care what other ponies thought. I mean, with how much teasing you received for your mane in school, I thought if you cared what was said you would have done something about it.”

“I liked my mane, Octy. Still do. I wasn’t the kind of pony who would pretend to be somepony else just so that other ponies would like her.”

Octavia sighed. “Vinyl, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No, I’m sorry.” Vinyl’s eyes squinted visibly behind her glasses, a hoof rising to rub her temple. “I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t deserve it.”

“I kind of do…” Everything was still for a moment, save for a soft rising moon. “But in all seriousness, you really don’t need those glasses at this hour. If I may…?” Octavia reached for the glasses upon her friend’s face.

“What? No way!” Vinyl fell over backwards avoiding Octavia’s reach, landing on her back. Some switch in Octavia’s mind flipped, and she smiled down at the DJ.

“Unhoof those glasses!”

“Back off!”

A foal-like glee overcoming her, Octavia dove from the bench and onto her friend. The two mares struggled in the dirt, one covering her face in defense. Octavia laughed like a little filly; she could somehow see why Vinyl had always enjoyed teasing her growing up. Vinyl managed to turn herself over, sitting low on her four hooves. Octavia took the opportunity to snatch the glasses from behind, her body weight holding the unicorn down.

“Ha ha!” Octavia sidled off her friend, narrowly avoiding the swipe of a white hoof. She stood on her hind legs for a moment, gazing at her prize with a wide grin.

“Okay, Octy… Give ‘em back.”

“I just got them!” Octavia placed them on her frame. “Is this how you really see the world? My, it’s a lot of purple…”

“Octavia. Give. Them. Back.”

The grey mare looked over at the DJ, a look a fury not seen in years upon it. Her elation dying, Octavia slowly removed the glasses to hand them back over to their owner. “I’m sorry, Vinyl, I didn’t mean to…” She gasped. She couldn’t help it. With the glasses removed and true color restored the world, she could tell that something was very, very wrong. Her friend’s once beautiful magenta eyes were now a deep blood red.

“Get a good look, Octy?”

Author's Note

Author's Note can be found here.

Chapter Nine

“Vinyl, I…” Octavia’s words were cut short as Vinyl snatched her glasses and replaced them on their owner’s face in two quick motions of her magic. Without a word, the unicorn stood up and walked away from her attacker.

“Vinyl! Wait!” Octavia stumbled to her hooves, desperate to catch up with her friend. Vinyl continued her silence. “Vinyl, I’m sorry! I didn’t know—!”

“You don’t touch the glasses,” the DJ finally said.

“Wh-what…?”

“No one touches them.” Vinyl stopped walking and turned her head to face Octavia. “No one. You don’t see me trying to grab at that bowtie of yours. Simple, stupid little thing, but it’s a part of who you are. So I don’t touch it.”

Octavia struggled for words. Hardly thirty seconds ago she finally felt as though she and her friend were rebuilding a bridge previously thought burnt for good. Now Vinyl stood at its edge, match in hoof. When the cellist gave up on finding words to somehow make the situation whole again, she looked at the ground, her body shaking. Vinyl continued to gaze at her, the glasses on her face letting no emotion through. She could have kept walking. She didn’t know whether or not Octavia would have the strength to follow, but she could have kept walking. Instead something burned in her. Words she long since believed she would never have the chance to say finally came forth.

“Do you know why I wear these?” Vinyl began. “What am I talking about; of course you do. You saw them. My eyes. Started happening just a few months after I got into the clubbing scene.” She started to pace around Octavia, observing her shudder from every angle.

“Ponies started asking me what was wrong. The eyes are a window into the soul, or so somepony once told me,” the DJ continued. “Not that I believed in souls at the time. Truth was, I was just losing a lot of sleep. A lot like when I was a filly.” Octavia remained silent, other than some heavy breathing. Vinyl’s voice started to increase, fueled by rage stored up for several years. “I told ponies that it was just because I was too busy living. It’s a party every day, every night down there; lemme tell ya. Ponies saw me in the clubs every time they went out, so they really didn’t question it too much. Heck, I even believed it. The thing I forgot, though, was that I was losing sleep even before I got big on that scene.”

Vinyl stopped circling her prey like a vulture. She now stood in front of the grey mare, tilting her head ever so slightly, unsuccessfully trying to read the emotions on Octavia’s face. She pressed on. “I was so mad at you, Octavia!” Vinyl’s voice cracked briefly. “I’d never been so mad in my entire life! I hated the very thought of you! So I stopped thinking about you. But that didn’t work. When I got a little money working gigs, I started buying some equipment from my old magazines. Thought maybe if I had the right gear, I could get the sounds and songs that had been banging against my skull since I was a filly out into the open. And I did. And you know what? They were great songs! I started playing my own music — my music — in the clubs, and ponies loved them. I wasn’t just a DJ anymore. I was an artist.”

Octavia’s head moved as though she were about to bring it up, then it fell as though she simply didn’t have the energy. Vinyl’s voice went from a roar to something much softer, though still carrying strong traces of venom. “It didn’t help. The songs were out of my head, and I was still lying awake every night. I even spent two weeks trying to remember and write down the song you used to play for me; I was that desperate. That didn’t help either. If anything, it made me worse.”

A few beads of water formed near where Octavia’s mane met the ground. Vinyl bent down low to address their source. “You see, Octy… I realized something you never did. When we were fillies, you said that song helped you sleep at night. Well guess what? That wasn’t it at all. There’s no such thing as a magical melody that just puts ponies to sleep. The reason you were able to sleep was because your mom sang it to you. And because you played it for me. It wasn’t the song. It was why the song was being played. When your mom sang it to you as a filly, it let you know that you were loved. When you played it for me… I felt loved. Ugh, Celestia, what I am I saying…” Vinyl stood herself back up again, no longer able to look at the shivering mass in front of her. “Look, I hate being sappy. But there it is. When you left, I had nothing. Do you have any idea what it’s like for somepony who you thought cared about you just decide they didn’t want to be in your life anymore?!”

Octavia finally looked up, her eyes like two violet oceans, and stared right into the heart of the DJ.

* - * - * -

“C’mon! Just say, ‘strawberry’!”

Octavia said nothing.

“No, say, ‘water bottle’!”

Octavia said nothing, and turned a page in her book.

“Give it a rest, you two. Octavia isn’t some doll you make talk by pulling a string.”

Giggling, the two fillies a few years younger than the musical duo left the study area, leaving Vinyl and Octavia to themselves. The white counterpart turned to her grey roommate.

“How much longer are you planning on keeping this charade going, Octy?”

Octavia laughed. “We’re only a year from graduating, Vinyl. I’ve been pretending to be a Canterlot pony for this long, and I don’t see much reason in raising a fuss.”

Vinyl snorted. Octavia started talking with the noble accent years prior, and for some reason insisted on continuing to use it. She would say that it was practice for living and performing in the Great City someday, but sometimes Vinyl wondered if maybe she was just using it to hold herself a few notches above her peers. She could never bring herself to openly admit this, of course. “So are you going to stick with the cello for our final?” Vinyl asked.

“I think so,” Octavia answered, “although the double bass is a close second.”

“What, not the violin?” Vinyl asked with a snigger.

Octavia smiled and shook her head. She still had the violin she used to play as a filly, but had since grown tall enough and trained well enough to use it properly. It didn’t stop her from spending a few slow nights squatting on their bedroom floor and playing it the way she did as a filly, singing with a drawl for her roommate’s amusement. “What about you?” Octavia asked, returning the question.

“I dunno, I’m kind of leaning towards the keyboard…” Vinyl admitted.

“Piano,” Octavia corrected.

“Keyboard,” Vinyl replied, not looking up from the book she was studying. She took a quick sip from a cup sitting next to her. “It’s the only thing I’ve really gotten into here, though that’s probably because of all the time I spent converting the one in practicals into a synthesizer.”

“The look on Professor Baton’s face when you played The Equestrian National Anthem using a cacophony of quacking noises will always be one of my most cherished memories of this place.”

“Mine too,” Vinyl laughed. “As will the fact that I ran his detention slip booklet dry that day. I don’t think he ever thought he would need to buy a second one.”

As the girls sat giggling together in their studies, a mare around their own age knocked on the open doorway.

“Hey, are you Octavia Melody? Ooh, neat record player—!”

“Don’t touch,” Vinyl said without emotion, batting a yellow hoof. Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle; even after all these years the turntable was Vinyl’s most prized possession, and the fact that Octavia was the one to bring it into her life warmed her to no end. It was in remarkably good shape for its age as well, save for one scratch at the top, the colt who put it there now sporting a similar one that never seemed to heal quite right.

Octavia turned to the newcomer. “Yes, my name is Octavia Melody,” she said with a regal voice.

“A scroll came in for you today,” the mare explained, rubbing her hoof slightly. “I was sent to deliver it to you.”

“Really?” Octavia asked. “Couldn’t they have just dropped it in the mail box, as they usually do?”

The mare shrugged. “I’m just the messenger,” she said, hoofing an envelope to Octavia. “Anyways, I’ve got some studying to do myself. Be seeing ya.”

Vinyl continued to stare intently at the book in front of her, while Octavia’s gaze was now fixed on the new parchment. She carefully tore it open using the edge of her hoof and removed its contents. Vinyl didn’t pay it much mind; Octavia was the best student in their class. Little surprises and special treatment weren’t exactly uncommon for her. What did catch her attention was the sudden heavy breathing, quickly accompanied by stifled sobs. Vinyl looked up, heart suddenly beating unusually fast for somepony simply sitting down. “Octy… What happened.”

Octavia’s lower eyelids were raised high, acting as floodgates. Her mouth was wide, teeth bared, and her ears were flat against her skull. “It’s Dad,” she managed. “He left mom.”

* - * - * -

“So don’t you dare even assume that I don’t know what that kind of pain is like!” Octavia screamed, the cold memory still fresh on her tongue. “He was my father! He was supposed to love Mom and me no matter what! Instead he blamed me for taking all of our money for school, and Mom for not making more herself!” Octavia rubbed her eyes. “So he just left. He left, and never said where. As though neither of us meant anything. His flesh and blood and the mare he swore to love forever. Poof. Gone.”

Vinyl’s ears dropped, and her entire frame shrank. “Aw, jeez, Octy… I had no idea that was still bothering you. I mean, the whole time we’ve been here, you didn’t seem—”

“I’ve been putting on a mask, Vinyl.” Octavia said, her voice starting to cool. “The fact of the matter is that every time I thought of this town, I had to remind myself that he wasn’t here anymore. Every time I thought of my mom, I remembered how… dead she became. Like her very life force went with him, and left a shell behind. Everything that used to make me happy turned around and did nothing but make me miserable.”

Vinyl stared at Octavia for a moment. “That’s…” she uttered. “That’s exactly how I felt.”

Octavia got to her hooves, arching her back into a perfect posture. “So you see? I do know what it’s like.”

“But you still had me!” Vinyl said suddenly. “Was the pain really so bad you had to push me out of your mind too?”

“Vinyl…” Octavia began, posture faltering and head falling, “When I first found out what my dad did, you were there for me. You were the only one there for me. And I can never let you know how much that meant to me at the time. But…”

“’But’…?” Vinyl took a step forward.

Octavia looked up. “That summer… It changed me. You knew that better than anypony. I turned into a mindless automaton, and put all of my effort into the one thing that I believed could never leave me. My music. I just wish I could go back and slap some sense into that big fat—”

“Octavia.” Vinyl was now close enough to put a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I… I really went off on you just now, and you didn’t deserve that. Well, at one time you did, but not now. I can tell you’re trying, and that counts for something. To me, anyway.”

Octavia sniffed. Then she smiled. “Right now I feel like you’re the only pony it should matter to.”

Vinyl smiled back, then did something long overdue for the two girls: her hoof slid around Octavia’s shoulder, her other foreleg soon doing the same, and pulled her into a deep hug. It wasn’t as rib-crushing as the one Octavia received from her mother the day before, but with its embrace she felt something that had been missing from her heart fill once again, if only ever so slightly. Octavia returned the hug, the void filling more as she did so.

“Your mom too.”

“What?” Octavia pulled herself back far enough to look at the voice’s owner properly.

“Your mom. It should matter to her too. Although I’m under the impression that she forgave you a long time ago, so pretty sure you’re in the clear there.”

Octavia chuckled and removed a hoof from behind her friend to give her eye one last rub. “Thanks.”

“Err… Am I interrupting anything?”

The two musicians looked over to the source of the new voice, pulling themselves apart after realizing they were no longer alone. A mint green unicorn stood on a path that snaked by the pair, a lyre poking gently out of a saddlebag on her back.

“Oh… Hello, Lyra. What brings you here?”

“I thought I heard your voices,” she answered. “I know it’s late, but I got caught up talking to Miss Cheerilee. She’s the school teacher here,” she said as an explanation to two confused looks.

“Oh…” Vinyl said.

“Yeah… I was actually hoping to bump into you guys again while you were here. I mentioned that I ran into you yesterday to Cheerilee, and that you’ve both been doing really well career-wise. She hoped that I would ask you guys, if you don’t mind, if you would want to come by the schoolhouse tomorrow, maybe talk to the students about what you do…?” she tried hopefully. “Apparently they started doing some lessons on music recently, and with some of the kids still not having cutie marks… Well, she thought maybe you guys could inspire them or something.”

Vinyl and Octavia looked at one another. Eventually Octavia responded, “Well, I’m not sure how much longer we planned to stay, but I daresay one more day couldn’t hurt much. I found my special talent in that schoolhouse myself, you know.” She turned to Vinyl. “Would you mind…?”

“What, are you kidding? Reliving the glory days with my best friend in front of a bunch of impressionable young minds?” Vinyl turned back to Lyra. “You bet. Tell this Cheerilee mare that we’d love to.”

“Great!” Lyra said happily, the task recently given to her so quickly accomplished. “I’ll go swing by her place now; hopefully she’s still awake. I think her classes start at nine.”

Octavia nodded. “We’ll be there.”

“Perfect. Catch you guys later!” With a wave and a smile, Lyra left the two musicians to themselves.

Octavia spoke first. “Well, I suppose we should discuss what we’re going to say… Just so that we are on the same page, and the like.”

“Nah, we’ll be fine wingin’ it,” Vinyl replied. “Besides, it really is getting kind of late. We should get some sleep.”

“Ah… Yes… yes, of course,” Octavia said, following Vinyl back to her mother’s house. “Erm, Vinyl…”

“Hm?”

“I know I don’t have any instruments with me or at the house, but… if you want… maybe I could ask my mom, to, um…”

Vinyl chuckled. “I’m not a filly anymore, Octavia. I don’t need a mother to sing me to sleep. Besides; I’ve got a gut feeling I’m going to sleep just fine tonight.”

Octavia smiled sadly. They walked quietly back to a very familiar home, the light of the moon guiding them.

* - * - * -

“I’ll write you every day, okay?”

“Vinyl, I…” Octavia had trouble finding her voice. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? I know mom would love seeing you again.”

“I’m sure, Octy.” Vinyl put her hoof on the budding cellist’s shoulder, the hustle and bustle of the train station around them lost to their senses. “You guys are dealing with a lot right now, and I really feel like what you guys need is some time alone to be there for one another. I’ll be there in spirit. And… Well… with your dad gone…” Vinyl hesitated, unsure if she should even finish her sentence. “Look, I know things are going to be hard… financially. You guys never said anything, but I know spending every winter and summer break there since we met can’t have been easy. And I don’t want to be a burden. Your mom doesn’t need that.”

“Vinyl, you were never once a burden to my mother…”

“Shush.” Vinyl now had both hooves on her friend’s shoulders. “I’m going to write you first. Remind you that I’m out here thinking about you. Okay?” Octavia nodded vigorously, but made no sound. “And then you can write back to me whenever you’re ready to. Let it all out or just talk about the weather, it doesn’t matter to me as long as I know you’re healing.”

Octavia nodded more. Vinyl pulled her friend into a warm embrace, paying no mind to her dampening shoulder. “I’m going to miss you so much, Vinyl…”

“I’ll miss you too,” Vinyl said, pulling her friend back to show her the honesty in her eyes. “and I’ll be right here when you get back, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Say hi to your mom for me. And Rarity, too.”

Octavia sniffed. “I thought you hated Rarity?”

Vinyl chuckled. “Nah, I could never hate that pony. I mean, yeah, you guys talking about fashion and ‘high society’ all the time got on my nerves, but she’s got a good heart.”

Octavia gave a small giggle.

“There.” Vinyl pointed at Octavia with one hoof. “That laugh. Take that with you. It’s my gift to you.”

Having trouble forming words, Octavia simply pulled her friend into another hug.

With the sound of a whistle placing the them back into the world, the two friends hesitantly pulled away from one another, the grey mare somberly boarding the train, and the white unicorn staying rooted until it was out of sight. Three months later the station looked almost exactly the same, with the exception that the train came from a different direction. A white unicorn stood as though she hadn’t left her spot in all that time.

As the train came to a halt and ponies began to disembark, Vinyl Scratch spun her head in every direction for any sign of her favorite mare. When she finally spotted a familiar black mane, she headed as directly for it as possible with other ponies trying to push past in the direction she just came.

“Octy!” Vinyl threw her forelegs around her old friend’s neck. “I was starting to worry about you! When you stopped writing, I… Hey, is everything okay?”

Octavia stood with Vinyl around her neck, receiving the hug but hardly returning it. Slowly she lifted a hoof to gently remove her pony-sized necklace. “Everything is fine, Vinyl. I am pleased to see you again.”

“You don’t sound fine…” Vinyl said backing up, sounding a little hurt.

“I said I am, and I’d rather like it if you believe me.”

“Oh… kay…” Vinyl could not have been more confused. This mare looked like Octavia, but she couldn’t help but feel as though some force had replaced her in a few short months’ time.

The two girls walked from the train station to the school, hardly saying a word the entire time. Vinyl tried to initiate conversation at multiple moments with such simple questions like “How was your summer”, or “How is your mom doing”, but the grey mare only gave back curt replies rarely consisting of more than one word. Once at the school the girls made for the same room they lived most their lives in. Octavia didn’t unpack much; her things included a violin case, a small pouch with a few different bow ties, and a set of very plain bed sheets. Vinyl allowed silence to overtake the room for a while before finally mustering the courage to try a much harder question for Octavia to answer before the mare in question spoke first.

“I’m heading for the cafeteria.”

“Oh…” Vinyl said, courage now leaving her. “Yeah, I’ll uh… I’ll join you.”

The silence during their walk continued to plague Vinyl. Something terrible must have happened while her friend was away, and the fact that she felt she couldn’t trust the closest thing she had to a sister was incredibly unsettling.

“Hey, farm pony!”

Both roommates stopped dead in their tracks. They turned to see a group of three mares standing not far from them, staring right in their direction. Two of the mares — one grey and the other pink — were looking at them with evil-looking smirks. The third stood just behind them, her mint-green hoof falling from where it was pointing, as was her smile and the look in her amber eyes.

“What did you call me?!” Octavia snarled.

“Well, we were just talking to Lyra here…” the pink mare said. She and her smiling counterpart started walking towards the pair of roommates. “Do you know her? Few years younger than us. Big campus. Hard to meet ponies.” The pink mare spoke quickly, as though trying to get trivialities out of the way before reaching her main point. “Aaanyway… Guess what she just told us?”

“What,” Octavia asked, her single word laced with as much venom as possible.

“She says that she saw you quite a bit this summer. Trying to get a job in the town you both grew up in. In Ponyville.”

Octavia’s teeth were grinding, the noise from doing so being her only response. Vinyl looked back and forth between her and the antagonists, unsure what to say or do.

“Well?” the pink mare asked, her counterpart simply smiling smugly. “As a Canterlot pony, doesn’t that offend you?”

“Hey, lay off of her—” Vinyl finally found her voice, but Octavia quickly scared it off again.

“I will have you know that I will have nothing to do with that town!” Octavia yelled, fury cracking in her voice. “It has never produced anything of any significance, and a pony with my raw talent has no place among the filth that stems from it!”

Vinyl stumbled backwards, disbelief hanging onto every word.

Octavia continued her rant. “I have already been approached by an agency in Canterlot for a job upon graduation, playing for only the most lavish of nobility weddings! You,” she said, leaning into the two mares in front of her, “are nothing. It is my name at the top of every honor roll this school has produced since my arrival.” Octavia pulled herself back into a proper posture, her heavy breathing becoming steadier. She closed her eyes, and with an adjustment of her bowtie she said, “I am every bit a Canterlot pony. And you would do well to remember that.”

The two mares opposite Octavia hardly looked concerned. They said nothing, and walked away with a casual roll of their eyes. In the distance a mint-green unicorn was trying her best to leave quietly, making herself as small as possible while doing so.

Octavia gave her hair a small whip and resumed walking in perfect form. One wouldn’t even think her recent outburst just happened. Vinyl sat stunned for a moment or two before she trotted up next to her roommate.

“Jeez, Octy… That was…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Vinyl.”

“Octavia.” Vinyl put a hoof out to stop her friend. The grey mare turned to look at her with one steely eye. “What happened this summer? Something’s changed you, and I feel like I have a right to know.”

“What happened,” Octavia began, lowering the white hoof in front of her, “is that I realized everything I just said.”

“Octy, you can’t seriously mean that—”

“I do, Vinyl.” Octavia turned to speak with the unicorn directly. “When I arrived home, my mother was an absolute mess. I comforted her the best I could, but nothing worked. Each and every day was exactly the same, and even though I started to get better, she never did. She still didn’t have a steady job, so I started looking for some to support us. I played at a birthday party. Two weddings. After that, no pony seemed interested in hiring a classically trained musician.” Octavia lowered her head and continued speaking through grit teeth. “So I went to the park to play for change like a common beggar. It was by far the single most humiliating thing in my life. I have talent! I have potential! And no pony in that sorry excuse for a town has the common decency to recognize it.”

“Octy…”

“My father was smart enough to recognize this, rotten as he may be,” Octavia said, her eyes like two lavender plumes of fire. “He saw that no pony could get ahead there. No one from that town was worth knowing. And my mother,” she snarled, “stays even though there’s no opportunity there. She’s a fool. And I would be a fool to stay there as well. My place is not among the common folk. My destiny is to be a great Canterlot musician, and my path is already well on its way to achieving just that.”

“Octavia, you’ve never even been to Canterlot…”

“I will be spending winter break with the company that has hired me, and will move there permanently in the summer,” Octavia said matter-of-factly. “I’ve been convincingly imitating their speech and mannerisms for years; there’s no doubt I will find myself quite comfortable there.”

“Winter break? But what about your mom?”

“I’ve already made myself quite clear on that,” Octavia said simply.

Vinyl stood dumbstruck, her mouth agape. When they grey mare tired of this image, she resumed her walk towards the cafeteria. Vinyl watched her leave, unsure if she could even follow the monster that replaced her best friend.

She didn’t.

The first practicals class of the semester was just a day later. Vinyl Scratch was fighting heavy eyelids; sleep did not come easily to her that night, despite everything being perfectly quiet. Professor Baton, a balding blue stallion with wispy white hair, was calling off names.

“Magic?”

“Here.”

“Maker?”

“Here.”

“Media?”

“Here.”

“Melody?”

No answer came forth. Baton looked over his name roster into the string section of his class where his star pupil clearly sat. He tried again. “Melody?”

“That’s not my name,” the cellist replied.

The professor blinked. After a beat, a look of understanding crossed over his face. “Ah, yes… I heard about your father. It’s not uncommon for ponies to renounce a name when… Well. I assume you go by your mother’s name now? Miss Philharmoica, if I remember correctly…?”

“That. Is not my name either,” the grey mare said coolly, turning so her eyes could bore directly into her professor’s.

“Erm… Than how should I refer to you?” the instructor inquired.

“Octavia. Just. Octavia.”

“…Very well.”

It could have been from lack of sleep, or from something else, but not one pony even bothered to notice a single tear trail down a white unicorn’s cheek and onto the surface of a timpani in the back of the room.

Author's Note

Author's Note can be found here.

Chapter Ten

The morning saw few clouds on an otherwise sunny day. The air had a gentle warmth to it, and it was complimented by a soft breeze. Two mares walked near the western edge of the quiet farming town towards a small red schoolhouse, a matching flag on a pole flapping peacefully. Several years had passed since Octavia last set hoof in the building, yet by all accounts it did not look as though it changed much. She was split between wanting to groan or giggle at the sight of the heart-shaped decals still shiningly brightly from different points on the structure.

“That’s where you went to school here?” Vinyl asked.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Octavia replied in an annoyed yet cheery tone.

“Nothing, it’s just… It’s so small.”

“Yes, well,” Octavia said, stepping towards the schoolhouse, “there really isn’t very many fillies or colts here at all. You’ve seen the size of this town. Why are you even surprised? We used to play on the equipment here all the time.”

Vinyl shrugged. “I always thought it was like a utility closet for groundskeepers or something.”

“Vinyl.”

“What?”

Octavia sighed. “Nothing. Shall we?”

“Mm-hm,” Vinyl hummed. Octavia walked up to the schoolhouse’s door and gave it two knocks. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Vinyl grinning and bobbing her head to an unheard beat. After a moment the door swung open wide to greet its two guests.

“Oh, right on time!” Miss Cheerilee, a fuchsia earth pony, said happily. Closing the door behind the two musicians, the teacher addressed her dozen or so students sitting in barely knee high desks. “My little ponies, we have two very special guests today! I want you to give a big Ponyville welcome to Miss Octavia and Miss Vinyl!”

“Actually, I usually go by—” The DJ’s voice was drowned out by a practiced and almost bored sounding chorus of “Goood mooorning Miss Octavia and Miss Vinylll…” Despite the robotic tone of the foals’ greeting, most of them bore bright smiles and shining eyes. Celestia, these kids are cute, Vinyl thought to herself, deciding to forget about finishing her sentence. She noticed one filly looking at her funny, as though trying to remember something. Vinyl tried to not stare back; she looked familiar somehow.

Octavia blushed slightly and giggled at the sight. “Hello, fillies and colts.”

“Sup.” Vinyl grinned.

“Vinyl, Octavia, why don’t you start by talking about what you do in your careers?” Cheerilee suggested.

“Yeah, sure,” Vinyl answered. “Octy, you wanna go first?”

“Vinyl, please don’t use nicknames in front of the students,” Octavia said in a hushed whisper. The DJ only continued grinning in response. Clearing her voice, Octavia spoke up to address the class. “Well, as Miss Cheerilee said, my name is Octavia. I currently play with a number of different ponies and ensembles in Canterlot, and—”

“What’s a on-sawm-bull?”

“Apple Bloom, you need to raise your hoof if you want to ask any questions,” Cheerilee instructed.

“Oh, sorry…” The small yellow filly with a red mane and large pink bow containing it put one foreleg in the air.

Octavia giggled and waved the hoof back down. “It means a group of ponies who play music together.”

“Why not just say that?”

“Scootaloo.”

“Sorry…” This time an orange hoof went into the air.

It was Vinyl’s turn to chuckle. “That’s just how they talk in Canterlot, kid.”

Octavia gave the DJ a quick look before continuing. “Yes, well, as I was saying, I play with a number of different and very talented musicians in Canterlot, and—”

“What’s Canterlot like?”

“Sweetie Belle! Really, girls, try to show some respect for our guests!”

“Sorry, Miss Cheerilee…” A small white unicorn with a lavender and pink mane sank into her seat.

Octavia considered making another attempt at finishing her first sentence, but before she could another filly spoke up.

“Why are you even asking? We’ve been to Canterlot!”

“I just want to know what it’s like living there!”

“Diamond Tiara, Sweetie Belle, please!” Miss Cheerilee was starting to lose a small amount of patience. She turned to the cellist. “I’m so sorry, Miss Octavia. Maybe we should hold questions until the end…?”

Octavia nodded. “That may work more in our favor, yes.” She turned to face the class. “Does that seem reasonable to you fillies and colts?”

Most of the class nodded at her, two or three looked at one another with anxious looks, and two others looked as though they didn’t care either way.

“Very well,” Octavia said, standing up straight. “To continue, I play with a number of Canterlot’s finest. We work in a guild of sorts. That means a group of ponies in one town who work and practice together,” she explained to the class, a few faces clearly wishing they could voice enough to ask for the meaning of her words themselves. They stayed obedient and remained quiet, however. The orange pegasus Cheerilee called Scootaloo opened and closed her mouth a few times, but also remained silent.

“Essentially how our guild works,” Octavia continued, “is that all of us have our own experiences and connections. Whenever a call or scroll comes in asking for performers for an event, we decide amongst ourselves who will attend said event, unless of course the pony hiring the performance asks for anypony specifically. Through the guild I’ve performed for many events and important ponies over the years, including various ceremonies, weddings of esteemed individuals, and even the Grand Galloping Gala. My work keeps me quite busy, but when one works so closely to their special talent it can all be very rewarding.” Octavia’s eyes opened and looked upwards at the ceiling for a moment. “I believe that’s about the general idea of it. You may ask questions now,” she said, her gaze returning to the little ponies in front of her.

A few hooves rose into the air. Octavia looked over to Cheerilee, who gave her a small nod. Octavia picked a random hoof. “Yes, in the spectacles.”

A grey filly with a white mane put her hoof down. “You said you play at weddings… Does the include the royal wedding?” A few of the fillies looked more interested, the colts a little less so.

“Actually, that one was me,” Vinyl said, stepping forward. Octavia felt a pang of irritation.

“Ooh-ooh-ooh!” Sweetie Belle’s hoof waved in the air furiously. “That’s where I know you from! We were there too!” she said, motioning to herself, the orange pegasus on her right, and the yellow earth pony on her left.

“Yeah, right,” Diamond Tiara said, folding her forelegs. “Stop trying to make us believe that.”

“Oh yeah,” Vinyl said, scratching her chin. “You’re Rarity’s sister, right?” Sweetie Belle nodded vigorously, while Diamond Tiara’s jaw dropped.

“Your music was fun!” Sweetie said enthusiastically. “It was different, but fun!”

Vinyl chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard stuff like that before.”

“So when you play music, how do you—”

“My little ponies!” Cheerilee called. “We are forgetting our hooves again!” The foals settled down, several hooves rising into the air as they did. All of them were looking at Vinyl. Cheerilee spoke again. “Now, does anypony else have any questions for Miss Octavia?”

Each raised hoof slowly lowered, and Octavia’s heart sank with them. Sweetie Belle looked to the cellist, and after a thought put her hoof back into the air. Octavia looked at her and nodded.

“So, um, what kind of instruments do you play?”

Octavia gave a small smile. “I’m classically trained to use most string instruments. I tend to switch between the cello and the double bass, although I also have a good amount of experience with the violin.” Vinyl gave a warm chuckle.

“Oh… That’s cool too, I guess.” Sweetie Belle looked as though she was hoping for a different answer.

“Anypony else?” Cheerilee looked around at her students. “No? Well then thank Miss Octavia, and give your attention to Miss Vinyl.”

The fillies and colts in the room clopped their hooves together politely, attention now on the white unicorn standing before them. Octavia couldn’t help but feel somewhat hurt, and a little irritated; she had hoped the students there would have been much more interested in what she had to say.

“Alright, so me,” Vinyl said, taking a step or two forward. “Like Miss Cheerilee said, my name is Vinyl, but in Manehattan I go by my stage name: DJ Pon-Three.”

Scootaloo put her hoof up. “Now, now,” Cheerilee said, “We said no questions until after our guests speak.”

“It’s okay, I got this,” Vinyl said. She gave a quick point to the orange pegasus.

“What’s a stage name?” Scootaloo asked.

Vinyl chuckled. “Good question! I guess it’s kind of like a nickname. It’s not your real name, but it’s what a lot of ponies know you by when you get famous. It gives you presence. Character.”

“Like digging ditches?” Apple Bloom asked. “Mah sister says that builds character.”

Vinyl laughed again. “No, what I mean is it’s like you’re a different pony when you’re on a stage. Some ponies like to pretend they’re somepony else when they’re in front of a crowd.”

“Why?”

Vinyl shrugged. “We all have our different reasons, I guess.”

“What’s your reason?”

“Hm?”

A small blue colt in the back with a spiky tan mane spoke up for the first time that day. “Why would you want to be somepony else?”

Vinyl considered his words for a moment. “I guess I never thought about that,” she finally admitted. “Came to me in school, and I guess it just kind of stuck.” Octavia shifted awkwardly. “Anyways,” Vinyl said, continuing, “I’m big on the club scene in Manehattan.” Octavia’s head shot up, her eyes wide and pupils small. “And I play the music in the clubs there. Every so often somepony who’s heard my work or who I owe a favor to will ring me up with a gig. Then I ship all my gear to their place, and usually they have a few ponies to help unload and set up and stuff. I play the music I like, and I get to play it as loud as I like all night long.”

Most of the students were leaning forward in their desks, eyes wide.

“So yeah, I guess that’s basically it,” Vinyl said, rubbing her chin. “You guys have any questions?” Several hooves shot into the air. “Yeah, you,” the DJ said, pointing as a grey-ish white colt with a dark mane.

“What do you mean by ‘equipment’?” the colt asked. “Don’t you play an instrument?”

Vinyl chuckled. “Kind of. See, what I do is a lot more electronic based. I take sounds and stuff from other songs, and… I guess it’s like taking them apart and putting all the pieces back together again in a way I like,” she said with some thought. “So I have some machines and stuff that let me do this, and some speakers that plug into them so I can make it really, really loud. Does that make sense?” The colt nodded, but his face still showed a little confusion. “Okay, you,” Vinyl said, pointing to a filly.

“What’s a ‘club’?” Apple Bloom asked. Octavia’s heartbeat quickened. “Ya mean like the ones mah brother Macintosh uses when the moles start getting ‘venturous in the orchards?”

“You’re Big Mac’s sister?” Vinyl looked over to Octavia briefly, before returning to the filly. “Remind me to tell you a story later.”

“Vinyl…”

“Clubs!” the DJ said, startling the cellist. “Clubs are these places where ponies go to hang out. Have fun. They get pretty crazy. There’s really no place like ‘em.”

“Yes, but, uh,” Octavia coughed, “They’re also meant to be enjoyed by older ponies… They’re not meant for colts and fillies your age.”

After hearing this, some of the students look disheartened, others enthralled by the idea of something so forbidden. Vinyl shot Octavia a look through her glasses. Cheerilee start looking uncomfortable. “Why don’t the two of you talk about your school?” she said, hoping to change the subject.

“Ah, yes, The Manehattan School of Music,” Octavia sighed, a small smile crossing her face. Vinyl broke her gaze with her. “One of the finer academies in Equestria, if I may say. Students from several different regions go to study there. I learned a lot from its educators, and entirely owe where I am now to it.”

Vinyl gave a brief huff. Octavia looked at her.

“Did I say something wrong, Miss Vinyl?” Octavia asked coolly.

Vinyl shrugged. “Yeah, that school was good to you, I guess. It’s only good if that’s the kind of thing you want to learn though.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Octavia asked, rounding to face her counterpart.

Vinyl shrugged again, and continued staring at no place in particular. “Just that they teach very specific things there,” she said. “The stuff I use every day they didn’t even touch. I mean, yeah, the first few years were nice to get the basics down, but after that it was just jumping through hoops. I learned what I really wanted to on my own. I’m doing just fine now, even without a piece of paper from that place to prove I’m worth anything.”

“Vinyl!” Octavia said, her shock obvious. Her voice got very low. “You cannot say that in front of these students!”

“What, that I didn’t graduate?” Vinyl didn’t bother to quiet her voice like Octavia did. “What’s so bad about that? School wasn’t right for me, and I’m doing just fine without it.”

Octavia turned to the class and gave a strained laugh. “Oh, she’s just kidding, kids,” she said. “Of course it’s very important to get a proper education, and—”

“Whoa! Hold up!” Vinyl said, now turning to face the cellist. “I am not joking here! The fact of the matter is, some ponies go to school, and some ponies don’t, and you don’t have to graduate in order to be successful!”

“Successful?!” Octavia cried, now looking right into a pair of purple shades. “You think spending every day and night playing for a crowd barely even coherent for scraps of cash from shady club owners and selling T-shirts with a pretend name on it from a rickety stand in order to pay rent on an apartment that’s barely livable is successful?!”

“Hey! I’m not telling them how you live!” Vinyl screamed back. Cheerilee raised a hoof, but quickly retracted it when voices escalated. “Miss prissy-pants here is doing sooooo great! In fact, sacrificing every pony who ever cared about her turned out so well, that she didn’t even bother trying to talk to them in bucking YEARS!”

“Vinyl, you are so… UGH!” Octavia threw up her forelegs in disgust. “You can’t just tell these kids to not go to school! If they want an excellent career they need to study, and get in the right circles, and—”

“BUCK that!”

“Girls!” Cheerilee was desperately hoping for some lid on the situation, but it was clear it boiled over long ago.

“Not every pony is meant for school! But you just can’t see that!” Vinyl was reeling. “Some are, but you can’t tell every pony they have to! That’s not how life is! Some of them will find out that they’re not good at school, but you can’t leave them to think that means they’re worthless! There are so many ponies out there changing the world, and have no slip of paper telling them they’re qualified for it! THEY FIGURED IT OUT ON THEIR OWN!”

“YOU’RE NOT CHANGING THE WORLD BY CLUBBING, VINYL!”

The DJ was silent, her mouth slightly open. She stared at the grey mare before her, Octavia’s chest heaving. “I’m changing my world,” she said, several decibels lower than most of the conversation had been. “Believe it or not, I matter there. Ponies know me. Ponies like me. And they like me for being who I am. And I think I’m going to head back there.” Vinyl turned towards the door, stopping briefly. “The next time you try to enter that world, Octy… Remind me that I never gave you a visa.” With that, the DJ left the building.

Octavia stood where she was, still taking heaving, gasping breaths to refill her screaming lungs. The schoolhouse was the quietest it had been all day, with its teacher’s mind racing to find a proper way to manage damage control. Eventually a yellow filly turned to the white unicorn sitting next to her.

“Ya know, mah cousin from Manehattan is comin’ in a few weeks… Maybe we can just see if she knows anythin’ about the music there.”

* - * - * -

Vinyl sat alone in her shared bedroom, drawing casually on a piece of paper in front of her. A record player nearby was quietly playing her latest taste in the rising techno music trend. She looked up when the sound of soft hoof steps reached her doorway. Her roommate stood there, a scroll poking out of her saddlebag.

“Hey, Octy, what’s up?” Vinyl asked. Her roommate said nothing. “Right… Listen, I think it’s kind of cool how you want to just be called ‘Octavia’ now. It’s like a lot of the big artists do these days, you know? Like some day you’re going to be so famous you only need one name.” Octavia continued her silence. “Look,” Vinyl said, grabbing the paper in front of her and holding it up for the cellist to see. “I’ve been working on my own stage name. I think ‘DJ Deadhorse’ (you pronounce the five like an ‘S’, you see) might be a little too harsh, but I kind of like the sound of ‘DJ Pon-Three’. Just ‘Scratch’ is a good second though…”

Octavia gave a huff. Vinyl looked up from her list and into a cool set of purple eyes. “I did not ask to be called by my first name to try to be artistic, Vinyl. And the very notion that you’re attempting to find a imaginary title preceded by ‘DJ’ just goes to show how little respect you have for this craft at all.”

Vinyl’s paper fell to the floor as its owner fell backwards in shock, mouth gaping open. The cellist hardly seemed to pay it any mind, instead focusing on removing the scroll from her saddlebag. She placed it at Vinyl’s hooves. “Sign this,” she said simply.

“Wh-what?” Vinyl asked, some of her senses returning to her. “What is it?”

“A room change request.”

“What?!”

“It’s for me, Vinyl. I’m not asking you to leave.”

“That’s not the point!” Vinyl stumbled to her hooves. “Why would you want to leave? We’ve shared this room since we were fillies!”

“I’m finding it rather difficult to focus on my studies,” Octavia said, looking around the room.

“What, is it the music? I thought you were starting to like it! You said so last year! I can turn it down if—”

“It’s not just the music, Vinyl.”

“What are you talking about?”

Octavia looked at her. “It’s hardly personal. The fact of the matter is that in our last year of classes, I need to be in peak learning conditions. The last few years of living together I somehow managed to stay on top of everything, but living with the poorest performer in the class… Well, statistically it doesn’t present the best odds for graduation.”

Vinyl was still for a moment. “Are. You. Kidding me?!”

“I hardly jest, Vinyl.”

“You honestly think… Octavia! We have lived together for years, and you’ve always come on top of every test! You really think you’re in danger of not graduating because we hang out?!”

“Hardly,” Octavia said with a flick of her hair. “But I do feel the need to take measures against such.” She tapped the scroll between them with a hoof. Vinyl looked down at it, then back up again.

“You think I’m a joke…” Vinyl said through gritted teeth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “You think that just because I’m not very good at taking tests that I won’t ever amount to anything, huh?!” Her voice raised considerably. “IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK?! SAY IT!”

Octavia regarded Vinyl’s demeanor with a quiet indifference. “I don’t believe I need to.” She tapped the parchment between them a few more times. Vinyl’s eyes squinted into the violet pair in front of her, the warmth the color used to bring her no longer present. She finally squinted her eyes shut and promptly sat on the floor. A quill from her desk was suddenly surrounded by a light blue aura and levitated down to scribble hurriedly before being violently launched perpendicular to the two mares.

Octavia casually picked the form up, rolled it, and replaced it in her saddlebag. “Thank you.” She stepped back out into the hallway, stopping for a moment. “Good-bye, Vinyl Scratch.” Vinyl said nothing; there was no longer anypony in the doorframe to say anything to.

The next day Manehattan’s School of Music practicals class began as it always did.

“Radio?”

“Here.”

“Ring?”

“Here.”

“Rush?”

“Here.”

“Scratch?”

A silence filled the room, one more pronounced than what was regular for the class. Ponies looked back to the percussion section where a certain white unicorn would ordinarily spend the first few minutes of class entertaining herself with various loud bangs and rattles. No pony stood there.

“Has anypony seen Scratch?”

Eyes turned instead to a grey mare in the strings section. She seemed completely oblivious to the onlookers, her attention instead on absent-mindedly adjusting the pegs at the top of her instrument.

The next few weeks were fairly uneventful. The sun rose, and the moon fell. Winter came and gave birth to spring. A school for musically inclined ponies held an annual ceremony with its students in the finest regalia, one in particular decorated with almost every additional article the school had to offer. She stood on a stage with a number of other ponies, shook hooves with some much older than she or her peers, received a small slip of paper with a few signatures written on its face, and left the stage to complete the yearly tradition. An older mare with a similarly colored coat and a mane to match her eyes could be seen speaking with her briefly, though if no one was paying attention they may have not even seen the act. The younger mare was shortly on her way, leaving the facility in which the ceremony took place. The older pony stayed where they had their brief exchange of words until a pony around her own age came to lead her outside the facility, gingerly cupping her hoof as he did so.

Meanwhile, in an entirely different part of the city, a white unicorn was looking up at a neon sign with some trepidation. Her electric blue hair was an absolute mess, many objects of unidentifiable origins embedded within. Her body was stiff in movement as though she hadn’t had anything to sleep on in several weeks. And she hadn’t.

As though under a spell, the unicorn entered the building in front of her. She was greeted by the loudest noises she ever bore witness to, but in time she came to understand that it was music. Music she recognized. Music she knew by heart. Somehow the building she had never once stepped hoof into felt almost like a home. She found a bathroom, and ducked into it. Alone in its depths, she stared into the unrecognizable figure in the mirror before her. She turned on a faucet and cleaned herself up the best she could under such conditions. Her mane came close to its former glory, but she knew she couldn’t do anything for the eyes that stared back into her. She left the bathroom and stepped into a part of the building where the music was the loudest, ponies moving their bodies whichever way they deemed best to the rhythm of the beat. Before long the unicorn was moving with them, and the more wild her actions became the less her thoughts plagued her. The music moved into her, through her, and out of her, and with it went all the worries and fears she had. For the briefest of moments, she felt something she dared to call happiness.

A tap on her shoulder revealed a stallion standing behind her holding a drink. She stopped her dancing for a moment, and looked at the concoction with apprehension. Something within her caused her to reach out, take the drink, and put it to her lips. The liquid inside tasted like something to fuel a machine, and burned all the way down into her gut. She coughed and spat and almost dropped the drink. The stallion who gave it to her took it back and gave her a gentle bump in her flank with his own. The unicorn looked at him incredulously, and then he did it again. She realized that these bumps were in time with the beat of one of her favorite songs, and soon it was moving her in the same way as before with the exception that her perceived happiness had somewhat increased. Wanting to see how much more happiness she could feel that night, she took the drink from the stallion a few times more despite its foul taste. She lost track of just how many times she sipped that drink, or even if there was only one she sipped from. She lost track of several things that night.

The next morning the white unicorn woke in a room completely unfamiliar to her, dawn just barely poking through window shades above a head that hardly felt still attached. With a groan she realized that she was not alone in the strange place; an unknown hoof was draped over her midsection. Despite her uncontrollable shuddering, the hoof did not move. Tears welled up in her eyes, her entire being riddled with fear. She wanted to get out. She wanted to leave. All she wanted was to go home, and forget that last however many hours even happened. When she remembered that she didn't even have a home to return to, her stomach threatened to leave her body as directly as possible. The worst part of it was she knew that a very good friend was going to be very disappointed with her.

Her friend.

Fear was replaced by a white hot fury, though the tears still remained.

“Buck Octavia. I hope I never see that bucking bitch again.”

Vinyl Scratch did not see any reason why any pony would envy her situation. That said, despite the fear, anger, and regret, as she laid there she realized that she was just happy to have a place to sleep.

Author's Note

Author's Note can be found here.

Chapter Eleven

“MOOOOOOOOM!”

Octavia burst into her home, tears streaming down her face. The first pony she saw inside was her father, absent-mindedly nibbling on a cookie in the entryway. “Uh, hey, kiddo,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Oh…” the filly stopped to look at her hooves. “I… Um… Where’s Mom?”

Octavia’s father sighed, closed his eyes, and took another bite of his cookie. “She’s in the kitchen.” The grey filly scampered to the room in question without much more hesitation.

“Mommy?”

Minor stopped humming to herself and pulled a tray full of fresh baked pastries out of their oven to join others on a plate in the center of their table. She looked to her daughter, the gleam of happiness from an afternoon’s simple pleasure giving way to a glum sorrow at the sight of Octavia’s damp face. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

Seeing the sadness in her mother’s features at the sight of her own only brought Octavia’s tears a new force. “Oh, Mom!” She ran into her mother’s forelegs, and Minor set them both gently into a chair at the table. Minor handed her daughter a cookie, and the filly held it for a moment as she continued. “The kids at school… They’re making fun of me again! Because of my… my…”

“Blank flank?” Minor smiled sadly.

“Don’t say that!” Octavia yelled. “I don’t like those words… They sound mean…”

“Not all words are nice, no…” Minor sighed. “So what are the kids saying about your… About your lack of a cutie mark?”

“That I don’t have one…” Octavia sniffed. “That I don’t have one, and they all have one, and that I’ll probably never be good at anything…”

“Oh, hush,” Minor said. Octavia looked up at her mother stunned. Minor continued, “You don’t need to listen to what those silly foals have to say. Octavia, let me ask you something: do you like who you are?”

“What?” Octavia didn’t really understand the question. “Um… No… I guess not…”

“Why is that, sweetheart?”

“Because I don’t have a cutie mark…” Octavia rubbed one of her eyes.

“Sweetie, forget about the cutie mark for a moment. Were you happy before those kids started making fun of you?”

Octavia thought for a moment. “Um… I guess so… but—”

“Upp upp upp!” Minor tutted. “You were happy. And you didn’t have your cutie mark then either. So why should you be unhappy now when you were happy then?”

“Um… Well… The other kids—”

“We’re not talking about them.” Minor smiled. Octavia didn’t. The filly took another bite of her cookie and looked down to avoid her mother’s gaze.

“Octavia, dear, I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know…” Octavia swallowed the small amount of crumbs in her mouth.

“And that I’ll always love you, no matter what?”

“Yeah, but you have to.”

“Have to?” Minor asked, a mockery of confusion in her voice.

“Yeah, because you’re my mom. So you have to love me.”

Minor chuckled. “No, sweetheart, I love you because I choose to love you. No matter what. All love is a choice, dear.” Octavia said nothing and bit off a few more crumbs of her cookie. “And you know what else?” Minor said continuing, “I love you exactly the way you are. Isn’t that nice?”

Octavia sniffed and tried swallowing, but was finding it rather difficult. “But,” she stammered, “but what if I change? What if when I get my cutie mark I turn into somepony different?”

Minor laughed and said, “Let me rephrase what I said a little then: I love you exactly the way you are, and I will also love whomever you become. No matter what.”

“But how can you say that if you haven’t met future me?”

“A mother knows,” Minor said, pulling her daughter into a close hug.

Octavia didn’t seemed overly changed for the better from her mother’s words. “But… But the kids at school… They don’t like me… What if even after I get my cutie mark they still don’t like me?”

“Again with your classmates? Octavia, it—”

“Mom!” New tears were welling up in the filly’s eyes. Clearly the approval of her peers was of great importance to her.

Minor gave a small smile. “Alright. Octavia, I’m going to tell you some things not all fillies know.” Her daughter leaned in closer, the thought of forbidden knowledge too tantalizing to resist. “As you grow up, not everypony is going to like who you are. And some who do like you won’t like who you become. And that’s okay. It’s okay because as long as you like who you are and make good choices to make sure you stay happy, then you’ll find yourself surrounded by people who do like you. What the fillies and colts at school think… Someday it won’t even matter. The only thing that matters is that you’re happy. And if you are and others think that’s wrong, well, why should you listen to them?”

Octavia remained silent for a moment. “I… I guess…”

“Well, I know,” Minor said sharply. “Listen to me, Octavia: you are an incredibly special young filly with a bright future ahead of you, full of ponies who are going to love you and be so happy to have you in their lives. Including those who already are,” Minor finished, giving her daughter a nuzzle.

Octavia giggled. “Okay, Mom, stop, I get it!” Minor was now tickling the filly, each protest only increasing the intensity of the tickles. “MOM! STOP! I— HAHA STOP! I’M GONNA PEE!”

Minor chuckled and eventually released the filly. “Alright, Octavia. Now why don’t you go get yourself cleaned up for supper.”

“Okay…” Octavia hopped out of her mother’s lap.

“Oh, and Octavia?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t forget: just as you want other ponies to love you for who you are, you need to make sure to do the same for them. Even if they don’t always do things you like.”

“Okay, Mom.” Octavia then turned around to look back up at the table. “Um… Can I have another cookie?”

Minor pondered this for a moment. “Okay, but only one. You’ll spoil your appetite, and I don’t want you up all night. You’ve got a big day tomorrow at school, after all; Miss Jubilee says you’re having a music day…?”

“Uh huh.” Octavia stood as tall as she could on her hind legs to reach the plate on the table. “We get to play with some instruments and everything! I’m gonna see how hard I can hit a drum!”

“Yes, that does sound like fun,” Minor chuckled. The grey filly, having claimed her prize, darted from the room. “And I saw you take two cookies instead of one, young lady!” The sound of her daughter giggling from another room barely reached Minor’s ears, yet still managed to cause her to do the same.

* - * - * -

Minor’s front door opened and slammed shut, and a familiar voice in an unfamiliar tone echoed from the entryway. “WHERE IS SHE?!”

Minor sighed and set down her tea. She left the kitchen to greet her daughter, whose face was now a manic, twisted version of its former self. “If you’re talking about Vinyl, dear, she just left.”

“LEFT?!” Octavia started pacing and talking to herself. “Oh, of course she just up and left. Why not? It’s not like she just left me standing humiliated in front of a bunch of foals! And this way she gets to make sure that she has the LAST BUCKING WORD!”

“Octavia, calm down!” Minor’s voice was stern.

The cellist said nothing, and instead marched past her mother towards her old bedroom. Minor followed reluctantly to find her daughter ripping through chests and drawers, pulling out miscellaneous artifacts from their depths.

“That selfish… To think that I… Some friend…”

“Octavia, dear, what are you doing?” Minor asked hesitantly.

“Burning it!” Octavia answered without turning around. “Burning it all! Everything that reminds me of her! I’M GOING TO TAKE IT ALL OUT BACK AND—”

“OCTAVIA!” Minor reached out and caught a shoulder. “CALM!” She spun her daughter around and put a hoof and both of her shoulders. “Down.” She gently yet firmly pushed the grey mare onto her haunches, effectively putting her into a sitting position.

Octavia looked to the shoulder Minor spun her on, then glared back up at the hoof’s owner. “Let go of me, Mother.”

“I am, but you need to stay put.” Minor released her daughter, hooves hovering for a moment before returning to the floor. She sat opposite her daughter. “Octavia… Please talk to me. What happened. Vinyl barely said good-bye before storming out of here in the same fashion you came in.”

“What happened… Mother… is that sorry excuse for a musician embarrassed me in front of a group of fillies and colts who were looking up to us for advice on a future in musical careers.”

“Embarrassed you how?”

“She insulted me! Insulted my life! She started a fight with me right there in the schoolhouse!”

“A fight?” Minor asked. “What were you fighting about?”

“We were telling the foals how to be successful, and she was trying to tell them nonsense, like not needing school, and going to clubs!”

“Young foals certainly do not belong in clubs. And that’s why they have an age restriction at the door.”

Octavia looked up at her mother, eyes narrowing; she could tell the mare was building up to something. She always did.

“Vinyl, however,” The name sparked a fire in Octavia’s chest. “is now a young adult free to make such choices, and has found a home in those walls.”

“That doesn’t mean she should be telling kids to go there, Mother!” Octavia exclaimed.

“Was she really? Was she inviting the foals to go to one immediately, see what they’re like first hoof?” Minor asked.

“Well… No… Not directly, anyway.”

“Like I said, she found her place there.” Minor leaned back and allowed some breathing room between she and her daughter. “And it’s possible one of those foals may some day as well. Close your mouth, dear, I’m not done. No, they shouldn’t go to one at their age, but someday when they’re older they may find themselves in one. Vinyl seems happy there, in any case.”

“That still doesn’t— Mother, she was telling them they didn’t have to go to school!”

“School is good. It taught you what you needed to know to do what you do.”

“Exactly!”

“But Vinyl didn’t graduate, yet she’s perfectly happy with her job.” Minor tilted her head. “Now what does that tell you?”

“That she’s a fool.”

“I think what she was trying to say to those foals, dear, is that if they try school and fail at it, that doesn’t mean that their life is incomplete.” Minor sighed and smiled, looking away from her daughter. “There are many ways to find happiness in this world, Octavia. You found one way, and Vinyl found another.”

“There’s a difference between happiness and success, Mother,” Octavia sneered.

“Is there?” Minor was now on the offensive. “Why do ponies want to be successful? Because they think it will make them happy. And sometimes it does, but other times it doesn’t. And sometimes ponies find happiness without success. Do you remember Lyra Heartstrings?”

“Yes. We ran into her the other day.”

“She went to your school too, if you recall.”

“I do.”

“She graduated just like you did, if a few years later.” Minor continued. “By all means she was set to lead the same life you are now. But she wasn’t happy in Canterlot, even if she did get to play her music and use her degree. Eventually she moved back here and has been working in a small confectionery shop with a dear friend of hers. And you know what? I’ve never seen her happier.”

“I suppose some ponies may find the quiet small town life charming, but—”

“But you think no one in a small community can be successful. Yes, you told me at your graduation.” Octavia shifted uncomfortably at her mother's words. Minor gave the motion no notice. “But what of your friend Rarity?” she pressed. “She never left this town, yet she owns her own business and her works can be seen even in Canterlot. She even made the bride’s dress for the royal wedding! Or so I’m told, anyway. And what’s more is she has a number of extremely close friends. I’ve never seen a closer knit of ponies in my entire life. And even though sometimes her work can exhaust her, I’ve never once seen anything from her to suggest that she’s unhappy with how her life has turned out. I’m rather envious of it, truth be told.”

“Mother…”

“Octavia, are you happy?”

The cellist squinted her eyes, her mouth agape. “Mother, I’m furious. I thought we would have established this when—”

“No, Octavia. With your life,” Minor clarified. “Are you happy in Canterlot, playing your music, spending time with the friends you’ve made there?”

“I…” Octavia had to stop to think. Playing in Canterlot had always been her dream, and she lived that dream every day. She never really saw any fault in it. But when her mother said the word ‘friends’ she felt her heart sink; she only really had peers and acquaintances. In fact, wasn’t this realization the whole reason she made that fateful call to Vinyl in the first place?

“Octavia…” One of Minor’s hooves returned to Octavia’s shoulder, though this time for comfort rather than control. “I’m happy that you fulfilled your dreams by being there. I’m proud of all of your accomplishments. But your friends… The people you’ve come to love in your life… That, to me, is what true success is. And true happiness.”

“Mother… Years ago… You told me… You told me that no one else matters. That it doesn’t matter what others think as long as I’m happy.”

“I never once said others don’t matter, and if I did I was very mistaken.” Octavia looked up at her mother, no longer sure what to believe. “Yes, you shouldn’t count on the approval for others to make you happy. They should love you for who you are. If you remember I also told you to do the same for others. Vinyl doesn’t lead a life you approve of, yet over the last few days I saw the love between you reigniting. You were able to move past this and see the friend she used to be. And she saw the same in you. You didn’t always get along as fillies either, if you remember.” Minor stooped forward to pick up an aged blanket tossed from a chest at the foot of Octavia’s bed. A stitching at one end showed where it had been ripped, then repaired. “But you always made up and were back to being best friends again in a day or two. Sometimes even sooner than that.”

Octavia took the blanket from her mother and gazed at the stitches that were carefully yet unprofessionally made. As she stared, and old wound reopened, but not because of the tear; it was because of the repair to it.

“She was my friend…”

“She still is, Octavia. Even if she doesn’t realize it,” Minor said. “You need to ask yourself: can you forgive her? Can you forgive her for every pain she ever caused, and sew it back up again? Can you accept her for who she is, good and bad, just as you want everypony else to do the same for you?”

“Vinyl…” Octavia shuddered. “Vinyl is brash, arrogant, loud, obnoxious, spontaneous, and…” she trailed off for a moment. “…and I think that’s exactly why she was my friend. She was so different from me in every regard, yet we got along perfectly well together… For years even, not just as fillies.”

Minor smiled and nodded. “You completed each other in way. It was always interesting to see your relationship grow over the years; she would want to do something dangerous, and you would talk her out of it, then the next day she was helping you to overcome your shyness and fears. I really couldn’t have asked for a better friend to help you grow as a pony, dear.”

“I… I miss her. I miss being us. Who we were. These last few days I was trying to get us to recapture that, but…”

The room was silent for a minute or two.

“Octavia… You need to tell her.”

“Tell her what?” Octavia asked. “That she’s leading a life I hate, that I’m too stubborn to let that go, and that I want her to pretend to like me anyway? All because I haven’t been able to make a single true friend since I met her?”

“Close,” Minor said. “I would rephrase to something more along the lines of ‘I know you’re not leading the life I hoped you would, but you’re happy, and I’m happy for you. Please accept my apology and forgive me’. You can come up with something better, I’m sure, but that’s just what I was able to work up off the cuff here.”

“What makes you think she’d even want to talk to me?”

“Sweetheart, she just traveled miles with you on a whim after you reappeared in her life for a few hours after disappearing from it years ago. Even if she’s mad, even after letting years of anger fester into a borderline hatred, she still felt enough love for you to give you a second chance.” Minor smiled. “And a love that strong doesn’t go away after a little row, no matter how bad.”

“Even if you’re right, Mother,” Octavia said as she picked up an old magazine from the floor, its pages filled with information on the (then) latest tech music and instruments, “what am I supposed to do about it? Go to Manehattan and do something stupid and desperate?”

“Isn’t that what brought you there in the first place?” Minor said with a smile.

Octavia shrugged. “It didn’t seem like it at the time.”

Minor was silent for a moment. “Octavia, when your father left… It hurt. A lot. I know I don’t talk about him much, but—”

“Mom,”

“Octavia, let me finish,” Minor said, cutting her daughter off before she had much of a chance to begin. “Before he left I could tell that it was coming, but I didn’t know what to do about it. He wasn’t happy, and I didn’t feel like there was anything I could do to make him happy again. So when he left I let it happen. I didn’t fight it. Only after he was gone did I realize how foolish I was for not trying to fight for what I believed made me happy. Of all the things I wished I had done differently, one regret stood out the most in my mind.”

“And what was that?” Octavia asked.

Minor smiled. “Not doing something stupid and desperate.”

Chapter Twelve

The Ceilestio nightclub was on fire that night. The floor had almost no space for anypony to stand, and the air above it was so filled with pegasi and other flying creatures that they may as well have been standing on one another’s shoulders. DJ-PON3 had outdone herself yet again, hitting up the local clubs on a comeback tour after the briefest of vacations just a day or two prior. She called out barely audible over the bouncing crowd, who whooped and hollered their approval of her music back at her. It was difficult to tell who was having more fun at the event.

One stallion stood leaning in a corner where he found the most breathing room the mob of clubbers would allow. It was near the bar, but not near enough to be bothered by the horde of ponies constantly trying to buy more drinks, and far enough from the building’s speakers so that a conversation could just barely take place. He wasn’t there to lose himself. He just stood looking at the night’s DJ, smiling a bit to no pony in particular. He was light blue in color, with a spiky black mane. His blue eyes looked tired, and creases around them showed where some pair of glasses usually sat. Tonight, though, it seemed he left them at home.

The stallion was shaken from his trance when a pony bumped into him. He turned to say ‘Excuse me’, but one look at the grey mare made him question if it would even be worth the trouble. She was pretty far gone, with her movements lumbering, her long dark grey mane a complete mess, and her one article of clothing, a pink bowtie, coming undone. She was trying her best to move with the pounding beat of the music, despite each movement nearly causing her to fall to the floor. After a few seconds she looked up at the stallion she bumped into.

“Hey… Yer kinda cute…” she slurred.

“Um… Thank you.” He could barely make out the conversation in all the noise, and hoped there wouldn’t be much more to it.

“No, like, reeeaally cute.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but—”

“Shhhhh.” The grey mare wobbled over to him and placed a hoof over his mouth. “I think that we… I think that we should go somewur. Like, together.” She leaned up into his ear, half using his body for support at this point, and whispered, “Privately.”

The stallion raised both his hooves and gently removed the mare from himself. “Look, I’m flattered, really, but you’re obviously really trashed, and it wouldn’t be right of me. Please look somewhere else.”

“Hm. Yes. You’ll do, I suppose.”

“What?” The stallion was confused. The voice that came from the mare was completely unrecognizable from the slurs that came prior to it. Before the stallion’s eyes she erected herself into a pristine posture, and with a quick tussle of her hoof her matted mane was preened into something more elegant. She spoke again with a regal voice while correcting her askew bowtie.

“I said you’ll do. In all honesty I wasn’t expecting to find a stallion of any merit this quickly, but you certainly do seem to be of a respectable sort.”

“I… What?”

“My name is Octavia.” The mare said. “And I really would like to speak somewhere more private, if it’s all the same to you.”

A few days after her homecoming tour, Vinyl Scratch found herself at the Neighnth Circle, prepping her gear behind a closed curtain. The heavy drapes couldn’t stop the excited voices on the other side from coming through, but Vinyl didn’t mind; the excitement of others fueled her.

“Hey, Pon-three.” One of the stage hooves poked his head around a corner to address the DJ. “Looks like there’s a change of plans tonight. MC Wish cancelled.”

“What?!” Vinyl’s disappointment outweighed her frustration. “But… He… Never mind. So is the battle off or something?”

“Nah, he found a replacement. Quite the resume on her, but doesn’t look like she has much experience in the clubbing circles.”

“Then I’ll eat her alive,” Vinyl said, lowering her glasses to her face. She had no beef with this new mare — not really — but her irritation couldn’t stop her from asking, “So who is this new broad, anyway?”

“Didn’t catch the name. Anyways, sounds like they’re about to get started. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Neon Lights,” Vinyl muttered to an absent pony, “I swear to Celestia, if you ever—”

“LADIES AND GENTLECOLTS!” A boisterous voice followed by excited cheering from beyond the curtain cutoff Vinyl’s vocalized thoughts. “We here at The Neighnth Circle and proud to be your hosts for this week’s head-to-head match up!”

The roaring continued, as did the voice booming above it all. “First, to reacquaint everypony here with the rules: two artists locked in a musical combat! One creates, the other answers! After the first round their music is allowed to overlap! The idea is to competitively yet also harmoniously create something new and tasty for our ears to swallow! They’re free to riff on old stuff, so long as it’s stirred up and made fresh! And, as always, our celebrity judge will determine which of the two combatants gave the best licks to the song you will hear this one night only! With that, I would like you all to give a thunderous applause to tonight’s judge—”

A thunderous applause was indeed what the announcer received; the noise was so deafening that Vinyl couldn’t catch the name of the pony out there. Not that it mattered; the only pony she needed to know was the one she was minutes away from beating.

“With that,” the voice continued, “allow me to introduce our first combatant: the ever-popular Dee Jay POOOOOOWWN THREEEEEEEE!”

The curtain in front of Vinyl raised itself, and with it the volume and intensity of the cheering behind it. The DJ inhaled the room’s excitement and grinned. “GOOOOOOD EVENING MANEHATTAAAAN!” She yelled back at the crowd, prompting them to make even more noise. The only ponies not cheering and stamping were two ponies on similarly elevated platforms on her left and right, the right pony tan in color with a microphone in one hoof, and the one on her left a very light grey stallion with a blue mane and tail, both ending with red tips. Vinyl looked at the red curtains across from her, daring the pair of eyes on its other side to stare back.

“And now, the newcomer!” the tan pony said into his microphone. “Fresh to our scene but still holding a lot of promise, please welcome Miss TAviLIIICIOOOUUUS!”

“Tavilicious?” Vinyl asked herself just before her jaw hit her deck. The opposite curtain raised to reveal a mare that was almost familiar, but with noticeable differences. A normally well kept mane that swept across her face gracefully now ended with several spiked out strands, giving the impression of a cracked whip. Black triangles were painted underneath a set of deep purple eyes. She wore black studded bands on both her forelegs, and the violet bowtie around her neck had sharp enough edges to threaten any pony who got near it. In her hooves stood what looked like the shell of a cello, stripped of everything other than its strings, neck, and half the outline of the instrument’s belly. A sinister curved bow was poised at the ready, and a single chord trailed from underneath it into an amp plugged into two large speakers positioned behind the cellist.

Octavia came to play.

“What are YOU doing here?!” Vinyl yelled at the opponent standing across from her. Octavia said nothing, but gave her a steely gaze, her eyes barely visible from behind her eyelids. The crowd quieted, anxious for the pre-battle banter. “What, you want to try to ruin my life here too?! Clubbing isn’t good enough for you, yet you’ll stoop to my level just to beat me?! Is that it?! HUH?! ANSWER ME!”

The cellist didn’t move; she stood completely silent.

“FINE!”

The DJ slammed down on her synthesizer, belting out a chord that gradually grew in intensity, bringing to mind the image of an ancient dragon stirring to life, and with it the excitement in the crowd grew to match. Vinyl had this; she had her keyboard and a plethora of records to sample from. Once her musical dragon awakened, she made it give a harsh roar to announce to the world that it was alive and very much not happy to be disturbed.

With this, the cellist made her first move. She drew her bow long and hard against the strings of her instrument, a low electric tone reverberating throughout the room, and with it her tempo gradually increased. A heartbeat. Her notes spoke of the quest of an adventurer. A knight accepted a solemn duty, and ventured across the land, his will and valor increasing all the while. He did not relish his duty by any means, but the task fell to him. A peaceful end was highly unlikely.

Vinyl sat stunned for a moment. The notes that echoed from the opposite side of the building had Octavia’s classical style to them, yet somehow felt repurposed for a more modern setting. The DJ knew audiences loved a retro flair, but just how retro could one get and still make something worth listening to? If the reactions from the ponies between the musicians were any indication, that line had not yet been reached; they were loving it! Vinyl snarled and brought the first of her records to life. The dragon noticed the knight, a creature both predator and prey, and it refused to succumb to so small an enemy. Fire swirled in its belly and erupted from its mouth, fully intent on roasting the metal-clad warrior before it.

Octavia recognized her old roommate's record. She matched the notes that came from it, but struggled to keep consistent with Vinyl's new twist on its sounds. Her knight bent his behind his enchanted shield, each flaming blow weighing in heavily on him but he was still managing to survive. When the dragon paused to take a deep breath, determined to rain down more fiery torment, the knight dove behind the cover of a nearby boulder and let loose a few arrows aimed true at the beast.

Vinyl growled; having to change discs left her at a disadvantage that her enemy did not share. The DJ returned to stamping out chords on her synthesizer. The dragon roared, its frustration with the insignificant whelp before it growing to dangerous levels. It swiped at the airborne arrows, then at the wielder of the bow that nocked them. The knight dove away from claws as long as his own body, swiping at the fleshy palm attached to them with his sword as he did so. The beast howled in pain and thrashed its tail at the knight’s cover, shattering the boulder to bits. The warrior was thrown to the edge of the dragon’s cave; the wind was knocked from him and his body ached. He managed to pick up his sword and face the beast, the fire once on its breath now blazing in its eyes. After another roar the dragon swiped its other arm at the knight, missing by inches. The warrior cleaved his weapon deep into the beast’s arm. The monster reeled from the pain, arm swinging backwards in instinct, and with it went the knight. The soldier loosened his sword from the flesh it desperately clung to, and fell onto the back of the beast where he found a new mark. The dragon howled in pain and beat its wings hard to loosen the tick from its backside. The knight struggled desperately to maintain his grip, but soon found himself in the clutches of a very large scaly claw.

The dragon brought the warrior close to its own face, peering into the eyes of its attacker, this one creature who thought itself good enough to fight and win against a monster ten times its own size. The dragon saw anger and bravery in the knights face, to be sure, but there was also something else: fear. Good, the dragon thought. It was right to have that emotion.

Without warning the knight drew a dagger from beneath his armor and flung it towards the dragon’s yellow eye. It found its mark, and the knight soon found himself falling several extents of his own height. The impact with the ground crippled one of his legs. The knight struggled to right himself, but still managed to do so enough to stand erect. He raised his bow and nocked the last arrow in his quiver. The dragon saw nothing; its claws gripped its face, trying to understand and relieve the pain set there. The knight said nothing as he pulled his arrow back towards his shoulder, squinting one eye. He gently exhaled, and with that breath released his final arrow. It found its mark. The dragon would have screamed, but now found doing so quite impossible. Strange noises and occasional flames dribbled from it maw. It shifted its weight between its two back legs, struggling to find one to maintain balance on. After a minute it succumbed to its collective wounds and fell forward; the impact jostled the knight, removing his ability to ignore the pain in his own body. He fell with the dragon, neither moving, but one breathing. The knight laid there, not knowing if he would ever see home again, but knowing at the very least that his quest was at an end.

Vinyl opened her eyes as the sound of a roaring crowd flooded her ears. She had completely forgotten that other ponies were even in the room. She even forgot that a pony she hated stood across from her, challenging her. All she knew for a period of time that she had no way of knowing the length of was the music she was creating, and an opponent she was locked into combat with. She gasped for breath, not realizing that she had been holding it. She looked up at Octavia. The grey mare was lowering her bow. Her fixed gaze remained the same, but something about her was different. She looked exhausted, yet somehow… accomplished. The night’s announcer was shouting something excitedly into his microphone, but Vinyl didn’t care. The event was over. She was tired, and just wanted to go home.

“Wow… I’m sure you get this a lot, but that was incredible, Pon-Three.”

“Shove it.”

“Whoa, jeez, okay, sorry I said anything…”

The stage hoof returned to his job, moving Vinyl’s equipment aboard a moving truck. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Somehow the night still didn’t seem real.

“He’s right, you know.” Vinyl looked up. A familiar light blue stallion was smiling down at her. “That show was really something else.”

“Neon Lights, you mule, that was supposed to be you out there. What the heck?”

“First off, my aunt is a mule, so forgive me if I take some offense to that.” His smile, however, said he didn’t. “Second, I kind of got roped out of it. Your friend can be very convincing.”

“My friend?”

“Yeah, Octavia.” Vinyl winced, and the back of her neck rose in temperature. The fact that a name from an old life came from a voice in her new life unsettled her beyond words. Neon Lights took no notice. He continued, “Didn’t think she was being for real at first. I almost wondered if she was just some groupie trying to get close to you, but she seemed genuine enough. I also wondered if it was some trick on me, but she had no idea who I was. Considering most ponies don’t recognize me without the shirt, tie, or glasses from my MC Wish getup though—”

“Wait, what? Didn’t think what was real?” Vinyl was confused. Her night just kept making less sense.

“Her wanting to learn to appreciate the club life. Bit strange, if you ask me, asking somepony to teach you how to enjoy being in a club…” You don't know the half of it, Vinyl thought. “Then she told me about this idea she had to ‘make it up to you’, or whatever. When she found out that I wasn’t just some Donut Joe Schmo and was actually a performer myself, she asked if I knew you, which, of course, I do. Then when she found out about the head-to-head tonight, she asked if she could take my place. Offered to pay and everything. I didn’t let her, of course; I could tell it meant a lot to her, and I figured the show would crackle on its own without me. Turns out I was right,” Neon finished with a wink.

“I… You…”

“Yeah, I’m still not sure I get it all either. Looks like she’s coming over now, so I’ll let her try to explain things. I gotta bounce anyway; check you later, Scratch.” The MC smirked and gave a little salute before walking away from the DJ.

“But… What… Neon! Get back here!”

“Hello, Vinyl.”

The stallion was gone and a mare came from behind the unicorn. She turned to face her night’s opponent. Octavia had cleaned herself up, the makeup no longer present on her face, mane properly groomed, and classic pink bowtie replacing her darker accessories.

Neither pony spoke for a while before Vinyl broke the silence. “So… ‘Tavilicious’, huh?”

Octavia reddened and averted her gaze. “Yeah… Neon said that I shouldn’t use my real name, and try to come up with a stage persona. It does make some sense, you know, even if you had some trouble explaining it back at the school.”

Vinyl snorted. “Whatever. And don’t call him ‘Neon’. Real names are for friends.”

Octavia said nothing.

“You never answered my question, you know.”

“Hm?”

“My question.” Vinyl was looking hard into Octavia’s eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, I thought Neon was explaining that… Well, Vinyl… I came to… Well, to apologize.”

“'Apologize'?” Vinyl asked incredulously. “Your idea of an apology is to come to my home, to where I work, and try to beat me at my own game?”

“Not beat you, no… Just… To see things from your point of view. To appreciate who you are, and why you've become the way you are.” Octavia paused for a moment, but Vinyl did not take the offer to speak. “...And when Neon explained this event to me… Well, the idea of performing alongside you was too much to resist.”

“We performed at each other. Not with.”

“I see it differently.”

Things were quiet again for a moment.

“You know, it’s pretty lucky you happened to meet a guy who was supposed to perform tonight,” Vinyl said.

Octavia gave a sad chuckle. “Yes… Yes, I suppose it was highly coincidental. Not a coincidence I mind, of course.”

“Who won, anyway?” Vinyl asked.

Octavia gave a genuine laugh this time. “Oh, I don’t know if they’ve even decided yet. Last I heard the judge was still talking too excitedly about the music to calm enough to decide a winner.”

Vinyl sighed; tie or defeat, the idea of having a competition that close on her own turf to somepony with no experience on the clubbing scene bothered her to no end. “Where did you learn to play like that anyway?”

“Well, at the academy they showed me the proper posture to maintain during a performance, and—”

“No, Octy, I mean like electronically. The music we play in these places is really different from the classical stuff you usually do. Yet you did really well. Good enough for that judge, anyway. How did you learn to play, like, well, me?”

Octavia smiled. “From you, of course. You really think I spent all that time listening to those records of yours with you not learning anything?”

“I thought you hated my music?”

The cellist shook her head. “I said it was different, but I didn’t hate it. In time I grew to appreciate it. I never explored it myself, but I had you with me, so I never had to. We even still have some of your old records at the house, and some nights when I was home alone and missing you I would play them. It made me think that maybe you were just in the other room, reading or something.”

“Octavia… Your parents never even had a record player.” The grey mare broke her gaze from her white counterpart. “And I never would have left records behind even if they did. And besides; there was only one time you were home alone after we met, and that was the summer you changed into somepony else. I doubt that you would have been listening to my music then.”

Octavia grinned sheepishly. “I see that ruse failed.” She looked back up at the DJ. “It was actually at the academy while you were in class. I never wanted to admit that I’d been using your record player without your permission.”

“What… You…” Vinyl puffed herself up, trying to control her rage. “You know I hated ponies touching that thing!”

“Which is exactly why I never said anything!” Octavia laughed.

“I broke a colt’s ankle when he scratched the lid!”

“Yes, and I still feel bad about telling you that he did it.”

“Wait, are you saying that you—”

“Hey, uh, where do you want this, Pon-Three?”

A stage hoof interrupted their conversation, carrying a large curved case on his back.

“I’ve never seen that thing before in my life,” Vinyl said.

“I know; that’s because it’s mine,” Octavia said.

“What?”

“Well, yours now,” Octavia admitted. “I only really got it for this show. I spotted it in one of your old magazines at Mom’s, and thought it looked like something I could manage to play. I don’t really need it now though, and thought you might appreciate it.”

“Wait, is that the electric cello thing-y you were playing tonight?”

“Double bass. And yes.”

“Octavia… I really don’t need it.”

“I insist.”

Neither mare made a sound for a moment while the stage hoof's knees shook slightly. Octavia spoke first.

“You really needn’t say anything, other than where this gentlecolt can put it.”

“Yeah, especially since it’s kind of heavy, even if most of it ain’t there,” the stallion said, a few beads of sweat coming down his face.

“...Fine. With the others, I guess…” The stallion grunted and mumbled something under his breath, then left the two mares to themselves again. Vinyl turned back to Octavia. “You know, I really shouldn’t—”

“Think nothing of it,” Octavia said with a wave of her hoof. “I just really hope it somehow makes up for everything I’ve put you through.

“Lemme get this straight,” Vinyl said, eyebrows furrowing. “Your idea of an apology is to have somepony with no club experience almost, if not, beat me in a competition, then buy me off with an expensive gift?”

Octavia sighed. “I suppose when you put it that way, it’s not the best thing I could have done, no… But at least I tried.” She turned to look at a clock at few paces away. “My train leaves in half an hour. I should start making my way there if I plan to catch it.”

“You’re leaving?”

“You are not the only one who abandoned a few performances to go on an impromptu trip. I’m afraid I’m long overdue for a few balls back in Canterlot.”

Vinyl said nothing as Octavia walked towards the exit. Halfway there, the grey mare stopped and turned slightly to address the DJ.

“Oh, and even if you don’t appreciate that double bass, please do be careful with it. It is rather expensive. Don’t drop it or anything.”

“What?”

“The bass. Don’t drop it.”

“…Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“Is what supposed to be a joke?”

“Never mind. Just… You better get your train.”

Octavia nodded, then turned and completed her trek out the building’s doors. Vinyl exhaled, though in relief or sadness she could not tell. She turned around to find herself now facing a white unicorn with a stylish blue mane and monocle over one of his similarly blue eyes.

“I say, are you Miss Vinyl Scratch?” the stallion asked.

“Pon-Three to those who don’t know me, slick.” Vinyl walked past the stallion; with his accent there was only one place he could possibly be from, and she'd had enough of Canterlot ponies for one day.

The finely groomed unicorn fell into step behind her. “Begging your pardon, miss, but I was hoping to talk to you about your show tonight.”

“Look, I don’t do interviews with Canterlot reporter types,” Vinyl said over her shoulder, continuing her walk.

“Oh, I’m not a reporter, and I daresay I would have some trouble living with myself if that were not the case.”

Vinyl stopped, turned, and eyed the stallion top to bottom. “You may look and talk fancy, but I gotta admit, you and I may just yet get along.”

“Funny you use that word, ‘fancy’…” The stallion reached a hoof out to shake Vinyl’s. “Fancy Pants. Please to make your acquaintance.”

Vinyl looked at the white hoof in front of her before reluctantly taking it. “Alright, Fancy Pants, so I’ll bite: what did you want to talk about?”

“Why, your show!” The stallion was beaming. “I daresay that was one of the more spectacular musical performances I’ve seen in my life! The sounds, the lights, the energy… Very far removed from the concerts of Canterlot, I can guarantee you.”

“No need to guarantee; I believe it.”

Fancy Pants chuckled. “Yes, yes, I can imagine. As I was saying, I was completely blown away! Now, this may come as a surprise to you, but I am somewhat of a cultural aficionado in Canterlot’s higher circles. Always looking out what the next big thing may be, you see.”

“Uh huh,” Vinyl said, her look discerning, but her curiosity allowing the stallion to continue.

“Well, as you may know, Canterlot is the center — the hub, if you will — of all of Equestria’s culture. We find it, mold it, breed it, and make it available to all of Celestia’s kingdom. And you, my dear, have something very special in those devices of yours.”

“Um… Okay?”

Fancy Pants chuckled again. “Obviously I am not making myself clear to you. Vinyl Scratch, what I’m proposing is a venture on your part to the capital city. I have a number of connections in the Canterlot music circle, and I know that I could pull a few strings to help get this ‘clubbing’ culture of yours a hoof in the door in some of the city’s districts.”

“I… You… Really?”

“Yes! That is, if you would wish to bring your style of music to Canterlot…?”

“Are you kidding?” Fancy Pants wasn’t sure how to respond for a moment. “Yes! I’ve been wanting to bring this stuff to the city for years! Show all those stuck-up snobs what they’re missing! Uh, no offense.”

Fancy Pants laughed. “None taken, I can assure you.”

“I mean, if I can get big there… I mean, wow! Talk about opportunity!” Vinyl's focus dashed between various points in the room, her mind racing to comprehend it all. “I’d never miss rent again! I might be able to get my own house in a few years, and never have to pay rent again! I mean—” Vinyl cleared her throat and erected her posture. “I am excited and intrigued by your offer, Mr. Pants.”

“Please, call me Fancy.” The stallion shook the DJ’s hoof a second time, effectively sealing a deal. “Now, all I ask of you at the moment is a few weeks of your time in Canterlot to help get things off the ground. I can cover your living fees, as well as pay your normal hourly wages for your time, if not more. I believe it the least I can do.”

“I... You... That sounds awesome! Thank you!”

Fancy Pants smiled. “I’m just glad I was able to find you. I remember your work from the wedding, of course, but I daresay I did have some trouble finding you after the reception. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you were hiding in Manehattan this whole time! Why, if Octavia hadn’t—”

“Wait, Octavia?”

“Why, yes!” Fancy Pants smiled at her. “She was opposite you tonight, was she not? That mare has played at a few of my garden parties over the years. Never took the chance to get to know her on a more personal level until a few days ago; she invited me to come by for the performance. I do appreciate her work, naturally, but when she said the mystery disc jockey from the wedding would be performing as well I found it incredibly difficult to decline!”

Vinyl’s mind was racing; the night just continued to churn up more surprises and emotions for her. Her eyes darted back and forth at the ground before shooting up at the clock on the wall. “Train leaves in fifteen minutes!” she cried. “I gotta go! I’ll see you in Canterlot!”

Fancy stared as the DJ rushed from the building, and called after her saying, “I didn’t mean to imply you need to leave immediately! You can take a few days to—!” but the rest was cut off with no ear to receive the words.

Octavia sat and watched the world outside her window move by gradually quicker, taking her back to the white city of Canterlot. After everything that happened over the course of the last few days, it was hard to believe it was all for naught, and she would now be returning to the life she had before a near-death experience that felt like a lifetime ago. Back to having things normal again.

But what was ‘normal’? Before it was spending her days playing in grand halls, and her nights hearing from ponies about future performances. Her time spent otherwise was mostly lent to practicing with her peers. She was once perfectly content with that life, but it now seemed somehow hollow. Boring, even. It was missing something. A spark. A spark that, at the time, she never knew was missing, but now found it hard to live without.

“Is this seat taken?”

Octavia looked up at the white unicorn before her, a jagged blue mane bouncing with the bumps in the train’s tracks. She restrained herself to giving just a simple shake of her head. The unicorn sat in the seat opposite Octavia, removing her sunglasses as she did so.

“Hey, Octy.”

“Hello, Vinyl.”

They were silent for a spell. When Vinyl finally spoke, it was as though she were already in the middle of a conversation.

“I'm not here because I forgive you. You were a horrible pony who said horrible things, and the stuff you said made me do things I won't even dare tell you. You were all I had, and you tossed me aside like a used plaything and stamped on me for good measure. Then you went on to be rich and famous in a rich and famous city, and sat there smiling every day like you never did anything wrong. It makes me sick to my bucking stomach just thinking about it. I hated you. Every thought of you made me so mad that it's a miracle there aren't more holes in my apartment's walls.”

“Vinyl...”

“Were. You were a horrible pony. I can't say for sure that you aren't anymore, but I can tell that you don't want to be who you used to be. Or, you're trying to be who you used to be. Back then. Uh...” Vinyl's voice trailed for a moment. When it returned, there was a softness in her voice that clearly didn’t get much use. “Listen, Octavia… I’ve been a jerk. You spent the last few days trying to make up for what you did in the past, and I feel like I spent almost that entire time throwing it back in your face.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Vinyl,” Octavia said. “I was the first to be rude to you, and likely earned every bit of spite you threw at me.”

“Doesn’t mean I needed to,” the DJ said, twirling her glasses in a blue aura. “And that wasn't an apology.”

“Oh, er... Of course...”

“I also want to thank you.”

“For what?”

“Bringing that Fancy Pants character down.” Vinyl leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes. “Convincing him to help me get a club or two started in Canterlot. That whole shebang,” she said with a wave of her hoof.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Octavia said, a smile failing to escape her lips as she continued to gaze out her window.

“Oh, come on, don’t play dumb.” Vinyl reopened her eyes and leaned so far forward that she was almost across the space between their seats. “Fancy Pants told me you invited him. Don’t pretend like you’re not behind all this.”

Octavia faced Vinyl, smile still on her lips. “I admit that I invited him to come to the performance, but his inviting you to come to Canterlot? That’s news to me. You must be excited.”

“You know I am! You heard me tell Lyra back in Ponyville that I secretly wanted to bring my music to Canterlot, and — You know what, forget it. Whether or not you had a hoof in things doesn’t change the fact that it’s happening. And… Well… I guess it is all because of you still, in a way.”

Octavia said nothing, her smile once again facing the window. Both mares were left thinking about the last words to hang in the air.

Vinyl was quiet for a moment before letting out a small laugh. “You know, you looked pretty crazy on that stage tonight. Where did you even get that getup?”

Octavia chuckled. “All Neon’s design, I swear. The instrument was my idea, but he insisted on a more… cultural appearance.”

“Think you’d ever do it again?”

Octavia turned to her old friend with a sly grin. “Perhaps.”

“You know, ‘cause I could always use some help with getting this Canterlot scene going…”

The cellist laughed. “I think ‘Tavilicious’ should retire while she’s ahead. It was fun, but… Well, my place is with the stuffier folk.”

“You’re not stuffy, Octavia.”

The grey mare smiled. “I didn’t say I was. But thank you.”

The two mares were silent for a moment. “You know, you could still come by to check out one of my shows if you ever feel like it,” Vinyl said.

“I know,” Octavia replied, “and I appreciate that. I hope that you can accept that I may not attend many, however; I respect you and what you’ve accomplished in your life, but I still feel that scene may not exactly be for me.”

“But I thought—”

“Vinyl…” Octavia placed her grey hooves on the white ones opposite her. “I’m not saying I don’t like your music. I’m not saying I don’t like what you do. You and I do have different tastes, but I still have respect for you as a friend, and I want to see you succeed. And I want to see you happy. And I’ve come to realize that just because the things that make you happy don’t also make me happy doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy them. You can live your life in whatever fashion you believe will make you the happiest, and I promise I will still try to stay your friend regardless.”

“Octavia… I don’t know what to say… Other than that was a little cheesy.”

The cellist removed her hooves and returned to staring out the window.

“You talked to your mom, didn’t you,” Vinyl asked with a smirk.

“What?” Octavia’s head twirled back around.

“Nothing; it’s just that you kind of sound like some of the stuff your mom used to say. You know, stuff about loving ponies for who they are and all that. Accepting the bad with the good. That stuff.”

Octavia said nothing.

“Well, wherever you got these new ideas,” Vinyl continued, “I’m glad you got them. You’ve changed, Octavia. And for the better this time, I think. And if you’re willing to tolerate some of my shows, I think it’s only fair that I buck up and stomach some of yours too.”

Octavia scoffed in a mock offense. “You don’t have to go to my performances if they’re so dreadfully boring, you know.”

“Eh, it’s the least I can do,” Vinyl said. “You know, as part of this whole friendship respect thing. I think I owe you that much.”

“Vinyl Scratch, you owe me nothing. Not today, nor any tomorrow,” Octavia smiled.

Vinyl shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

The train chugged along, white towers rising on the horizon as it did. Within minutes they would be at the Canterlot train station, and Vinyl couldn’t hold back one last burning question any longer. “Hey, Octy…”

“Hm?”

“Well… I kind of hopped on this train last minute. Didn’t pack anything, tell anypony where I was going, or even looked into finding a place to stay… So, uh, if it’s not too much trouble… Do you have a couch, or something, I could maybe crash on? You know, for a day or two?”

Octavia smiled. “If Fancy Pants wants you to introduce new culture to Canterlot, I can only imagine he’d want you here for at least a month or so. As it so happens, I have a second bedroom in my apartment not getting any use. We can furnish it to your liking, and you may stay there.”

“A room? Octy, it’s not like I’m moving in or anything…”

“Time will tell. Even if not, I’m sure you would appreciate having a place of your own to stay at during visits to this new Canterlot club scene, and I can assure you that all the hotels in the area are far too expensive compared to the services they offer.”

“Oh… Well, gee, thanks, Octavia. I appreciate that. And you’re sure you don’t need that room for anything?”

“I’m just using it to store some old junk at the moment,” Octavia said with a smile. “I think I’d rather there be something of value to me in there.”

“Whatever you say, Octy. When we get there, though, there’s just one thing I really need.”

“And what might that be?” Octavia asked bewildered.

The DJ flipped her shades back over her eyes and leaned back into her seat. A grin spread across her face.

“A bucking long nap.”

THE END

Author's Note

Author's Note can be found here.

Story pre-reader: Flutterpriest