The Sun Will Shine Again

Octavia’s flat, Saturday, April 20th, 8:45pm

Octavia ran around her flat, putting the finishing touches on her make-up and clothing. She wore a long, form-fitting, shimmery dress the colour of a dark, stormy night. It hung from her shoulders and was cut low enough in the front to show some of her ample cleavage, but not enough to be considered scandalous, with a long slit up the right side of the dress that came up to just below the lavender treble clef mark on her thigh. Rarity, the designer from Ponyville whom Octavia went to for much of her wardrobe, had made the dress with the perfect balance between ostentatious and conservative.

Of course, her ever-present pink bowtie adorned her slim neck, and a pair of gold, round chandelier earrings with amethysts in the middle hung from her ears. In the large bathroom just off of her bedroom, Octavia stood in front of the wall-to-wall mirror and brushed a bit of silver-blue eyeshadow to the lids of her eyes, just enough to be noticeable. With that complete, she chose a light hued lavender lipstick that accented her eyes and applied it to her lips evenly. She sprayed some of her favourite perfume onto her generous chest, and was done.

Her make-up complete, Octavia went to the walk-in closet in her bedroom and selected a pair of shiny black heels, just tall enough to emphasise her toned calves and thighs, but not so much so that she would be very uncomfortable. She would, after all, be out until the early hours of the morning. She grabbed a small black handbag off of a shelf and left the bedroom to go into the living room. The cellist took her wallet and keys from her everyday handbag and placed them in the small black one. Sitting on the couch, Octavia slipped on the black heels, and was ready to go.

She sat there for a moment, looking at her cello resting on its stand in the corner of the large room. She still had no muse, no inspiration, and it was eating away at her. I just don’t know what to do. It’s so frustrating. I have to get past this, though; music is my life, and this is no way to live.

After another moment of contemplation, she sighed, and her resolve strengthened; she was determined to enjoy the evening with her friends, even if a club wasn’t exactly her scene. She got up, grabbed her handbag, and left her flat, locking the door behind her. She reached the lift and hit the button to call the car just has her phone rang. Taking it out of her handbag, she answered it.

“Hello, Lyra!” Octavia said in an accented, sing-song voice.

“Hey, Octavia! You on your way to the club yet?”

“I’m just now leaving.”

“Great. I think we’ll be there before you; just walk up to the doorman and give him your name. You’re on the guest list so you’ll have no problems getting in. We will be in one of the VIP sections,” Lyra said.

“Wonderful. I’ll see you soon, then,” the cellist said.

“Awesome! Bye for now.”

“Bye!” Octavia replied, then ended the call. A few more seconds passed and the lift arrived. She stepped in and hit the button for the ground floor. As the car descended, she thought about the evening ahead of her.

At least it’s the classiest club in Canterlot. How did Lyra get us all on the guest list, though? And she said they would be in one of the VIP sections? How in Equestria did she manage that?! It must be this ’DJ’ friend of hers. I didn’t think she knew any DJs or was even into electronic music. I’m not sure how it’s really considered music, either; they don’t use actual instruments. Maybe this DJ friend of hers will surprise me and it won’t be completely terrible.

Before she could further contemplate her prejudices concerning Techno and the electronic music profession, the lift reached the lobby. She stepped out and walked toward the entrance of the Veneto. Reginald moved towards the door to open it. “Good evening, Miss Octavia. Shall I hail a cab for you?”

“That’s quite alright, Reginald; I’ll hail one myself.”

“As you wish, ma’am.”

As she stepped out into the warm, spring air, she said “Please let the night doorman know I’ve gone to the Prancing Pony and that I will return rather late, I suspect.”

“I will let him know,” he replied.

“Thank you, Reginald. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, ma’am.”

Octavia was cautious in nature, perhaps a bit too much, and made a habit of telling the doormen where she would be and when she expected to return, just in case something were to happen to her.

She walked to the curb and put her arm in the air to attempt to wave down one of the passing taxis. It was a busy night, so it was a couple of minutes before a cab noticed her and pulled over. The wait didn’t bother her, however, as it was very pleasant outside and she didn’t mind standing and enjoying it for a little while. When a cab did pull over, she opened the door and slid into the back seat.

“Where to, miss?” the driver asked, in a slightly impatient voice.

“The Prancing Pony, please.”

“Certainly,” the driver said, as he pulled into traffic.

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

Lyra Heartstrings, Bon Bon, Beauty Brass, and Harpo Nandermane stepped out of their cab in front of the night club to find Rainbow Dash and Spitfire waiting patiently outside for them.

Rainbow Dash was clad in a sky blue, silk toga style dress with white silk stitched over the hems that Rarity had made for her for the Grand Gala. Spitfire had decided on a deep gold dress that had a shallow, modest cut in the front, exposed her back, and tapered down from the middle of her right thigh to the middle of her left calf, with large sapphire studs adorning her ears.

“Hello, ladies!” Lyra exclaimed, walking up to the pair and hugging each of them in turn, starting with Rainbow Dash.

“Hey, all!” Spitfire greeted the group.

Lyra turned to Beauty and Harpo. “Beauty, Harpo, allow me to introduce you to Spitfire and Rainbow Dash.”- she gestured to each woman as she said their name -“Girls, this is Beauty Brass and Harpo Nanderman, sousaphonist and harpist, respectively, for the Orchestra.”

“It’s so very nice to meet you both,” Beauty Brass, a taller, yet curvy woman with brown hair and lavender eyes, said. She had opted to wear a cyan blue blouse, a long black skirt, and a mother of pearl necklace and earrings.

“Wait, as in Spitfire and Rainbow Dash of the Wonderbolts?!” Harpo, a man of above-average height and slight build, with wavy light blue hair and green eyes, exclaimed. He was clad in a three-piece, dark blue striped, two button suit, with a light grey shirt and a maroon tie.

“Heh, yeah; that’s us!” the Wonderbolt Captain said with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Wow, I never thought I’d get to meet you two. It’s an honour,” he said, shaking the pilot’s hands.

“It’s very nice to meet you both, as well. We’re looking forward to seeing you all play in the concert at the palace in a couple months, right Dash?” the flame haired woman said.

“Um, yeah, totally! And it’s great to meet you both!”

“Well, shall we go inside?” Lyra asked.

After she got affirmatives all around, the lyrist led the way to the door and the man that guarded it.

“Names?” the man said curtly.

“Lyra Heartstrings, Bon Bon, Spitfire, Rainbow Dash, Beauty Brass, and Harpo Nandermane,” Lyra said for the group.

The doorman checked the names against his list and grunted. “Alright, go on in.”

As the group headed inside the club, several people that were waiting in queue started to complain, shouting “Why do they get to go in?!” until the doorman barked at them “Because they’re on the list! Now be quiet if you want to get in!” Before the door closed behind the group, a few people could be heard loudly saying “Hey, wasn’t that the Captain of the Wonderbolts and her wing-woman?! They are so hot!”

Rainbow and Spitfire just looked at each other, shook their heads and chuckled as they followed Lyra into the club. As the group entered, they were assaulted by a heavy bass beat and flashing lights of every colour. The club was actually still quite pleasantly cool, as there weren’t a couple hundred bodies writhing on the dance floor, yet, heating the place up.

As they walked through they took in the impressive size of the place and the expensive decor. There was an illuminated waterfall that cascaded down an opaque pane of glass behind the bar that ran the entire length of it. All of the tables had black leather lounge chairs flanking them and chandeliers above them that provided a dim light.

The group followed Lyra as she walked past the VIP sections that bordered the dance floor until she found the one with a piece of paper taped up on the entrance that read “RESERVED FOR VINYL SCRATCH” in big, bold letters, and led the group into it.

On the left and right sides of the large room a pair of black, two-seat, leather couches were placed against the walls. Against the center of the back wall was a large, half-circular black leather couch made to seat ten people, flanked on either side by two-seat black couches, and a large circular table was situated in the middle of the half-circular couch. The side of the room that faced the dance floor was completely open except for a three foot high glass wall that rose from the ground.

As they were all getting seated, the lyrist said “Hey, would you all mind doing me a favor?” After she didn’t get any negative responses she continued with “Beauty, Harpo? Would you two take the seats at the far left end of the couch?” She pointed to the spots she was referring to.

As the couple moved that way, she turned to the two pilots. “Would you two please take the right-most seats?” she asked, again gesturing to the seats she wanted them to take.

“Um, sure,” the rainbow haired pilot started, “but why?”

Beauty chose this time to speak up as well. “Yeah, what’s with the seating arrangement? Not that it’s a big deal or anything, but I’m curious.”

“Well,” Lyra began, “with Bon Bon, Beauty, and Harpo sitting to my left,”- Bon Bon moved to take her seat between Beauty and Lyra; she already knew what Lyra had planned, as they had discussed it earlier in the evening -”it will leave the seats between me and you two”- she gestured to the fighter jockeys -”open. When Octavia gets here, she will sit next to me, since I’m one of her friends, and she’s kind of shy, so she won’t immediately sit next to someone she isn’t acquainted with if she doesn’t have to. When Vinyl gets done with her set and joins us, she’ll only be able to sit between you two”- she gestured towards the pilots again -”and Octavia.”

Spitfire’s face suddenly lit up with a look of comprehension; she focused on Lyra with a mischievous smile. “You’re trying to hook them up!”

“Yes; it’s past time for Vinyl to start dating, again. Spit, you and I both know the kind of loving, caring, and generous woman Vinyl is. She’s a wonderful girlfriend and she deserves a wonderful girlfriend in return. But we both also know that under that confident, sexy exterior Vinyl is broken; damaged goods. She needs a sweet, caring, loving woman to heal the emotional wounds she has left over from she-who-shall-not-be-named, and the death of her parents. I’ve known Octavia a while, and I think she can be that woman.”

“But, she hasn’t ever said anything about being into women,” Harpo said. Beauty and Lyra both just looked at him with a flat look on their faces.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” Beauty said, patting the man’s hand in a patronizing way. “She’s into women, she just hasn’t acted on it yet.”

Lyra nodded her head. “Exactly. Trust me, after she spends some time with Vinyl, it won’t be long before she decides to give it a try. Vinyl has a way of doing that to women who have even the slightest tendency towards the same sex, and even to some who don’t!” Lyra said, rolling her eyes.

“Alright,” the sousaphonist said. “So, what do we do?”

“Honestly, just get them talking and I don’t think we’ll have to do much else. Vinyl just has this magnetism about her; I doubt Octavia will be able to resist. Speaking of,”- Lyra paused and looked at her watch, -“it’s 9:30, where is she?”

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

At that moment, Octavia’s cab pulled into a space in front of the club.

“That’ll be 27 bits, ma’am,” the driver said.

Octavia gave the man 30 bits. “Please, keep the change.”

“Thank you; have a nice evening, ma’am.”

Octavia got out of the cab; looking around, she first noticed the queue of people waiting to get in, then the towering, burly doorman at the front entrance. For a brief moment she wondered if she was supposed to stand in queue, but then remembered what Lyra had told her.

She walked up to the stout man. “Name?” he asked in a brusque manner.

Taken aback by his gruff demeanor, the cellist took a reflexive step back and was silent for a couple of awkward seconds before she calmed herself. “Octavia Melody,” she replied.

He grunted and looked through his list of names again. Once he found her name, he looked back down at her. “Alright, go on in.”

He moved aside to let her pass and she stepped around him at a swift pace. She reached the entrance and entered the club, instantly regretting the decision as she was bombarded by a heavy bass beat and blinding lights. She stopped to compose herself and, once she had regained control over her senses, continued into the heart of the club. As she looked around she noticed that it was every bit as high-class as she had been led to believe, despite the atrocious music coming from the speakers set up above and around the stage.

As the cellist walked through the club she couldn’t help but notice that many of the people stared at her as she walked by, mostly men but some women, too. She saw the rooms off to the right side of the dance floor and decided that those were likely the VIP areas, so she headed that way. She came to the one with the “RESERVED FOR VINYL SCRATCH” sign posted outside of it and stuck her head in just in time to hear Lyra say “where is she?” She saw her friend and walked into the room.

“Well, speak of Discord and he shall appear!” Lyra said with a bright smile. She was dressed in an airy light green dress that was suspended from her shoulders, had a low neckline and came down to just above her knees. A simple gold chain and a pendant in the shape of a wrapped piece of candy, an exact duplicate of her girlfriend’s mark, hung from her neck.

Everyone in the room stood up as Lyra went and embraced her friend. “I’m so glad you could make it, love! You look absolutely stunning!”

“Thank you,” the raven haired beauty replied with an embarrassed smile. “I’m glad I could make it, too. I’m very much looking forward to spending time with you all and ‘cutting loose’, so to speak.”

“Speaking of, I believe there are some people you need to meet!” Lyra took Octavia by the hand, leading her over to where the Wonderbolts were standing. “Ladies, this is my friend Octavia Melody, esteemed Principal cellist and Concertmaster of the Royal Canterlot Orchestra. Octavia, this is Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts, and Rainbow Dash, Spitfire’s wing-woman and girlfriend,” she said, gesturing to each of them respectively.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Octavia said with enthusiasm, a small blush appearing on her cheeks at the use of her titles.

“The pleasure is ours, Octavia,” Spitfire said. “We’ve heard so much about your skill with the cello, and we’re very much looking forward to hearing you play at the Celebration in two months. If I heard correctly you have a lengthy solo?”

For some reason the two Wonderbolts did not know, the cellist’s face fell a bit at the mention of her music. Suffering from the loss of the connection to her music, Octavia was very worried about her solo in the concert.

She recovered in an instant, however. “Yes, that’s correct.” Wishing to change the subject before they could ask any questions she didn’t want to answer, Octavia wasted no time continuing. “Aren’t you two also friends with Princess Twilight Sparkle?”

“Yep!” Rainbow grinned, as she spoke for the first time since Octavia walked in. “She’s my egghead!”

“Well, more Rainbow Dash than me, but yes, we’re both more or less friends with Twilight,” Spitfire chimed in.

“That must be wonderful; I’ve heard so many great things about her and the rest of your friends,” Octavia said.

“She is pretty awesome,” the rainbow haired pilot replied with a grin still adorning her face, “for an egghead, anyway! She will be at the concert in a couple months; I’ll make sure you get to meet her!”

“Really?!” the amethyst-eyed cellist exclaimed. “That would be wonderful, thank you! I’ve played at the palace twice so far and still haven’t actually met any of the Princesses.”

“It’s no biggie.” Dash shrugged, her gold feather earrings catching the light as she shook her head.

Spitfire noticed that Beauty and Harpo were standing close by, still yet to greet the cellist themselves. “It looks like we’re keeping you from other people who want to say hello, so we’ll stop hogging you for a while.”

As Octavia went to greet Beauty, Harpo, and Bon Bon, she noticed Spitfire look at Lyra with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, and nod in apparent approval of something. She didn’t get much time to contemplate what it might be, however, as she was greeted and brought into conversation with the other two musicians and the confectioner.

Lyra, however, knew exactly what the nod of approval was all about, and she was glad that, at least after only a first impression, Spitfire seemed to agree with Lyra’s choice of potential girlfriend for Vinyl.

“Good evening Beauty, Harpo; how are you both?” Octavia greeted her fellow musicians with a charming smile.

“We’re doing quite well, darling, thank you.” Beauty Brass pulled the cellist into a brief but warm embrace.

“How are you this evening, my dear?” Harpo asked.

Octavia released the sousaphonist and moved to hug Harpo. “I’m doing rather well now that I’m here; I think we all could use an evening to unwind.”

Harpo nodded as he hugged the cellist. “I agree completely.”

Octavia then greeted Bon Bon, who wore a long, form-fitting beige dress that was suspended from her neck, leaving her shoulders bare, and cut deep in the front to show off her generous cleavage. A pair of simple, gold hoop earrings hung from her ears.

After a few more minutes of conversation, a waitress came in to take their drink orders.

“Good evening,” the waitress said. “My name is Honey Wine and I’ll be your server tonight. I’ve been informed that all of your food and drink is on the house, courtesy of the owner, so feel free to order anything you wish!”

There were some exclamations of surprise from Octavia, Beauty, and Harpo at this revelation, but the other four knew that Vinyl owned the club and were well acquainted with the woman’s generosity. However, they didn’t say anything about it to the other three musicians, as they knew Vinyl didn’t like to spread around her ownership of her late father’s club and record company.

After the surprise wore off, Octavia and Beauty ordered a somewhat expensive bottle of The Pines Pinot Noir to share, Harpo three fingers of 18 year old Macallan scotch served neat, Bon Bon a chocolate martini, Lyra a long island iced tea, Spitfire a pint of Pliny the Elder Imperial India Pale Ale, and Rainbow a pint of Bifrost Winter Ale that the club, for some reason, still had on tap. The waitress noted all of their orders and left to go get their drinks.

After the waitress left, the group sat back down in their arranged seats on the half-circular couch. As Lyra suspected she would, given the seating arrangement, Octavia took the seat to the lyricist's immediate right, leaving three seats between the cellist and the Wonderbolts open, which would put Vinyl next to the cellist, just as Lyra had planned. So far, the night had gone brilliantly.

Lyra sighed as she settled back into the couch. “This is your first time at a nightclub, isn’t it, Octavia?”

“It is; I admit that nightclubs aren’t really my thing,” the cellist responded. “Though this club is very nice, the music is still terrible.”

“Well, this isn’t my friend Vinyl’s music; I think she may surprise you.”

Octavia gave Lyra a dubious look. “While I doubt it, I certainly hope you’re right.”

They engaged in small talk until the waitress returned with all of their drink orders. She passed them to their respective recipients then, after asking if they needed anything else and getting a unanimous “no”, the waitress left the room with a promise to check on them again soon.

Not a minute after the waitress left, something happened. All at once every light in the club went out and the music stopped. Then, on the left side of the stage, a single, white spotlight illuminated a tall man with white hair dressed in a black suit, with a black shirt, a white tie and dark sunglasses. In that instant, the entire group’s attention was transfixed on the man in the spotlight and they moved to stand before the short, glass wall at the front of the room. He reached into a pocket inside his suit coat, pulled out a microphone, and began to address the crowd in front of the stage.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman, boys and girls!” he said in a loud, excited voice. “Welcome to the Prancing Pony, the hottest nightclub in Canterlot! What do you all think, is it about time we get this party started?!”

His question was met with many whistles, shouts, and much loud applause; the crowd was ready, pulsing with anticipation.

“I am DJ Northern Lights and I am your host tonight, but not your DJ, not yet! First you get to experience the audible magic of the hottest DJ in Equestria! If Luna is the Princess of the night then our DJ is without a doubt the Princess of bass! Oh yes indeed, technoheads! Your liberator! Your luminary! Your leader and beacon! The one who vanquished the tyranny of the Industry those many cycles before! DJ Pon3!”

As he said Vinyl Scratch’s stage name, a soft Techno beat began to play, growing steadily in volume and tempo as a panel was slowly lowered out of the ceiling bearing a turntable and the aforementioned DJ, who bobbed her head to the gentle beat. The crowd started to go completely mental and, as the platform touched down onto the stage, DJ Pon3 dropped the bass.

It was filthy, or so the dubstep kids would say. Without a doubt, Vinyl did not belong to this group, as she appreciated the music not for its insane bass drops, but for its flow, its highs and lows, peaks and valleys; the rollercoaster of sound and emotion it took you on.

The DJ rocked her head harder now, flinging her two-tone blue locks up and down, as she kept up with the heavy beat; under the lasers and ultraviolet lights, her snow-white skin seemed to glow, casting her in a ghostly and ethereal brilliance.

She drew in deep breaths that made her chest heave, clothed in a tight white tank-top that accentuated her moderate-sized chest and was cut off just below her breasts, so that her flat, smooth stomach was visible. On the lower half of her body she wore a pair of short, tight, khaki shorts that complimented and displayed her round, firm ass in a tantalising way. On her hands were black fingerless gloves, and of course, her trademark purple sunglasses covered her intense red eyes. Vinyl chose her wardrobe well, her ensemble highlighting her perfect curves and womanly features in a mesmerising way.

In her left hand she held one speaker of a pair of headphones to her left ear while her right hand worked her magic on the buttons, switches, dials and sliders of her turntable. On her face was the smile of someone who was deep in her element, who lived for what she did, and the happiness it imparted was infectious, as all who bore witness to her began to feel the euphoria.

Octavia Melody, cellist extraordinaire and Classical music zealot, was too enthralled by the DJ and her dramatic entrance to think about the “music” that her mind had yet to register.

“Is that your DJ friend?” the cellist asked Lyra, or shouted rather, in order to be heard over the music.

“That’s my Vinyl! Quite the entrance, huh? She’s all about the theatrics, but I didn’t know they had that retracting booth thing.”

“That was, indeed, quite the introduction.” Octavia nodded, unable to draw her amethyst eyes away from the DJ. She has such charisma, such presence. She really has everyone on the dancefloor at her mercy.

After she recovered from the DJ’s entrance, the music began to register in her mind, and she started to process it.

Well, if I’m honest, this music really isn’t as bad as I had expected it to be. It is still too loud for my taste, but it does have decent melody and rhythm, and it’s not all bass like I thought all Dubstep was. It’s nothing like Classical music, but maybe there is some merit to the electronic styles of music, she begrudgingly admitted.

“So what do you think?” Lyra asked, still next to her.

“She has such presence, such passion for her music and audience.” The cellist still didn’t look away from the spectacle in the booth.

Lyra’s face brightened and a somewhat smug, meaningful smile blossomed on it. “I meant about the music, but she does have a way of,”- Lyra paused for a couple of seconds, searching for the right words -”capturing one’s attention, doesn’t she?”

“Oh; umm, yes,” the cellist mumbled, a little embarrassed that she had, without realising it, kept her train of thought on the DJ.

I suppose it’s not all that surprising; it’s easy to become transfixed by such an alluring woman. Wait,- her eyes widened -did I really just think that?! She focused again on the DJ. Though it’s true, I shouldn’t be thinking such things! Mind out of the gutter, Octavia…

She was broken from her reverie, though, as Lyra noticed Octavia’s eye widen.

“Octavia? Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” Octavia mumbled and turned her head to look at her friend. “Oh, yes, I just realised that this music really isn’t as bad as I had expected it to be,” she recovered, just fast enough to not arouse the perceptive woman’s suspicion.

“It really isn’t, is it? I wasn’t into it at first, either, but after listening to Vinyl’s work I eventually came to appreciate it. I think she understands music better than most people in her particular genre of the art.”

Octavia tapped her fingers to the beat on the railing in front of her. “On first impression, it does seem like it.”

As they all watched the DJ, she continued to bob her head to the beat she spun. After a little while she transitioned into a slow, electronic tune mixed with electric guitar that flowed like a river in the night. The crowd stopped their wild movement and just swayed or, if they had partners, grinded and moved against each other in a sensual way. After about half a minute of just the easy rhythm and beat, lyrics began to flow out of the speakers in a deep, but feminine voice:

“Well, I'm a lover, I am forever

Movin' forward into outer space

And I'm a ruin, I am disaster

But who is comin', I’m not sure I can wait”

While the first part of the lyrics played, Vinyl picked up what appeared to be a single speaker off of a set of headphones. She raised it to her mouth and, after the fourth line of the lyrics ended, began to speak into it, singing the chorus herself in an electronically synthesized voice:

“Lover, a strange kind of lover

A different kind of lover

The kind of lover

You don't wanna just discover”

“Lover, a strange kind of lover

A different kind of lover

The kind of lover

You don't wanna just discover, lover”

After she sang the chorus twice, the next verse began, and Vinyl continued the cycle as she played her pre-recorded verses and sang the chorus live:

“And this old feelin’, has me believin’

Just takin' over like it has before

And this position, it has me wishin’

To keep me movin', to keep me goin' on”

“Lover, a strange kind of lover

A different kind of lover

The kind of lover

You don't wanna just discover”

“Lover, a strange kind of lover

A different kind of lover

The kind of lover

You don't wanna just discover, lover”

At this point in the song the rhythm and beat mellowed out into a thirty second long instrumental solo.

Octavia was transfixed, mesmerised, unable to break the song’s enchantment. This is certainly unexpected. It sounds as if she wrote this song herself; it’s so honest, full of uncertainty, and... loneliness. The instrumental ran its course and another verse began:

“So let your heart out and go and find out

What is the matter between you and me

It is the question to the old answer

Can you save me be the one I love”

“Lover, a strange kind of lover

A different kind of lover

The kind of lover

You don't wanna just discover”

“Lover, a strange kind of lover

A different kind of lover

The kind of lover

You don't wanna just discover, lover”

After the final chorus the song went back into a mellow instrumental beat and Vinyl let it play for just a little while longer before fading it out. She picked up a microphone and in her slightly boyish but musical voice spoke for the first time since appearing. “How are you all doin’ out there?!” The question was met with shouts, whistles and raised fists. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves, but I had to give you all a breather before I rock your world again!”

Right then she hit a button and a fast-paced, bass heavy song blasted out of the speakers and over the crowd, and they all started to move wildly once again.

After Vinyl started the new song up, Octavia and the rest of the group moved back to the couch. After they were all settled in their previous seats, Octavia turned her attention to Lyra. “Did your friend write that last song?”

“She did. She composed the music, wrote the lyrics, and recorded it, as well.”

“That’s impressive,” Octavia responded. “I didn’t expect to hear anything remotely that deep played, much less composed and recorded, by a DJ. It was a very good song; she’s very talented.”

“Yes, she is,” Lyra responded, with a proud smile on her face.

“I agree,” Beauty piped in. “I’m not much into electronica of any kind but Vinyl’s music is quite a bit different, and better, than I expected.”

At that point Bon Bon caught her girlfriend’s attention, leaving the cellist to her own devices. Octavia turned to the two Wonderbolts who appeared to be in the middle of a discussion about the beers they were drinking. She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip, marveling at how good it was. This club really does only stock the best.

After a moment the two pilots finished the discussion about their beer and went back to drinking it. Octavia took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with Rainbow Dash.

“So, how did you and Princess Twilight meet?”

“Heh, it’s pretty funny, actually; the day she was first sent to Ponyville by Princess Celestia, all those years ago, I literally ran into her and knocked her to the ground. I was the second person she met, after Applejack. Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, and myself were all in charge of some part of the preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville that year, and then she met Pinkie Pie at the surprise ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party that Pinkie throws for every new arrival to Ponyville.” Rainbow rolled her eyes in exasperation at the antics of her energetic, partygoing friend. “Then, the five of us wouldn’t leave her alone and we ended up following her into the Everfree Forest to rescue Princess Luna from Nightmare Moon. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

“Wow, that is quite the way to meet someone. It sounds like it was fated to be,” the cellist responded.

“Well, if the Princesses are right, that’s exactly what it was.” Dash glanced down at a ruby lightning bolt suspended by a gold chain that hung around her neck, matching the style of the marks on her thighs.

“That’s amazing,” Octavia remarked. She had almost finished her second glass of wine, as had Beauty, when the waitress came back around to see if they needed anything. She was almost to that pleasant buzzed state, so she gave Beauty a nod and the sousaphonist ordered another bottle of the Pinot Noir. The rest of the group made their orders as well and the waitress disappeared again to get their drinks.

“Yeah,” Rainbow continued, “it changed all of our lives, totally for the better!”

“It certainly seems like it,” Octavia said with a smile.

 It was at this point that Spitfire decided to join the conversation. “So, Octavia, are you from Canterlot?”

“Yes, born and raised here,” the cellist replied.

“I thought that was the case, with your accent and the way you talk.”

“My accent is rather pronounced, isn’t it?” she asked, becoming a little self-conscious at having her voice and speech pattern scrutinised.

Spitfire’s hand moved up to play with the teardrop topaz that hung from her neck on a silver chain. “It’s alright; I kind of like your accent.”

Octavia brightened up a bit at the reassurance. “Oh; well, thank you.”

Spitfire smiled at the cellist. “So, where did you do your post-secondary work in music?”

“At the Royal Canterlot Academy of the Arts,” the cellist responded in a very sheepish tone, looking away. While she was proud of her upbringing and acted as someone of her status was expected to, she was also modest and did not like to brag or flaunt her achievements, or the fortunate circumstances with which she had grown up.

“Wow,” Dash said, at least somewhat impressed. Her girlfriend was more so.

“That’s quite the prestigious school,” Spitfire said.

“I suppose it is.” Octavia blushed a little at the praise.

“You don’t have to be so modest; it really is great that you were able to attend such a respected school! You must really be talented to have gone there.”

“I just don’t like to brag,” the cellist responded.

“That’s definitely a good thing, but don’t let it keep you from being proud of yourself and your accomplishments, or letting other people celebrate and be proud of you and your accomplishments,” the pilot said with a genuine smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Octavia smiled gratefully at the Wonderbolt in return.

At that time the waitress came back with their second round of drinks, handed them out and left again. Beauty and Octavia each poured themselves another glass of wine while the others tended to their beers and cocktails.

They chatted about random things for a while, but mostly Octavia, Beauty, and Harpo took the time to get to know the Wonderbolts pilots. As the midnight hour approached, the music faded out again, which drew the group's attention back to the DJ out on the stage.

“How you all doin’?! Keeping up with me?” DJ Pon3 shouted over the crowd, which was met with indistinguishable shouts and loud whistles.

“I’m glad you’re all enjoying the beats I’m throwing at you!” Vinyl said with a bright smile. “It’s been my great pleasure as always to rock you into another dimension, and I’d like to thank you all for coming out and making what I do worth it! While I do love spinning my beats and sharing my passion with you all, I’m cutting out early tonight!”

The revelation was met with “awwws” and groans of disapproval.

“I know, I know,” she said as she patted her hands in the air to calm their protests. “But I will leave you in the very capable hands of my good friend DJ Northern Lights, who will keep you phasing through space and time! Before I do though, allow me to hit you with my BASS CANNON!” As she said this, she hit a button on her machine that cued up the next track, a song with a bass line as deep as Ghastly Gorge.

After she sent the track on it’s course, she set her machine to automatically cue up the first song of Neon’s set, then turned around and walked to the back of the stage, where Neon Lights was waiting for her.

“Awesome as usual, Scratch,” he said. “You had them hooked from the very beginning.”

“Thanks, Neon. And thanks for taking over so I can hang out with my friends.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m happy to get the chance to do a set of my own!” Neon said, excited.

“Great.” Vinyl smiled and slapped Neon on the back with gusto. “It’s all yours, then.”

With that, Neon started toward the DJ booth and Vinyl turned and went through a door at the back of the stage that led to storage area, the power and electronics closet, and some dressing rooms, including her own private chamber. It was to this private room that she went.

She unlocked the door and went in, promptly collapsing on the black leather couch that rested against the far wall. She stayed like that for a few minutes, spent and in need of a breather. After she had laid there and enjoyed the almost-silence of the insulated room for a few minutes, she got up and pulled off her sweat-soaked cutoff tank-top followed by her white sports bra and tossed them into a clothes hamper in the far corner of the room. Moving to the closet, she pulled out a black sports bra and a towel and proceeded to wipe herself off.

Finished, she threw the towel into the clothes hamper and pulled on the sports bra, adjusting herself so that she was comfortable. She reapplied her deodorant and grabbed a black tank-top from the closet, pulled it on and shut the closet door. Walking to the large mirror on the other side of the room, she looked at herself and ran her fingers through her hair to adjust a few of the two-tone blue locks, then left the room, locking the door behind her.

Vinyl walked back to the stage and skirted it to the left, where some stairs and an ‘employee only’ entrance was. She walked through it and continued her trek along the left side of the club, toward the VIP lounges.

Reaching the lounge she had reserved for her friends and stepping up into it, Vinyl swept her arms out wide as she approached the group with a wide, ecstatic smile on her face.

“Hello, fancy people!” Vinyl exclaimed as she walked to the central couch, the group having just noticed her entrance.

“Vinyl!” Lyra said, her face brightening with a smile. She got up and went to hug Vinyl as the rest of the group rose.

“Heartstrings,” Vinyl said in a playful tone, with a warm smile on her face. “Have you all been enjoying yourselves?”

“We’ve been having a smashing time, love,” the lyrist responded.

The two women released each other and Vinyl turned to greet the next closest person, which happened to be Harpo.

“Harpo! It’s good to see you; been a while!” The DJ raised her right hand for a fist bump.

“Pon3, always a pleasure,” he replied with a smile, as he balled his right hand into a fist and bumped it against hers. “That was a great set you played.”

“Thanks, I’d been working on that one for a while. Now I get to start work on another one!” she replied and rolled her eyes a little.

“Beauty, you look amazing, as usual!” Vinyl stepped over to embrace her. “Is that one of Rarity’s?” she asked after she released the woman, gesturing to her dress.

“It is! Didn’t she do a marvelous job?” Beauty gushed.

“There’s no one better,” the DJ replied. “She really is a master of her craft.”

Bon Bon stepped up to Vinyl’s side and Beauty moved away a little to give the women some room.

“Hey, Bonnie,” Vinyl said, as she gave the woman a warm hug. She really had a soft spot for the woman who stole her best friend’s heart.

“Hello, Vinyl,” the candymaker said, accompanied by a brilliant smile. “I’m glad you could join us.”

“Me, too! I need some time to unwind, too, you know?” the spinner replied with a smirk.

She looked past Bon Bon’s right shoulder to see perhaps the most alluring woman she had ever seen, clad in a long black dress with a slit up the right side that allowed a shapely, tanned leg to be seen. It almost left the extroverted DJ speechless. Almost.

“And who is this stunning creature?!” the DJ said, as she stepped towards the cellist.

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

As the DJ made her greetings, Octavia Melody, refined woman of high social standing and cellist extraordinaire, could only stare at this short, brash, sexy woman.

Seeing her up close, now, she really is beautiful, both in the traditional sense and in a very wild, blithe sort of way. Why am I thinking like this again?! Ugh. She shook her head.She certainly seems carefree, but there is something else there, as well. A tightness in her voice? the cellist wondered, unable to pin down what she sensed about the woman. But my goodness, she has such presence! She walks into a room and everyone stops thinking, stops doing, to focus on her. She’s so charismatic! And she’s a DJ! Who IS this woman?!

Before she could contemplate it any further, the DJ walked toward her.

“And who is this stunning creature?!”

Before she could reply, Lyra stepped in with a dazzling smile. “Vinyl, this is Octavia Melody, Principal cellist and Concertmaster for the Canterlot Royal Orchestra. Octavia, this is Vinyl Scratch, my best friend.”

“Right, the cellist I’ve heard so much about!”

“How do you do, Miss Scratch?” Octavia asked, as she looked into the seemingly ever-present sunglasses of the shorter woman.

“I do quite awesome, thank you! And please, just Vinyl, none of that ‘miss’ crap. And how about you?” the woman replied, a cocky half-grin on her face.

She’s rather forward and crass though, isn’t she? Though, Charisma, presence and beauty… there I go again! It must be the wine. All those things aside, I’m not sure what else I was expecting from a DJ.

“I am doing quite well, thank you,” the cellist said in her melodic voice. “Tonight has been a lot of fun so far, a nice change of pace.”

“That’s great!” Vinyl exclaimed. Mhmm, great. Damn, her voice! I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so sexy. Just the slightest bit of huskiness to it, very feminine, a little musical, and oh so classy!I always did have a thing for classy women. And her eyes... Alright, stop, she’d never be into someone like you anyway!

“Vinyl.”

“Vinyl.”

“Yo, Scratch!” a voice off to her left said loudly, and she felt a firm punch to her left shoulder.

“Hmm?” She looked to her left to see who was talking to her.

“You alright?” Spitfire asked. “You zoned out for a bit.”

“Me? Pfft, yeah! I’m great,” Vinyl replied. “I’m just”- she paused for a heartbeat -”hungry! Yeah, I’m hungry. I’m going to go put in an order at the kitchen, does anyone else want anything?”

“Actually, I think we’re all probably at least a little hungry,” Lyra said.

“Alright,” the two-tone blue haired woman said. “I’ll put in an order for a bunch of things. They have some really great food here.” She looked over at Octavia. “Tavi, you probably like risotto, yeah?”

The cellist blinked twice before replying. “I beg your pardon?” Did she just give me a nickname?! Tavi? Takes all of the class right out of my name. Though, it does have a nice ring to it… But that’s not the point!

“You know, sticky rice stuff cooked with meat or cheese?” the DJ responded.

“Well, yes, I do, but my name is Octavia,” the raven haired woman said in a firm voice.

“Alright, Miss priss; have it your way,” Vinyl said with a small smile. She looked over the rest of the group. “Alright, I’ll be right back.”

The DJ got up before Octavia could give an indignant response to the snide remark.

When she turned to walk away, she passed right by Spitfire and Rainbow Dash. She stopped for a moment, long enough to say, with a grin, “Nice to see you two stick jockeys again! You both look hot, by the way. Be back in a minute!” And then she was gone.

The cellist looked at Lyra with a bewildered look on her face. “What just happened?”

Lyra chuckled. “You just met one of the most unique people you’re ever likely to encounter. Don’t take offense to anything she says or does; she just speaks her mind and tends to treat everyone she meets as a friend unless they give her a reason not to. And really, having her as a friend is much better than the alternative.”

Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Vinyl get lost looking at someone like that. Lyra thought as Vinyl walked away.She must really find Octavia attractive. Not that she doesn’t live up to every bit of it, and then some. The girl really is stunning. Can she resist Vinyl’s wild charm, though? I doubt it.

Vinyl Scratch walked past the dance floor, still full of people writhing, jumping and swaying to the hypnotic sounds of Neon Lights. She kept on past the people at the tables in the dining area, looking earnestly into the eyes of their romantic companion or talking animatedly with their mates, able to enjoy their food and drink far enough away from the source of the music that they could converse. She made it to the bar and after only a moment of waiting was able to flag down the bartender, Berry Punch.

“What’s up, boss lady?”

“Hey, Berry! I need to put in an order for the kitchen and something to drink,” the DJ replied.

“Alright.” The bartender walked to the nearby computer and tapped on the screen. “What would you like?”

Vinyl tapped her chin as she rattled off some items from the menu, having memorised it long ago. “Let’s do an order of risotto, chips and salsa, mozzarella sticks, shrimp cocktail, spicy tuna rolls, salmon nigiri, chips with spinach and artichoke dip, and calamari.”

“Alright,” the cerise haired woman said. “And what do you want to drink?”

“I’ll take a bloody mary, spicy, and use the Grey Goose; no cheap shit!” Vinyl said with a smile at her favourite bartender.

“You got it!” Berry said as she went to make Vinyl’s drink.

Vinyl plopped down onto the closest chair with a sigh, pushed her glasses up onto her forehead and rubbed her eyes.

What are you thinking, Scratch, mooning over her like that? A voice in her head, heavy with despair, said. I’m thinking she’s gorgeous and it’s been a long time since I last entered the dating pool. You don’t have a chance; she’s not your type! You only attract abusive, uncaring women, because that’s all you deserve.That’s not true! No?Then how do you explain Moondancer AND Lightning Dust after her?I was young and stupid; Moondancer was a rookie mistake. Besides, it wasn’t her fault; she was confused... Whatever, you don’t have a chance with a woman of her calibre.She felt her composure begin to crack. no No NO! Stop it! Not here, you will NOT do this here. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then another. She slipped her sunglasses back over her eyes and by the time Berry Punch returned with her drink, she had donned the facade of the confident and carefree DJ that everyone knew and loved once again.

“Here you are.” Berry set the glass down in front of the DJ. “The food will be out in about 20 minutes or so.”

“Awesome; thanks Berry! Cheers!” The spinner got up and made her way back to the VIP lounge with her drink.

When she got back to the lounge, the entire group was laughing as Spitfire told them about how Soarin’, one of the other Wonderbolts, bought an entire apple pie from Applejack at the Grand Gala the month prior and almost lost the whole thing when he dropped it, but Rainbow Dash, with her lightning fast reflexes, saved it. Soarin’ then proceeded to eat the pie with no utensils, right out of the pie tin.

“I swear, if the rest of us weren’t around to keep him in check, he’d start acting like a neanderthal!” Spitfire said in exasperation, and they all laughed again.

“Vinyl, love, there you are!” Lyra exclaimed. “And you got yourself a drink, brilliant. Ready to unwind a bit?”

“You better believe it!” the DJ said, as she walked around the table and took a seat in the only open area left, between the pilots and Octavia. “Did I miss much?”

“Not really, just the story about Soarin’ almost ruining his whole pie that he bought at the Gala.” Spitfire said with an exasperated look on her face.

Vinyl smirked. “Heh, I bet that was pretty funny. He is so weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Dash said, with a roll of her eyes. “We see it on an almost daily basis.”

“That must be entertaining,” the DJ said.

“Eh, not always as much as you would think,” the Wonderbolt Captain retorted. “It can be kind of annoying.”

“Ah. Neon is quirky, too, but he’s usually easy to get on with, which is great since I’m around him a lot.” the spinner said with a look of relief on her face.

“Is he your boyfriend?” the well-meaning, but somewhat naive cellist asked.

“Mine?” Vinyl looked at the cellist in surprise. “Oh, Luna, no,” she continued when Octavia nodded.

When Octavia gave her a somewhat puzzled look, as she wondered why that was such a surprising question to the woman, Vinyl said “I bat for the other team.”

“I’m sorry, bat for the other team?” the cellist cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“I like women,” the DJ clarified in a flat tone.

“Oh!” she squeaked adorably, in surprise and embarrassment, a hand coming up to cover her mouth and her cheeks colouring the slightest bit. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to pry.”

Vinyl waved a hand in a dismissive manner. “Don’t worry about it; I make no secret of my sexual preference.”

Eager to change the subject to something less personal, Octavia asked “So, where did you learn to DJ?”

As Vinyl and Octavia engaged in their conversation, Lyra began a conversation about the Sun Celebration preparations with the Wonderbolts and the other two musicians, leaving the cellist and the DJ to get to know each other, just as Lyra had planned.

“Oh, I started tinkering with Electronica back in secondary school, but I went to University at the Royal Canterlot Academy of the Arts, and that’s where I really learned how to spin.”

“Really?” Octavia perked up, an interested look on her face. “I went there, too; that’s where I learned to play the cello. When did you graduate?”

“Five years ago in June,” Vinyl replied.

“Oh, that was the year I started attending,” the cellist said.

“Really? Did you graduate last year, then?”

“No, two years ago, actually,” the raven haired woman replied.

Right then, Honey Wine came in with the food Vinyl had ordered, and started to spread it around the table in the middle of the group. Octavia took the opportunity to refill her wine glass, her 4th glass of the night; she had attained a proper buzz by that point, but not enough to hinder her cognitive or conversational abilities.

Honey Wine asked if they needed anything else; when they all said no, the waitress took her leave once again.

“You ordered sushi!” Octavia nearly gushed. “I love sushi!”

“Me, too,” Vinyl responded, with an easy smile. “And they have a great sushi chef here.”

They all thanked Vinyl for ordering the food and began to eat. Octavia took a piece of the salmon nigiri in her chopsticks, dipped it in the wasabi soy sauce and ate it. When she turned back to Vinyl, it was with a satisfied smile on her face.

“You’re right, it is excellent,” the cellist said.

“It’s not often I’m wrong,” Vinyl replied with a wink and a half smirk. “Okay,” she continued, “so let me see if I can get this straight; you first attended the Academy five years ago?”

“Yes,” Octavia replied.

“And you graduated two years ago?”

“That’s right.” Octavia nodded.

“How old are you?” asked Vinyl.

“Twenty two.”

Vinyl cocked her head at Octavia, did some quick math, and asked “So, you started attending the Academy when you were seventeen and graduated when you were twenty? Is that right?”

“Yes,” the cellist replied.

Vinyl picked up a mozzarella stick, dipped it in marinara sauce, and ate half of it, but not before a bit of sauce dripped onto her tank top, unnoticed by the DJ.

“You really are some kind of prodigy, then, aren’t you?” The blue haired DJ gave Octavia an impressed look.

“I suppose so,” Octavia said, a little more free with her words now that she had a proper buzz. “I am the youngest person to ever graduate from the Academy with their Doctoral degree.”

Vinyls eyes widened. “You got your Doctorate in music at the age of twenty?!” she asked, truly surprised and impressed, neither of which happened very often.

“Yes?” the cellist replied in a quiet voice, as she decided then was a good time to become sheepish. She finally noticed the marinara sauce spilled on Vinyl’s tank top.

“Um, Vinyl, you’ve got red on you.”

The DJ looked down and saw the sauce. Grabbing one of the numerous cloth napkins that had accompanied the food, she wiped it up, threw the napkin on the table and looked back at the cellist.

“That really is impressive, getting your Doctorate in only three years, and before most people graduate with their four year degree. Speaking of that, what happened with your Bachelors and Masters degrees?”

“I essentially tested out of my Bachelor's degree. I completed much of my baccalaureate core in secondary school, then at the Academy I took a specialised test based on music history, music theory, and composition. I also had to perform for a board made up of the Dean and several professors. Both of my parents hold Doctorates in music and they had helped educate and train me since I was very young, so I was well prepared for the tests. I suppose you could say I was born to music,” the cellist explained.

“Um, wow; okay,” the DJ said. “What about your Master's degree?”

“Oh, I completed my Masters the first year at the Academy, then my Doctoral over the following two years.”

“Holy shit,” Vinyl exclaimed, as she took it all in.

Octavia gave the DJ an unamused glare. “Really, Vinyl, is the language necessary?”

“Heh, sorry, Miss priss,” said the spinner with a mischievous grin. Octavia let out a “hmph!” at the use of the disparaging term again, but let it pass at that.

“So, you’re such a virtuoso that you completed your Master's and Doctoral degrees in only three years!”

“Well, that, taking twenty credits a term year-round, and having absolutely no social life,” Octavia responded, a hint of regret in her voice.

No social life while she was at University? My time there were some of the best years of my life! Maybe I can help her make up for some of what she missed out on.

“Damn. Well, it all paid off, Principal cellist and Concertmaster of the Royal Canterlot Orchestra.” The DJ flashed a brilliant smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle up, though Octavia couldn’t see it due to the sunglasses the DJ still wore. “You’ve got a longer list of acclaimed accomplishments at twenty two years old than most people achieve in their entire lives.”

“I suppose I do,” said Octavia in a self-conscious tone.

Aww, how adorable; Miss priss has a modest streak. That just makes her that much more attractive Vinyl thought, somewhat sullen.

Vinyl gave the cellist a confident smile. “Aww, c’mon; you should be proud of all of your great accomplishments!”

“Oh, I am proud of myself, I just don’t like to flaunt it.”

“Well, I guess modesty is a good trait to have,” the DJ said.

Octavia was becoming more and more self conscious and wanted to shift the topic of conversation away from herself. “Vinyl, why are you wearing your sunglasses, even though you’re inside and it’s night?”

“Well, it’s part of my DJ persona, a”-

“But you’re done DJing for the night,” Octavia interrupted.

“And, it’s a comfort thing,” the DJ finished.

“Oh, I see.” Octavia was already a little curious about why she wore those sunglasses indoors and at night, but she suspected there was a psychological reason to it, rather than a physical one, and she became even more curious. Though, it would need to wait for another time, she knew, after they had gotten to know each other better.

Emboldened once more, Octavia said “You know, I must admit that I had certain”- she paused for a couple heartbeats, searching for the right words -“expectations when I came here tonight; expectations about this club, about the music, about you, and I must say, almost all of them have turned out to be at least not wholly accurate. Your music, for example, wasn’t nearly what I anticipated. I had assumed it would be nothing but bass lines lacking melody or rhythm, but your music had it all, and nicely balanced, for the most part.”

“I’m not your average DJ.” Vinyl gave another confident half-grin. “I’m not one of these dubstep kids, who only listen to songs with the hardest drops. I came to love Techno for the rollercoaster of sound it takes you on, the peaks and valleys, highs and lows. Truly good Techno has a rhythm and melody that will make you sway along with it, and enough bass to make you bob your head and keep it balanced out. Great Techno transports you, takes you away. That’s what I do, that’s why I’m a DJ.”

“You certainly know what you’re doing,” the cellist began. “And you obviously have a deep understanding of music. I was told that you composed, recorded and sang the lyrics for that song about the lover. Is that right?”

“It is, though not many people know that. I’d appreciate it if you would keep that to yourself.”

“Oh, yes, of course; I will,” Octavia said, not sure why the DJ wouldn’t want that known, but she would respect the woman’s wishes.

“Thank you,” Vinyl said in a soft voice.

“The rest of your music was actually quite enjoyable, as well,” the cellist said, eager to move on from what appeared to be a sensitive topic for the shorter woman.

Vinyl brightened up a bit. “Thanks! I’d worked on that one for a while. It is actually the first set where I’ve included the song I wrote. Now I have to start working on a new set.”

As Vinyl was talking, Octavia saw a flash of silver in the DJ’s mouth; she thought she saw it earlier but wasn’t sure, now she was positive.

“Is that a tongue piercing?” the cellist asked, surprise evident in her voice and expression.

“It sure is!”

“Doesn’t that hurt, or get in the way?” Octavia asked.

“It hurt when I first got it, but that was it,” the DJ replied. “After I got used to it I really stopped noticing it, so it really doesn’t get in the way.”

“But why would you even do that to yourself?!” the cellist asked.

“It was another way to be different; I like to go against the grain. Plus it fits my DJ image. It can be fun sometimes, too.” Vinyl gave a mischievous smile and waggled her eyebrows a bit.

“Right…” Octavia responded. She had an idea what Vinyl meant by that, but either way she was pretty sure it was inappropriate in one way or another.

They were silent for a moment, and Vinyl looked around the room, as her mind wandered to preparing her next set. She surveyed her group of friends, thinking about the type of people she was surrounded by. Harpo’s a classical musician, Beauty’s a classical musician, Bon Bon makes yummy candy, Lyra’s a classical musician, Octavia’s a classical musician. Then, inspiration struck her. I usually just sample guitars and drums, maybe the occasional piano, for my music. What about Classical instruments?! Wind and string instruments...

She turned to the cellist. “I’ve just had an idea! What would you say about recording some music together? I’ve just decided that I want my next set to have a Classical music theme!”

Octavia was at first a little put-off. “Classical music mixed in with Techno?” she asked, a bit puzzled. “I don’t know about that. How would that even work?!”

Vinyl wasn’t surprised that she was initially resistant to the idea. “Think about it this way, you will be enriching a genre, bringing a whole new level of melody, to electronic music! You’ll be making it better!”

Octavia took a moment to think it over. When she says it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad. Would I be doing music as a whole a service by contributing to the electronic genre? I wonder if this could help with my creative block, having some outside influence and perspective. Well, I’ve been talking about a change of pace, haven’t I?

“Alright; I’ll give it a chance. I’ll try it for one session and see what happens.”

“I couldn’t ask for anything more!” the DJ exclaimed, an elated smile on her face.

At that moment, the music faded out, and Neon’s voice came through the speakers. “Yo, technoheads, how you doin’?!”

This was met with loud cheers and whistles from the crowd before him.

“I’m glad you’re all enjoying the experience! Once again I am DJ Northern Lights and it has been my great pleasure to spin for you tonight. Unfortunately, it’s almost that time again, when you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here! I do have one last song for you all, though! On behalf of the illustrious DJ Pon3 and myself, thank you for coming out to the Prancing Pony, and we wish you all a good night!” As he said the last word, he hit a button, cueing in the final song. He set the machine to automatically go to standby when the track finished, turned around and walked to the back of the stage and the dressing rooms behind it.

“Wow, I didn’t realise how late it is,” Lyra said.

Beauty Brass yawned. “Yeah, it’s past our bedtime.”

“Mine, too,” agreed the cellist.

They all stood and began to gather their belongings. When they all were ready, Vinyl led the way out of the lounge. They passed by the decent sized crowd still dancing and sweating to the last song in front of the stage, and headed toward the front entrance. The DJ opened the door, holding it for the group to exit.

They all stepped out into the brisk, early morning spring air and began to give hugs and say goodbye to their friends, new and old.

“I’m glad you all came out; it was really nice to see you all,” Vinyl said, giving each of her friends a hug and a “Goodbye.” She saved Octavia for last.

“It was great finally meeting you, Octavia,” Vinyl said with a charming smile, finally using the cellist’s full name.

Octavia returned the smile. “Likewise, Vinyl; it was a pleasure. I had a surprising amount of fun; thank you.”

“Anytime!” While the rest of the group hailed cabs or, in the case of Spitfire and Rainbow Dash, went to their car, Vinyl took out a pen that she carried for the occasional autograph. She reached down and brought up the cellist’s left hand. “May I?”

Octavia was a little confused, but she assented anyway. “Of course.”

Vinyl wrote down her phone number and the address to her flat at the Mandarin Oriental on the palm of the cellist’s hand. “That’s my number and address. Is Monday too soon to do some recording?”

“No; Monday would be just fine, as long as it’s before practice with the Orchestra at 3:00pm.” Octavia looked down at her palm and gasped. “You live at the Mandarin Oriental?!”

Now it was Vinyl’s turn to be sheepish. “Umm, yeah,” she said in a soft voice. Eager to change the subject, she added “So, I’ll see you at my place at 10:00am on Monday? That should be enough time for a first session.”

“Umm, yes, that should be fine. See you Monday at 10:00am,” Octavia said, a little dazed, dumbfounded that this DJ lived in one of the most expensive, and exclusive, high rise flats in Canterlot.

“Awesome! Don’t forget to bring your cello! Goodnight, Octavia,” Vinyl said with a warm smile.

“Goodnight, Vinyl,” the cellist said, and turned toward the curb to hail her own cab.

“‘Night, guys!” Vinyl called and waved to the other musicians and Bon Bon, who were just about to get into a cab. They waved back and Vinyl went back into the club.

“Goodnight, ladies,” Octavia said as a cab approached. She opened the door and climbed in.

“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked.

“The Veneto, please.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” the driver responded.

The cab pulled away as the cellist thought about the intriguing new friend she had made, if she could really call her that. Octavia was fascinated with the brash DJ; she thought that there was much more to her than met the eye, and decided then that she would spend time with her and get to know the mysterious woman that was Vinyl Scratch.

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

Vinyl Scratch went back into the club, which was quickly emptying. The last track in Neon’s set had ended, and the speakers were still and silent. Servers flitted here and there, cleaned tables, collected the last cheques of the night, or reminded people that the club was now closed. A few bouncers guided the remnants of the crowd through the front doors, shooing off a few drunk patrons attempting to reach Vinyl, presumably for autographs.

The DJ ignored the end-of-the-night activity and continued back to her private room. When she got there, Vinyl contemplated resting on the couch again for a bit, but she really just wanted to get home. She went to her closet and pulled out her riding gear and a pair of jeans. She changed into her jeans and put her shoes back on, throwing the shorts in the clothes hamper as she stood up from the couch. Last, Vinyl took her backpack out of the closet and shut the door. Opening the backpack, she took the small bag of dirty laundry from the clothes hamper and secured it in the bag.

Ready to go, the DJ put on the riding jacket, locked up her room and left through the back entrance of the club. Stepping out onto the private parking lot, Vinyl walked to her Ducati sportbike, straddled it, and started the engine. She put on her helmet as she let the bike warm up a bit, enjoying the cool night air. After a couple minutes, she kicked up the stand and headed to the security gate. Vinyl entered the appropriate number sequence on the pad by the gate, and it opened.

She drove through the gate and headed for home. After about fifteen minutes she made it to her building and turned into the underground parking garage. The DJ parked the bike next to her grey Land Rover, and started walking towards the elevator as she took off her helmet.

She entered the lift and hit the button for the 75th floor. The DJ leaned against the wall until the car stopped, opened it’s doors and she stepped out into the hallway of her floor and headed towards her flat. Unlocking her door, she went in, slipped off her shoes in the entryway, and continued into the flat.

The DJ hung her jacket on a chair in the dining area, and placed her helmet on the table. She went past the open kitchen, and down the long hall into her bedroom, dropped the backpack into a corner, took off her jeans, tank top, and sports bra, and climbed into her bed. The last thing she did was take off her sunglasses and place them, along with her cellphone, onto the nightstand.

She was tired, but sleep didn’t come to her then. Vinyl thought about her evening, about how great it was to see all of her friends together in one place. She thought about the classy, beautiful cellist she had met, and how it made her heart race.

What a knockout that girl is. Beautiful, intelligent, and so, so sexy. Her voice, and her eyes, just, damn. She‘s the complete package. A little snooty, sure, but nothing some time with DJ Pon3 won’t fix! She even agreed to come play her cello and record with me!

Vinyl grinned at the thought of spending time with the woman. But after a few seconds, her grin slipped into a frown, as the voice of despair came creeping out from the dark places of her mind. What do you think is going to happen, Scratch? She’s going to see you for who you are, and be attracted to you?! Maybe. Why not?! Wrong. Because you’re broken, hopeless, and screwed up in ways that can’t be fixed. What could you possibly offer a beautiful, elegant, refined woman like her? You’re brash, damaged, and worthless; her complete opposite.Maybe, but I’m also generous, caring, and outgoing; I can introduce her to a whole new world, get her out of her shell. Maybe, but is that worth dealing with you and your problems?But... Don’t fool yourself, Scratch; you could never be good enough for her, you could never deserve her, and she could never care about you, because you’re not worth the effort.

She rubbed the fingers of her right hand over a long scar that ran from her left wrist to about the middle of her left forearm, and her composure shattered. Feeling helpless and alone, Vinyl curled into a ball and began to sob.

She clutched her pillow to her face and cried into it, the blackness of her despair consuming her. Alone, Vinyl eventually cried herself to sleep.