In a Cello Mood

Dear Diary,

My first day at university has also turned out to be the most bizarre day in my entire life!

To begin with, we were told that the studies would start on the fifteenth of September. Imagine my surprise when I learnt that, contrary to the schedule, classes began on the eighth of September! Today! I can only praise Celestia that Frederic dropped by in the early morning to accompany me to university. I was so schocked when he dropped by, eager to pick me up, my not even knowing that I had to go to uni!

Needless to say, I brushed my teeth and groomed my mane and stormed out without breakfast. While Frederic assured me that I didn't need anything for my first day, and that I would merely have to listen to our dean's speech, my mother insisted on my taking a saddlebag full of exercise books and notepads - you must remember, dear diary, for you were in the very same saddlebag - and another saddlebags full of warm clothes and (!) condoms! Can you believe that?! Warm socks and a pack of rubber because I was going to listen to a dean's speech and then go home straight afterwards!

...Though, to think about it, I didn't go home straight afterwards.

I also know what tequila and cider taste like, after today. All thanks to Vinyl. That crazy birthday mare, remember? Who would have thought? Well, it seems that we'll be tied a little closer from now on.

It's a long story.

Anyway.

The sun had already risen high above the horizon...

***

The sun had already risen high above the horizon when Octavia took a deep breath, looking around at the sunlight, violet-tinted world. And the world was good.

The remnants of dawn had long given way to the near-midday sun, with ten o'clock approaching in a wave of post-summer heat, mixing with tiny droplets of momentary quasi-rain that vanished as soon as it had hit the ground of the crowded courtyard of the old, glorious building that was the Royal University of Music and Musical Studies, once a prestigious academy.

It wasn't big, Octavia noticed, standing on the barely-warm grass next to Frederic, who was talking to a group of PhD students nearby. It was a very moderate building, with only a few hundred students gathered in the courtyard, most of them freshcolts and freshmares, though. Frederic had informed her that their dean would be giving the speech outside, while the Electronic Composition faculty dean was to give the speech inside. That's not fair, Octavia thought, eyeing older ponies simply trot into the building, taking the four massive steps - and through the doors. But then again, it's not fair that all faculties give only Master's degrees apart from classical and electronic composition. Who the hay has just two faculties for undergraduates? Octavia sighed, shivering a little at the fresh gust of morning wind that carried the loud chatter of students standing in small groups all about, most of them, however, alone, shy to talk to one another.

One mare, however, caught Octavia's attention, making her take a step back. The white unicorn mare from the coffee shop - whom Octavia had not seen ever since, even though she'd visited the cafe quite a few times - was standing not far from her, looking around in a half-bored, half-excited fashion. It can't be-! Octavia backed down, staggering in surprise.

That was her great tactical mistake, for she bumped at once into some freshmare, who yelped, staggering away in anger and embarrassment, hints of anxiety on her face giving away slight fear. Immediately, Vinyl turned her attention towards the grey mare, as did some other ponies. A grin appeared on the white mare's face.

"Hey!" Vinyl galloped towards the cellist across the courtyard, grinning widely. "Octy! Never thought I'd see you here!" She slowed down her pace as she neared the grey mare, almost bumping into her. "Remember me?" The mare pressed her hoof into her chest proudly. "I'm Vinyl! The mare with the awesome mane?" She gazed into Octavia's eyes hopefully, searching for recognition.

Octavia put on a smile. "Of course I remember you, Vinyl." Can't forget such a weird pony. "We..." Octavia searched for the most appropriate way to express herself. "We ate a nice cake on your birthday," she said finally, her smile growing more genuine at the memory. After all, it doesn't happen that often, eating a cake with a stranger on her birthday.

"Will you introduce me to your friend, Octavia?" Frederic, a slighty older stallion, aged twenty-three, tall, slender, incredibly handsome, a skilful piano player, a restless researcher - the dream of every young mare, and, additionally, Octavia's best friend, smiled at the two younger mares, breaking the conversation with his peers. Bowing his head slighly at Vinyl, more due to his height than out of reverence, he winked at the mare. "I take it you two are short acquaintances."

Not really. Octavia forced a smile onto her face, accepting a quick hug from Vinyl that she barely returned. "You could say so," she replied carefully, taking a glance at Vinyl, who was all but bouncing in excitement. "What are you doing here, Vinyl? I didn't expect to see you here." Or at all.

"I'll be studying here!" Vinyl chirped. "Can you believe it, Tavi?" She pranced around joyfully. "The EDM faculty!" she boasted proudly. "The dean's gonna give the speech soon!"

EDM.... E-D-M... Octavia rolled the word on her tongue mentally. Aha. 'Electronic Dance Music'. Must be the Electronic Composition faculty. "I think," Octavia pointed out, "that your meeting is inside. It's Classical Composition here."

"Oh shit!" Vinyl's eyes widened in panic. "I- I gotta go! Thank you, Tavs!" Vinyl crushed Octavia in another quick hug.

"Tavs?" The cellist blinked as her fellow freshmare let go of her shoulders. "What about 'Octy'>" she wondered with a tiny smile. Not that I like 'Octy'...

"Well, we're friends," Vinyl explained, as if to a child. "I gotta have many names to call you, Octy." Immediately, she seemed to remember about the speech. "Okay, really gotta go!" The mare took a step towards the entrance when she turned round suddenly, grinning at the cellist widely. "Say, Tavs, don't go anywhere when the speech's over! I think we should go to a rad place to celebrate!" Octavia blinked. "Well, we're students now, and we'll be studying together!" Vinyl elaborated in a gleeful shout that attracted a few anxious glances.

"Vinyl, I really don't think-" Octavia began, casting a side glance at Frederic, who just oberved the verbal exchange with a kind smile, his blue eyes scrutinising the white mare diligently, unspoken youthful wisdom shining in them, reflecting onto the cellist.

"Tavs, I gotta pay you back for helping me with that cake back then!" Vinyl smiled warmly. "That's non-nego... non-nego... undiscussable."

Octavia laughed softly at the unicorn's speech, nodding swiftly after getting a silent bow of approval from Frederic. "Okay."

"Yay!" Vinyl gifted the cellist with another swift hug, which was now returned, and galloped off, dashing away into the building.

Octavia let out a deep sigh. "Mom's going to kill me," she told Frederic. "I have just signed my own death sentence." Why? For some reason... Uh. The energetic mare had just taken her by surprise. There was some... aura around her. Something that radiated joy and determination. Something that made Octavia want to partake in joy and determination. The feeling was rather... peculiar. I need to study it, the mare thought, with her usual book-ish longing for scrutiny.

"I'll talk to her," Frederic assured the cellist with a warm, fatherly smile. Once again, like many times before, Octavia wished Frederic were her elder brother. But he was already like a brother to her... "She'll listen, I am sure. You're a student now, Octavia." The young stallion placed his hoof on Octavia's shoulder.

"Thank you, Freddie." Octavia nuzzled into the stallion's hoof. "I think..."

The crowd fell silent with distinct abruptness as an old stallion exited the building, standing on the top step, right before the entrance, with no microphone, no special postament, no golden pedestal. Simply as that, the stallion began, "Dear students. It is a great honour and privilege-"

Octavia fell silent. The speech began.

***

"Vinyl, when you said you were taking me to a 'rad place', I didn't think you were taking me to a bar," Octavia observed, eyeing the grimy establishment cautiously. It wasn't, evidently, one of those underground basement-bars or clubs that her mother had warned her about - the evil establishments where ponies took drugs and had wild orgies - but it was still a far stretch from a nice-looking, cosy cafe - the kind the young mare was used to.

"It's not a bar, Tavi," Vinyl corrected the grey mare knowingly. And yet another nickname... Octavia sighed internally. "It's a pub." She pointed at the barely-occupied wooden tables, solid, rectangular, and an equally wooden bar counter, very plain and wide, so that it could hold a plate as well as a mug. "A working-pony pub at that. Bars are crawling with students by now." Vinyl trotted on, taking her place at the table.

Octavia raised her brow, following her new friend to the table. "I thought ponies sat at the counter, not the tables." She placed herself on the wooden chair cautiously. "In such... erm, establishments."

"Only drunkards sit at the counters," Vinyl explained, obviously never taking into consideration Octavia's intonation. "Sorry, buddy," she dropped at the old, gruff stallion, who was cradling his beer mug at the counter, not paying any attention to the two young mares. "It's a pub: you gotta eat here, too!" she cheered, the prospect of stuffing her stomach evidently alluring.

"So," Octavia wondered idly, "What's the difference between a bar and a pub?" she wondered, looking around with a wince as she took the sight of grim, silent worker stallions sitting all about the relatively small - only ten tables and the counter, and a few ominous shelves hanging on the walls emptily, in a sign of weird modernistic minimalism - room, sipping on their mugs of assorted booze. Not even a sports poster in sight, Octavia noticed. A very bleak place.

"Well, a bar is a place where they serve hard booze," Vinyl said, rubbing her chin rather cutely, to Octavia's mind. "Don't have whisky or gin here. But they serve neat salads." Vinyl looked around, raising her voice just a little, making her tone a tiny bit artificial. Octavia concluded at once that she didn't like the aritificial tone. Genuine Vinyl, though... At least, she's funny. And cheerful. And her voice is... good. "Also, they have more waiters in pubs. Much more waiters." Many more, Octavia corrected breathlessly. Many, not much.

As if on cue, from the back door - which led, inevitably, to the kitchen - came the waiter - or, rather, the waitress, a mare of broad bone, with an ugly face and a heavy step. "Ladies?" she enquired in a dull, grimy tone upon approaching the table.

"Two ciders," Vinyl immediately ordered. "And a plate of chips."

Octavia frowned, hissing lowly, "Vinyl! I... don't drink alcohol. I'm underage!"

"Vinyl let out a loud, artificial laugh, waving her hoof in the air. "She's joking. Two ciders and a plate of chips," she repeated pointedly, glaring at the waitress, who seemed like she wouldn't give a damn if a bunch of schoolkids came into the pub and asked for vodka on the rocks.

As soon as the waitress had departed to the kitchen, Octavia raised her voice. "What is the meaning of this, Vinyl? I told you I don't drink alcohol!" The nerve of that mare! Ordering things without even consulting me!

"Are you an abstainer?" Vinyl raised her brow.

"Well... no," Octavia admitted. But-! "But I'm not even eighteen. I'm not allowed to drink alcohol legally." Yet. Not that she didn't want to try... Mom will kill me. She will kill me dead.

"Pfft." Vinyl chuckled, waving her hoof in the air dismissively. "Tavs, I've been drinking here since I was sixteen. It's a nice pub. Besides," she continued, "you gotta start somewhere. If you start with gin and rum on your eighteenth birthday, that'd be worse than if you start with mild cider a month before your eighteenth birthday." Vinyl paused. "Your birthay is in October, am I right?"

Octavia nodded slowly. "You remembered."

Vinyl smiled. "We're friends. Couldn't forget it if I wanted."

"How do you keep your mane both straight and spiky?" Octavia asked suddenly, eyeing the mare's manedo.  "I mean... gel?"

Vinyl shrugged. "It's natural."

"It's beautiful," Octavia blurted out, blushing a little. What can I do if it's... So... Alluring? Mesmerising? Captivating?

The waitress appeared, placing a mug of cider before each mare, pondering where to put the chips. Vinyl motioned towards the cellist. The dish made its way. Octavia blinked. "Aren't you going to eat the fries?" She looked at the steaming strips of young potato.

"I can't. I have braces." Vinyl pointed at her mouth.

"We also have a wonderful special treat today," the waitress chimed in blandly, the words 'special treat' never tasting so sour. "Every third tequila on the house." She looked at the mares expectantly.

Octavia narrowed her eyes dangeously. "Vinyl. I thought you said there was no strong-spirited liquor here?!" the cellist demanded in mild irritation that could easily burst into fury.

Vinyl seemed to sense that, and only chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head slowly, a bashful grin on her face. "Uh. I didn't say all pubs don't have hard booze.."

Octavia cringed at the horrible abuse of grammar. "Vinyl..."

"Listen, Tavs. We're preparing you for a wonderful student life of booze and who-" Vinyl paused. "Just booze," she amended. "You gotta start somewhere, and it'd be for thee best if you started under my caring eye."

Caring eye indeed... "All right." She nodded, motioning for Vinyl to carry on. "Just one shot."

"Two tequilas," Vinyl addressed the waitress, who vanishing immediately after. Delighted, the white mare took a good gulp of her cider. Octavia followed, the sweet apple flavour hitting her tongue immediately. She didn't feel any different, though, as she tried to dig into herself. No different than my usual sobriety... Content, the cellist took another few gulps.

Still, she shook her head in disapprovement. "What have you got me into, you incorrigible..." Octavia stopped, searching for the right word. Bassist? Drummer? Pianist? "What instrument are you studying, by the way?" she wondered. "Apart from composition?"

"The turntables," Vinyl said eagerly, downing her cider. "The EDM faculty is my ticket to the popular music scene. I'm pretty good with the mixer and the cross-fader already, but I want to become a full Bachelor of Turntablism!"

Octavia blinked, unsure of what to say, musing whether such a degree was real or if it was a figure of speech. "That's... nice," she said finally, not wanting to offend the young DJ-to-be. After all we all have out views on music. Friends disagree. Once more, Octavia blinked, surprised at her trail of though. Since when am I thinking of us as friends?

The tequila arrived, courtesy of the visibly disgruntled waitress, in two shots that made their way to the table. Vinyl grinned widely. "Try it," she nudged Octavia, who took an experimental sniff. It was nothing to be lured by, but nothing gut-wrenching either. Closing her eyes, Octavia took a tiny sip. The dry, sour taste made her cough bitterly.

"That's all right," Vinyl assured her. "They just don't have lemon and salt," she explained, leaving Octavia to wonder what difference it would make. "Now, you gotta gulp down the whole shot, to kill the taste," Vinyl tutored gently, eyeing the cellist with some grown-up indulgence.

Don't patronise me! Octavia frowned and downed her tequila at once. Immediately, a surge of heat hit her throat, and then stomach; and her head became light as an air balloon. All thoughts vanished and giggly happiness washed inside her belly. The cellist laughed aloud, looking at Vinyl tenderly, thanking the DJ for introducing her to the marvellous drink. I need to repeat that.

"Waiter!" Octavia slurred, raising her hoof, shaking a little in glee and anticipation. "Another! And this one's on the house"

***

Needless to say, I returned home a little... later than I was expected. A lot later, in fact.

I expected Mom to give me hell for my rather... tipsy greeting of her in the doorway, my being propped at Vinyl for steady support. But instead, she let us both in and gave us tea and biscuits, made by Jeffrey for the occasion! Dear diary, I love my mother so much. I love Jeffrey so much. I love you so much. I love Vinyl so much. I love everypony!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go doze off. Four tequilas do not exactly contribute to an easily-written entry.

Octavia Philarmonica, September 8th