In a Cello Mood

Dear Diary,

Do you ever have this selfish feeling? Okay, well, I know you don’t, because you’re a diary and all, but bear with me here. I must admit that, upon learning about Beauty’s… preference, I was a little taken aback… But, more than that, I felt weird, strange pride deep inside. I was all like “Oh, a mare that likes me! A mare that realised her sexuality because of me!” - and that left an unpleasant stain on my mood as soon as I realised that such thinking was plainly wrong.

Also, I feel like I need to talk to her, and at the same time I am afraid to talk to her. I know I will let her down, and she knows I will let her down, and maybe, just maybe, Frederic made this whole thing up to mess with me.

Still, I need to talk to her. Have a discussion. Because, if I am planning on making that project with her, we need to maintain at least some semblance of familiarity. If we end up on the wrong note, the project will be officially pronounced dead, and so will our respective careers.

How to talk to her, though? I hope Vinyl can help…

***

“Fuck her.”

Octavia blinked, glancing at her marefriend out of the corner of her eye, and put down the cello. “Vinyl, why I appreciate the sentiment…” The cellist put down the bow as well, sitting down on the bed next to her spinner, who was lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, her front legs under the back of her head. “But I feel like we just cannot disregard Beauty Brass. I don’t know what exactly is wrong with her…” Octavia sighed, rubbing Vinyl’s belly with a hoof. “But I have a notion that something is wrong with her.”

“I didn’t mean ‘disregard’ her,” Vinyl replied, grinning, light reflecting in her spectacles. “I meant, ‘fuck her’. Have sex with her. An inter- interc- that inter thing.”

Suddenly, Octavia was very glad she didn’t have a drink in her mouth, for she managed to do a spit-take on thin air, her hoof freezing on Vinyl’s belly. You what, mate? a very chubby bearded little pony in Octavia’s asked, blinking dumbly. “Vinyl, surely you can’t mean that!”

Vinyl shrugged - which was only strange and awkward, considering that she was lying on her back. “Why not? I mean, you had sex with Spitfire.”

“We had sex with Spitfire,” Octavia corrected, getting up. “And it was different. Besides, not every problem can be solved by sex.” Blasphemy! the little pony in Octavia’s head protested. “If she really does like me, then having sex with her will make it even worse.”

“Sex can’t make it even worse,” Vinyl protested, rolling over to face the grey pony. “Besides, if you have sex with Beauty, I can have sex with Neon!” She grinned, but the grin faded upon notice of Octavia’s deadpan expression. “Too soon?”

“I will always be ‘too soon’,” Octavia grumbled, facing the window and enjoying the rays of late morning sun on her face.

“Like that joke I told Lyra about Vin Daisyl?”

“What joke,” Octavia said flatly without looking at the white mare.

“They say Vin Daisyl can do everything…” Vinyl began, her voice trembling with anticipation, making Octavia smirk at how her marefriend needed to be heard, understood by her; just how much her, Octavia’s, grace determined Vinyl’s existence. And, once again, she tried to battle that selfish feeling and ponder, instead, on how lonely Beauty Brass must now be. And how she, Octavia, couldn’t help her. Or could she? “Do you know what Vin Daisyl can’t do?”

Octavia sighed and shook her head in extreme, but amicable, disapproval. “What can’t he do?”

“He can’t star in another film with Paul Wokker!” Vinyl announced proudly, laughing and coughing simultaneously. Catching Octavia’s stern, disapproving gaze, she ceased her laughter on an awkward cough and averted her eyes. “Ahem. What I mean is, uni days is our time to sleep around.”

“No,” Octavia retorted abruptly, turning round to the window again. “It is never time to sleep around. It is time to be true to your partner. To your lover.” The grey mare sighed again and continued in a softer voice, “There is a reason why I reacted so badly to your ostensible relationship with Neon. I need to know that I can trust my lover. Trust is very important to me.”

For a few moments, Vinyl lay silently, then sat up in bed. “More important than love?”

“No,” Octavia admitted. “Nothing’s more important than love.” She approached the white mare. “And I love you. And I will stay true to you. But I need to talk to Beauty. Can you allow me that?”

Vinyl blinked as Octavia wrapped her hoof around her neck. “Why would you need my permission?”

“Because I am yours,” Octavia said simply, kissing the mare on the cheek. “Just as much as you are mine.”

Vinyl smirked and drew the mare into a deep, lasting kiss. “Then,” she said, breaking the kiss, “I certainly won’t object.”

***

“Yes, Father?”

“...”

“No, I mean, yes, I did talk to Frederic.”

“...”

“He has found another mare.”

“...”

“Yes, I know I am worthless, but thanks for reminding me.”

“...”

“Sorry. I’ll drop that tone right now.”

“...”

“Yes, I’ll try to find another stallion to marry, Father. It’s just that, I am getting education to-”

“...”

“Of course. I understand that mares don’t have to work, but what if I want to work?”

“...”

“Yes, Father, that won’t interfere with my duties as a wife. ...Good-bye, Father.”

“...”

“Love you too.”

***

“What. Do you want.”

Octavia shrugged, sitting opposite her nemesis at the dinner table. “Well, tea would be nice,” she suggested with a tiny smile. It was still all too pleasant to mess with Beauty Brass that way. Especially if it didn’t hurt anypony.

Beauty sighed and tried to put on her best stern expression. “Don’t tell me you just came here to have a cup of tea.” Still, the blue mare stood up and went on to prepare tea.

“Why not?” Octavia asked without a sign of defiance to her tone. Catching the vocalist’s glance, she sighed. “All right. I didn’t come here for tea.” Octavia lifted her eyes and made eye contact with the hostess. “I came here to tell you I don’t like you.”

Beauty froze for a moment, then proceeded to the table with the tea. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out we’re not on best of terms. Though, I think when you stayed at my house-”

“I don’t like you, Beauty,” Octavia repeated, looking at the mare sadly, knowing how much hurt her words would actually do. “You don’t get it. I cannot return your feelings. I have Vinyl.” Octavia paused. “Beauty, I know.”

It was a gamble, a pure leap into the unknown, a dance under the pink moon. For a moment, Octavia even doubted the truth of her own words, or whether Frederic had told her the whole truth, or whether Beauty herself had lied to Frederic, and thus…

“Frederic told you, didn’t he.”

Octavia nodded.

Beauty sighed, looking at the near wall, where the clock ticked the seconds away. “I knew I shouldn’t have told him. But it all… Ah, who the hell cares.” The mare waited, lingering over the table, then rushed to the cabinet. “Okay, I think we need a drink.”

“No,” Octavia said softly, but sternly, raising her hoof in the air. “I don’t need a drink, and neither do you. We just need to see where we stand. I said I didn’t like you as a potential marefriend,” the mare carried on, feeling how weird it was to associate Beauty Brass with the word ‘marefriend’, “but I think I can like you as a friend. I understand that your, erm, bitchiness?” Octavia winced a little. “I mean, your peculiarities of character are a result of, um, concealed attraction, I guess? And I forgive you.”

“No, Octavia.” Beauty shook her head, standing by the wine cabinet, facing away from the grey mare. “It wasn’t because of concealed attraction. I’ve only realised my feelings for you recently…” The blue mare turned round, and Octavia could see the tears in her eyes. “There are other… reasons. I… I am not looking for excuses. I mean, I grew up rich, and…” She gulped down unwanted tears. “It’s not like,” she smiled through tears, “it’s not like I own this house, and if I don’t, if I don’t obey…” The vocalist broke down into tears, leaving Octavia speechless at the table.

The grey mare stood up automatically and reached her rival, wrapping a comforting hoof around her. “I. I didn’t know you. I mean, if you have abusive parents…”

“Please…” Beauty whispered. “Nopony can interfere. Because, otherwise, my Father will stop sending money to Mom, and…” Once more, the mare practically collapsed onto Octavia in hysterics.

“I didn’t…” Octavia began, trying to find the right words. “Maybe you should live with me and Vinyl?” she suggested, immediately chiding herself for that kind, generous, and stupid, offer.

“And make it uncomfortable and awkward for the three of us?” Beauty smiled, sniffing. Just now did Octavia realise how beautiful this mare was, not beautiful like Vinyl, in her own special way, but beautiful objectively, a product of a perfect genetic pool. How coldly beautiful she was. How her beauty looked deeply wrong and artificial.

“I don’t know how I can help,” Octavia said weakly, seeing as she had no power to assist the beautiful mare in her sorrow. Seeing as she had no power to help her at all - and probably nopony did. Seeing as there was no way…

“You can kiss me,” Beauty said almost breathlessly, leaning in to the grey mare. “Or let me kiss you. I… I think…”

Octavia smiled sadly and distanced herself from the mare. “I’m sorry, Beauty, but we both know it would be better if we didn’t do this. For both of us.”

“Of course,” Beauty said, holding tears at bay, and faked her best smile.

The two mares just stood opposite each other for a while, before Octavia let out a nervous cough and a weak smile. “I think I have to go now. See you?” she suggested weakly. “For the project, I mean.”

“Of course.”

Beauty watched the mare leave, and stood there, waiting for the door to close. Hearing the reassuring click, she yelled, on top of her lungs, letting out a wild, primeval roar. The teapot flew against the wall, and so did the cups. Storming out, focused on just one thing…

In the bedroom, out went the drawer, out went the paper, yes, what they’d composed so far, together. Shredded to tiny pieces. She chewed on the paper, tore it apart with her teeth, tore it like there was nothing more to life than to destroy art.

Only then, seeing the tiny pieces of their work, her and Octavia’s work, she felt a little better.

***

Sometimes life just treats you in a manner, and you have to learn to adapt to it.

Sometimes you can’t change things. You can only learn to suffer in silence.

Sometimes you cannot even change your perspective on things, because those things are so dreadful there can be no other perspective.

Sometimes you just have to learn to live.

Because the opposite is…

You have to persevere. I thought Professor Dan was a good example of perseverance, but now I see that Beauty is a much, much better example. Building a shell around herself, she managed to live through oppression greater than even those in the Crystal Empire have to face: the oppression of family.

I cannot imagine what I would do if I had a father like that. For that matter, I cannot imagine what I would do if I had a father at all…

One way or another, we persevere, and that is what defines us. I cannot say any more here, Diary, so I’ll just shut up and go enjoy this evening with my loving family and my loving marefriend.

It takes some things to make a mare realise how lucky she is.

A very lucky Octavia, November 3rd