In a Cello Mood

Dear Diary,

Sorry for stealing you from Octavia. I don’t think she’s been using you much anyway. Well, apart from documenting our wild sexual adventures. Sorry for that, Diary. I’ll talk to her not to embarrass you that way. After all, you never get laid. Sorry for that, too.

You know, I just wanted to say that, with Octavia by my side, I’ve finally begun to sleep well. I haven’t had nightmares in a long, long while, and I think I can finally come to terms with what I’ve done and what I could have done and what I could not do.

And I think that, with her by my side, I can finally find absolution.

***

“Name?”

“Hoity Toity.”

“Real name.”

“Immanuel Staccato.”

“Occupation?”

“I am an entrepreneur.”

“No, you aren’t.”

The well-groomed, but pretty roughed up, stallion looked up, his hooves cuffed in front of him on the table, while the pink pony opposite him rose and turned off the camera. Immanuel Staccato - or, as the name he’d made for himself went, Hoity Toity - did not want to show any fear, but the way he’d been brought here was far from pleasant. He did not know what those ponies wanted from him… Of course, if only they had found… No, they couldn’t have found out, because Dan was an honourable stallion who’d always helped him-

“You are a dirty tax evader, that’s your occupation.”

The dark grey stallion tried to cower, or inch back, but the blow came too swiftly, right on the back of the head. It wasn’t a particularly hard blow, but it was well-practised, and came from somepony who wasn’t new to beating other ponies up. “Wait till my lawyer gets here!” Hoity Toity faked anger, hiding behind fear and pain, and expectation of another blow.

Which came in time, on the stomach, making the grey stallion retch and roll on the floor.

“He isn’t coming, you idiot,” the pink pony hissed at the prisoner, leaning over, looming over the beaten-up stallion dangerously. “He is the one who gave you away.”

“I have rights!” Hoity Toity tried to get up, but the floor seemed more and more enticing with each second. “I am the accused, and I have the right-”

Another blow preceded the tirade, this time on the mouth. Hoity Toity felt several teeth breaking from the mighty kick. “You don’t have any rights. We have your accounts. You are already a convict, Immanuel Staccato. In fact,” the prosecutor grinned, “you are already a prisoner.”

***

“How was uni?”

Beauty sighed, burying her head in Dan’s armpit. This, here, was serenity. This wasn’t exactly happiness; they weren’t at the point where his mere presence could bring her happiness. Maybe this was a lie, and no lover was at a point where their lover’s mere presence could bring them happiness. Maybe their relationship was… The mare took a deep breath. It was weird. But it was serenity.

“It was all right,” Beauty replied, nuzzling into Dan’s fur, relaxed and tranquil. “Just like any other day. We started working on the project again, Octavia and I.” The blue mare winced for a moment. “We’ve started from scratch.” Not voicing, of course, the reason behind that. “You know,” she said suddenly, confiding in the stallion she felt such warmth towards, “I have so much to do. I haven’t had my medical evaluation yet, and the project, and I still have to register some courseworks…”

“I understand.” Dan smiled, stroking Beauty’s mane gently. “I know you have a lot to do, Bea. I’ll understand if you need to go now. After all,” he laughed, “I’m not going anywhere yet.” He felt better; but not well enough to move around further than to the bathroom. Not well enough to… No, of course not. If Bea didn’t want this… He would ask, of course, but, but if she didn’t want this, he would wait. Forever, if necessary.

“You are so kind,” Beauty purred in bliss. “I cannot wait till you can go home and we… And we, um.” She blushed, looking away and chiding herself immediately. I am not a little filly, why am I getting embarrassed about this? And yet, her heart fluttered, and her body ached for intimacy with Dan. Her mind filled up with endorphins at the mere thought of the well-built stallion on top of her… or, maybe, of her on top of him… Or, maybe…

“Don’t rush it, Bea.” Dan sighed, looking away in the distance. “First things first. We have to deal with your father, then we can think about…” Suddenly he found himself blushing as well. “Um, other things.”

“Have you…” Beauty sighed as well, her eyes still closed. “Have you found a way to-”

“I think I have.” Dan frowned, and pushed the mare away slightly, prompting her to open her eyes and look into his. “But there is a price I had to pay. A client.”

“Isn’t that against lawyer ethics?” Beauty wondered softly, feeling an uneasy feeling in her stomach, the kind of feeling that wouldn’t go away with a simple kiss.

“Bea,” Dan replied very seriously. “When it comes down to ethics and you, I’ll choose you every time.” With that, he leant in and kissed the mare on the lips, not the passionate kisses they’d shared before, but more of a sealed pact, an acknowledgement, a contract.

“Dan…” Beauty stood up after the kiss, stretching her limbs, which hurt from the uncomfortable hospital bed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Professor Dan smiled the kind of smile that made the young mare melt and want to forever lie in his embrace. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Bea.”

Beauty nodded. Then, took out an envelope from her saddlebag. “Here, the nurse said this is for you.”

Dan nodded and watched the mare depart, slow-pace. He shut his eyes and opened them again, tearing the envelope apart. Inside, there was a short hoof-written note:

Package received. The wheels are set in motion.

***

Jeffrey had been a butler for a long, long time. Throughout his finest years, he had acquired an ear for door-knocking. Simple knocking could say oh so much about the pony who was committing the action. There were shy, tiny knocks of early lovebirds; there were demanding knocks of policeponies; there were uncertain knocking of couriers - and then there was this knocking.

The grey stallion shifted towards the door, wondering at the knocker’s persistence. Immediately he had recognised the knocking as female, and already pictured a plump, stately mare in a fur coat.

And, indeed, it was just such a mare. Such a mare, who almost stormed past the butler - but Jeffrey was skilful enough to precede her with a side-step. “Excuse me, Miss?” he wondered as politely as he could muster.

The white unicorn with a long, flowing blue mane stopped, glaring at the butler. Now he saw how reminiscing she was of Young Miss’s marefriend; but surely she cannot… “Is this the place where they keep my daughter?” she demanded in a loud voice.

“Miss, I am adamant that-” Jeffrey began, but, from the stairs, came the surprised voice of Octavia:

“Jeffrey, who is this?” The grey mare descended the stairs, followed by Vinyl, who froze in place upon seeing the visitor. Immediately, Octavia noticed her marefriend’s dismay. “Who are you?” she addressed the plump mare with hostility. Vinyl began to tremble slightly. “You are scaring my marefriend! Jeffrey, tell her to leave!”

“Oh, look who we’ve got here!” The mare’s face brightened with a smile. “If it isn’t Vinyl, my little sibling-killer!”

Vinyl screamed.

***

If there is a hell, I hope I burn there instead of being here.

Vinyl Scratch, November 19th