Couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day, you think to yourself as you meander down Ponyville's Mane Street. The sun is shining bright and mellow in that not-too-cool, not-too-hot kind of way, and there isn't a cloud in the sky. You'd never let any of the ponies hear you say it, but if this is what makes up an Equestrian Summer, then you could definitely get used to it.
Speaking of the ponies, it seems that they too are intent on enjoying the good weather. While you can't really call the streets packed (you doubt that's even possible in a town this size), it seems like everypony is out and about this afternoon. The market district is even more bustling than usual, and over the din you catch an occasional snatch of what you can only describe as power-haggling. An image pops into your head of that one Earth Pony. . . Bon Bon, you think, swapping offers with a used car salesman back home, and you can't help but chuckle at the thought. What I'd give to see that, you think, and a wave of sudden, familiar homesickness washes over you. What I'd give to see a lot of things. . .
You shake your head almost violently, forcing yourself into a new train of thought. You've come a long way over the past nine months, and the last thing you want to do now is start sinking back into depression.
Adjusting to life in Equestria hadn't exactly been easy. Seeing the drain in your bath suddenly grow into a massive, lightning-shooting portal that had pulled you into a bizarre world of miniature, technicolor mythical creatures with full sentience and a fairly advanced civilization had been, in a word, traumatic. In fact, it was probably good that the pony-folk had walk-in showers, because you hadn't gone near a tub since. Add to that the loss of everything you had back home, being initially treated like some kind monster, and a two day game of hide-and-seek in a terrifying forest against two beings so powerful that they literally moved the sun and moon, naked, and it was a bit of a miracle that you'd adjusted so well in such a short time. Whenever you think about it, you chalk it up to good old human adaptability. Sure, you can be all gloom and doom, but it's so much more pleasant to picture Bon Bon standing in a car dealership, obstinately eyeing a sales rep who's visibly trying to hold in his frustration.
Speaking of Bon Bon, it seems that her roommate, and your occasional stalker, has noticed you. Lyra, a million bit smile pasted across her minty muzzle, is trotting across the market place with all the enthusiasm of a school-filly on Friday. You frown slightly as you take a deep breath, bracing yourself. Come on, you silently encourage yourself, you've improved so much this month. You got this!
Forcing a smile, you decide to take the initiative. "Hey Lyra," you call as she approaches, "how you doing today?"
"Hey yourself, Handy," she shoots back, her grin getting even wider, "and I'm doing great! What about you?"
Your smile grows a bit more genuine at the nickname as you reply, "Can't really complain. Loving this weather. Is the whole Summer gonna be like this?"
"Sure is. From what I hear we have a couple major storms scheduled next month, and some kind of big wind front near the end of August, but besides that we've got nothing but clear skies and warm, sunny days."
You shake your head as you say, "I don't know if I'll ever get used to the way you ponies control the weather. I've seen you guys doing it, and I still have trouble believing it."
She raises an eyebrow and quips back, "And I don't understand how you can live in a world where the weather just does its own thing. What if there's a drought, or a tornado, or something like that?"
You shrug. "We adapt," you say proudly, followed my a mumbled, "or move. . ." as you look quickly away.
Lyra favors you with a snort and a chuckle, and you reflect that for once you've managed to make it through more than two sentences without things getting uncomfortable. Of course, the very next words out of her mouth are, "So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?"
Ah hell, here it comes. Evasive action! "I'm actually helping out Cheerilee over at the schoolhouse," you say quickly. "Come to think of it, I'm probably running a bit late, so I'd best be off. See you around, Lyra!"
You turn to make your exit, only to find the unicorn blocking your path, a hopeful smirk now adorning her muzzle. "Well, in case you have time later, Bon Bon and I just got a giant bean bag chair the other day. It's super comfy, and has plenty of room, and I-"
"No, Lyra," you interrupt, your expression morphing into a serious frown. "I've told you again and again, I'm not comfortable with the whole touching thing the way you ponies are. Someday I might be, but I also might not. Either way, please stop trying to force it." By this point the look on her face is both pitiful and adorable, but although it tugs on your heartstrings you can't help but continue. "I know you love my hands, but they're my hands, and if I want to keep them to myself, then that's my choice. Can you please just respect that?"
Lyra looks at your hands sadly for a moment before turning her gaze to the ground and murmuring, "You're right. I'm sorry I keep pushing."
You're about to accept her apology when you notice that every single pony in the marketplace is staring at the two of you. Great, you think glumly, that's just the kind of attention I needed today. Sympathy gone, you heave a deep sigh before grumbling, "It's fine." You turn to leave, forcing out a token, "Have a nice day, Lyra," as you go. You barely hear the "You too," as you exit the market square, heading for the schoolhouse.
You make yourself take a few deep breaths as you try to regain your good mood. It's not their fault, you tell yourself as you walk along. It's part of the culture here, and it's not like your explanation makes that much sense. Well, not to them, at least. How can it when friendliness and closeness are so natural to them?
One thing you had noticed very quickly upon arriving in Equestria was the fact that the ponies were big on physical contact. Hugging, nuzzling, cuddling, they did it all, and even fairly casual acquaintances would often give a quick neck-hug as a farewell. Whether it was a cause or a symptom of their inherent friendliness you weren't really sure, but what you were sure of was that when the two combined it became more than you could handle.
It had taken a while to come to terms with losing your whole world, and the ponies had unintentionally made it a lot harder than it needed to be. Once they'd gotten over their initial fear, you'd been bombarded with sympathetic ponies who'd wanted to give you a cuddle and let you know that you weren't alone. The problem was that, at the time, you'd wanted nothing more than to be alone. Every pastel pony that brought hugs and best wishes had been just another reminder that everything you had ever known was gone, and every nuzzle and kind word they'd given had rubbed a little more salt in the wound.
Eventually you'd had a meltdown, damaged some property, scared a lot of ponies and gotten the Princesses called on you. While they hadn't been happy with your outburst, they had been very understanding, and so they had arranged to have you moved into the Everfree Forest to live in relative isolation with the zebra, Zecora. You hadn't exactly been thrilled with the location, but Zecora had graciously left you to your own devices, and thus you'd finally had the peace you needed.
Time had passed, you'd done your mourning and begun to move on, and eventually you were ready to give the ponies a second chance. For the most part they'd been okay, certainly better about giving you the space you needed, and you in turn had slowly adjusted to their natural friendliness. Even so, the prevalence of touch in pony culture is something you just can't bring yourself to deal with. It's almost as if the initial overload of contact left a bad taste in your mouth, and you just can't manage to get it out. You know it isn't rational, but that doesn't make the discomfort go away, and as such you haven't really gotten close to the ponies and all their touchy-feely kindness.
There are, of course, a few exceptions. Big Macintosh was your first real friend, his trademark silent stoicism fitting perfectly with your need for a low-input relationship. Living with Zecora has naturally made the two of you rather close, and she has always been happy to wait for you to approach her. Finally, there's Ponyville's resident school teacher, Miss Cheerilee.
In your estimation, Cheerilee probably understands your reasoning better than any of the other ponies do. You imagine that years of caring for hyper, know-no-boundaries foals would do that to anyone, and it makes her a kindred spirit of sorts. She was the only pony that you never had to ask to leave you alone when you were still adjusting, and that fact has cemented her place as your best friend here in Ponyville. That's not to say she isn't just as cuddle-happy as the rest of them, but she's always been very careful to respect your personal space, something for which you are eternally grateful.
The ring of a school bell jars you from your thoughts, and you realize that your reverie has taken you all the way to to your destination. The reddish, gingerbread-house style building sits directly ahead, and although it still looks just as likely to cause flash-burns as ever, you can't help but smile in anticipation as you approach. Every Friday after classes, you stop by and help Cheerilee finish up her work for the week, whether it be helping her grade tests, reorganizing the classroom, and on one occasion, fixing some piping that those dimwits Snips and Snails filled with rubber cement (yeah, you still don't wanna know). You've been doing this for close to six months now, and it's become your favorite weekly ritual. Cheerilee gets to finish up her work day faster, and you get to learn about Equestrian history, culture, and other things that, as a stranger here, you feel it might be important to know.
"Hey look, it's the human!"
And then there's the downside. . . you think to yourself as a small flood of fillies and colts begins streaming through the school doors toward you, faces alight with hope and excitement. You can't help but freeze as two of your most fundamental instincts come into conflict.
Just like small children back home, there is an unspoken principle by which these foals live; if someone is big and strong, then they can pick you up and toss you in the air, and thus they are automatically fun. You are bigger and stronger than almost any pony in town, and you have the extra advantage of hands, therefore you are the most fun out of anyone. Unfortunately, given your aversion to pony touch, the last thing in the world you want is a bunch of foals climbing all over you.
On the other hand, these little guys are adorable, and the disappointment on their faces when you refuse to play with them tugs at your heart harder than the end of Titanic (not that you ever saw it). You know it's only a matter of time until their puppydog-out-in-the-snow eyes break you, and if you're being honest with yourself, you know that's probably a good thing. For now however, it's just a headache waiting to happen.
Fortunately for you, most of the foals are intercepted by their parents before they can make it to you. You give them a grateful smile and a nod as a chorus of disappointed 'aawwwwws' rings out, and start for the door, glad that you're in the clear.
"Howdy Mr. Handy!"
Oh hell. . .
You can't help but wince as you turn around, and sure enough, there they are. The terrible, too-cute trio called the Cutie Mark Crusaders, all of them wearing identical hopeful smiles on their faces. This is gonna be a rough one, you think as you force a smile onto your face and say, "Well hello girls! How are you? Having a good Friday?"
"Today was awesome!" pipes up Scootaloo. "We've been learning about the history of weather development and great weatherponies, just like Rainbow Dash!" You can't help but notice that the other two don't seem quite as enthusiastic about that. You feel a small pang of sympathy, and before you can stop yourself you ask, "What about you two? You don't look quite as excited as Scootaloo here. Day treating you alright?"
What are you doing?! your brain screams at you. The fillies already have Cute Factor 9 on their side, don't give them pity power too! End conversation! Abort! Abort!
"It was okay, Ah guess," replies Applebloom, looking a bit put out. "Ah'm havin' a bit of trouble wrappin' mah head around all the different kinds of clouds, though."
"Me too," squeaks Sweetie Belle. "I still can't tell the difference between cumilus and cumilonimblus."
Oh god. . . Sweetie's mispronunciation is too much. You can practically feel yourself spiraling toward the inevitable cute death of your brain-i-verse. Time to bail.
"Aw, don't worry about it girls!" you say with a smile. "I'm sure you'll have them down in no time." You then take a deep breath and continue, "Well, I don't wanna keep Miss Cheerilee waiting. You girls have a good weekend, ya hear?"
You don't even manage to turn before Applebloom grabs your leg, her face morphing into a sly smile with all the subtlety of a juggling manticore. Uh-oh. . .
"Actually, Miss Cheerilee still looked really busy when we left. Ah don't think she'll be ready for you quite yet, and we were hopin' that maybe you could help us!"
Red alert! Red alert! Get outta there!
"Er, what did you have in mind?" you stammer out.
"Well, we were gonna head over to Rarity's to do some crusadin', but since you're here, maybe you could help us with an idea that Scootaloo had."
You throw the orange Pegasus a cautious glance as the three look at each other and shout in unison, "CUTIE MARK CRUSADER ALIEN RIDERS!"
You can almost smell the smoke as your thought process comes to a screeching halt.
You can vaguely hear Sweetie Belle insisting, "It'd be really easy! Since you're an alien, all you'd have to do is give us a pony-back ride over to my sister's house. It's really close, and I think we still have some scones left over from this morning. You get scones made by my sister, and we get our cutie marks without doing anything dangerous. It's our best idea yet!" she declares with an entirely too adorable grin.
It takes you several seconds and a couple of mental reboots before you're finally able to respond. "Girls. . ." you sigh, "I really don't think-"
"PLEASE!" they beg, and suddenly it's there. The ultimate weapon. The triple powered puppy-dog pout that can turn back armies and drive lesser mortals insane. Must. . . look. . .away, you tell yourself, but it does you no good. Damn Applebloom and her oversized bow, she's the worst one of all! No living being should be this cute! I have to. . . have to. . .
"Having problems?" a new voice cuts in. Just like that, the Adorability Charm is broken, and you look up to see Cheerilee trotting toward you, clearly struggling not to laugh.
Saved by teacher. Thank you Sun Pony. . . yup, it still feels weird thinking that.
She turns to the Cutie Mark Crusaders. "Sorry girls, but I'm afraid I need to borrow the human. I need a hand with a few things."
Cheerilee, you think as the fillies voice their disappointment, truly you are a saint, bad puns and all.
"I'm sure he'll be happy to help with your crusading tomorrow though!"
May you suffer a thousand deaths, you traitorous wench!
Cheerilee sees the fillies to the end of the road before turning back and walking up to you, all the while wearing the most self-satisfied grin you've ever seen in your life. "What?" she asks innocently in the face of your death glare.
"Was that last part really necessary?" you deadpan.
She shrugs. "Probably not, but I needed a pick me up, and your reaction did just the trick!" A brief stare down ensues as she meets your scowl with a smirk, until at last she snorts, you chuckle, and you both burst out laughing.
"Seriously though," you say as you both start walking back towards the school, "I'm gonna get you back for that."
"Looking forward to it," she shoots back, still smirking. "What are you going to do, Fingers?"
"What you just said," you quip. "I have fingers. I can set up all kinds of delicate little traps that you ponies won't see coming."
"Uh-huh," she says dismissively. "You can do all these precise, delicate things with your hands. That's why you always use them to pull that giant body of yours into apple trees to scare of the Core Crows, right?"
"Hey, I had to do something for the Apples. I destroyed their entire produce stand during my meltdown."
"I guess you're right," she relents. "I'm just glad you haven't started tickling ponies. I might actually be worried if that wall came down."
Your smile falters a bit as the two of you walk into the empty classroom. "Please tell me you haven't become one of them. I don't know if I can handle it if you've gone to the cuddle side."
"No," she says in a tone that's both sincere and a bit wistful. "Just stating an opinion."
You regard her for a moment before giving a shrug. "If you say so, Cheers. So, what've we got today?"
"Honestly, I don't have much for you this time," she says matter-of-factly. "There are a few quizzes you can help me grade, but apart from that I'm just planning how I'm going to decorate the class for the Summer Sun Celebration. Until I have that taken care of, there isn't really much for you to help me with."
You give her a puzzled look. "Then what was that about needing a hand?"
She raises an eyebrow at you. " Did you want me to leave you with the Cutie Mark Crusaders? If you did, it's not too late to go and get them."
You immediately raise your hands. "NO, no, that's okay. Point taken. Thank you for that, by the way."
She gives you a warm smile. "No problem. So, you wanna get started on those quizzes?"
"Sure thing," you reply, returning the smile gladly as you kneel next to her desk while she fetches a pile of papers.
The next half hour or so passes in companionable silence, broken only by the scribble of marking a mistake or a request to translate some foal's illegible mouth-writing. Not that I can judge, you think ruefully. I hate to think of how my writing would look if I had to use my mouth to do it. Come to think of it, how is Cheerilee's penmanship better than mine? Seriously, how is that even possible?
Your thoughts are interrupted by a quiet "Hey. . .", and you look up to see Cheerilee regarding you seriously. "Can I. . .", she begins hesitantly, "can I ask you a question that might make you uncomfortable?"
You frown a bit as you mull it over. Well, I suppose it is Cheerilee. "If you want to," you respond. "I can't guarantee that I'll answer it, but you're more than welcome to ask."
She smiles a bit before asking, "What is it about ponies touching you that makes you so uncomfortable? I'm not saying it's a bad thing," she adds quickly, "but it's just strange to me how much it bothers you, and you've never actually told me why."
You raise an eyebrow. "Well, that kinda came outta nowhere. How long have you been wondering about it?"
She shrugs. "Since I noticed it, but we didn't really know each other well at that point, and I didn't want to pry."
"Hm," you mumble. "Why do you want to know? I trust you Cheerilee, but somehow I doubt that this is just about your curiosity."
She looks away, a still wearing that little grin. "Because my students love you. Every Friday they can barely sit still, not because they know that it's almost the weekend, but because they know that the human is coming to visit, and they hope that maybe this will be the day they finally convince him to play with them." She looks at you a bit sadly. "You have no idea how happy that would make them, and besides, I think both of us know that it would be good for you."
You fix her with a neutral gaze. "Maybe it would, and maybe not, but for right now, I'm not really interested in finding out."
She gives a quick nod and murmurs, "I know. I'm not telling you that you need to. I just wanted to know why you didn't." She tilts her head to the side a bit and asks, "Can I still ask that?"
You nod slowly before looking up at the ceiling and letting out a long, deep sigh. "I'm not really sure, Cheers. My only real theory is that I got burned out physical contact when what I needed was space. Everypony was so damn determined to give me a hug, or a cuddle, or a nuzzle, and I just got sick of it. I don't know if I'd say it upsets me anymore, but it definitely makes me uncomfortable, and for some reason I can't seem to move past that." You let out a quick, wry chuckle. "Not exactly the best reason in the world, right? Cheers?"
You look back to see Cheerilee frowning at her desk, seemingly lost in thought. "Cheerilee?" you ask, but get no response. You raise your voice a little, "Hey Cheerilee!"
"Hm?" she responds, snapping out of her trance with a slightly surprised look on her face.
"You doing okay?" you ask.
"Yeah," she responds, a little too quickly. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, apart from spacing out, which you only do when you have something on your mind, I seem to recall you saying you needed a pick-me-up when you rescued me from the Cutie Mark Crazies. Is everything going alright for you?"
She sighs and gives you a tired smile. "It's just been a long week. Cloud types are always a difficult lesson, thanks to the spelling, and Snips and Snails are having real trouble keeping up. Not to mention Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon have been worse than usual lately."
You grimace at the mention of the two fillies who are way too young to be as bitchy as they are. You like them inasmuch as they keep their distance from you. That's about the only good thing you can say about them.
"I'm sorry to hear that," you tell her, to which she responds by shaking her head.
"It's a labor of love. The job can be tough, but it's always worth it when I see that wonder and curiosity in my students' eyes." Her smile widens. "Nothing beats seeing a child experience the joy of learning."
You can't help but join her in smiling at the sentiment. "I imagine so."
"Still," she says, abruptly getting up and trotting over to a record player she keeps near the window, "I think we could both do with a little winding down, wouldn't you say?"
You chuckle a bit at her sudden change in demeanor. "Who could disagree with that? What did you have in mind?"
"Conversation and a little music!" she declares proudly
You can't help but raise a questioning eyebrow, to which she responds "What? When's the last time you just lounged around and had a good, long conversation?" Seeing the look on your face, she quickly adds, "When I say good, I mean not involving Twilight Sparkle interrogating you about every possible detail of the world you came from."
You close your mouth, and the two of you share a smirk before you chuckle and say "Alright then. What are we listening to?"
"A little traditional Zebrican music, as interpreted and performed by the Royal Canterlot Symphony. Zecora actually recommended it to me."
You have to admit that you're intrigued. Zecora herself plays a native Zebrican flute, and you've grown quite fond of it, so any music from her homeland instantly has you interested.
The song opens up with a very lonely and very familiar sounding flute, whistling a soft, bittersweet melody. Within a few measures the melody is joined by a quiet string section and some light percussion, before finally being completed by a solitary female voice singing what you can only imagine is a lullaby.
All in all you'd describe it as rich, warm, and very relaxing.
You get up and walk over to Cheerilee, who's pulled out a couple of resting couches from behind a row of cubbies. You offer her an indulgent smile as you flop yourself down, which she returns as she climbs up onto her own. You close your eyes and stretch out, happy to just relax and listen to the music for a moment, before asking, "so, was there anything in particular you wanted to 'conversate' about?"
"I suppose we could start with a lecture about using non-existent words when talking with a teacher," she responds in mock irritation, "but I think I've got something more interesting."
"Which is?"
"Tell me a little about your old home."
You sit up a bit, your face scrunching up as you give her a questioning look. "Didn't you just say that this wasn't going to be like a Twilight QnA session?"
She smiles and shakes her head. "Relax. I'm not going to ask about every little nuance of human society. I'm more curious about. . . Oh, I dunno. . . How about this; what was the best place you ever visited back in your old world? "
You close your eyes and think about it for a moment. A little homesickness accompanies your memories, but oddly, the music playing in the background makes it easy to ignore. It takes a while, but eventually you respond, "Hawaii."
"Hawaii?" she asks, repeating the word to herself a couple times. "That's sure a strange name. What is it?"
"A small chain of islands, out in the middle of our biggest ocean. A long time ago, my family and I visited one of them. I can't remember which island we went to, but I'll never forget the trip itself." You close your eyes again and sigh, lost in a chain of happy remembrances.
"What was so great about it?" she encourages.
"The better question is what wasn't great about it. The island is pretty isolated, so it was nice and quiet. The weather was about as perfect as perfect gets. There were waterfalls all over the place, and everywhere, everywhere there was green. The whole island was green, and verdant, and. . . well, alive. You couldn't go outside without feeling how alive it was." You sigh nostalgically. "It was peaceful in a way I don't really have the words to describe."
While you can't see her, you can almost feel Cheerilee smiling along with you as she murmurs, "It sounds amazing. I bet it's a great place to just take a deep breath and relax. No worries. Just slowing down and letting go of all your troubles."
You take a slow, easy breath. "That it is."
"Tell me about the most relaxing experience you had there."
You pause to focus on an especially beautiful flute and violin duet before answering, "I remember one waterfall in particular. To get there you had to endure a pretty tough hike that took you along coastal mountainsides, through jungle, and across a few smaller waterfalls." Your brow furrows a bit in concentration. "I can't remember what it was called, but I do remember it having some crazy name that I could never seem to pronounce right."
She giggles quietly before saying, "What was the waterfall itself like? I wanna hear every detail."
You smile again. "I'm not really sure where to start."
"Well, start by taking a deep breath,"-which you do, not really thinking about it-"aaaaand go!"
"You could hear the falls for a long time before you could see them. You've just followed this river through miles of thick jungle, and every time you come to a bend you think 'this will be it', but for a good while, you're wrong. You’re hot, sweaty, and tired, but you can hear it, so you just keep following the sound."
"Following the sound," she says almost contemplatively. "So you're following the sound, and then. . . ?"
"Um, then eventually you turn a corner and there you see it.
"Can you picture it for me?" she asks softly. "You've just turned that corner, and you're seeing the waterfall for the first time. Can walk me through what you see?"
"Of course," you say thickly. "In front of me there's this towering, three hundred foot wall of stone, grey and black and covered with plants all the way up. At the very top there's a little gap, and from that gap a waterfall is streaming its way down the mountainside. About halfway down the wall of rock there's a huge indentation, like a giant came and scooped out a section of the mountain. Where the hole begins, the waterfall becomes a curtain of mist as it falls down into a giant, crystal clear pool." You can't help but smile at the recollection. You swear you can almost see the falls in front of you.
"It sounds mesmerizing," comes Cheerilee's voice from somewhere behind you. You give an affirmative hum, to which she responds, "Hey, tell me if this makes you uncomfortable, okay?" Before your sluggish mind is even able to question what? you feel her hooves press gently but firmly down onto your shoulders. You instantly feel yourself tensing up. . . and yet for some reason the usual feeling of discomfort is nowhere to be found. You sit, vaguely confused as she begins to carefully knead the muscles in your shoulders and neck. You know that you should be feeling weirded out right now, but for some reason you just can't summon the will to care. In spite of yourself, you have to admit that what she's doing feels amazing, and you eventually decide that you're too relaxed to resist.
"Is this okay?" you hear her whisper in your ear.
Normally, your response would be something snarky like, "I guess, but I hope you understand what a privilege it is. No other pony in Equestria can get away with doing what you're doing." In your current state, however, all you can manage is a bleary, "Only for you, Cheers."
"Call me Cheerilee."
"Yes, Cheerilee."
You can hear a smile in her voice as she says, "Keep going."
You can't help but smile vacantly yourself as you continue, "I walk toward the falls through this field of giant boulders that border the pool. From a distance the water looks dark, but as I get closer I can see that it's actually just reflecting the cliffs that surround in, and that its really crystal clear. I walk even closer, and I begin to feel the mist coming off of the falls. It's tingly, and wonderfully cool after the ordeal of the hike. I continue on, stepping into the shadow of the cliffs as I approach the edge of the pool, and find a nice flat spot to rest. I let my pack fall to the ground and sit, unlace my boots, toss 'em to the side, and wiggle my toes around. Finally, I have some water and lay back. The rock underneath me feels cool and coarse. I close my eyes, stretch out, and relax, enjoying the sound of rushing water as the mist brushes my skin."
"You must be tired by now," she breathes. "Your whole body must feel heavy. Isn't it wonderful to just let go and relax completely?"
You manage to mumble, "Mm-hm."
"You're more relaxed than you've ever been, aren't you?"
"Mm-hm."
"You're so deeply relaxed that you couldn't open your eyes if you wanted to, could you?"
". . . Mm-mm"
She's barely whispering now, but you can make out every word. "So relaxed. So tired. So sleepy. . ."
"Hm. Sleepy."
"You can feel yourself sinking down."
"Hm."
"Now, sleep."
". . .What?" Somewhere deep in your mind, muffled beneath the weight of your relaxation, a single mental alarm starts clanging. Your brow creases as you try to focus your hazy thoughts long enough to figure out what's wrong. Worried, but not sure why, you force your heavy eyelids to crack open.
You make out the fuzzy shape of Cheerilee hovering right in front of your face. You can't really be sure of anything right now, but she looks almost as if she's trying to fight back panic, like a foal who's caught doing something they know is wrong. Seeing her like that concerns you, but like everything else your concern feels. . . Heavy. Hazy. Disconnected. "Cheerilee," you manage to slur, "what's hap-"
"Shh," she whispers, placing a hoof to your lips. You look down at it uncertainly for what feels like a long moment, until an implacable voice says, "Look at me."
As you slowly raise your eyes, you come to the vague realization that Cheerilee's voice is the only thing you can hear right now. Her tone is strange, caught somewhere between that teacherly authority and a desperate plea from a friend, and you find the combination compelling you to listen.
After what feels like an eternity your eyes meet hers, and she murmurs quietly, "Look in my eyes."
“Cheerilee, I-”
"Trust me."
You stare deeply into those verdant pools, utterly transfixed, and stop questioning. Trust.
"Relax."
You feel all of your concerns from mere seconds ago melting away. Relax.
"Just let go."
Any thoughts remaining in your head evaporate like a desert puddle, leaving a profound, peaceful emptiness. Let go.
A relieved smile graces her lips as she moves her hoof around to cup your cheek.
"Sleep."
Your eyelids slide shut of their own accord and you feel yourself sink into warm, heavy, velvet blackness.
You drift listlessly for what may be seconds and may be hours before Cheerilee’s voice interrupts the silence. “If you can hear me, nod once.”
Your head feels heavier than a cider barrel, and yet it moves without effort as you give a single slow nod.
“Good. I want you to listen to my voice. Right now you’re feeling warm, and heavy, and relaxed, but I think you’ll find that you want to go even deeper, so just follow my voice as it takes you there. Every word I say relaxes you more, the more you relax the better you feel, and the better you feel the more you want to listen. Do you understand?”
Nod.
“Good. I’m going to start counting down from one hundred to one. With every number I count down, a wave of warmth, and calm, and heaviness will go through your body. With every number I count down, any thoughts or worries you might have will float farther and farther away as you sink deeper and deeper. When I reach one, you’ll be completely relaxed, and blank, and open to anything I tell you. Let’s begin.”
“One hundred.”
Within a few counts you’ve completely lost track of what number you’re on. You hear each one as Cheerilee says it, only for it to fade away with every wave of warm relaxation that courses through you. It isn’t long before you simply stop trying. You just let yourself sink down ever further each time you hear her voice.
At some point you become aware of Cheerilee’s hooves on your head as she begins slowly, delicately rotating it in time with each count. She brings it up, around, and lets it gently fall with every number she says. You don’t have the words to describe what each drop feels like, but you know that it’s taking you even deeper, and deeper is good.
By the time Cheerilee finally says, “One,” you’re gone. Your body is lead, but you’re floating. Your mind is equally heavy, yet there’s nothing in it. You simply drift, oblivious to space, time, and anything else that isn’t Cheerilee’s voice.
“Sleep,” she says again, bringing you somehow deeper. “So deep now, so relaxed, completely letting go. Can’t move, can’t think, all you can do is listen.” There’s pause. “Say it.”
“All I can do is listen,” you whisper, the words seemingly forming themselves.
You hear here chuckle. “Good. From now on everything I say is your new reality. Anything that I tell you, you will accept as the truth. Do you understand?”
Nod.
“Say it.”
“Anything you tell me, I will accept as the truth.”
“Very good. Now, look into my eyes again.”
Your eyes drift open, only to be instantly captured by Cheerilee’s own. Gone is the fear that they held earlier, replaced with absolute, almost smug confidence. “Whenever I ask or tell you anything, you will respond ‘Yes, Cheerilee’ or ‘No, Cheerilee’. Do you understand.”
“Yes, Cheerilee.”
She smiles. “Do you know what I did to you?”
“. . . No, Cheerilee.”
“I hypnotized you.”
“Yes, Cheerilee.”
“I control you.”
“Yes, Cheerilee.”
She brushes a hoof along your cheek. “I could do anything to you.”
“Yes, Cheerilee.”
“I could make you do anything, and I could make you like it.”
“Yes, Cheerilee.”
She takes a deep breath and shudders as she exhales. “So many possibilities. . .” she whispers, before shaking herself and saying “First thing’s first, though. Hold out your hand.”
“Yes, Cheerilee,” you murmur, your hand drifting toward her.
She regards it for a moment before smiling. “I want you to run it through my mane, like you’re brushing it with your hand.”
“Yes, Cheerilee.” You place your fingers near the top of her head and move your hand slowly down her neck, trailing your fingers through her mane gently. The strands are smooth as silk and very light, and you entwine your fingers in them as your hand slides down. She gives a happy sigh and pushes herself into your hand. “Keep going until I tell you to stop.”
“Yes, Cheerilee,” you respond mechanically, moving your hand back up to the top of her head.
For some time you continue to brush Cheerilee’s mane, the pony herself closing her eyes and sighing contently every so often. Eventually she looks at you, smug relaxation on her face, and says, “This is nice. You’re enjoying this.”
“Yes, Cheerilee.”
“You’ll want to do this more in the future, but for now, stop.”
“Yes, Cheerilee.” With one final stroke, your hand falls back to your side.
“You can stop saying ‘Yes, Cheerilee’ now,” she says, bringing a hoof to your forehead and pushing ever so delicately. “Sleep.”
Your head falls, and you plunge instantly back into the dark, heavy abyss of trance. As you drift, you become vaguely aware of a warm, furry presence touching down next to you. A limb snakes its way across your chest and pulls you into a firm embrace, and a warm breath tickles your neck as you hear the words, “Hold me.”
You slowly extend your arms, wrapping them around Cheerilee and pulling her delicately into your chest. She hums happily and snuggles even more firmly into your arms. “Mmm, now rub my back.” You comply, running your fingers delicately down her spine. She tenses for just a moment, then exhales heavily and melts against your touch. You hear her giggle quietly as she murmurs, “If only Lyra could see me now.”
You have no idea how long the two of you remain locked together. All you notice is the steady slowing of Cheerilee’s breathing until it seems that she’s barely breathing at all. Minutes pass like seconds, and seconds pass like minutes, as Cheerilee sleeps curled in your arms. You don’t mind. Cheerilee didn’t tell you to mind.
Eventually a deep inhale and a yawn tell you that she’s woken up. You feel her head lift off of your chest with a few content lip smacks, followed by a very long pause. “Oh, no,” you hear above you, “how long was I out?” You feel her extract herself from your arms, and another silence follows, during which you drift contently within the darkness of her hypnotic spell.
“Shoot,” you hear her whisper, and her voice grows hesitant as she asks, “Can you still hear me?”
Nod.
“Oh, thank Celestia,” she sighs in relief. “For a moment I thought I’d messed up everything. Now then,” she continues, her voice regaining the confidence it held before, “I want you to listen to me very carefully now. Look in my eyes one last time.”
Just like before, your eyelids slide open without thought or effort, and your eyes instantly lock on to Cheerilee’s as they fill your field of vision.
“Remember what I told you; everything I say is absolute truth. Do you understand?”
Nod.
“Good.” She brings her face to within an inch of your own and begins murmuring, “You enjoyed holding me. You enjoyed cuddling with me. You enjoyed stroking my mane. You enjoyed touching me, and you enjoyed being touched, didn’t you?”
Nod.
“This is your new reality. Being touched by ponies no longer bothers you. In fact, you really enjoy it. It makes you feel cared for. It makes you feel comfortable and at ease. You like the feel of our coats and manes. Do you understand?”
Nod.
“Say it. Physical contact with ponies no longer bothers me.”
“Physical contact with ponies no longer bothers me.”
She smiles. “Very good. Now, soon you’re going to wake up, and when you do you won’t remember any part of being hypnotized, but everything that I just told you will remain. Touching ponies will no longer make you uncomfortable, even when you’re awake. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Very, very good.” She closes her eyes and nuzzles your cheek lightly, before whispering in your ear. “Sleep."
As before, you can do nothing but obey, falling backwards into the warm, empty embrace of oblivion.
Author's Note
Thanks for reading my first foray into writing about hypnosis! I hope you enjoyed the reading as much as I enjoyed the writing. I wanted to break off from the rushed hypnosis that I often see in these kinds of stories, and really focus on making it as authentic as I possibly could.
As always, comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated
Edited by the Mind-Controllific LightMask
Cheeriliee's Lesson, Ending 2: The Torn Admirer
“You’ve done very well so far,” Cheerilee says. “There’s just one more thing for us to go over before we finish up.” Her tone shifts slightly, changing from light and self-satisfied to purposeful and. . . something else you can’t quite place.
“I want you to focus on a mare. Not any one mare, but mares in general. Concentrate on the idea of a mare. Can you do that for me?”
Nod.
“Good.” That something in her voice, whatever it is, seems more pronounced. “Now, I want. . . When you think. . .” She trails off for a moment. You hear her clear her throat before continuing, somehow sounding as though she’s struggling with her words. “From now on, whenever you think of mares, I want you to. . .” A very long pause follows, and even in the depths of your relaxation you’re vaguely aware of just how heavy the silence is. When next you hear Cheerilee’s voice, it’s quiet, serious, and almost accusing.
“Are you really going to do this, Cheerilee?” she murmurs. "Are you really going to go this far?" Are you really going to force this on him? He, who trusts you more than anypnoy else? You, who knows what it’s like to be love poisoned?” After a second or so of silence, you hear her whisper, “But this isn’t really the same, is it? I’m not making him choose. . . am I?
Another long stretch of quiet follows, and in spite of how heavy your emotions still are, you’re beginning to feel concerned. Cheerilee sounds really conflicted about something, and you don’t like knowing she’s upset.
“I just. . . I just want a chance,” she finally whispers, and your concern increases slightly as you hear a strange, dejected sadness in her voice. Gone is the confidence that has filled her voice for the whole of your time in trance as she whimpers “Is that really so bad? Whatever he chooses, I’m still helping him. . . does it really make me bad if I help myself a little too?”
Yet another pause is followed by a heavy, slightly hitching sigh, and you feel a hoof on your shoulder as she says, “Look at me again.” Just as before, your eyelids slide open, seemingly of their own volition, but the pony that greets your sight couldn’t be more different than the one you saw earlier.
Cheerilee’s face is contorted with so many emotions that you can’t even begin to guess what they all are. However, even in your mind-numbed state you can see guilt, sadness, and something that looks halfway between longing and outright hunger. Her mouth hangs slightly open, as if she doesn’t know what to say, and while you can’t be sure, her eyes seem to shine brighter with what look like unshed tears.
Distantly, you’re aware that you’ve never seen Cheerilee look like this. For as long as you’ve known her, she’s been a happy, self-confident mare, content with her circumstances and in love with her destined talent for educating the colts and fillies that attended her school. Seeing her so conflicted stirs something within you, and in spite of how hazy and disconnected your thoughts are, a heavy but inexorable need to help her rises in your mind.
“Cheerilee?” you murmur, your voice laced with unfocused concern, “What’s wrong? Why are you sad?”
Her eyes widen in surprise for a split second before closing as she bows her head, her shoulders sagging with what looks like shame. You try to reach out to touch her face, but your limbs are still lead and you just can’t seem to make them move. After a moment or so she tilts her gaze up to meet you, eyes now unmistakably filled with tears, before weakly placing her hoof over your lips again and whispering, “Shh. Just. . . listen. Relax, and listen.”
You feel your worries fade instantly away, though not completely, as Cheerilee takes a steadying breath and begins speaking. "Before I met you, I was happy with my lot in life. I had my students, I had my friends, I had my hobbies, and that was enough. I was really, truly content with my routine. Then one day, Daisy came cantering into town, screaming about some "giant hairless ape thing in Whitetail Woods", and the rest is history."
She sits back and continues, "It caught me completely off guard when you showed up outside my office, asking if there was some way you could start learning here. We'd only met once, and I hadn't even talked to you since because I could tell you needed some time alone. Still, I couldn't believe that Twilight hadn't offered to teach you about Equestria. Then you told me she did." She smiles slightly, which you unconsciously mirror. "The look on your face when you described her lectures still makes me laugh."
Her eyes start drifting far away as she goes on, "Since I couldn't let you join a class without distracting my students, we came to the Friday afternoon agreement." She chuckles quietly. "Lessons for labor, you called it. All of a sudden, I was friends with Ponyville's resident alien from another dimension. Even for Ponyville, that was a strange day."
She refocuses on you, a hint of the want you saw before beginning to color her features. "Getting to know was, is, one of the best experiences I've ever had, and it didn't take me long to realize that my friendship with you wasn't like any of my others. Our conversations, our banter, even our silences, they all felt different. More significant, more meaningful, I don't know how else to say it. After a while, just being around you made me feel, well, safe." She places a hoof on your knee gently. "I've never felt so comfortable around anypony else, and all of this happened so fast, I wasn't sure what to make of it."
She looks away. "I don't know what changed, or when, but one day I started seeing you differently. I looked at you, and I saw somepony that maybe, just maybe, I'd want to share my life with." She turns her gaze back on you, the longing now plain in her eyes. "Nopony's ever made me feel that way before. Love poison, maybe, but that wasn't real. You are."
She regards you somberly for a moment, then murmurs, "That was the day that I stopped being happy with what I had. I'd never really cared about having a special somepony before, but when I realized how I felt about you, all of that changed. I changed. Suddenly, I wanted somepony of my own to cuddle up to at the end of a hard day." Her expression hardens into a humorless smirk. "Which is ironic, in a way, because we've never actually done anything like that. You've never given me a friendly snuggle. I've never tried to nuzzle you when you felt down." Her face falls into an expression of defeated sadness. "We've never even hugged each other."
Her eyes stare deeply into your own, and you can see every tear now threatening to fall from them. "That wasn't what hurt the most though. No. What really hurt was knowing that I didn't even have a chance with you because of something I couldn't do anything about. Watching you ignore or reject every affectionate gesture that anypony offered you cut me deep, because I knew that if I tried I'd get the same treatment. I tried to fill my new desires with somepony else, but through every date I went on, I couldn't help but wish that I was with you instead. Soon I just stopped trying."
She looks away again, a slightly wry look now painting her face. "After that I tried to wait, thinking that maybe as time passed you'd get more comfortable with physical contact with ponies, and from there I guess I hoped you'd become more open to the idea of having a relationship with one. Maybe that was a stupid thing to hope for, but it was all I had." She heaves another heavy sigh. "You never got any better though. Even now, you still grimace if somepony even brushes by you, and as for a relationship?" She shakes her head. "You hardly see the signals that mares give you, and when you have, you've barely even tried to be nice about rejecting them."
She exhales shakily, her tears looking ready to fall at any moment now. "I couldn't take it anymore. The unfairness, it. . . it ate away at me whenever we spent time together. I wanted to talk to you about it, but seeing how you dealt with other mares' advances, I was terrified that I'd lose you as a friend. . . and of how much your response might hurt me. So, eventually, I started looking for ways that I could bring you around, and I came across this. At first I dismissed it. It was ridiculous, and wrong, and I didn't even think it could work at all until somepony showed me how. After that though. . . after that it started looking better and better, and. . . and here we are, I guess."
She looks at you pleadingly, and the first long-overdue tear finally spills down her cheek. "Please, please understand. I just want to have a chance. I know this is wrong. Even if it helps you get over your touch problem, that won't make it right. I wish I had some noble, selfless reason for doing this to you, but I don't. I'm sorry," she sobs, "I'm so, so sorry. I just wanted to have a chance."
`
She takes a quivering breath, tears continuing to stream down her face as she says, "I won't make you choose though. I know it's hypocritical, but I won't make you choose me. Maybe you won't. Maybe you'll fall for some other mare, and if you do. . ." She pauses, looking down stonily. "If you do, I guess that I deserve that."
She's silent for a bit, seemingly pondering what she just said. Meanwhile, you have no idea what you're thinking, or for that matter feeling. Cheerilee's confession has stirred up confusion, betrayal, guilt, surprise, and a whole host of other emotions that you aren't really sure how to describe. Your conflicted heart clouds your mind just as effectively as your trance has, and all you can manage to do is whisper, "Cheerilee. . ."
She tenses at the sound of your voice, slowly turning her gaze up to meet yours. The look on her face is a combination of guilt and pure, unfettered panic. Her expression only adds to your internal turmoil, and as you struggle against the storm in your heart and the still-present weight of your trance, she closes the distance between you, brushing her forehead against yours as she once again brings a hoof to your cheek.
"Sleep," she says, the edge of a plea in her voice.
The wave of relaxation swoops over you like a breeze, and though you feel the tension in your body slipping away, you resist. You want so badly to obey, to just give in and let the conflict be carried off too, but you can't. You fight against the sudden heaviness in your eyelids, fixing Cheerilee with a determined, tired stare, and through the power of her suggestion and your own uncertain feelings you manage to grind out one phrase.
"Why would you do this?"
She closes her eyes in a pained grimace, two fresh tears leaving wet trails in her coat. Slowly, very slowly, she opens her eyes, and in them you see conflict that looks every bit as intense and confusing as the one in your own mind. Her jaw works up and down a few times before she finally murmurs the words, "Because I think I might love you, and without this there's not even a chance that you might love me back."
Her words slam into you like an ocean wave, and the emotional maelstrom inside you increases tenfold. It's too much. This is all way too much, and you simply don't know how to deal with it. You don't know what you're supposed to think. You don't know how you're supposed to feel. All you know is that, beneath the raging cacophony in your head, a clear, quiet voice that sounds a lot like your own says, She's right, you know.
You stare at Cheerilee, unsure of what to say or do. She, on the other hand, keeps looking into your eyes, remorse and longing pouring out of hers with such intensity that you can almost feel them. "Please," she begs, "please give me my chance. Please just sleep."
You teeter on the edge of oblivion for what feels like a very long time. The uncertainty of your situation freezes you, and you truly don't know if there's a right answer. Looking into Cheerilee's eyes though, seeing the haunted expression on her face, knowing that it's there because of your problem, it pierces your heart as nothing has since you finished mourning your old world. You regard her blearily for another moment, and then, still unsure, finally give in. Your eyelids slip shut, and you sink back into the inky, heavy, and mercifully quiet darkness of hypnosis.
Distantly, you feel her press her head into your chest, her tears dampening your shirt as she quietly cries against you. Through her tears you catch many a "Thank you" or "I'm sorry", punctuated by an occasional "Don't deserve this." After an indeterminate time her sobs fade away, replaced by deep, somewhat shaky breathing. Finally, you feel her head lift off of you, and when she speaks, you hear a shadow of the confidence that you heard before.
"Okay, I want you to let yourself feel the way you did earlier when you reached this state. Let any worries, or cares, or tension from what just happened fade away, leaving you feeling as completely, impossibly relaxed and empty as you were before. Do you feel yourself relaxing again?"
Nod.
"Very good. Now. . . " there is a moment's hesitation, and when she speaks again her voice is tinged with equal parts guilt and resolve. "Listen closely to my words now. I want you to focus on everything that just happened. You remember it, but you're not affected by it. It's almost as if you're remembering something that happened to somepony else. Can you do that?"
You nod, finding yourself now surrounded by the sounds and images of the past few moments. It's an odd feeling, for although you know that the experience is yours, it feels as though you're watching a movie filmed from someone else's perspective.
She sighs. "Good. Now I want you to imagine that those memories are all pages in a book. Just imagine that book in front of you now, that book that contains every memory of what happened between now and the last time I put you to sleep. Can you see that book in front of you?"
Sure enough, as she speaks, all of the images and sounds coalesce into a blue, slightly spectral looking hardback which rotates weightlessly in the darkness. Cheerilee's instructions fulfilled, you nod again.
"Good job. Now, just below that book, I want you to imagine a fire. Can you see the fire? Can you feel it's heat?
You can indeed, and you nod as a roaring campfire blazes into existence, crackling heartily beneath the tome of your recent memories.
"Good. Now, take a good look and the book, and realize that you don't really like it." You're somewhat aware of the regret in every word, but whatever's causing it isn't enough to slow her down. "The book contains a lot of confusing and negative thoughts and feelings, doesn't it? Getting rid of it would make you feel a lot better than you do now. Do you want to get rid of all that doubt and confusion?"
Hesitant nod.
"Good. Then let that book just fall into the fire. Let all of those bad memories burn away until there's nothing left. No doubt, no fear, no confusion. Just let them fade forever as the book burns."
For the briefest of moments, you hesitate, somewhat aware that if the memories burn, you will never get them back. However, you also agree with Cheerilee's words. The contents of the book are something that you honestly don't want to remember. With that thought, you watch as the book slowly descends into the fire, the flames licking along the cover before finally catching. It takes less than thirty seconds for the book to be reduced to smouldering ashes, and you feel strangely lighter and more comfortable than you did a few moments ago. You aren't really sure what's changed, but whatever it is, it feels as though it's been for the better.
"Is the book gone?" comes Cheerilee's voice seriously, and you nod, the ghost of a smile almost managing to raise the stone-heavy corners of your mouth. You hear her sigh with relief, before murmuring "Wonderful," in your ear.
"Now, we have one last thing to work on before you can start waking up. I want you to think of the ponies you know. Especially the mares. Can you focus on the mares you've seen and met?"
Nod.
"Good job. Now, have you ever found any of us attractive? Have you ever thought of maybe going out with one?"
Shake.
"That changes now. From now on, when you look at or think of a mare, it won't feel any different from when you used to look at or think of girls back in your old world. You may not know right away, but as time goes on you'll decide what you find appealing in a mare, and soon it'll feel as though it's always been that way. You may even want to ask some of your friends who like mares to see what they find attractive. Also, since you'll now find them attractive, once you decide you like one you should consider asking her out. Wanting a companion in life is natural and healthy. Do you understand all of that?"
You pause for a bit, digesting Cheerilee's words, internalizing them.
Nod.
"Repeat after me, and feel each phrase becoming true as you speak it. You find mares just as attractive as you found girls back home.'"
"I find mares just as attractive as I found girls back home."
"You are open to dating and relationships with mares."
"I am open to dating and relationships with mares."
"Once you leave, you'll begin deciding what qualities you find attractive in a mare."
"Once I leave, I'll begin deciding what qualities I find attractive in a mare."
"Wonderful. You've done so well, and now it's time to begin waking up. Remember, even after you're awake, physical contact with ponies no longer bothers you. It's pleasant and it makes you feel comfortable. You find mares attractive, and you'd be alright with dating one. Do you understand?"
Nod.
"Very good. Now, in a moment, I'm going to start counting up from one to twenty. With every number I count up, you'll feel yourself becoming more awake and aware. With every number I count, you'll feel your body growing lighter and more energized. Most importantly, with every number I count, you'll feel all memory of being hypnotized fading away. All the changes we've made will stay with you, but by the time I reach twenty, you won't remember any of this. You'll just wake up, feeling relaxed and refreshed, no memory of what happened since you started talking about, um. . . Hawaii. Do you understand?"
Nod.
"Good. One. Two. Three."
You feel the blanket of heavy nothing beginning to rise from your limbs.
"Four. Five. Six. Seven."
You feel everything that's just happened fading against a rising light in your mind.
"Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven."
You become aware of the couch beneath you, and the smell of paper and wood that suggests a classroom.
"Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen."
You're wondering what's going on as you flex stiff, tingling fingers.
"Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen."
Your eyes open slightly, and you blearily take in the inside of the schoolhouse.
"Nineteen."
The last shadow of memory is driven away by the light of consciousness.
"Twenty."
You blink sleepily, wondering what the hell is going on. Why do I feel so stiff and groggy. . . you wonder fuzzily. Did I conk out? How long have I been sleeping?
"Well, look who's finally awake."
You turn toward Cheerilee's voice, feeling both guilty that you passed out during your guys' hangout time and curious as to how long it's been and why she didn't wake you. However, all you manage to get out is, "Hey Cheers, how long was-" before you actually see her, and the rest of the question dies on your lips.
In front of you, you see the same old Cheerilee that's been your best friend for the past several months, but that isn't all you see. You can't really place why, but some some reason she's looking awfully. . . appealing? You shake your head vigorously. Did I just think of a pony as hot? Damn, am I just super out of it or what?
As you do your best to sort out the confusing signals your brain is sending you, Cheerilee says, "How long were you what? Asleep? Eh, probably an hour. We were talking about someplace called Hawaii, and you just drifted off. I thought about waking you up, but we didn't have any work left, and you looked so peaceful that I couldn't bring myself to wake you up." She smirks "You're lucky I didn't have a camera though."
You frown. The fact that Cheerilee is suddenly attractive is certainly distracting, but not quite distracting enough to keep you from noticing that both her smirk and her mischievous tone seem a bit forced. It looks like she's just washed her face, so you don't see any tear-marks in her coat, but there is just a little redness in her eyes. Pretty eyes like that shouldn't- HEY! You knock that off brain. We have other things to deal with right now.
"Um," you stammer, "sorry I fell asleep on you. I didn't really think I was that tired."
She waves a dismissive hoof. "Oh, don't worry about it. If I had a bit for every time a student has fallen asleep in class, I could probably afford to pay you for your help."
"Hey, we've already discussed that. You pay me in knowledge and generally a good time." You offer her a small smile. "Fair trade."
You can't help but notice that the smile she returns looks more than a little strained. An awkward silence follows, your grin slowly fading until you finally ask, "Hey, are you okay? Did something happen while I was asleep?"
Her smile falters, and she looks down guiltily for a moment before muttering, "Well. . ." Seeing her likes this arouses both your curiosity and a very confusing urge to give her a hug, but you force yourself to ignore both and let her continue.
"You were saying things in your sleep. You must have been dreaming, and I. . ." She drifts off, her cheeks darkening ever so slightly in what you've come to know is a blush. "You know what, forget it."
She turns away from you, and the "I don't think I can do that," you were about to say never makes it out. Damn. . . Has her butt always looked this grea- SHUT THE HELL UP LIBIDO! I don't have time to deal with your sudden change of heart.
You shake your head, violently this time, before walking over to Cheerilee, running a very-okay-with-this hand through her mane and gently saying, "Tell me."
She looks up at you, looking very guilty, and murmurs, "I. . ." She clears her throat. "I should have woken you."
"Maybe," you say seriously, "but you didn't, and now I'm going crazy worrying about what I said in my sleep." You crouch down to her eye level, pushing down another thought about how pretty her eyes are, and ask, "Did I say something that was scary or hurtful? What was it, Cheerilee?"
She shakes her head, wearing a smile that didn't quite make it, and replies, "No, nothing like that. You were. . . well, you were talking to me. In your dream, I mean," she quickly adds. "You were talking to me a lot and it, um, well, it sounded like we were together."
You raise a questioning eyebrow, to which she responds by frowning hard and saying. "You know, as in together, together."
"Oh. . ." you manage to mutter, a blush now coloring your own cheeks. "That must have been embarrassing." You think about your new-found attraction to Cheerilee, and a sudden, mortifying idea comes to mind. "We didn't, uh. . ." you can feel your blush creeping up the back of your neck. "I mean, we weren't-"
Catching your drift, Cheerilee quickly shakes her head, exclaiming, "No, no! Nothing like that. I'm not sure what we were apparently doing, but it wasn't that. We were just. . . together." She sighs. "As far as embarrassing though, no." She looks up at you squarely. "If I'm being honest, the word that comes to mind is teasing."
Did I just hear that right? "What do you mean?"
She rubs a hoof against her forehead. "Do I really have to spell it out?" She takes a steadying breath, looking both frustrated and nervous, before squaring her shoulders and saying, "May I take you out for a picnic sometime?"
You open your mouth to refuse, only to freeze as you realize that the idea actually sounds pretty nice. I mean, what’s the harm in-
Okay, full stop, you think. I'm not attracted to ponies. I'm not even okay with touching ponies. I know this. So why is it that I'm suddenly okay with mane brushing and Cheerilee asking me out?
You bring a thoughtful hand to your chin. Has this always been here? I mean, if I hadn't burned out on pony touches in the beginning, is this how I'd be? If so, then what the hell's changed? There's no way to be sure, but you already have to admit that this okayness is nicer than constant, mild worry that some pony is gonna graze you.
A "well?" interrupts your thoughts, and you realize that you haven't given Cheerilee an answer. Her expression has turned extremely worried, and you can see her weight shifting as she fidgets in place.
Well, you tell yourself, you have three seconds to think of a reason not to. If not, then you're throwing caution to the wind and figuring out what all this means later. One, two, and-
"Actually, Cheerilee," you say brightly, "that sounds really nice. When were you thinking?"
Cheerilee's face lights up like you've never seen it before, and you swear you can hear that rare, pony-smile sound that no one else but Pinkie Pie ever seems to notice. "Does this evening work for you?" she asks, and you're surprised she's not shaking from the excitement in her voice. "Maybe we could watch the sunset?"
"Sounds wonderful Cheerilee," you say with a smile. You look out the window, and continue, "If we wanna catch the sunset though, we should probably go get ready now." You turn back to her, both of you now smiling brilliantly. "I'll bring the blankets?"
"Perfect," she murmurs, looking around the classroom with that dull-work-can't-bring-me-down kind of grin on her face. "I'll finish cleaning up here, and meet you at your place." You open your mouth to offer to help her clean, but she cuts you off. "Don't worry about the classroom, it'll only take a minute and your house is a long way. Besides," she says, her grin growing even bigger, "I have some personal celebrating to do."
"Speaking of which, I have to ask," you say, reaching out a hand to scratch her ear. She closes her eyes, sighing happily as she tilts into your hand. "How long have you wanted to ask me that?"
Her eyes open halfway-Damn, that's a pretty sexy loo-SHUT UP, DAMN YOU!-and she looks at you playfully before murmuring, "I'll tell you tonight."
Oh jeez, confusingly sexy pony, must go now. You manage to give a chuckle as you rise back to your feet and say, "Well then, I guess that's my cue to skadoo." You start toward the door, flashing a grin as you say, "I'll see you in a bit, Cheers."
She returns the grin with enthusiasm, shooting back with, "Looking forward to it, Fingers."
You make it to the door, and just before you're about to leave, you turn and say, "Oh, and Cheerilee." She looks up at you expectantly, and you reply with a completely un-hammy wink, "I really like your mane."
As you disappear around the doorframe, you don't notice the sudden guilt in Cheerilee's eyes, or the pained, twisted grimace that appears on her muzzle.
You make your way out of the schoolhouse, still confused about your sudden lack of scruples where the ponies are concerned, but more excited that you're going on a date with one and that it doesn't bother you. As you stride toward the road, you notice Applejack heading your way, halfway hidden by the fence and brush that border the school grounds. You give her a hearty wave, which she returns, calling out, "Howdy partner!" How's the day treatin' ya?"
"Hey there AJ!" you shout back. "I'm-" the sentence dies on your lips as Applejack comes into full view. Suddenly, you're met with a vision of Applejack, Stetson gone and mane and tail unbound, flowing freely in the wind of a thunderstorm. Your jaw drops as you think to yourself, That hair, so soft and shiny in spite of all the work she does, those eyes, kind and honest and bright as emeralds, that flank, GAH, by Sun Pony, Moon Pony, and that weird Q wannabe, that- SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!
"Uh, partner? You alright there?"
It takes you a second to realize that you've been staring open-mouthed at Applejack long enough for her to come right up to you. She looks up at you with concern and more than a little confusion, and you scramble to come up with a suitable response to her question. Eventually. . .
*SMACK* The sound of you slapping yourself echoes in the afternoon air. Applejack recoils, now looking utterly baffled, as you shake your head a few times, put on a smile, and murmur, "I think I will be, Applejack. Today's a very strange day, but I think it's for the better." You give her a nod and a pat on the head before saying, "Sorry to be rude, but I gotta get going. I'll see you around AJ."
You start back toward the road, hearing Applejack mutter, "Must be a human thing," under her breath as she follows. Reaching the road, the two of you part ways, AJ still looking confused as you begin the long walk back home.
Well, you think to yourself, depending on who I run into, this might be a very awkward walk. You smile, realizing that while that may be true, you're surprisingly okay with it. Today, outta the blue, pony touch is okay, ponies are hot, and I have a date with one. You chuckle quietly to yourself, a new spring entering your step.
No idea where this all came from, but hey, you gotta admit, the future sure looks interesting.
Author's Note
Is Cheerilee justified in doing this? Is what she did evil, or just bad, or neither? If things get serious, will Cheerilee be able to keep the secret to herself, or will her guilt get the best of her?
I leave that up to you!
It's nice to finally be done with this thing. I had some trouble with this one, A) because romance is fairly uncharted turf for me, and B) I had trouble conveying everything that I wanted to convey. While it turned out better than I expected it would early on, I'm still not 100% satisfied with the end result, and if you have any critiques I'd be happy to hear them.
It should be noted that I edited this all myself. I'm not sure what happened to my editor, but every since I finished it I've been chomping at the bit to publish and I couldn't hold it in anymore (Sorry Masky!). As such, it may see a bit more editing in the future.
It may be a long while before I publish anything new for this story. I'm currently trying to build a business, which, needless to say, takes up most of my free time. That said, when eventually I DO come back to this, here are a few general story ideas I have floating around in my head for the next one:
1) A VERY dark fic, which may or may not be second person, involving pre-banishment King Sombra
2) Something goofy involving Rarity, Sweetie Belle, and a devious confusion induction
3) A short vampire fic involving Vinyl Scratch (original, right?!)
4) A tag team musical induction involving both Vinyl and Octavia
Out of these ideas, which do YOU guys and gals think sound the coolest?
EDIT: Option number 4 will be the next story coming down the pike, most likely followed by option 1 because I already have most of that one fleshed out.
If you guys have any other ideas you'd like to pitch, feel free to put 'em in the comments or PM me. As always, thanks for reading!
Lose Yourself in the Music
You glare dully down at the letter in your hands, feeling a strange combination of resentment and insistent guilt. You knew that sooner or later things would reach this point, but you'd somehow managed to ignore that fact until now. Now, however, now there was no escaping it. A thought occurs to you, and you can't help but chuckle humorlessly. I guess it's time to face the music.
You read the letter one more time, trying to see if there's something in it that could, if twiste- uh, misconstrued enough, let you wiggle out of this. Considering who wrote it, however, it's no surprise to you that you don't see any escape as you read:
I'm sorry, I truly am, but this has gone on long enough. Vinyl and I have both done our best to support you through this, and we've given you as much time as we could, but we've reached our breaking point. You need to pull yourself together or all three of us are going to suffer for it.
Vinyl and I will be at the studio all day today. Please meet us there as soon as you receive this letter so that we can discuss this and put together a plan for moving forward. I know for a fact that your schedule's clear today, and I paid the messenger to let me know whether or not you looked sick, so assuming you're not, please don't make me send Vinyl down to fetch you. Neither of us wants that.
It's time to move on and see the joy in life again. More than anything, that's what we want for you. Please.
Octavia
Your eyes grow unfocused as you weigh your options. You know, as you always have, that eventually you'd have to do this, but you somehow thought you'd have more time. Whether by chance or by (totally subconscious) design, something has always come up that let you avoid the upcoming conversation. Then again, you consider hopefully, I haven't exactly kept up my personal appearance. Maybe I'll get lucky and the messenger will think I really am sick.
No sooner does this thought cross your mind than you notice a subtle bluish glow emerging from just below the signature. You bring the letter to eye level, watching closely as the gleam darkens into black, spelling out a post-script that wasn't there a second ago.
Messenger says that you're not sick. We'll expect you within one hour.
You stare blankly at the new writing for a few moments, silently cursing Octavia's thoroughness. You sigh, and are about to drop the letter when a second line of text shimmers into existence just below the first.
I really will send Vinyl to retrieve you. You know I will, and both of us know how that would play out. Please don't make me resort to that. Please don't avoid this.
You let out a frustrated huff and toss the letter on your counter. Damn pegasus couriers, you think to yourself. You begin turning away, pausing only to shoot the letter one final glance of grudging admiration. Well played you two. Looks like you thought of everything Octavia, and nice job with the enchanted post-script Vinyl. Well played.
You shuffle into your modest living room, collapsing onto the small couch that dominates the decor. You bring a hand gingerly to your forehead as a dull, familiar throb begins growing steadily just behind your temples. Damn, it's flaring up again, you think. It's funny. You never used to get headaches unless you were sick (or massively hung over). These days though. . . ever since this fiasco started, you've been lucky if it's only every other day.
Doing your best to ignore your aching skull, you start thinking about what you're going to say. Part of you, specifically the selfish and immature part, wants to stick with what you've been saying for the past few months. I'm not ready. It still hurts too much, I can't focus. I need more time to heal, and I wish you guys would just respect that. It isn't really the truth, but it's much easier to say than to admit what's really happening.
You groan quietly as an especially sharp pang pulses through your head. Your hand moves to your temple, massaging slowly as you look at the ground and sigh. As much as you'd like to keep indulging your inner petulant child, you know that doing so would only make things even worse. Vinyl and Octavia are the best friends you've got. Hell, they're the only reason you've been able to stay idle this long, and they've put their own reputations on the line to do it. If you don't toughen up and at least try to get through this, then you'll probably lose them too, and you really, truly don't know if you'll be able to handle that.
What the hell am I supposed to tell them though? you think helplessly. That I can't write music anymore? That every time I try, I start thinking of her, and then all I can focus on are the songs she and I did together? I can't even remember how the album songs went when she's in my thoughts.
The hand on your temple curls into a fist as you slam it down on your coffee table as hard as you can. "Why the hell is this still affecting me so goddamn much?!" you shout in frustration. "It's been over four months and I haven't made any progress at all!" You push yourself up abruptly, pacing in agitation. "Can't get the project songs written down right, can't remember how any of my favorites from Earth went unless I performed them with her. . ." you continue to pace for a few moments, your grumbling fading, until you find yourself in the corner, gaze firmly glued to the floor. "Why am I still frozen like this?" you whisper, fighting bitterly against the tears trying to form in your eyes. "Why can't I just move on and let go?"
You take a few deep, steadying breaths, your shoulders sagging with defeat as you cast another look back at the letter. Ultimately, whatever you might think and feel about the situation, it doesn't matter. At the very least, you have to show up for Vinyl and Octavia. You owe them that much.
With a final resigned sigh, you start slowly towards the bathroom. If you're going to go through with this, you might as well try to look presentable. It's been a bit longer than you care to think about since your last shower, and a little shaving probably wouldn't hurt either. . .
***
Your feet feel heavier than usual as you trudge through the art district of Canterlot. This should be a perfect day, you think to yourself. The sun is shining bright, striking a perfect balance with the mountain chill you've come to associate with this city, and the air is full of that alpine freshness that the urban smells never quite manage to drive out. Everywhere you look, ponies are cheerfully going about their business; artists, patrons, studio owners, all are walking to and fro with all the focused contentment that purpose brings. Looking at them, all you can feel is bitter envy. Four months ago, you had a sense of purpose too, but these days. . . these days you feel like you're just drifting, and being surrounded by busy ponies makes you feel that much more isolated.
It's not as though feeling out of place is new to you. You've been in Equestria for close to four years now, but only in the last half of that have you really felt like you belong here. Losing everything can do that to you.
To this day, nopony has any idea how you ended up here. From what you've been told, you just kind of appeared in the sky over Fillydelphia in some kind of explosion. By sheer luck you'd landed in a small lake in one of the city parks, but you'd still suffered some pretty serious burns and more than a few broken bones. You don't remember much of it. All you can recall is the smell of burning fabric and a whole lot of pain.
You certainly remembered everything that had followed though. Waking up in agony in a veterinary clinic. The panic when you first saw the creatures that were tending to you. The mutual shock between you and the vet when you heard each other speaking. The suspicion leveled at you, the interrogations by the city watch and then the princesses, the stares that followed you wherever you were taken. Wondering if you had somehow died or gone crazy. The first, useless attempt at magical healing.
Given, in retrospect most of it hadn't been all that bad. Sure, it'd taken them a while to figure out your anatomy, but once they had the medications and treatments had gotten much better. Yeah, the authorities had been very suspicious, but given the circumstances they'd actually been amazingly restrained and professional. And looking back, you had to admit that the veterinary stallion's soprano shriek had been pretty freakin' hilarious. Even so, at the time you'd been so confused and frightened that the silver linings really hadn't occurred to you.
Even with magically assisted healing, it had been a multi-month recovery, something which, in hindsight, you were grateful for. Being confined to a private hospital room had kept you relatively isolated, which had given you time to begin adjusting to the reality of living in a world of sapient, travel-sized pastel equines, complete with wings, magic, and English.
Not that you'd believed any of it at first. It'd taken a solid month and a half for you fully accept that you weren't just hallucinating, due in no small part to the fact that you'd been hoping you were. It was far easier and happier to think that you were just stuck in some colorful delusion rather than face the truth that everything you'd ever known was gone.
You hadn't exactly had a stellar life back on earth, but it hadn't been a bad one either. No significant other, but some awesome friends. Distant from your family, but on good terms. Decent car, tolerable job with enough pay to feel comfortable and pursue a hobby or two. All in all you'd have rated your life back on Earth around a seven out of ten.
It was amazing how quickly that rating had climbed once you'd lost it all.
You're fairly certain that's one of the reasons Celestia had insisted that, once you were able to walk again, you undergo a period of supervised living in Canterlot. Sure, the main reason was to monitor you and make sure that you weren't a danger to pony society, but you think that she also wanted to make sure that you weren't a danger to yourself either. She and her sister had warmed up to you considerably after their initial (terrifying) interrogation, and in all honesty her concern had been quite justified.
Your first five months living in the castle had gone pretty poorly. Your physical recovery had proceeded just fine, but your mental and emotional recovery had been. . . well, they really hadn't been. You'd tried to kill yourself twice, and made escape attempts at least a dozen times, until finally Celestia had magically sealed you in your room, under constant supervision, with daily visits from either her, Luna, or a therapist.
It had taken a long while, but eventually you'd finally begun to accept your circumstances, and with them the kindness and friendship that the ponies were offering you. Once that had happened, things had improved for you in a hurry. Luna, despite her initial coldness, had become your best friend, sharing with you both a jubilance and a mischievous streak that you'd have never expected of her, and Celestia. . . you almost want to call her your surrogate mother, but that wasn't quite right. While it's true that she often gives off an air of gentle, maternal warmth, it only becomes her default when she's in the presence of her subjects. When it's just the two of you (or three, if Luna's around), she's more like that one aunt who's done all sorts of crazy, amazing things with her life and is just really good at acting like she's settled down.
At last, exactly one year after your fiery entrance into Equestria, you were deemed sufficiently safe, educated, and stable to be granted citizenship. Finally allowed to wander about where you wished, you immediately set out on a tour of Equestria and a few of the lands beyond. Celestia and Luna had been incredibly supportive, for though they were sad to see you go, they were also ecstatic that you felt comfortable and confident enough to go out see what their world had to offer. They'd even insisted on paying for every single bit of it, calling it an 'apology gift' for their continued inability to find you a way home. You'd tried to argue with them on that one, but between Celestia's gentle insistence and the infamous Luna Pout, you'd never even had a chance. Thus, with your bags, your bits, and the good wishes of your friends, you'd set your course for Stalliongrad.
Traveling across Equestria had been a challenging, unforgiving and absolutely mind-blowing experience. It had often been difficult being away from your Canterlot friends, something compounded by the fact that everywhere you went, you still got strange looks, and sometimes worse. The ponies generally didn't mess with you, but by the trip's end you'd gotten in a few scuffles with gryphons (they kept saying you looked like a good fight), had to escape a buffalo herd (apparently you resemble an evil creature from one of their legends), and had almost gotten your head caved in by a minotaur (calling you a shaved yeti was one thing, but NO ONE calls Celestia fat!).
In spite of the rough patches, and the out-of-placeness that the trip had reinforced, you didn't regret anything. You'd seen some things so beautiful you'd openly wept. You'd spent a few nights in the home of an elderly zebra, who would regale you for hours with legends that had been passed down through her family since who knows when. You got to meet the Prince and Princess of the Crystal Empire, both of whom were, in a word, cool. Most importantly, you'd met the ponies who'd ultimately help you find a purpose for your new life.
It had been in a Las Pegasus night club. Normally, you'd have avoided such places like the plague, given the number of ponies crammed into a small space and the resultant ultra-concentrated awkward stare you were bound to get. However, as you'd passed by, a combination of strings and electronic music had caught your ear, striking a dusty but familiar chord in your memory. Curiosity getting the better of you, you'd gone inside, hoping that if nothing else you could find out who the artist was. You were very glad you did.
Inside, the music that had first drawn you in was loud enough make your teeth rattle, and between the bone-shaking pulse of the bass and the nimble, flighty dancing of the strings, something had stirred in you that you hadn't felt in a long, long time. For the first time since arriving in Equestria, you'd lost yourself to something other than grief, and so you had danced. You'd danced and danced and danced until you could barely even breath.
Occasionally you'd remembered yourself enough to notice the performers, although to be fair it would have been hard to miss them. One was a grey, black-maned earth pony mare, who not only played the violin, viola, and cello better than reason said was even possible, but did so while standing on her hind legs, swaying and occasionally twirling with what appeared to be no effort at all. The other, though at times she'd seemed hidden behind a bastion of sound equipment, had nonetheless been hard to miss, her white coat and neon-blue mane making her stand out well in the darkness of the club as she'd levitated a veritable swarm of records behind her, her self-assured grin never leaving her bobbing face as she'd worked the soundboard like it was an extension of her body.
To say that you were surprised to later find out that one of them had paid for all your drinks that night would have been a colossal understatement. Indeed, the only thing that surprised you more was the note that she'd also left for you, asking you to meet her in a nearby doughnut shop after her set was over. While it was true that you'd been a bit skeptical, and the note had been a bit insulting, it was such a rare occasion that a pony was so openly interested in meeting you that you'd given her the benefit of the doubt and shown up.
To this day, you still don't know how you hadn't recognized the world-famous DJ P0N3. She was, after all, one of Luna's favorites. It was alright though. She'd thought you'd been brought from the moon as Nightmare Moon's pet.
The two of you had swapped stories and traded jabs until the sun came up, and although you'd intended to leave that day, Vinyl Scratch managed to convince you to stay one more day in order to pran- er, meet her partner, Octavia.
While your initial introduction hadn't exactly gone smoothly (Vinyl had pulled you in suddenly and Octavia had reflexively thrown a rolling pin at you), Octavia turned out to be a wonderful pony in her own right. You'd listened for hours as the two mares regaled you with stories of their lives, their travels, and of how they met. The more you'd heard, the more you'd grown to respect and admire the pair, and just like that, you'd made two awesome new friends.
Eventually, fatigue had gotten the better of you, and you'd been on your way out when Octavia had said something that would change your life. It had started with a simple, baffling admission of jealousy. You, concerned that you'd earned your new friend's envy in so little time, had asked why.
"Music," she'd replied simply. "You've experienced the music of a completely different world. Based on what you said earlier, you've even performed some of it from time to time, and I envy you for that. To have heard so many songs that this world never will. . ." She'd then asked if you'd be willing to share some of the music you remembered from Earth with her.
As you'd agreed, your mind had suddenly begun to whirl with the idea of Earth music, and you'd had an epiphany that you'll probably always wish had come sooner; you had, in your head, an entire library of songs that were completely new to Equestria. All the joy, anger, sadness, laughter, and wonder that your native songs had ever inspired were in your mind, just waiting to be shared if you could only find a way to let them out.
You'd thought on it for about a week, going over the pros and cons and trying to think of any reason that you couldn't or shouldn't give it a try. Failing to find one, you'd then proceeded to buy a piano, along with a smaller, portable keyboard that you could take with you as you traveled (you'd told the Princesses that they were souvenirs).
As luck had it, it was less than a month and a half before you saw Vinyl again, the two of you happening to be in Coltland at the same time. She'd been uncharacteristically excited when you had told her about your idea (she had actually squealed. . .), and had promised to help you in any way she could. You could only assume that she'd told Octavia about it as well, because when you'd finally returned home after nine months on the road, there'd been a letter from the cellist practically begging to help you reconstruct the music from back home.
You'd been beyond grateful. By the end of your traveling, you'd taught yourself to at least plink out a few off-rhythm melody lines from some of your Earth favorites, but the prospect of having professional musicians to help you put it all together had made it seem a whole lot more feasible. You'd wasted little time inviting them both to the castle, and after some rather awkward introductions brought about by the fact the Princesses, Vinyl, and Octavia all apparently knew each other, you'd immediately begun the process of drawing the music out of your memories and into the world of Equestria.
It had been really hard at first. Even though you'd chosen a song that didn't have any strong memories attached to it, hearing it as it began to take shaped really took a toll on your emotions, and you'd gotten choked up quite a few times. Furthermore, while you could easily remember the melody and some of the basic instrumentals, getting every chord and musical shift to sound just right had taken a lot longer than you'd thought it would. You'd get it written down, and then when you ran through it, it always sounded like something was missing. Even today, it never ceases to amaze you how many layers the average piece of music has.
Between your lack of technical understanding and their other responsibilities, it had taken most of a month before your first song was officially ready. Without them, you honestly doubt that you'd have ever gotten it done. Vinyl's recording system had made it easy to go back and tweak things if they weren't to your satisfaction, and the mare herself had an amazing talent for coaxing a smile out of you whenever the song had started making you homesick. As for Octavia, her experience in composition and knowledge of what musically made sense allowed her to infer the parts you couldn't do yourself fairly quickly, and she also had this strange, inexplicable way of helping you calm down and concentrate on the music.
Finally, after a roller coaster three-and-a-half weeks, you'd finished it. Vinyl, who'd loved it since it first began coming together, had offered to make a few sample EPs to see how it would test with the Equestrian public. You hadn't really expected much to come of it, taking Vinyl's enthusiasm as her way of being supportive. Boy had you been surprised.
The song made Equestria's Top Ten less than two weeks after you'd finished it. Suddenly, ponies everywhere were talking about you in a positive way. It had seemed as though every pony with even a passing interest in music wanted to meet you, something which made you all the more grateful to have Octavia and Vinyl in your life. They'd acted as an effective filter, steering you away from less scrupulous ponies and drawing attention to those most likely to be of assistance. With their help, you'd met ponies from every corner of the music industry who wanted to hear what you had to offer and help spread it to the rest of Equestria.
Needless to say, you'd been pretty overwhelmed for a bit, but between the Princesses and your new partners, you'd managed to put a plan of action for the future together. Your first order of business had been beginning a proper musical education so that you didn't have to depend so heavily on Vinyl and Octavia. The second had been to choose a record label to help you distribute any future music you released. The third had been the simplest, and yet the hardest: deciding which songs you wanted to do next.
Although you were still living in the castle, and still spent time with Celestia and Luna when you could, your sessions with Vinyl and Octavia had soon become your favorite way to pass the time. Learning their quirks, bantering during breaks, and above all, working together to make something both beautiful and familiar had been an incredible bonding experience for the three of you, and you occasionally caught yourself revealing things to them that no one but the Princesses were privy to. They, in turn, grew more and more comfortable around you, sharing some of their more personal experiences.
That familiarity came to a head one day when Vinyl had asked you, "So are you, like, not into to ponies? Cuz I know more than a few mares and a couple of stallions who really wanna know."
The question had caught you entirely off-guard. After a few moments of unintelligible stammering, you'd told her that you weren't really sure. Ponies were cute in their own way, and you'd have been lying if you'd said you hadn't found a few attractive (dem flanks!), but you hadn't really gotten to know many outside of the Princesses, a few guards and servants, Octavia, and Vinyl herself. "I guess I'd have to meet the right pony," you'd finished.
Vinyl'd had a smirk after that which made you a bit concerned, but you'd ended up pretty much forgetting about it by the end of the session. You'd all been busy with the last round of touch ups before your released your first album, which you'd decided to simply name "Songs of Humanity". It was one of the strangest, most diverse, most genre-mishmashing collections you could have ever imagined, but every song on it had been a song from back home, and that proved to be enough.
You'd been blown away by how well the album did. It seemed as though every pony liked at least two or three of the songs on it, and though some had panned it for it's lack of a consistent genre, it was still a massive success. Four weeks after it's release it had topped the charts as the number one album in Equestria, and Vinyl and Octavia both had quite literally dragged you to a huge party they'd thrown together to celebrate.
You had to admit, it'd been a pretty great one. Vinyl and Octavia had done one of their duet performances for the occasion, something which Luna still raves about even today, and, because your friends had picked the guests very carefully, you'd gotten to meet all kinds of ponies that were more interested in celebrating and having fun with you than grilling you with questions about Earth and it's music.
That was where you met Lyra Heartstrings.
It had been an unusual meeting. When Vinyl had introduced the mint-green unicorn, she'd seemed painfully shy and unsure of herself. After that you'd caught her staring at you a few times, but she'd always disappeared into the crowd before you could make your way over.
You'd actually been coming back from a bathroom break when a voice had softly asked, "Are you really a human?"
You'd turned around to find her staring at you, a quizzical and uncertain expression on her face. You'd given her an easy smile, hoping to inject some levity into the situation. "I certainly hope so," you'd replied. "I'd hate to have gone through life for so long thinking I'm something that I'm not."
She hadn't smiled, only taken a tentative step forward and looking up at you with a strange combination of wonder and doubt. You'd begun to frown yourself, asking, "Is everything alright?"
She'd nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving yours as she'd taken another step. She'd looked you up and down and whispered, "I can't believe it. You're really real." She'd looked down, an awestruck smile beginning to work its way on to her muzzle. "Humans are really real."
You'd been pretty confused, and more than a little uneasy. "What do you know about humans?"
She'd looked back up at you wistfully and sat down, taking a deep breath as she did so. "When you were little, did you ever play pretend? Make up new places and creatures and explore it all, even though it was just in your mind?" When you'd given a nod, she'd returned it, looking down as her eyes went far away. "When I was a filly, too little to use my magic, I was afraid of a lot of things. The world seemed so big and scary, so I imagined these big, strong, wonderful creatures to protect me. They were big and tall, good for hiding behind, and they had long arms and skinny, flexy fingers that were good at grabbing cookies when my dad put them on the top shelf. They didn't have much hair, so they were always dressing in all kinds of clothes." She looked back up at you with a small, nostalgic smile. "But the best thing of all was how warm they were. Without fur, their skin was smooth and warm and better to cuddle with than anything else. Can you guess what I called them?"
You'd found yourself momentarily frozen as, internally, alarm and intrigue (and a little disbelief) had struggled for dominance. In the interim all you'd managed was a quiet, "No way. . ."
She'd snorted quietly. "Way." She'd shaken her head. "By some crazy, ridiculous twist of fate, way." She'd shifted herself a bit to move next to you. "As I got older, I tried to move past it, and usually I could. I always knew that, in the end, it was just a silly foal's dream. Still, there were some days, when I was really feeling down, that I indulged myself a bit in my fillyhood fantasies. Pretending I had a human who would scratch my ears, hold me and tell me it wasn't so bad. . ." she chuckled nervously. "Celestia, this must sound weird." She'd looked up at you again, her smile all but disappearing. "I'm probably making a pretty creepy first impression, aren't I?"
It'd taken you a few seconds to respond. "To be honest, I'm a bit more disturbed about the fact that you imagined my kind at all than I am about what you imagined doing with them." You'd given her a look. "You promise that you're telling the truth?"
She'd nodded vigorously. "Pinkie promise."
"Um. . . ."
You'd been so baffled by her answer that, for a second, you'd actually forgotten to be freaked out. "Huh? But, you don't have pinkies."
She'd returned your confused look with one of her own. "Yes we. . . wait, what? Do you have something that you call Pinkie?"
Your face had scrunched up enough to make a mummy blush. "Yeah." You'd made a fist and stuck out your pinkie, wiggling it around a few times. "That's my pinkie finger. What's a pinkie to you?"
She'd hesitated a bit, bemusement scrunching her muzzle up rather adorably. "Pinkie's a pony who lives in the same town as me. She came up with the Pinkie Promise, and she takes it really seriously. If I break it she'll probably appear, wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, and start yelling for an apology."
You'd raised an eyebrow. "Wherever you are, whatever you're doing?"
She'd shrugged. "Yup."
"She can do that?"
"Yup."
". . . Must be hell if you're having a roll in the hay. . ."
The silence had stretched between you like an old, rusty slinky, and you'd already been kicking yourself for using bedroom humor with a pony you'd just met when she'd burst out into clear, musical laughter. The sound had instantly put a smile on your face, and you hadn't been able to help but join in. The two of you had enjoyed a good half-a-minute of shared merriment before she'd managed to say, "Now there's a scary thought. Although. . ." she continued, a mischievous glint in her eye, "she is all about having fun, so. . ."
Your expression had set her off into another bout of ringing laughter, and your blush hadn't stopped you from once again joining her. After another moment or two, when your laughter had subsided to chuckles, you'd crouched down to her level and held out a hand. "Lyra, wasn't it?"
She'd nodded, beaming as she'd reached up a hoof and curled it around your palm.
Wow, you'd thought, I didn't notice how pretty her eyes were. "Well Lyra," you'd said, squeezing her hoof before letting go and standing, "shall we return to the party?"
She'd bowed and gestured with a hoof. "After you." She'd giggled, coloring the air with a ghost of her musical laugh. "It is your party, after all."
The two of you had spent the rest of the party getting to know each other. You'd learned that she was a harp/lyrist, which, given her cutie mark, hadn't surprised you, and that she lived in the nearby hamlet of Ponyville. While you had visited there during your tour, you hadn't stayed long. More ponies than usual had seemed frightened of you, and while you'd enjoyed being able to see the Palace of Friendship, Princess Twilight Sparkle's hailstorm of auctioneer-on-meth-speed questions had killed the wonder pretty fast. Truth be told, that had been one of the only times that you'd turned down an invitation to spend the night somewhere.
Lyra had blushed as she'd told you that she'd desperately wanted to meet you ever since your presence had been announced to Equestria at large, but hadn't had the slightest idea of how to approach it. Even when she'd heard that you were working with Vinyl, who'd been her friend for years, she'd been paralyzed about finding a way to meet you personally until she'd been invited to the party. "Honestly, even that scared the fur off me," she'd said ruefully, "but I knew that I couldn't possibly get a better chance to meet you, so I took it." She'd smiled. "I'm glad I did."
You had both carried on well into the evening, all but ignoring the other guests, and you'd been pretty disappointed when she'd readied herself to leave. Thus, you'd been both very surprised and elated when she'd asked you to lunch the next day before she went back to Ponyville. After you'd eagerly agreed and she'd given you a final hug goodbye, you'd suddenly thought, Wait, did I just agree to go on a date with a pony?
Any uncertainly you'd had about that had quickly been erased by Vinyl abruptly appearing next to you and saying, "Finally! It's about time you put yourself out on the market. I thought I was gonna have to start getting you around some of my gryphon friends to see if maybe you liked them." She'd nudged your leg with a hoof. "Lyra's a good mare. She's pretty quirky, but hey, that just means you two should get along better." She'd slid down her glasses to throw you a wink. "You guys will have fun together. Be excited, Baldy!"
She needn't have said anything, because you had been excited. Sure, you'd been a bit nervous too, but that nervousness was easily eclipsed by how much you were genuinely looking forward to it. That night, you'd found yourself like a kid at Christmas, and you'd had to persuade an extremely amused Luna to help you get to sleep. You'd woken up early the next day, done your best to get down at least a few lines from the song you were currently working on, totally hadn't paced around like a nervous high-schooler waiting for his prom date to come downstairs while her dad gives him the stink-eye, and, at long last, had met Lyra outside the castle gates and followed her to a nearby cafe.
The two of you had enjoyed an excellent meal and a whole lot of banter, and you'd found yourself liking the mare more and more. You couldn't help but smile every time she'd laughed, and when you'd held each other's gaze, you'd found yourself feeling strangely, pleasantly jittery. The two hours you'd originally planned had melted into three, and you were closing on four when you'd finally insisted that if it went on any longer, she'd miss her train. She'd relented, paid for the meal (in spite of your protests), and, as she'd reared up to hug you goodbye, planted a kiss on your cheek.
Despite how well the date had gone, you honestly hadn't been expecting the kiss, and she'd giggled quite a bit as you'd blushed and sputtered. She'd nuzzled her head into your cheek until you'd stopped stammering, looked you in the eye and asked, "Will I see you again?"
After a moment's pause, a soft smile had made its way onto your face. "Of course you will. As soon as we can, okay?" Your answer had given her a grin of her own, and for a moment the two of you had just stared happily at each other. You remember thinking, God, she's got beautiful eyes, and then, before you'd even known what was happening, you'd been kissing her. She'd squeaked in surprise before pressing back against you with a smile. The kiss had lasted for a long moment, and when she'd pulled away, grinning from ear to ear, all she'd said was a quiet, "Okay." With that, she'd trotted off to catch her train, looking back once or twice with that same smile still illuminating her face.
You'd felt your own cheeks glowing as you'd watched her leave. When she'd finally turned onto another street, you'd slowly brought a hand up, running a finger tentatively along your lips. After a moment or two you'd let out a chuckle, murmured, "Wow," to yourself, and started a slightly dazed walk back to the castle, giggling like a happy drunk.
You hadn't even made it back to your room before Luna had pounced on you, grilling you with questions about your date and pausing only to make a a couple good-natured jabs at you. Thus began something of a sporadic, continuous interrogation that had lasted two days. Celestia, Vinyl, even Octavia, all had been quite keen on hearing the details of how your Lyra lunch date had gone. Vinyl's had probably been the worst, and it hadn't helped that she'd dropped hints that she'd been planning the whole thing with all the subtlety of a flying, neon beluga whale. Funnily enough though, in spite of how often you'd had to answer the same questions, you hadn't really gotten tired of it. If anything, it made you all the more happy with what had happened.
All of your memories after that are something of a paradox; things had happened so quickly that they seemed to pass in a blur, and yet you could remember every detail of them. The picnic you two had enjoyed in the castle gardens, two weeks after your first date. Messily feeding each other s'mores while camping in Whitetail Woods a week after that. Getting your groove on with Lyra, her roommate Bonbon, and Octavia at one of Vinyl's shows in Canterlot (that's the only time you've EVER heard Vinyl play a romantic song).
You remember your first Hearth's Warming together. Lyra had surprised you with a week's cabin stay in the Snowflurry Mountains. Days spent between snowball fights, snow-sculpting, and exploring the mountain, and nights spent cuddling beneath a thick quilt, staring dreamily into the fire. The night of Hearth's Warming itself, when she'd come to you with that look in her eye and kissed you more passionately than she ever had before, making it very clear what she intended to gift to you. Waking up with her curled in your arms, feeling utterly content with the magical night the two of you had just shared.
Most of all though, you remember the music that the two of you had made together. It hadn't been long into your relationship before she'd began to ask if she could help, and you'd been happy to say yes. While she didn't have Vinyl's recording ability or Octavia's razor-honed skill, she did have experience with the more wistful side of music, and, more importantly, having her around somehow made it easier than ever to coax the music lying in your mind out into the world. With Octavia's help, the two of you had even managed to reconstruct Danny Elfman's Ice Dance, in your opinion one of the most beautiful (and popular) pieces you've ever managed to reproduce. You'd poured your heart and soul into that song, and doing it with Lyra at your side had been one of the most profoundly happy experiences of your life.
For a little over a year, you were on top of the world. You'd had a job that you were passionate about that allowed you to remember and honor your old world while bringing something beautiful to your new one. You'd had far more money coming in than you needed, which had let you give freely to ponies and causes that you felt deserved it. You'd had the respect and admiration of many, the best friends you could possibly ask for, and best of all, a beautiful, supportive, unbelievable lover who had slowly but surely become your muse. You honestly didn't know of any way that you could have been happier.
Maybe that's why you hadn't noticed the changes in Lyra at first. They had been subtle, after all. The cuddling, the kissing, even the sex, all had gone on prettymuch as they had been, but you'd begun to notice a change in Lyra's laugh. You couldn't quite place how, but the musical ring that had drawn you in from the very beginning started to disappear. Soon after her smiles began to get a little bit smaller, her embraces a little less firm, and your musical sessions together a little less spirited.
Even then, you hadn't really been worried. After all, every relationship begins to cool after that initial fire burns itself out, right? As time had gone on however, it hadn't felt as though Lyra was cooling as much as drifting away. When you'd tried to broach the subject, she'd either deflect the question or respond with an uncertainty that had done nothing but build upon your worries and a promise that she'd figure things out. While it had hurt, you'd done your best to accomodate her. You believed in her. You'd trusted that if you gave her space, she'd solve whatever problem was troubling her, and you'd be willing to help her in any way that you could.
You'd been right. She had figured things out, but her answer was something you hadn't been ready for at all.
You remember the seriousness in her eyes as she had said that most horrible of phrases, "We need to talk." You remember her losing it as she tried to break it to you, but shrugging off your attempt to comfort her, something which had hurt and terrifed you all the more. You most definitely remember her face, twisted with guilt and remorse and barely able to look at you, as she'd whimpered, "I didn't fall in love with you. I fell in love with the idea of a human. I. . . I wish I had realized that sooner, before we became. . . this, but I didn't, and I care about you, I really do, but I'm not in love with you, and I can't keep pretending that I am." She had broken down again. "I'm sorry," you'd heard her sob, "I'm so, so sorry. You don't deserve any of this, but I can't keep pretending and hope that suddenly everything's gonna be okay."
You'd denied. You'd reasoned. You'd gotten down on your knees with tears in your eyes and begged. You'd even threatened, and if Bonbon hadn't been there to stop you, you probably would have done something you'd regret. You don't really like it, but there's a small part of you that still wishes you had. You'd feel like shit, but at least then her actions would feel justified.
In the end you had just left, too shocked and hurt to really care where. You'd ended up spending most of the night wandering vaguely in the direction of Canterlot, alternating between blank shock and utter, choking misery, until you'd passed out from sheer emotional exhaustion.
Fortunately, Luna had happened upon you in the dreamscape and sent some guards to pick you up and bring you home. Thus began the cycle that would last the next couple weeks. It would start with overwhelming disbelief and indignation at the unfairness of the situation, move into a rage against Lyra that both boiled your blood and made you sick with guilt, and finish in pure, all-consuming loneliness that sapped your will to do anything but lay in the corner and cry. You hadn't tried to kill yourself the way you had in the old days, but. . . well, you had thought about it a few times. Ultimately, you had other ponies who cared about you, and you sure as hell weren't about to do anything to hurt them. Indeed, if anything positive came out of Lyra dumping you, it was demonstrating just how much your best friends all cared about you, even if you wish some of the fallout hadn't happened.
The aftermath had been, in some ways, even worse than the actual break-up. When Vinyl had heard about what had happened, she'd apparently dropped what she was doing, even going so far as to cancel a small gig, taken the next train to Ponyville, and laid into Lyra hard. You don't know much of what was said, (Vinyl still refuses to talk about it), but you know that whatever friendship had existed between the two didn't survive, and as much as Lyra had hurt you, you'd never wanted to be responsible for destroying someone else's friendship.
Octavia hadn't done anything so dramatic as seek Lyra out. However, you do know that the last time the two mares had seen each other, Octavia had slugged her. That one had been a serious shock. Apart from the princesses themselves, you don't know anypony as supremely self-controlled as Octavia, and for her to be so angry that she'd deliberately strike another pony. . . You still don't know what to think of that.
As for the princesses, Celestia had never been one to let her emotions get in the way of her duty, but she did ban Lyra from ever setting hoof in the castle again, and week or so after the break-up you'd caught a glimpse of what looked like a picture of Lyra in her study, held to the wall with what must be the mother of all battle axes. Luna, on the other hand. . . You suppose that her half-hour Royal Canterlot Voice level rant dennouncing Lyra as an unworthy slattern probably would have been more impressive and entertaining if it hadn't struck so close to home. A couple weeks later you'd overheard a visiting Princess Twilight mention that a few of her subjects had been plagued with nightmares, and that Luna claimed to be oblivious to the cause. You'd asked her to stop after that, and she had reluctantly given her word. It had been. . . creative, you'll give her that, but it wasn't what you'd wanted.
A month after your break-up with Lyra you had moved out of the castle. There were too many places filled with too many memories, and all the big spaces had started to feel oppressive and lonely. The princesses had been pretty upset, and Luna had even shed a few tears, but neither had tried to stop you.
You'd ended up moving into a small flat about halfway between the castle and the studio where you, Vinyl, and Octavia recorded your songs. Nothing bigger had really appealed to you. You'd had it sound-proofed so that you could continue to work on your music, but apart from that you'd prettymuch left it as it was.
Sound-proofing, however, had been proven unnecessary by perhaps the worst side effect of your break-up with Lyra; whenever you try to recall a song from Earth, it refuses to come to you. Instead, all you ever get is a terrible flashback of everything that you poured into your sessions with your former marefriend. You KNOW that the song is in your mind, you KNOW that you know how it goes, but you can never recall it. You've tried talking about it with your friends, hell, you've even been seeing your old therapist, but so far nothing's been helping.
In and of itself, that might not have been a problem, but since things had been going so well for so long, you'd announced that your latest collection would be out by Nightmare Night. That was now only two months off, and you'd completed barely half the songs when Lyra had dropped the bomb on you. Needless to say, with the songs you needed to remember locked away by what must be the crappiest emotional disorder ever, completing the album was effectively impossible.
That too might not have been an issue, if you were in it alone. While you hate to disappoint, you'd be more than willing to take a hit to your reputation while you worked on whatever the hell this is. Of course, you aren't in it alone. You may be the centerpiece of the trio, but Vinyl and Octavia are just as much a part of your albums as you. Both trusted you enough to put their names and images alongside yours, and if you fail to deliver on your promised deadline, then their reputations will suffer just as much as yours will. Hell, given the status they already have, it might even be worse for them, especially Octavia, whom you doubt has missed a musical deadline in her life.
You can't let that happen. You can't let the status and reputation that they've fought so hard to gain be damaged by the fallout of your problems. They're your best friends. They've been so understanding, so patient with you, putting their own assets on the line to do it, and. . . you can't let it happen. You have to do something.
But what can I do? you think despairingly. If I can't let the music out, then what good am I to any of us? We're all gonna get hurt, and it's gonna be my fault. I have to find a way to move past this. I have to find a way to remember the music. I have-
"I say, are you, er, are you quite alright, old fellow?"
"Huh?!" you exclaim, jumping a bit and shaking your head violently. You blink several times as you realize that there's a rather dapper unicorn standing in front of you with a fairly concerned look on his face. His brow is so furrowed that one is nearly spilling over his monocle, and his blue, well-trimmed mustache only accents his frown. "Uh," you stammer, pinching the bridge of your nose as you squint your eyes shut and shake your head again, "I'm sorry, were you talking to me?"
In spite of the awkwardness of your response, he gives you a polite smile. "So I was. You've been standing in place with rather hazy eyes for quite some time, and I thought I'd make sure that you were alright. I wasn't sure if perhaps it was a, oh, what's the word. . . human! I thought that it might be a human thing, but better to be certain, yes?"
You're still not all there, but you've regained enough of your senses to at least return the smile. "Well, erm, thank you! Um, am I alright?" Your grin turns a bit wry. "To be honest, not really." You shrug. "Can't be helped." You bend down to clap a hand on his shoulder. "I really appreciate the concern though."
He gives you a skeptical grin. "Can't be helped? Nonsense, my friend. Every problem has a solution." His expression suddenly grows serious. "Every problem."
As you file away his words in the overflowing mental bin where you store platitudes, you can't help but notice that this unicorn seems strangely familiar. ". . . Do we know each other? I could swear that I've seen you before."
He smiles winningly. "I daresay you have. I've certainly seen you. I find the music from your world quite engaging, and you, Miss Philharmonica, and Miss Scratch have signed a copy of each one of your albums for me at one point or another."
You nod and paste on a grin. "Gotcha. Well, I'm glad you like our music. Octavia, Vinyl and I are-" You stop mid-sentence as your eyebrows suddenly spring together. "Octavia and Vinyl." You look down for a moment as you finally recall the rest of the situation that you're in. You give the stallion a quizzical look. "I'm sorry, but may I ask how long I was actually standing there for?"
"Of course," he replies politely, levitating a pocket watch from within his suit-jacket. He studies it for a brief moment before saying, "Nearly fifteen minutes."
"What?!" You tear your own watch out of your pocket and look at it disbelievingly. Sure enough, he's right. Not only did you completely lose track of fifteen minutes, but now you're late, and since you have no reason to believe that Octavia was bluffing in her letter, that means that she's probably already dispatched Vinyl to come magic-handle you down to the studio.
"Shit!" you exclaim, looking up at the stallion with a mixture of apology and panic. "I am so sorry!" you sputter as you raise your hands defensively, "That's, it's, I'm," you take a deep breath, "I'm late, I'm definitely running late, and I gotta go."
He handles it surprisingly well, giving you a serious nod. "Understood. Sun speed to you, my good fellow, and good luck!"
You begin jogging away, turning back just long enough to yell, "Thanks again for checking on me!"
As your jog escalates into a full on dash, you hear him shout after you, "Remember what I said, old friend! Every problem has a solution!"
Yeah, we'll see about that, you think as you do your best to channel your inner Fleetfoot. Hopefully this problem has a solution that doesn't involve Vinyl levitating me through the streets like a giant, sulky baby.
***
"Goddamnit Vinyl, put me down!"
"No can do."
"I was coming! I had a space out moment, I even have a witness! Now put me down!"
"You shoulda been there on time. I'm just doing what Octy told me to."
"I left as soon as I cleaned myself up! I'm sorry I had a brain fart, but I can't help that. Now-put-me-the-hell-down!"
"I've got my orders, Baldy. I'll put you down when we get there."
You let out a frustrated exhale, letting your whole body go limp out of sheer exasperation as you float along. You're bobbing about five feet off the ground, enveloped in a light-blue glow being cast by the unicorn below you. You contemplate trying to thrash around some more, but you know it'd be useless. While Vinyl may not be able to restrain you with magic, she can keep you floating off the ground, and as long as she can do that, there's not a lot you can do.
You'd made it about five blocks before spotting Vinyl moving toward you at a determined trot. You hadn't even been able to get out a "sorry" before an all-too-familiar pulling sensation had yanked you off your feet and into the air. Since then you've been drifting alongside her as she walked back to the studio, alternating between flailing around in the hopes that it'll help (it won't), and pleading/demanding that she put you down.
Things like this are the reason that you honestly hate magic. Sure, you've seen it virtually every day since you showed up in Equestria, and it's even been used to help you so many times you've lost count. At the end of the day, however, magic is something that you have no way of protecting yourself against, and it freaks you right the hell out to be so helpless against something that's literally everywhere.
At least she's calming down, you think. When Vinyl had first grabbed you, she'd been wearing a stern, rather blank expression that you've learned to fear; Vinyl looking that serious is never, EVER a good sign. Now though, after five or so minutes of your fruitless freedom antics, an amused smirk is peeking out from the corners of her mouth. You can tell that she's trying to conceal it, but when it comes to her emotions, Vinyl Scratch is only slightly less subtle than Celestia's sweet tooth.
You, on the other hand, are pretty well ticked, but acting like it isn't gonna help you here. You force yourself to take a slow, deep breath, inject a little calmness into your tone, and say, "Look Vinyl, I'm sorry I was late. I really, truly didn't mean to be. I was coming, though, and you know I was coming. You saw it. You didn't have to come get me. Now, knowing that," you pause for effect, "will you please put me down and let me walk the rest of the way? Cuz doing it this way is freakin' humiliating."
"Well, I dunno. . ." she says, bringing a hoof to her mouth thoughtfully. Or at least it would look thoughtful if you hadn't already seen it a thousand times before. You, however, would know that look from a mile away, and you're really not in the mood to play this game.
"What do you want?" you groan.
Vinyl presses her shades down her snout, revealing some of the most blatant bedroom eyes that have ever come out of Equestria. Her voice takes on a comically sultry edge as she says, "Weeeell, I can think of a couple things that you could do for me, but they aren't the kinds of things we should talk about here in public."
Yup. Should've seen that one coming. "One, how many ponies have you pulled that on this week? Two, when has being in public ever stopped you from talking about what's on your mind?" You pause, staring levelly at her as she continues to grin unabashedly. You sigh. "Please tell me what you really want so I can get down from here!" you rattle off.
"Some of those crushed brownie white chocolate ball things you make," she replies just as quickly.
"One batch."
"Three batches."
"Two."
"Sold!" You feel yourself being flipped upright as the magic dissipates, and you barely manage to stick the landing without also sticking your face in the cobblestones. You let out a frustrated grumble as you stumble your way back into balance. "Jeez, Vinyl, could you at least set me down gently? That was about two steps short of a face plant."
"Ah, c'mon," she says, giving you her most endearing/obnoxious smirk. "I wasn't gonna hurt you. Besides, you already have the flattest face in Canterlot. What are you worried about?"
You're about to respond with an angry retort, but before you can, a chuckle bubbles its way out of your chest instead. It's been so long since you just hung out with Vinyl that hearing her take a good-natured jab at you feels, well, really good. It's almost like you've forgotten what it was like bantering back and forth with the DJ. "That may be true, but I'm also the tallest thing in Canterlot, princesses notwithstanding, so I've gotta a longer way to go if I fall. By the way, how does the street smell? I can never get anything but fresh air up here."
Vinyl's grin grows so wide it practically splits her face. "Wow, you actually shot back. Haven't seen that in a while." She gives your leg a nudge and her smile turns a bit more serious. "Kinda been missing it, you know?"
You give her a rueful look in return. "Yeah, I imagine so. The jokes just haven't really been flowing lately." Kinda like the music. Aaand good mood gone. Damn it. You sigh. Well, it was nice while it lasted.
Vinyl appears to chew on her cheek for a moment before nodding slowly and saying, "I guess not." Her grin reappears, if a bit smaller than before. "But hey, at least today we're gonna get something done about that, right?" She nods forward. "We're almost there. You ready to make a plan and get things rolling again?"
You suddenly freeze as you realize that she's right. You're less than a block away from the studio. Between getting Vinyl to set you down and the brief banter you'd had, you'd somehow forgotten why you came here. Your breath catches in your throat as your earlier question comes screaming back into your mind. What the hell am I gonna tell them?
"Hey. Hey!" Vinyl's voice breaks you out of your thoughts. You look down to see the unicorn wearing a concerned expression, and the sound of chimes registers in your ears as you see her horn starting to light up.
"DON'T," you shout as your arms shoot up defensively, "pick me up again." You maintain the pose for a moment until Vinyl's horn finally darkens. You heave a sigh and start trudging forward. "No point in trying to worm my way out now. Let's. . . let's just get this over with."
A few seconds of silence follow before you hear Vinyl trotting to catch up. She appears to the side of you, wearing a smile that looks just a little too hopeful. "C'mon, it's not like Octy and I are expecting you to do this all on your own. We're here for you, dude! We're gonna help you come up with a plan, get the album back on track, and soon it'll be just like the good ol' days!" She smirks, "Well, not exactly like the good ol' days. You can at least write music on your own now."
As if on cue, your earlier headache returns with a vengeance. You wince and bring a hand to your temple, massaging it gingerly as you look over at Vinyl. The only expression you can honestly give her is one of uncertainty and guilt, so you don't give her more than a second to see it before looking back at the ground. However, judging by the barely audible "horseapples" that comes floating up from your side, you're pretty sure she saw it anyway.
The final half-a-block to the studio passes in slow, painfully awkward silence, punctuated only by the clopping of Vinyl's hooves on the pavement and a few quiet groans as you try to massage the ache out of your skull. All too soon, the door looms in front of you. You place your hand against it, let out a massive breath, square your jaw, and push it open.
The studio is pretty much as it's always been, a small reception area done up in dark woods and plush reds, giving it an air of classy warmth. You don't pay much attention to it, more focused on getting to the recording room and putting this ordeal behind you. You feel your feet starting to drag along the rug as you push open the door that leads to the real heart of the studio. However, as you turn into the hall that leads to the usual room that the three of you work in, Vinyl's voice stops you.
"We're actually gonna be in the orchestra hall today," she says, moving past you with a ghost of her usual grin on her face. "Octy and I wanted to work in there."
You raise a slightly suspicious eyebrow. "Why would you want to do that? We don't know what we're doing, if we're doing anything at all."
Her grin grows as she continues down the main hall. "Cuz surprises."
You feel a slight twinge of panic in your gut that coincides with an increased headache. Oh, crap. They aren't planning on working on anything TODAY, are they? I mean, even if I could somehow get over my problem, I don't have anything prepared, my brain's not in the right place, I'm not ready at all! Even as all this occurs to you, you know that it doesn't really make a difference. You're here. Whether or not they have some recording planned is a moot point anyway until you've taken care of what you came here for. Letting out yet another sigh, you shuffle after Vinyl, cradling your head with one hand all the while.
Ever since you started working here, you've always liked the orchestral recording area. Most of the room is either black or dark blue to minimize glare, the only exception being the white conductor's platform near the wall. When there's no music playing, it just. . . peaceful. Calming, even. You can never really put your finger on it, but something about the darkness of the room just puts you at ease. Or it did, you think bitterly as you walk in, until Lyra and I did Ice Dance in here. You hiss and purse your lips as a fresh pang ripples through your skull. God, I hate these headaches, you muse, your fingers automatically beginning their gentle circuit against your temple.
"Are you alright?"
You gingerly turn your head left to find Octavia standing just inside the door, her expression torn between pleasure at seeing you and concern. You imagine that there's a certain amount of admonishment for being late in there as well, but unlike Vinyl, Octavia is a master at hiding her emotions when she feels like it. You decide that you're perfectly alright with any negativity that she's willing to not direct at you, and respond with a weary smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just another headache." While she gives an understanding nod, you reach over and run a hand through her mane. "How've you been Octavia? It's been a while since I spent time with either of you."
Her eyelids drop halfway and she doesn't quite manage to restrain a content exhale. While she hates admitting it, Octavia loves the feeling of your fingers in her mane, and right now you're willing to use every weapon in your arsenal to try and make the upcoming ordeal as painless as possible. She's wise to you though, stopping your hand with a hoof and giving you a small smile. "I've been busy, and yes, it has been some time." Her expression grows ever so slightly more serious. "Though after today, I imagine that's going to change."
The smile you've pasted on grows lemon-bitter in an instant. You hesitate before giving a quick, jerky nod. "Yeah," you murmur, "I imagine it will." You look around, trying to avoid Octavia's gaze as well as distract yourself from the still-building pressure in your head. "So, uh, why are we in the concert room today?"
Octavia's expression deadens for a couple of seconds, but she quickly replaces it with one of neutral friendliness. "Vinyl and I were working on some of our duet pieces, and she wanted the extra space to experiment with the light component of her show." She raises a hoof toward the back of the room, gesturing at a small stage covered in speakers, magi-electronic equipment, and a few choice string instruments. You also notice a collection of wires going hither and thither, each strand connected to some kind of club light standing or hanging about the stage. All in all it's a lot more equipment than you're used to seeing.
"Is Vinyl designing the light show herself?" you ask.
Octavia nods with a hint of pride. "She's actually been done with it for a week or so now. We've just been running through a few songs so that she can get used to sustaining both the light show and her part of the music. She's had the music mastered for quite a while now." Her expression hardens a fraction. "After all, we've had plenty of extra time on our hooves."
You grit your teeth as a particularly nasty pulse lances through your skull. You give Octavia a long, considering look before bowing your head. "Alright, alright. There's a reason you called me here, and we might as well get to it, right?" As you turn to walk toward the stage, you chance a look back, and what you see catches you more than a bit off guard
Rather than irritation, or even the poker face she usually wears when upset, the expression on Octavia's face is one of pure, apologetic reluctance. In that instant you can see how little she wants to put you through this, even though she needs to. You turn away, feeling a bizarre combination of guilt and sudden warmth. Why do they have to be such great friends? It would be so much easier to let them down if they were even a little bit less likeable, but as they are? What can I tell them? What can I do? You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the increased pain as you take a seat on the stage.
As Octavia takes a seat in front of you, you realize that you haven't actually seen Vinyl since walking in. You scan the room once but see no sign of the DJ. You open your mouth to ask Octavia when a glowing, slightly lumpy looking bundle floats into the room, followed by the unicorn herself. She trots over quickly and magically presses the bundle against your forehead. You inhale sharply at the sudden shock of cold, but let out a relieved sigh as the icepack immediately starts easing some of the tension inside your skull. You bring up a hand to hold the icepack, give Vinyl a grateful look, and say, "Thanks, Vinyl. I really needed that."
She just grins and gives a dismissive shrug. "Anytime."
You nod once before your expression turns solemn. You take a deep breath, hoping to loosen some of the tension that's subtly coiling its way around your stomach, and say, "So, where should we start?"
Octavia speaks up. "Well, I for one would like to start with a thank you for being here." She places a hoof on your leg sympathetically. "I know that the past several months have been very hard on you, and that you must have been dreading this conversation, but here you are." Her expression hardens again, but this time there's an edge of humor in it. "Even if I did have to send Vinyl to collect you."
"He was actually coming, Octy," Vinyl pipes up, giving you an 'I got your back' look. "He was really booking it too, at least when I found him, so I'm pretty sure we can let that slide."
Octavia shoots her an amused glance before turning back to you with a smile. "Well then, I'm sorry for not trusting that you would be here, and all the more thanks for coming."
You shake your head a bit, feeling that weird comfort/guilt combo again. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I should have been here on time."
Octavia gives a slight nod in response. "Then on to business. As you know, we have a little over two months before the new album is due to release, and we've only managed to record half of the songs. As such, we haven't got nearly as much time for polishing as we'd planned to, so we're going to have to work exceptionally hard to meet our deadline." She leans in. "Now, I know you haven't been up to recording anything, but I imagine that you've at least gotten most of the vocals and sheet music completed right? If those are done, then we should still be able to complete the album on time with little trouble."
The knot in your stomach tightens like a noose, and you're pretty sure that you can actually feel the blood leaving your face. Your eyes dart to the ground like frightened gophers, and your jaw seems suddenly reluctant to unclench as you try to answer her. After a handful of seconds you manage to force it open, but all you can manage is a stammered, "I. . . I uh. . . I have some of the lyrics written down."
A long, terrible pause follows, during which you're acutely aware of the two mares staring at you. You say nothing, not daring to look at either of them. The silence stretches on for what feels like an hour, before being broken by a murmured, disbelieving, "That's all?"
Your eyes clench shut, those two words hitting you harder than any hoof possibly could. You open your mouth a couple times, trying to respond, but the words refuse to come out. Eventually, you feel a hoof move to your chin. You don't resist as it raises your face up toward theirs. You force yourself to open your eyes, although once you do there's a part of you that wishes you hadn't.
Both of the mares are looking at you with a kind of shocked disbelief. There's no anger in their gaze, no accusation, hell, not even disappointment, and that makes it hurt so much more than you thought it would. You'd been ready for anger and disappointment, but to see that surprise, to know that they had trusted you so much that they literally couldn't believe that you had so completely failed to deliver, feels like an icy dagger in your chest, especially when Octavia quietly asks, "How?"
Although you know the answer, your voice withers beneath the force of their gaze. "I. . . It's not. . . I can't. . ."
Apparently you're taking too long, because Octavia speaks up again. "Exactly how much do you have?" she asks, her voice gaining an edge that you don't care for in the slightest.
Your traitorous eyes try to look away again, but you force them back onto Octavia's. Your jaw also makes another bid to clench shut, but you fight the urge down. You are not gonna be a coward right now, damnit! "Most of one song."
Another awful silence follows, during which Octavia looks at the ground stonily and Vinyl looks on in unbelieving confusion. "Dude," the unicorn finally says, "it's been months. I mean, I know you've been hurting but. . ." She looks down, her eyes darting back and forth. "Was it so bad that you forgot about all this, or was it too hard to care? I. . ." She looks back up at you, still looking incredulous. "What have you been doing all this time?"
"I'd like to know that as well," Octavia says quietly.
Shame and defensive anger churn your stomach as you give them the only answer you honestly can. "Nothing. I. . . nothing." A moment passes, and then, there's the anger I was expecting.
Octavia shakes her head slowly. "I can't believe this. I can't believe that you've done so little." She fixes you with a glare that makes you grimace; Octavia is one of the most reserved ponies you've ever met, and you've never seen her this angry before. "You do understand that you are not the only one who will be affected by this album, right? You do realize that Vinyl and I are going to suffer the consequences of a broken deadline just as much as you. You do know that, right?"
You clench your jaw, struggling to hold on to your anger at her accusation. Even so, your voice is definitely louder as you grind out, "Of course I know that."
"Then how could you possibly have let yourself be this irresponsible?" she continues, her voice raising to match your own. "How could you be so idle? The three of us have been making music together for over two years now. I know that you are neither that incompetent nor that lazy, so how in Equestria have you gotten so little done?" She pauses, narrowing her eyes at you. "Has your pain really made you that selfish?"
Oh, that one did it. Your fists clench and grind into the stage beneath you. "Selfish?" you growl, "You think that I'm selfish?"
Octavia doesn't bat an eyelash. "Right now? Yes."
You take a few deep breaths, trying to reign your emotions in. It doesn't work.
"Do you think I like any of this?!" you roar, jumping to your feet. "Do you think I'm happy about any of this?! Do you think I enjoy the fact that I'm hurting the two best friends I have, and do you think I'd ever do that if I had any choice in the matter?! NO, Octavia! No on every goddamn count! I hate this situation! I hate knowing that I'm letting you two down, and that the only way I can make that right is by writing down the music I promised, but I can't, Octavia, I just fucking can't!"
"That's a pathetic excuse and you know it!"
"Octavia!" Vinyl shouts, causing both of you to look at her. She's wearing an outraged scowl that you've never seen, and even in the grip of your anger you have to admit that it's pretty intimidating. When she's sure that neither of you are going to try to interrupt her, she looks at Octavia and says, "That was over the line, and you know it." She holds Octavia's gaze until the gray mare looks away before turning to you, regarding you with a somewhat cold curiosity that looks very out of place on her face. "Why do you say you can't? Are you really still hurting that bad?"
Your anger drains out of you like water through a sieve, leaving only profound tiredness in its wake. You sit back down with a heavy sigh and shake your head. "It isn't about how much I hurt. It isn't even about feeling at all. It's. . . When I say I can't, I mean I literally can't."
Vinyl's expression doesn't change. "Why not?"
You look down. "It's hard to explain right. Basically, whenever I try to remember the songs for the album, or hell, any songs from back home really, they won't come. I know the lyrics, I know how the instrumentals go, and I know that I know them, but when I try to think about them, it's like they're out of reach." You frown heavily. "Instead, all I ever get is music that, well, that Lyra and I did. Even when I'm trying to think of another song, that's all that ever comes to mind." You cup your head in your hands. "It's like white noise in my brain, and I can never hear any other songs from home through it." Octavia raises her eyes to look at you as you shake your head again. "I don't know what to do. I've tried listening to music that we've already done to try jogging that part of my memory. I've been seeing Dr. Perspective again, and Luna's even been studying my dreams to see if she can find something there, but so far nothing's helping."
You pause for a few moments, letting them soak in your explanation before continuing. "I'm sorry, girls. I'm sorry about all of this." You blink back a few frustrated tears. "I should have told you this before now, but I didn't know what I was supposed to say. It was easier to just put it off for another day and hope that maybe it would get better than to face you and say that I didn't have an answer." You shake your head. "I still don't have an answer. I don't know what else I can do. We're screwed, and it's gonna be my fault, and I couldn't bring myself to look you in the eyes and tell you that."
You look at the ground, unable to maintain eye contact with Vinyl as the shame of your admission washes over you. Yet another terse silence follows, although it doesn't last very long before being broken by Vinyl's murmured, "Hey."
When you don't respond, you hear a familiar sound, and an intangible pressure gently but firmly raises your chin. You find yourself looking Vinyl directly in her crimson eyes. She holds you there for a moment, wearing a serious scowl, before raising herself up, taking your head in both hooves, and saying, "Stop talking like that."
Stunned by the comment, you don't respond as she pulls you into a fierce hug. "I don't care if you believe it. Don't say things like that. It's not gonna help anything." She pulls away, once again looking you in the eye. "All it's gonna do is make you feel even worse about it, so don't do it. Okay?"
Some errant part of you is trying really hard to feel even worse about things now, but the warmth now bubbling up in your chest doesn't give it much of a chance. You grin ruefully at the mare in front of you and say, "I don't deserve friends like you two."
"Hey," she responds seriously, "don't say things like that either. Octavia and I made be a pretty awesome couple of ponies, but don't you dare think that you're not as awesome, cuz you are." A ghost of her typical grin appears on her face. "Well, most of the time."
Your smile grows a bit more genuine as you give her ear a scratch. She flicks her ear, giving you a mischievous look as she lowers herself back down. With a little trepidation, you turn to look at Octavia. You aren't really expecting what you see.
The expression on Octavia's face is one of pure, unmitigated shame. She looks as though she's struggling to even meet your gaze, and her lower lip is quivering even as she sets it and walks up to you. She her mouth opens a few times, only to close without a sound, before she finally takes a deep breath and says, "I'm sorry. I didn't. . . I'm so sorry." She pushes herself up so that she can give you a hug of her own.
"I've seen similar things happen with ponies that I've worked with," she murmurs in your ear, "at least as far as break-ups, and because of that I thought I understood what you were going through. I knew that you could push through pain and heartache if you really had to, and that's why I got upset. I had no idea how difficult things really were." She pulls back a bit. She hasn't shed any tears, but they're definitely there. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, and I'm sorry I called you pathetic. Can you forgive me?"
This time you're the one to initiate the hug, pulling Octavia into a crushing embrace. "Of course I forgive you. How could I not?" You run a hand through her mane. "I can hardly blame you for being upset. I know what the stakes are."
She pulls herself out of the hug and places a hoof on either side of your legs. "Why didn't you tell us?"
You shrug. "It's like I said, I didn't have any answers. I've never heard of anything like this, not in Equestria and definitely not back in my world. I wanted to wait until I had something to help me get over it, and by the time I realized that it wasn't gonna happen fast enough, I was too ashamed to face you guys."
"Come on, man," pipes Vinyl, "you shouldn't ever feel ashamed around us! Don't you remember that time you went to Octy's house before you knew what the flower on the door meant?" She shakes her head with a humorous grin. "I still don't know how you spent so long in Equestria without learning about that, but anyway, yeah! After that, you never need to feel ashamed, no matter what you gotta say."
Your entire face goes crimson in a nano-second, and Octavia's doesn't fair much better. You both gape at the sniggering unicorn for a few seconds, give each other an awkward stare, and look away as she lowers herself off the stage. Even so, you can't help but let out a snort.
Octavia looks back at you with a raised eyebrow, but a wobbly grin is slowly forcing its way onto her face. You instantly try to fight down one of your own, but it's a losing battle. The two of you watch each other, both shaking with repressed laughter, until you finally crack, laughing yourself right onto your back. She only lasts another couple seconds before she too begins filling the air with high pitched giggles. The three of you carry on for a good while, and by the time your laughter has subsided to chuckles, you feel as though an immeasurable weight has been lifted from you. Wow, you think, I really needed that.
"Whew," you wheeze, "thanks for that Vinyl. It's been way too long since I've laughed like that."
Before Vinyl can acknowledge the thank you, Octavia immediately says, "Yes, Vinyl, thank you so much for giving us that wonderful bout of merriment." She then proceeds to bop Vinyl firmly on the head. "Now let us never speak of of that incident again, the way we agreed to, yes?"
"Ow," says Vinyl, rubbing the spot gingerly, "what was that for?" When Octavia raises an eyebrow, she quickly adds, "Okay, okay, I won't talk about it again. Sheesh." In an undertone, she adds "You'd think he'd never been around a mare in heat before."
You give a deadpan to rival a royal guard. "I hadn't," you say flatly. "I'm just glad it was Octavia, you know, since she has self control. I'd hate to be around you during estrus."
Vinyl's eyelids drop halfway, and her smirk turns sultry. "No you wouldn't."
You shake your head in amusement before your grin once more grows rueful. "Well, I hate to be the one to bring down the mood after that, but what now?
Vinyl shrugs uncomfortably as Octavia lets out a long breath. "I'm not sure," the grey mare says. "You said you have at least some lyrics down. Does that mean that you're making progress?"
You shake your head unhappily. "No. I'm not really sure why I could remember on those days. There wasn't any rhyme or reason to it, at least not that I noticed."
Octavia nods as if she expected as much, looking around the room contemplatively for a long moment. "Have you tried anything outside of what you told us earlier?"
You shake your head again. "Not really. I tried a few memory exercises, but they didn't do anything, and I didn't really expect them to. I also did a little reading up on psychological disorders to see if I could find something that sounded like what I have, but no such luck." You shrug. "I'm not surprised. If I had something documented, then Brighter Perspective would have heard about it."
Octavia sighs and looks at Vinyl. "Do you have anything to contribute?"
Vinyl just shakes her head with a frustrated, "No. Cheering you guys up is a piece of cake, but I'm useless when it comes to stuff like this." Octavia just nods, looking away and tapping her chin thoughtfully.
Several long moments pass in uncomfortable silence, each of you lost in their own thoughts, or in Vinyl's case, quietly fidgeting for fear of interrupting someone in the middle of a good idea. You doubt that you're gonna come up with anything you haven't already, but you as long as they're willing to try then so are you.
Abruptly, Octavia breaks the silence. "I have a question that might seem a bit odd." To your curious looks she asks, "when was the last time you danced?"
"Um. . ." you're so caught off-guard by the question that for a second you can't quite brain. "I, dyuh, I don't really remember." You shake off your surprise and focus. "Quite a while," you say, paging through your memories of the last several months and coming up blank.
"Have you since you and Lyra broke up?"
"Hmmm. . . no, I don't think I have." You give her a look. "I suppose this is relevant somehow?"
"It might be," she says hesitantly. "This is little more than a shot in the dark, but I do have an idea, and if nothing else I'd like to pose it to you."
You make a sweeping gesture. "By all means."
Octavia takes a centering breath. "As you both know, I've dabbled a bit in musical therapy, and although I can hardly call myself an expert, one thing I have noticed is that, of the ponies I've helped, the ones who've best responded have been those that really involved themselves in the music. I don't fully understand why, but I know that part of it is that, for whatever reason, immersing themselves in the music helps them let go of whatever's troubling them." She studies you intently. "Hence your dancing." She throws Vinyl a quick, nostalgic smile. "We've both seen you dance a quite a few occasions now. Sometimes it's graceful and precise, and sometimes you remind me of a drunken minotaur, but the one constant is that you never do it halfway. If you dance, you give it your all." She looks at Vinyl again. "Especially when the two of us play." She looks down, and her eyes go far away. "Do you remember the first time you saw us perform?"
"Of course I do," you reply, "How could I ever forget that? It was probably the most significant moment of my life here in Equestria."
Octavia smiles and inclines her head. "It well may be. In any case, that was the first time we saw you dance, but even back then, when we knew absolutely nothing about you, I still got the feeling that you were really letting go and following the music wherever it led you. Is it safe to say that you do that, especially when it's Vinyl and I that you're listening to?"
You consider for a moment. "Yeah, that sounds pretty accurate." You eyeball her curiously. "What's this leading up to?"
Octavia gestures at the equipment surrounding you. "Well, Vinyl and I were practicing some of our new duet pieces today, and we have everything we need to perform together. We'll be running through a few songs, and, if you're willing, I'd like you to listen as if it were a real performance, and dance as you normally would."
Your brow furrows in bemusement. "So, you just want me to dance? That's it, just dance? There's nothing else I should be doing?"
Octavia smiles patiently. "You let go of yourself when you dance. You stop worrying about anything except feeling the music and flowing with it. Without fail, the ponies in musical therapy who did that benefitted the most, regardless of what was troubling them." Her smile falters a bit. "It's the only idea any of us have. Surely that's better than nothing?"
"Yeah," you say with a wry nod. "I've never really thought about it, but yeah, it is. It might be a bit awkward, dancing alone, but at this point I'll give anything a shot." You smile as you stand up, giving her a good scratch behind the ear. "If nothing else, thanks for the idea Octavia, and more importantly, thanks for standing by me."
Octavia shoos your hand away and gives you a warm look. "What choice do I have in that?" Her smile grows. "We're friends."
You return the grin. "We sure a-"
The two of you both jump about eight feet as bone-shaking pulse of bass goes blasting through the room. The two of you spin around to see Vinyl standing triumphantly behind her turntable, shades down and mischievous grin stretched wide. "Awww yeah!" she shouts (or so you think, since you can't really tell with your ears ringing like this). "Dropping some wubs, sliding on strings, and doing the monkey dance! This is gonna be awesome!"
Octavia turns to you with a look that says, I'll hold her down? to which you respond with one that says, I'll tickle. With that settled, you lean back and watch as Octavia climbs onto the stage and does a final check of all her instruments. Finding no flaws, she turns toward Vinyl, and says, "Adventure?" Vinyl nods with a massive smile, levitating a couple records onto the table as Octavia picks up her signature cello. The lights suddenly dim and you become acutely aware of just how many club lights Vinyl is running as she does a final check. You can make out the two mares illuminated by the dim stage lights as Octavia looks down at you and says, "Ready?"
You give a shrug and an uncertain smile. "Yeah, I guess so."
She smiles back. "Wonderful." With that final word, she starts to play.
The opening few measures are all string, a progression of chords that sounds vaguely Arabic to you. Octavia's hoof dances along the cello's neck, her eyes closed in calm concentration. She suddenly freezes on a single, quiet note, drawing her bow at a snails pace along the string, growing steadily louder and louder until she abruptly stops. Silence falls for the briefest of moments and then. . .
"Let's go on an adventure." BWOW!
Even though you're expecting it this time, you still bring your hands up instinctively as the bass goes blasting through your body. At the same time, you're suddenly dazzled by a flurry of multicolored beams and flashes. You take a step back so that you can properly admire the array of lights that Vinyl's managed to rig up. Even though you aren't really dancing at this point, subconsciously you're stepping in rhythm to the music.
Apparently that's not enough for your friends. "What are you waiting for?" you hear from the stage, and you turn to see Octavia smiling at you expectantly. "Dance!" Her grin becomes a smirk. "It's a song about adventure after all, so go! Move!"
You return her smirk, give a final shrug, and do as she asks. You focus on the music, and you start to dance.
Dancing is kind of an interesting thing for you. You've never had any real training (you don't count that elective jazz class from way back when), and you'd never call yourself a professional, but you definitely dance more than the average person in a social setting. You guess it's because, whereas most people are concerned with what everyone's going to think about them, you've always care more about doing what feels good. You just kinda move however you think you should. Back on Earth, you'd gotten everything from praise for your skill to serious requests for whatever you were on, but those kinds of comments never really bothered you. As long as you have fun and the dancing feels right for the music, then to you, you were dancing just fine.
Your strides lengthen, you raise onto the balls of your feet, and your arms start flowing of their own accord. Although the bass is still pounding, you move slowly, smoothly, following the clear resonance of Octavia's cello. This song brings to mind the revamped score of a medieval adventure movie. You find yourself picturing two armies on a great plain, inspirational speeches being made and spear pounding on shield. You don't think that can last though, and the music agrees with you.
Octavia's pace suddenly speeds up, and your movements respond in kind as the music carries you off. There is indeed a great battle, there is flight from an unbeatable foe, escape over a great waterfall, and other half-realized visions that nonetheless have you jumping, spinning, swaying, and ducking in time.
The song ends with a low, drawn out cello note overlaid with repeating triplet of ascending, electronic bleats. You let your arms drop and take a deep breath, having already worked up the beginnings of a good sweat. You turn your eyes to the stage to see Octavia nodding at Vinyl and saying something you can't quite hear. Octavia looks over to you with an unexpectedly large smile and says, "How do you feel?"
You consider for a moment. "Pretty good, actually." You pause for a second. "Relaxed, but not really. It's more the feeling of blowing off a little steam, which I suppose I just did, but, yeah. Pretty good overall."
Octavia's grin grows. "Wonderful. That was perfect."
"Really?" you ask. "That's it? I don't understand how this is supposed to help me get over whatever this is."
"One song wouldn't," she replies, her grin not shrinking in the slightest. "After a few, I think you might start to notice a difference."
What's that supposed to mean? "What kind of difference?"
She shrugs. "You'll know it when it happens. Just go with it when it does." Her face grows a few degrees more serious. "Trust me."
You consider the two mares for a second. Vinyl is looking smug in a way that usually means she knows a secret, and Octavia seems far more excited than a song's worth of dancing should merit. Do they see something that I don't? you ponder. After a moment's thought, you decide do as Octavia asked and just trust her. She's the one who did musical therapy, after all. She sure as hay knows more about it than I do.
"So, next song?"
Octavia nods at Vinyl and exchanges her cello for a violin while Vinyl switches out the records on her table. A second later, a very familiar intro begins, one that, without you, never would have existed in Equestria.
"Elements?" you murmur to yourself, and though she can't possibly hear you, Octavia smiles even wider. You shrug and return the smile. Why not. It's one of the best. With that thought, you once again allow your body to move however it will as you focus on the flow of the song.
As you dance, you take a few moments to pay attention to the lights how. You have to hand it to Vinyl, she did a great job. The strobes all change brightness and color based on the pitch and tempo of the bass line, and the effect is pretty stunning. It gives you a whole new dimension with which to move, and now that you've noticed it you adjust without even thinking.
Right before the song speeds up, you hear Octavia murmur, "Let go." You let a spin carry you to face the stage and find the mare smiling gently in your direction from behind a microphone that you're pretty sure wasn't there earlier. You give her a questioning look to which she just shakes her head. "Just go with it," she says as the next measure begins, and though you pause, it isn't for long. Whatever, you think as you resume your dancing, I trust them, and heck, I'm actually having a pretty good time.
In fact, the longer the song goes on, the more you start to wish that you had done this sooner. You don't still don't know how it's supposed to help you finish the album, but it's awfully hard to worry about that when you're following the pleasant whine of Octavia's strings across the bold foundation and sparkling sky of Vinyl's dubstep. Octavia has begun saying things like, "Lose yourself," and "focus on the music," at the top of every couple measures, which was distracting for a little bit, but you start tuning it out pretty quick. There are too many other things to focus on, between the music, the movement, and the lights which almost seem to follow a pattern that you can't quite make follow.
All at once, the music stops. You feel suddenly stunned, and you shake your head as you realize that the song is over. You also realize that you're nearly panting, and a few beads of sweat are collecting on your forehead. You turn toward the mares on stage, both of whom are once again talking amongst themselves. They look a bit more serious than last time, and Vinyl is nodding in a rather determined way. "Is everything alright?" you pipe.
Octavia faces you, still looking serious but smiling nonetheless. "Everything's wonderful. Vinyl just had a near miss with the light display. It's been a problem spot before, but she managed to save it this time."
You nod a bit absently, your mind feeling strangely slow. "Right on Vinyl." You take a few deep breaths, trying to get your wind back. "Was that an abridged version of Elements? It felt like it went by really fast."
Octavia practically beams as she shakes her head. "No. That was actually an extended one."
You furrow your brow. "Really? I could've sworn it went by just like that." You snap your fingers.
Somehow Octavia's smile grows even bigger. "I imagine it did. This is working out marvelously."
There's a part of you that finds her comment suspicious, but a strange, inexplicable, and infinitely persuasive feeling tells you not to worry about it. After all, you trust them. They're trying to help you.
"Ready for another song?" she asks.
You nod eagerly. "Yes. Another song would be great."
No sooner have the words left your mouth than a low, quick pulse of bass begins thumping in your ears. You immediately start bobbing your head in time with the beat as a descending ladder of cello notes pulls you effortlessly back into the flow of the music. You'd know this song anywhere. This is the first song that you ever saw them perform. You feel a peculiar strain of anticipation slither through as your feet start to move. I like this song, you think. It's. . . it's nice.
You immediately begin gliding across the floor, spinning and swaying your body with abandon as the lights overhead do a dance of their own. Occasionally they all flash white, which, while jarring, is also somehow pleasant. Every so often, you notice a weird reverb in the bass, like one of the pulses is just barely out of sync, but it happens so fast that you're probably just imagining it. It doesn't matter anyway, you think dully. I can still follow the music.
Octavia is talking a lot more than she did last song, but it's almost like her voice has become a part of the music, and you have trouble picking out her words. You catch the occasional phrase, like "drifting away," and "follow my words," but for the most part, any that you hear are gone the moment they've passed through your ears. There's just too much to focus on right now.
Watch the lights, you suddenly think, automatically tilting your head up. The lights how is truly dazzling now, flickering and flashing in such a way that they seem to make the room spin. Focus echoes in your mind, and you do just that, though you find it increasingly difficult. Between the lights spiraling overhead, the music pulsing in your bones, and Octavia's voice murmuring in your ear, it isn't long before you've all but lost track of what your body's doing. You're hazily aware that it's still moving, but how much is beyond you. Finding out would take too much focus off of everything else, and you don't think you can do that.
The lights all flash white, and Octavia's voice seems to grow tenfold, her words suddenly clear and completely irresistible. "Nearly all of you is lost in the music now, and whatever's left will soon follow." FLASH. "Every stray thought that might remain in your mind is being drowned out by the music and my voice, and it feels wonderful." FLASH. "It's so relaxing to let yourself fade and allow Vinyl and I to think for you. After all, you trust us. We're your friends, and we're going to help you."
You can't even feel your limbs anymore. Some vague corner of your mind says that you're still swaying, but it seems so insignificant against the music and the voice that now fills your head, the former of which seems to be quieting. "Soon now, the music will end, and when it does, everything that's left of you will fade with it, along with every worry, care, and fear that you've ever had. Do you understand?"
Your head nods of its own accord.
"Very good. Now, four."
You think you recognize one of the last measures of the song.
"Three."
It's almost over.
"Two."
Only a few notes left. You blink slowly.
"One."
The last chord hangs in the air for a long moment, and then-
"Fade."
Everything goes dark, and there's a sensation not unlike tumbling through space, but you smile. You feel. . . free, in a way. Untroubled. You can't remember the last time you felt like this. It's indescribable.
"Your thoughts are gone now, faded away along with the music. Nothing matters now, except for Vinyl's voice and my own. Anything that we say to you becomes your entire focus, and anything that we say to each other fades from your memory the instant we stop speaking." There's a brief pause, during which you can do nothing but drift. "As long as you're in this place, nothing can harm you, and no memory or sensation will disturb you. This is the safest place you could be, and your friends are here."
The darkness suddenly fills with warmth and contentment, which you savor as you float, waiting for your friends to speak again.
Sure enough, Octavia's voice echoes through your mind, now quieter but no less clear. "You did wonderfully Vinyl. Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm okay," Vinyl replies, though she sounds quite strained. "Just gimme a few minutes. Making that whole 'binary beats' thing work without headphones doesn't get easier in a week. Besides, you're the expert here. Do your thing. I'll be fine in a bit."
"It's 'binaural' beats," Octavia corrects gently, "and thank you Vinyl. I wasn't sure if any subliminal techniques would work, since his senses aren't quite the same as ours, but judging by his response to the drop, I think that all of them might have. I couldn't have done it all without you."
"Yeah, you probably could have," says Vinyl, already recovering some of her usual humor, "but it would have been less awesome. Now go, keep it rolling, before he gets bored and starts waking up."
Octavia chuckles. "I seriously doubt that's going to happen."
A silence falls, and already you can't remember anything other than Octavia's instructions regarding her and Vinyl's words. Fortunately, it's broken swiftly by Octavia's voice. "How do you feel right now?"
It takes you a few moments to form a coherent answer. "I don't know. . ." you whisper. "Warm. . . light. . ."
A hoof brushes lightly across your forehead. "That's very good. It's nice to feel warm and light. In fact, you'd like to feel even more warm and light, wouldn't you?"
". . . Yes. . ."
You become abruptly aware of your arm as it's lifted up and placed against a pony's mane. "Feel how warm my mane is in your fingers. Stroking my mane makes you feel very warm, and very relaxed, and every brush makes you feel lighter and happier. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"
Octavia's mane feels like silk strands fresh out of the dryer. "Yes."
Farther away, you hear Vinyl murmur, "Seriously?"
"Then stroke my mane, and feel yourself float further away as you do."
Your hand begins a slow, mechanical circuit that goes from the top of Octavia's head, down the the base of her neck, and back again. Your body, at least what you can sense, feels like it's being covered in a warm blanket, and in the darkness you can almost sense that somewhere lies some great, significant something, and you're drifting steadily further away from it."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Octy," comes Vinyl's voice, closer than it was before. "If that's how you're gonna do this, then at least let me get in on it too!" You feel your other arm lifted by a tingly, intangible force before it comes to rest on a slightly less smooth but equally warm mane.
Octavia chuckles. "Of course, Vinyl. If he brushes your mane, it will only increase the sensation of warmth relaxation." A hoof gently prods your forehead. "Isn't that right?"
"Yes. . ."
"Very good."
What follows is an indeterminable length of silence, punctuated only by the occasional sigh or content giggle from the mares. For your part, your hands continue to make their way down through your friends' manes, and you continue to float in the ever more comfortable blackness that they've led you to.
Eventually, Octavia says, "Alright, that's enough petting. Your mind is still floating, but your body is heavy as stone. You couldn't move an inch if you tried."
Your hands plummet like bricks, coming to rest on the floor with a quiet thwack.
"Well that was a nice bonus," says Vinyl. "What's next?"
Octavia sighs. "This could be harder than I had thought. I was expecting to deal with some hard-to-let-go-of emotions, but an actual mental block? I've never heard of anything quite like what he described. Theoretically I can get rid of it in the same way I was going to get rid of the emotional baggage, but I'm not positive. If it's affecting him that much, I might not be able to get rid of it at all."
"Aaaand what happens if you can't?"
"Then we're probably bucked." Even in the heavy darkness you're in, you manage to be a bit surprised by her language. "There are a few things that I might be able to do, but I doubt I could do any of them without altering his personality, so those are off the table, deadline be damned." There's a frustrated huff. "I wish I could just make him forget he ever met Lyra, but that's not going to happen."
"Wait, could you actually do that?"
"Probably not, and certainly not without shattering my moral standards as a hypnotist. We're on thin ice as it is."
"Okay, so, how we gonna play this?"
"The way we were originally going to. We start off with the pain of the break-up itself and go from there. We just have to account for the block and see if we can help him move past that as well." You hear the sound of shifting hooves.
"Listen closely," Octavia says in your ear. "Picture yourself sitting on the end of your bed. In front of you is your bedroom window. Can you see it?"
You can feel your mattress against your pants as your window, ugly curtains and all, oozes out of the darkness. It looks like late afternoon outside. "I can see it."
"Good. Now, as you look through it, I want you to realize that this isn't your bedroom window after all. This is a window in time. Through this window, you can look back on past experiences you've had, and as long as the window remains closed, you won't feel affected by them. Do you understand?"
You would nod, but your head is still lead-heavy. "Yes."
You hear a deep breath and a muttered, "Here we go." Then, somewhat louder, "Excellent. Now, whatever is in the window is changing. You find that you're seeing the day that you and Lyra went your separate ways. Can you see that?"
The view of a Canterlot afternoon quickly morphs into an image of Lyra, tears streaming down her desperately sorry face. As your former marefriend swims into focus, the window begins shuddering in it's frame. You frown. You know what's on the other side of that window, and you can't help but draw back in fear. "I can see it."
There's a brief pause. "Are you alright?"
"The window's shaking. The pain's on the other side." You shudder as a cold spike cuts through the warmth you've been tranced into. "What if the window breaks?" Even as you speak, the rattling gets worse, and you can see the glass starting to warp from the pressure.
"Octavia, what's going on?" murmurs Vinyl.
"Hold his hand," Octavia responds commandingly. You immediately feel a hoof curl around your palm, followed shortly by another. "Open your eyes."
Your eyes snap open, revealing Octavia just above your face and Vinyl hovering anxiously behind her. "Look at me," says Octavia, and your eyes automatically lock on to hers. "You're safe," she says, giving you a reassuring smile. "Vinyl and I are right here with you. When you close your eyes, we'll be in the room with you, too, and as long as we're there, there's no way that the window can break." She puts a hoof to your cheek. "Trust us."
You look at her weakly for a moment. ". . . Trust you. . ."
She nods encouragingly. "Close your eyes now. Go back."
The window is there, still filled with an ugly vision, still shaking like there's a hurricane on the other side, but this time Octavia and Vinyl are laying on either side of you, each leaning against you ever so slightly. The quaking glass still frightens you, but somehow the comforting presence of your friends steels you against the worst of the fear, like a child's nightlight. You stop recoiling and look ahead, taking in Lyra's crying visage as you await the next instruction.
"Is that better?" asks Octavia.
". . . Better," you reply. "Still scary, but better."
"You're doing great," she says. "Just remember that here, memories can't hurt you. It's like you're watching somepony else's memories instead of yours."
You nod.
"Now, in that moment in the window, when you understood that you and Lyra weren't going to be together anymore, what part of that made you most upset? I know that you had many reasons to be angry and sad, but was there any one thing that was worse than the others?"
The answer is almost instantaneous. "Knowing I didn't do anything wrong. No mistake I could correct, no bad habit I could change, no wrong I could atone for. That, and knowing that. . ." Despite Octavia's assurances, a slight tightness is building in your chest. "Knowing that if I was a pony, we never would have been together in the first place. That who I am inside wasn't what she wanted."
Vinyl makes a sound somewhere between sad and angry, but it's silenced pretty quickly.
"I see," says Octavia solemnly. "How did that make you feel."
The tightness is increasing exponentially, and you're starting to get short of breath. "Betrayed. . . and unworthy. Like I didn't deserve her love."
A loud, unidentifiable sound begins, only to be instantly and violently "SSH'D" out. A brief silence follows, during which you continue to grow less and less comfortable as you watch Lyra sob in your window.
Eventually, Octavia squeezes your hand in her hoof and says, "It's alright. We're here, and you're safe, even from your memories. As terrible as it was, right now you're just fine."
You take a deep breath, and just like that the tension in your core vanishes, leaving you once again feeling warm, heavy, and reassured.
"Now listen to me carefully," she continues, "if Lyra Heartstrings failed to see something worth loving in you, especially after all the time you two spent together, then she must be blind and deaf. Her inability to see something she liked does not mean that you are unworthy by any stretch. You have a caring heart, a generous spirit, and you find joy in bringing joy to others. If she finds none of those things worthy of loving, then frankly, I shudder to think of what she does want in a mate. I wish that she hadn't hurt you, but in the long run, she has lost more than you."
You've heard lines like this five hundred times by now, but this time. . . somehow Octavia's words don't feel like just another platitude, even if that's exactly what they are. You want so badly to believe them. And yet. . .
"So many ponies have said things like that," you mutter emotionlessly. "I keep hearing them, but they don't make it hurt any less. Even if she lost more, it still hurts so bad. . ."
"That's because you keep focusing on what you've lost instead of what you still have. Today that's going to change." Her tone shifts. "Focus completely on my words now. You'll find that your room is fading around you. In it's place is a clear, open sky that stretches as far as you can see in every direction. You're still sitting, but instead of a bed, your legs now dangle off the edge of a tongue of rock. Below is swirling, cloudy mist. The height doesn't frighten you." Her hoof tightens on your hand, and Vinyl's follows suit. "We won't let you fall, and the view from here is rather exhilarating."
As she speaks, you look around. Sure enough, there's nothing but clean blue sky almost everywhere you look. The only exception is directly beneath and behind you, where a platform of grey granite juts out from seemingly nowhere. Octavia and Vinyl are still on either side of you, each with a hoof clinging to you firmly. You lean forward to peak out over the edge, where a roiling, whirling sea of bluish grey meets your eyes. All in all, this place is beautiful, and in spite of the height, your feeling of comfort increases.
"There is, however, one serious flaw in this otherwise wonderful place. You realize that, around your left ankle, there is fastened a heavy chain attached to an extremely heavy weight."
You feel yourself suddenly slide forward, dragged down by the dead weight clinging to your leg. Octavia and Vinyl tighten their grip, keeping you from going any further, but the experience sends a terrifying jolt through your body as your center of gravity pauses right on the edge of the rock.
Through your shock, Octavia continues inexorably. "This chain is the pain and loss that you keep clinging on to. It will never do anything but pull you down. You don't know what lies within the mist below you, but you do know that it's nothing good."
Beneath you, the mist suddenly darkens into something much more sinister, and within it you hear an ominous howl of wind.
Octavia places a hoof on your shoulder as the other continues to hold you fast. "You have a choice. Vinyl and I, along with everypony who cares about you are here to hold you up. We will support you, and we won't let you fall, but even if we are, that chain will always be there, trying to pull you down. Looking at it, you see a latch. If you press that latch, the chain will release, and you'll be free. However, you are the only one who can reach over the edge and press it. It can be scary letting go, but it's the only way to be free of that weight." She shifts her hooves to your side, which Vinyl imitates. "Do you trust us not to let you fall while you release the weight?"
With a gulp, you look around. To your amazement, you find not only Vinyl and Octavia holding you, but Celestia, Luna, a few of the guards, your former maid, and even Dr. Perspective, each with a hoof or wing held steadily against you. You look on in wonder for a moment before a small smile graces your lips. How can I fall when all of the are here to support me? I can't. They won't let me fall.
Turning back around, you lean over the edge, reaching your arm toward the clamp on your leg. You feel your center of gravity shifting, and vertigo has your stomach doing flip-flops, but the warm grip of all your friends keeps you going forward. As your finger approaches the tell-tale button, the mist below moans almost hungrily. A twinge of fear goes through you, but you're so close. Just a little more. . .
There's a click as your finger brushes against the release, and you're suddenly yanked back as the chain falls away from you, landing in a pile of the ponies who wouldn't let you fall. Panting a bit, you turn to Octavia, who asks with a smile, "Is it gone?"
You return her smile and nod, to which she responds by giving you a firm hug. You feel another set of hooves wrap around your back as Vinyl joins the embrace, while Octavia whispers, "You did it. I'm so happy for you." She pulls away, now beaming, and asks, "How do you feel?"
"Better than I have in a long time."
She hugs you again. "Wonderful."
The three of you remain that way for a few moments before the mares break the embrace. Octavia says, "Concentrate on my words now. Really let them sink in. Eventually, Vinyl and I are going to bring you back to the real world, but even then, the weight of everything you lost is still gone. Further, if in the future you start to feel as though it's beginning to pull you down again, you won't dwell on it. Instead, you'll remember that their are many ponies, Vinyl and myself included, who won't let you fall, and if it's still weighing you down then you'll come and talk to us and we'll help you. Do you understand?"
You smile as an indescribable lightness fills your entire body. "I understand."
"Very good," she says. You feel Vinyl wrapping a hoof around your forehead, and you're about to ask why when-
"Fade."
It's as if the ground is a mold that your body fits into perfectly as hooves gently lower you down. "Whenever I brush your cheek, any conversation you hear seems unimportant, and fades from your memory as soon as you hear it," comes Octavia's voice imperiously. "Whenever I brush it twice, things go back to normal. Nod if you understand."
Nod. You feel a hoof run along your face, and the darkness you're lying in gains a strange, inexplicable static quality.
There are a few terse exhales, and you hear Vinyl say, "Well that was intense."
"You don't know the half of it," responds Octavia.
"What was the deal with the window? I thought you said that memories wouldn't affect him."
"When you're dealing deeply emotional moments like that, it's impossible to keep some of the feeling from bleeding through, and you can never by positive how somepony is going to react to any given suggestion. That's why I had to repeat it so many times. There's no way to completely separate the pain from the experience, so all I could do was reinforce the barriers I placed as best I could." Another exhale. "It seems to have worked though."
"Speaking of deeply emotional, did you really have to make the whole 'letting go' thing scary? I mean, I know he's hypnotized and all, but he was still pretty freaked out, and it seems you could've done that in a less scary way."
Octavia sighs. "It was safer that way. I know it didn't seem like it, but the fact is that letting go of things like that is scary, Vinyl, and given what happened with the window, I wanted to channel as much of the fear as I could into something that we could at least influence." There's a pause. "Do you think I'd scare him for no reason? Especially when he's like this?"
A somewhat longer pause follows. "I'm sorry Octavia. I didn't mean it like. . . I dunno. I don't really understand most of this, and I'm worried about the big lug."
"I know Vinyl. It's fine. As you said, that was pretty intense."
There's a moment of comfortable silence before Vinyl says, "So, what next?"
"Now we try to deal with the mental block, which, if we're lucky, might actually be more straightforward than the emotional baggage was. As a matter of fact. . . let me try something."
You feel a hoof stroke your cheek twice, and immediately you feel focused and ready to hear.
"Listen closely to my voice now. I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to look deep within yourself for the answers. Are you ready?"
Nod.
"When you try to remember the music from your home, all you can remember is Lyra and the songs you did together. Why do you think that is?"
You let the question tumble around in the darkness for a while, but no answer appears. "I don't know."
"Hm. Would you say that there was a connection between Lyra and your music beyond just having another recording partner?"
"Yes."
"How would you describe that connection."
". . . I don't know. I. . . she. . . it was. . . the music just came to me easier when we made it together."
"Why?"
"Because. . . it was. . . we were making something beautiful together. She loved it as much as I did."
"I see. So were you making music with her, or for her?"
"I. . . both. With her, for her. I loved seeing her smile when we did."
"Hm. I know you did. The two of you made many beautiful songs together." There's a short pause. "Do you think the songs you did before you met her are beautiful?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Do you like to make Vinyl and I smile? Did you like making music with us?"
"Of course. Very much."
"Then what stops you from remembering the songs we did before you met her? Why does she keep you from remembering all the others that are still in your head?"
The question whirls slowly upon itself for a long time, much like the one from before. However, this time there's a small spark of light, and you understand that you have an answer.
"Because those songs are my favorite part of our time together, and trying to do others reminds me that we aren't anymore, and I don't want to think about that."
A few seconds pass, and you feel your body being lifted into a sitting position. Two pairs of hooves embrace you firmly, and you hear Octavia whisper, "That pain can't weigh you down anymore, remember? Not while we're around. We won't let you fall."
Distantly you feel a couple tears go running down your cheeks, although whether they're from sadness or appreciation, you can't tell.
"You and Lyra did many beautiful things together, and nothing's wrong with that, but you were doing things that were just as beautiful before you ever met her, and there are so many other beautiful things in your mind still waiting to be done. We've all been telling you that, but I don't think you've been letting yourself hear it. This time you will. Open your eyes."
Your eyes slide open to see Octavia right in front of you. "Look in my eyes," she says. "See the truth in them, and hear the truth in my voice as it settles into your mind. Your music is beautiful because it's yours. You may not have written it, but you're it's sole caretaker in this world, and that is something that nopony can take from you. It's all there, in your mind, waiting for you to let it out, and nopony can take that from you either. Do you understand?"
You nod, transfixed by Octavia's gaze.
"Focus now, focus on going back. In your mind, I want you to go back to a time before you knew Lyra. Back to when it was just you, Vinyl, and myself. In fact, in your mind, this is the day that our first album was released. Do you understand?"
Her voice is undeniable. "Yes," you whisper.
"Good." She studies you for a moment before saying, "Now, sing the first song on that album."
It happens without thought. "Blackbird singing in the dead of niiiiight. Take these broken wings and learn to flyyyyy."
Octavia's eyes widen dramatically, and the beginnings of a massive smile start growing on her face. "Yes. YES! WONDERFUL!" She carries on like that for a few moments as you finish the first verse of your song. "Alright, you can stop," she says, grinning from ear to ear. "Now, keep your mind in that same place, but sing the song for our new album that you were last working on. . . Oh, what was it called? Aha! A Love for All Seasons."
Again, you don't think about it. "There's no truuuuuuuuth in the rumor. That's all I wanna say. There's no-"
You continue to sing as Octavia begins to very uncharacterstically hoot and holler, while Vinyl is shouting, "Omigosh, it's working, it's totally working! Buck yeah! Octavia, you are officially the Queen of Awesome!"
You've made it through most of the song by the time the two start to calm down and Octavia has you stop. She again places herself right in front of you, looking absolutely ecstatic. "Alright, what I'm about to say is probably the most important thing I've ever told you, so I need you to focus completely and totally on my words right now." The world around Octavia blurs out of focus as you turn every last scrap of your attention on her. "This place where your mind is at now, this place where the music flows without anything blocking it, is your reality from now on. Any song from your old world comes to mind easily, and the only thing that can keep you from remembering any given song is not knowing it well in the first place. If anything, the music flows more freely than it ever has before. Nothing can change that. Do you understand?"
Nod.
"Say it, and feel it becoming real."
"I understand."
"Spectacular." She moves in to give you another hug. "Now, fade."
Your mind once again drifts into oblivion as she gently lowers your body to the ground. A hoof strokes your cheek, and the darkness goes fuzzy.
You hear a series of hushed celebratory sounds, and then, "So that's it, right?" says Vinyl. "Dilemma solved? Disease cured? He definitely just remembered the songs, so that means we did it, yes?"
"I think so," responds Octavia cautiously. "The only way to be sure is to bring him out of it and find out. Let me just make a temporary trigger in case it doesn't work."
"In case it doesn't work? It just did work, didn't it?"
"Yes, but he's still in trance, where he can't help but focus on the music if we tell him. It should carry over once we wake him up, but it's not worth taking a chance." There's a considering pause. "If worst comes to worst, we can always just keep in trance for long periods so that we can complete the album, but that is an absolute last resort. Anyway, it shouldn't come to that."
You feel two brushes along your cheek, and your ears zero in on Octavia's voice.
"Listen closely. In a moment, I'm going to bring you up, out of this place that you're floating in and back to the real world. When you wake up, you won't be able to recall any of what's happened, but everything that we accomplished will stil apply. You won't be weighted down by the pain of your break-up with Lyra, and nothing will keep you from remembering the songs you learned back on Earth. Finally, and this is important, although you will be fully awake and out of this state, the word 'fade' will still send you back under, at least for today. Do you understand all of that?"
"I understand."
"Good. Now, listen, and feel your mind drifting closer to your body. It's no longer floating all on it's own. Every word I speak brings your mind and body closer together."
You do indeed feel less floaty than you did a moment ago. It's almost as if your mind is a balloon that's just been tied to something.
"Notice that you're becoming more aware of your body now. Focus on the feeling in your arms and legs, your fingers and toes."
Your extremities curl ever so slightly as you become consciously aware of them for the first time in a while.
"Take a deep breath in and feel strength pouring back into your body as your mind is drawn back more and more."
You flex your calves and forearms as you inhale, a wave of energy rushing through your body.
"And now, take another deep breath in, and as you exhale, feel the last memories of this experience grow too foggy to recall as you open your eyes and wake up."
Another inhalation, another rush of strength, a vague feeling of murkiness, and your eyes slide open to reveal the ceiling and the faces of your two favorite mares in front of you.
You blink several times in confusion. "What the hell?" you say blearily. "What's going on?" You look around. "Why am I on the floor?"
Vinyl smirks at you. "Well, you kinda went a bit hard on that one worm dance move." She shakes her head. "It wasn't pretty."
"You're hilarious," you say dully. "Seriously though, what happened. I mean, I actually feel pretty, well, really good honestly, but I'm also lying on the floor and have no memory of how I got there."
"What happened is that you did exactly what I'd hoped you do," says Octavia. "You completely let go of yourself, and doing that us reach you a bit more than we usually could. From there, we did a bit of a guided visualization, and now we're here."
You push yourself clumsily to your knees and give her a blank stare. "And here is. . . where, precisely?"
She just smiles bigger. "Here is where we find out if this impromptu musical therapy session worked." She backs up a bit, seemingly studying you as you stand up. Man, you think, stumbling a bit, I feel freakin' trippy. You shake your head a few times.
"Sing a song from the upcoming album. Any song."
"I- wait, what?!" you exclaim. "Just like that?"
Vinyl and Octavia go from jubilant to concerned in half a second. "Just like that," Octavia says seriously, "if you can."
Crap. She really means it, you think. Do they seriously. . . ugh. Might as well have at it.
You open your mouth and inhale, but before a sound comes out, you freeze, your eyes wide and unbelieving. Is this real? you question frantically. This can't be real, can it?
Your jaws opens a closes spasmodically a few times before you take a deep breath and sing, "You would not believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies, lit up the world as I fell asleep. Cuz they'd fill the open air, and leave teardrops. . ." You look at the girls with astonished, barely contained excitement. "I remember. . ." you whisper "I. . . I REMEMBER!" Suddenly you're looking down at your hands, then at Vinyl and Octavia, then to the corners of the room, then back at yourself, and so on, feeling like a seven-year old on Christmas Day. You can't help yourself as you charge over and sweep up the mares in a massive, glomping bear hug, so excited that you accidentally trip and turn the three of you into a tangled up heap of flailing, excited limbs. You don't even care. You haven't been this excited in a long, long time.
"I can remember!" you shout as Vinyl laughs and Octavia struggles to extricate herself from the pile. "I can remember all the music! It's all there!" You grab Octavia, who's just managed to gain her hooves, and yank her back down, pulling both mares into your chest. "You did it! You guys actually did it! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you thank-you thankyou!"
Vinyl is cracking up, and even Octavia is snickering as she pats you on the head and says, "You're very welcome, it was our pleasure, we'd do it again in a heartbeat, but I NEED you to calm down."
Calm down? CALM DOWN? How do you expect me to calm down at a time like this?! pipes a part of you that sounds rather like the Beggin' Strips dog. You force down a couple deep breaths and release them, but the million dollar smile never leaves your face. Then, the question occurs.
In a flash, you're sitting upright, looking Vinyl and Octavia in the face, your grin now curious. "What did you do? What did you do that let me remember?"
The mares are both wearing massively amused grins as Octavia repeats, "Calm down. I'm happy for you, I'm happy it worked, but take few deep breaths okay? Try to relax, and I'll explain it to you."
You acquiese, forcing yourself to take a massive, slow breath in. As you let it out, Octavia suddenly reaches a hoof around your head.
"What are you-"
"Fade," she says, pulling your head forward and down.
You fall effortlessly forward into the familiar, waiting darkness, though an echo of your elation follows you down. A hoof along your cheek, and world goes static again.
"Well, I think it's safe to say that it worked."
"That was one of the best things I've ever seen, *snrk*, hooves down. Can he just be like that sometimes? Like, can we make that a thing?"
"Celestia no. You might be able to handle that, but I don't know that I can. How long has it been since he actually tackled one of us?"
"Oh come on, as if you didn't like that."
". . . Touche, but even so, I feel like that would get old very quickly. Besides, right now I want to focus on the last few suggestions so that we can finish this up."
*Sigh* "Fine, party pooper."
A double pass of hooves on your cheek, and you're excited and ready to hear what comes next.
"You've done so well today, and I so happy for you. You overcame more than I expected you to, and I'm proud of you. Now, however, we have work to do. With the album deadline only two months off, and only half of the songs finished, we're probably going to have to work every day to pull this off. I have faith that we can do it, but it will be require a great deal of hard work. Knowing that, I want you to take these suggestions and engrave them upon your mind."
"First, the album is your absolute, number one priority until it's finished. You'll be extremely mindful of the times we schedule to work on it, and once you know about a session, you won't be able to forget about it. Second, there will surely be some many long hours ahead, and toward that I'm giving you a gift. From now until the album is completed, any you hear me say 'forward to victory', it will act as a stimulant. That phrase will remove some of your fatigue and help you focus. Finally, whenever you're feeling especially frazzled, you'll find that stroking either my mane or Vinyl's is a very relaxing and theraputic activity that helps you to organize your thoughts. Do you understand what I've just told you?"
You nod slowly. Behind you, you hear a murmured, "Octy, you are devious, and I love it."
"Perfect. Take a moment to let all of that information sink in. All of it is very important, so you mustn't let any of it fade away."
As Vinyl giggles in the background, you sift through each of the instructions Octavia has just given you and imprint them on your mental chalkboard. After a few moments Octavia asks, "Do you have them?"
"I have them."
"Excellent. Now that we've taken care of all that, it's finally time to-"
"Whoa, wait a second. You're not bringing him out, are you?"
"Um, of course I am. We've taken care of virtually every issue we needed to, better than I thought we would. There's no need to keep him under any longer, and we have work to do."
"Come on, really? Here you've got him, super hypnotized, and the best you've got is getting your mane brushed? You can do better than that."
There's a pregnant pause. "One, we have only two months to record and polish half of an album, and every day counts at this point. Two, and more importantly, I am not going to use hypnosis to make him act in a way he normally wouldn't." Another pause is followed by a slightly flustered, "He already strokes my mane, so that doesn't count, and as I said, we don't have the time."
"Octy, I think you're forgetting something, which is kind of interesting, cuz it doesn't happen much. We don't have anything to record anything. No track records, no blank sheet music, not even a quill and paper. Everything we brought was specifically to make this work."
An even longer pause. "There are at least five music shops with walking distance."
"And they're all closed, because it's a Sunday afternoon."
"I could just walk home and pick up-"
"Octavia, not three minutes ago you told him that he needed to calm down and relax, and right now I'm gonna tell you the same thing. It's already late afternoon. How much could we really get done today?"
". . . More than nothing."
"Tell you what. If you can relax, and let us have this as a free day, then I promise to be here no later than eight o'clock tomorrow morning, and to stay as late as you wanna stay."
". . . Hm. Eight o'clock. Even being you?"
"Eight o'clock. I'll even go to bed early tonight.
Octavia snorts. "Now that I don't buy for a second, but alright. We can take the rest of the day off, I suppose."
"Sweet!" exclaims Vinyl, and you hear the sound of approaching hooves. "Besides, you can't tell me you don't wanna mess with him just a little bit."
"I never said that I was okay with that," says Octavia seriously. "I will not abuse him while he's in this state."
"And do you think I would?" Vinyl shoots back. "Do you truly, honestly think I would try to change him or make him do something that he'd never think of doing himself? Do you really think I'd do that?"
A rather tense silence follows, which Octavia breaks with, "No, I know you wouldn't. Just. . . you have to be careful when you're dealing with hypnosis, Vinyl. You never know if phrase or suggestion will work in a way you didn't expect."
"That's why you're around. If I do something that could turn sour, you let me know." She sounds like she's right next to you now. "In fact, what would you suggest?" A brief pause is followed by, "Come on. Think of all the stress we've dealt with because he wouldn't come see us, how uncooperative he was, and then tell me that you wouldn't like to get him back, even just a teeny little bit."
"Ugh, alright, you've got me there. In truth, there are quite a few things I'd like to do to him, but very few that I actually will, and the first is this." A hoof zig-zags across your cheek, bringing the sounds into clear focus. "Any time I say the word 'treble' for the rest of the day, you're going to feel as though you're being tickled under the arms and beneath the feet until I say 'treble' again."
You squirm instinctively. Octavia says 'treble', it tickles me.
Vinyl snorts. "Dang, he really must have made you mad," she mutters
"Of course he did, but now I get to have my little revenge, and we'll be even."
"Welp, my turn then!" You feel a hoof pressing gently on the side of your head. "Today, you promised me two batches of brownie-white-chocolate-whatever-they-ares, but when you wake up you're going to remember it as five. Ah, what the hay, make it six so that Octy has one too."
Six batches of brownie truffles to make.
Octavia laughs. "Oh please Vinyl, there's no need to have and entire pan made just for me." She chuckles. "We both know I'm just going to eat yours anyway."
"Don't even joke about that kinda thing Octy," says Vinyl in a this-would-be-serious-except-I'm-Vinyl-Scratch kinda tone.
"Who's joking?" Octavia fires back. "Although, to be honest, I'm more partial to his pumpkin cookies. The spice cuts the sweetness quite nicely, which is why you," a hoof taps your side, "are going to feel an irresistible compulsion to make the largest batch of pumpkin cookies you've ever made as soon as we've completed this album. It's your way of celebrating."
Mega-batch of pumpkin cookies to celebrate finishing this album.
"So, can we just make him have to listen to us for the rest of the day?" Vinyl asks. "That seems like the most convenient thing to do."
"No," Octavia says seriously. "As funny as it might be, that would be going too far. I've pushed my toying as far as I'm going to. You can have one more suggestion, but after that I'm bringing him out of it."
"Aw, just one?"
"Just one."
"Oh, fine. At least that narrows it down." A hoof taps your forehead a few times. "Sit up and open your eyes."
You mechanically do as Vinyl says, your eyes opening to find Vinyl in front of you, absent her signature sunglasses. She looks you over for a moment and says in a surprisingly soft voice, "You're not gonna remember this when you wake up. Now kiss me."
You hear a shocked "What?!" from behind you as you move forward, pressing your lips firmly against Vinyl's. The unicorn closes her eyes and presses back against you seemingly oblivious to the shouted, "Vinyl, stop!" She lingers there for a few seconds before pulling away from you, her face a combination of mischief and supreme satisfaction as she looks just over your shoulder. She shrugs. "What's the big deal? He's not gonna remember it."
Even in your trance, the flat, ominous tone of Octavia's voice sends a nervous twinge down your spine. "And you think that makes what you just did okay? Are you serious? Less than a minute ago, you told me to warn you if you were doing something you shouldn't, and then you pull something like that?"
"What's the problem? You said we couldn't make him do something he normally wouldn't, and I didn't. He likes mares, he's kissed one before, so what's the big deal? He's not even gonna know."
"We know, Vinyl! I can't bel-. . . There are so many things wrong with what you just said. If I stole your bits, and you didn't know, would that make it okay?"
"Sweet Celestia Octy, this isn't stealing, it's just a kiss."
"That he had no way of declining, even though it came from one of his best friends!"
Vinyl's eyes narrow a bit. "Well maybe I decided I wouldn't mind being a little bit more."
A silence follows as the mares stare each other down. Stuck in the middle and unable to do anything about it, you feel your nervousness climbing steadily closer to the place where your mind is floating. It's not enough to effect you yet, but it's getting pretty close.
"When did you decide that?" Octavia asks softly.
"When he and Lyra started making music together." She takes a deep breath. "Look, I know I flirt with just about everypony, him included, but that doesn't mean I'm against having a real relationship. They were so happy, and. . . just thinking about it, you know, having a special somepony who loved music as much as you do, and making it together. . . it, well it seemed really awesome, and I kinda wanna know what that's like." She nods toward Octavia. "That your reason too?"
There's a very long pause. "Excuse me?"
Vinyl shakes her head. "Come on, Octavia. You've got a good poker face, but I've known you for too long. You're in the exact same boat I am." She cocks her head. "Is that why you're so upset about this? Did I make you jealous? You can get a kiss too, you know."
Another long, tense pause follows. "Perhaps I am jealous, but that's completely irrelevant right now Vinyl. He literally just got over Lyra, and I absolutely refuse to put any pressure on him that doesn't relate to our album. I similarly refuse to take advantage of the state he's in just to get a kiss, whether I want one or not. This is not the way, Vinyl. It's wrong."
Vinyl's trademark cocky grin sprouts on her face. "So, does that mean you don't want your kiss? Cuz if not, I'll take it." She slowly starts moving in.
"Vinyl," rumbles out behind you, the warning in the voice clear, but the unicorn ignores it. She's a hair's breadth from your face when Octavia stomps a hoof on the ground and says, "Drop like the bass."
Vinyl's eyes glaze over and shut an instant before she slumps against you. You hear Octavia's hooves a second before she walks into view, a deep frown on her face. She looks down at the sleeping unicorn for a moment before murmuring, "Damn you for making me resort to that, Vinyl. I never thought I'd need to do this again. . ." She heaves a sigh and adds in an undertone, "At least it still works." Shaking her head, she gives you a glance and brushes your cheek, disabling your ability to remember what she's about to say.
"Vinyl, when you wake up, you'll believe that you've just tripped off the stage. You'll also forget the kiss you stole, and will not try to get another. All you will remember is me putting him back under, going to turn off your equipment, and falling off the stage. Nothing else regarding your feelings about him or me will change." She looks at her friend for moment before adding, "When the album is done, we're going to have to have a talk about all this." She sighs again. "That will be interesting. Now get up and go lay by the stage."
Vinyl rises blankly and slowly, mechanically walks behind you. Octavia watches her for a moment before turning her gaze upon you and caressing your cheek twice.
Your mind is going about a million miles a minute, or rather, it would be, if the situation were normal. As it stands, your thoughts are still too floaty for you to really draw any conclusions from everything you've just witnessed. All you can manage to do is feel profoundly confused.
Octavia is wearing a very peculiar smile that you aren't sure you've seen on her before as she says, "Lyra truly has lost out." She gently presses her forehead against yours. "When eventually you are ready to start dating again, keep Vinyl and I in mind. Don't rule us out just because we're your friends." She looks at you for another few seconds and whispers, "I won't force you to kiss me, but. . ." She raises her muzzle a bit a places a chaste kiss on your forehead. As she pulls away, your hear her murmur, "Fade," and you fade for the last time.
"Take a few moments to center yourself," Octavia's voice echoes in the light, comforting darkness. Take stock of everything you've accomplished today. You're no longer weighted down by the pain Lyra caused in your break-up. You can remember how the music from your world goes just fine, as if there was never a problem to begin with. Every suggestion that Vinyl and I have given you will stay with you, although you won't be able to recall any specifics of what happened while you were under. Everything feels like one big blur. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
"Wonderful. Now that's done, it's time for you to leave this place behind and return to the real world. Take a deep breath in, and find that, rather than fading, you're focusing. Hold that breath for a moment, and breath out, letting the exhale carry the static out of your mind. Just repeat that cycle, each inhale bringing your mind a bit closer to waking, and each exhale banishing the cloudiness that surrounds your thoughts. Repeat that cycle twenty times, growing a bit more aware and awake each time, and on the twenty-first inhale, open your eyes and let yourself wake up completely. Concentrate on nothing but coming back until you're fully awake."
You breath in again, the feeling of floating decreasing somewhat as you begin to notice the weight of your body. The exhale brings with it the barest sensation of the floor you're laying against, along with a distant, commanding voice saying, "Blow the roof off," and a muffled "Huh?". You tune out the the sounds as your lungs expand again, making you feel ever more aware of your body.
By the time you've reached twenty, you're aware enough to be puzzled as to why you're laying on the floor. You can hear Octavia and Vinyl discussing something about being more careful around the stage, but you don't know much beyond that. You inhale a final time, and your eyes drift open, revealing a few lights and the ceiling of the orchestra room. You blink in confusion a few times before sitting up, rolling your shoulders a couple times, and looking around.
Vinyl and Octavia are both behind you, wearing identical bright smiles. In spite of your confusion, you can't help but return that smile. "Hey girls." you brow furrows a bit. "What's going on?"
Vinyl's grin grows even wider. "What's going on is you're cured. We helped you get your mojo back!"
Her response only confuses you more. "I don't think I understand." You roll your shoulders again, realizing just how relaxed you feel. "I feel really great, if that's what you mean, but I doubt that's what you're talking about."
"Indeed it's not," says Octavia. "You can remember the music from Earth again. You can write again. That's what she means."
"What?" you exclaim, your expression going serious in an instant. You immediately dig into your brain, looking for a song, any song, and sure enough. . .
"Oh my god. . ." A grin that's sure to make your cheeks hurt begins growing on your face. "Oh my god! I can! I really can!" You're on your feet in an instant, hooting and hollering and generally making a fool of yourself. The girls laugh unabashedly as you bounce around the room for the next minute or so, ecstatic beyond belief that you can actually remember the music that's been sealed away for the last few months. Eventually, you calm down enough to remember, How in the world did they. . .
"What did you guys do?" you ask in barely contained amazement. Vinyl looks at Octavia, who's expression turns part mischievous and part nervous. She taps her front hooves together a few times before saying, "Well, it's quite the explanation, but to make a long story short. . . I hypnotized you."
A long moment passes wherein utter bafflement engages your still-present happiness in furious battle for control of your face. In the end, bafflement wins. "Uh. . . Say WHAT?"
"I hypnotized you, and broke down a few mental barriers you'd made for yourself," she says uncertainly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I was doing, but I've found that it's much easier to hypnotize somepony who doesn't know that it's happening."
You're having some serious trouble digesting what she's telling you. It's not that you don't believe her, but the sheer WHAT-factor of what she's saying is effectively pinning you. Eventually your force yourself to take a step back and think, Okay, yeah, this is an insane situation with about a billion unanswered questions, but let's focus on what we know. Octavia hypnotized you, and now you can remember the music you need to remember. Also, you don't have a headache. Now, knowing that, how do you respond?
You lunge forward, surprising both ponies as you drag them into a giant bear hug. You give them a big squeeze, and relent, looking at Octavia as you let them go. "Then it seems I owe you one massive thank you Octavia. I was completely convinced that I was out of options, and you really saved me from letting you guys down." She blushes a bit as you give her another hug.
"And you," you say, turning to Vinyl. "I'm guessing you were in on this too?"
Vinyl gives you a toothy grin. "Of course I was, though I can't really take much credit. Octy pulled this one off. I was just the assistant."
You give her a second hug of her own. "Thanks Vinyl. Thanks big time."
You pull back and scratch your head, still struggling to grasp the situation you're in. "Wow," you say. "I'm kind of overwhelmed by all this." You look at Octavia. "Since when did you know hypnosis."
She gives you a mysterious grin. "Oh, I've always known hypnosis. I learned it long before you met me." She smirks. "Maybe someday I'll tell you the story."
"I hope so," you say. "That sounds like a good one." You look between the two a couple times and shake your head. "You know what, I feel like I gotta celebrate this. This is freaking awesome. I'm, I'm thinking food, you guys want food? I don't care where, I'm buying."
"Sold," says Vinyl loudly, trotting toward the door at a brisk pace. You look at Octavia, who just smiles and says, "Sounds great." With that, the two of you walk toward the door, to the hallway, you still in awe over what's just happened.
As you and Octavia walk into the hallway, a thought occurs to you. "So Octavia," you say, turning to look at the mare beside you, "if you hypnotized me, I gotta ask. . . did you make me do anything goofy? I can't really remember anything."
"Did I make you do anything goofy?" she says faux-thoughtfully. "No. However, "she says turning to you with a rather sinister grin on her face, "for the rest of the evening, you might find yourself in 'treble'."
You immediately trip as a spectacularly ticklish sensation races along your sides and the bottoms of your feet. Oh balls, you think as a peal of helpless, high-pitched laughter escapes your lips, this could be a really long evening. You roll around, wheezing with laughter, and catch a glimpse of both Octavia and Vinyl looking on in pure amusement. A really long evening.
Author's Note
How will you fare knowing that Octavia can effectively tickle you at any point? How have you known Octavia for so long without learning about her skill with hypnosis, and where did she learn it in the first place? Finally, what's next for you, now that you've been given a chance to overcome everything that breaking up with Lyra has done? I leave that up to you!
You know, I've never had something run away with me quite like this one did, but I'll say that it was a lot of fun to write. I don't know if I like it as much as my Cheerilee chapter, but I'm still proud of it, and I hope you enjoyed it!
I've done my best to comb through the errors on this, but if you notice any, feel free to point them out so I can correct them!
There may or may not be a couple bonus epilogues at some point, one with a future where 'you' are with Vinyl and another with Octavia. Depends on how interested people are.
Speaking of, for those of curious about the next step (when eventually I take it), its probably gonna be a short, quick Vinylpire fic. The next big one is most likely gonna be pre-banishment King Sombra, although the more I envision that one, the darker it gets, so I think I'm gonna make that its own story so I don't have to change this one to mature.
Finally, I thought I'd reiterate that, if anyone wants to contribute to this collection, you're more than welcome to send me your story, and if I like it, I'll add it in (with credit to you, obviously). It'd probably help make up for the delay between postings.
Bonus Chapter: How you met your Musical Mares (Not Hypno)
Author's Note
Here's some of the exposition that got cut out of the original story. I couldn't keep it without weighing the main one down, but I really liked this and didn't wanna get rid of it, so I thought I'd add it here for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!
Bonus Chapter: How you met your Musical Mares (Not Hypno)
Man, why can't I find a decent pasta joint? you thought to yourself as you meandered along. This is Las Pegasus, there's gotta be an Whinnialian place that's still open. It's not that late. . .
Part of you was insisting that you go back to the hotel. You knew that the first train going north would be leaving the station fairly early the next morning, and if anything in you've learned anything in the five months you've spent traveling, it's that the ponies take the punctuality of their trains very seriously. At the same time, you were seriously craving some ravioli, and you weren't quite ready to give up the search yet.
As you shuffled past the various ponies walking down the Las Pegasus strip, you began hearing muted snatches of music emanating from what could only be a club a block or so down. You'd been hearing similar all night, but for some reason this one caught your attention. You began walking a little faster, and as you approached you started to recognize the music for what it was, a strangely familiar combination of strings and electronic. Lindsey Stirling? you thought, before shaking your head and reminding yourself exactly how impossible that was. Still, you were intrigued, and so you approached the door, noting both an insanely long line and an insanely large bouncer. Well, this'll be interesting.
The earth pony gave you a glare the moment he noticed that you were walking toward him. To his credit, he didn't try to insult you or even ask what you were, he just nodded toward the line without saying a word. You gave the line a considering look. Yeah, screw that. You smirked. Time to abuse my influence as a friend of royalty.
You reached into your back pocket and pulled out a very special coin depicting two alicorns flying around each other yin-yang style, with the words Concordiae in Aeternum. The bouncer's eyes shot open as he looked at it, then back at you, then back at the coin, then back at you again. "Um," he rumbled, "one moment please." With that he disappeared inside the club. You chuckled to yourself. Gotta love the royal seal.
You waited for about a minute before he returned, still clearly unsure what to make of you, but still waving you in. You smiled, surreptitiously put a ten-bit in his side pocket, and went inside.
There must have been some kind of muffling spell on the walls and door, because the moment you passed through the foyer, the music suddenly blasted so loud it nearly deafened you. As you recovered, you took in the scene before you. Everywhere you looked there were ponies dancing, from the writhing, strobe-lit mass on the dance floor to what looked like the upstairs VIP area. The heat of so many moving bodies grew with every step, and as the smell of sweat and alcohol reached your nostrils, some primitive part of you that you haven't felt in a long time began to stir.
You bowed your as a fresh wave of bass crashes over you, so powerful that you can almost feel your teeth rattling in you skull. The blast was followed by quick beat and a flourish of strings, and you found yourself drifting automatically toward the dance floor. By that point, you were getting all kinds of stares from the ponies around you, but you ignored them, more interested in the primal energy that was rising in your chest.
By the time your feet hit the dance floor you were already bobbing your head. There was a slight lull in the song, and instinctively, you knew what was coming. A string note held for a long moment before being swallowed by a fresh drop, and as it fell so did your foot as you started to move.
And so you danced. You jumped. You spun. You pivoted and whirled and twisted and swayed and kicked and dove and stomped. You danced and danced, heedless of everything but your body and the music, until you were panting and drenched with sweat, and then you danced some more.
In between spins and the odd strobe flash, you caught an occasional glimpse of the mares responsible for making the music. The first was a grey earth pony with a black mane, surrounded by a rather impressive selection of string instruments. Every time you saw her, no matter what she happened to be playing, she was standing on her hind legs, small smile on her face, swaying, bouncing, and twirling to the music as if it were nothing, all the while performing songs that no creature with hooves should have been able to play. Her partner, a white unicorn with purple specks and an unruly, electric blue mane, was surrounded by a veritable fortress of sound equipment, hooves flying across her soundboard as she deftly levitated records behind her, occasionally scratching a hoof across the turn table in a shower of real sparks.
The unicorn somehow looked really familiar to you, but, caught up in the moment as you were, you didn't bother to think about how.
Eventually your burning lungs and dry throat forced you to take a break. The bartender was ready for you with a raised eyebrow and a bottle of water, but as you held up your bits she shook her head. You gave her a questioning look, and she waved you over so you could hear her over the din.
"Drinks are on the DJ tonight," she shouted over the music. You shot a look over your shoulder, and while you couldn't be sure with the sunglasses, the white unicorn seemed to be smiling in your direction. You gave a hesitant wave before turning back the the bartender, who then placed a note on the bar. "She also wanted me to pass this along to you."
"When did she do all of this?" you replied, to which the bartender simply shrugged and asked if there was something else she could get you. You declined, picking up the note and opening it. The dim light made it difficult, but eventually you managed to read:
Hey there Apey! Never seen anything like you before. You should meet me after the show! My partner probably won't be there (she's just GOTTA get her beauty sleep), but I'm always down for meeting new, weird ponies. Keeps things fun! If you're interested, meet me at the doughnut place across the street once our set finishes up. See you there Monkey Boy! (Or girl, since I don't know what you are) Ciao!
You read the note so many times that your eyes started to hurt, feeling utterly perplexed. The ape comments naturally rubbed you a bit wrong, but by now it was something you were pretty used to. On the other hand though, this was the first pony in a long while to so bluntly express interest in meeting you.
You didn't have much time to think about it before you noticed a couple shot-glasses, each filled with a glowing purple something, floating next to your head, suspended in a light blue aura. You realized that the music had quieted down a bit, and looked up to see that the unicorn was waving at you, horn ensconced in the same bluish glow as the glasses. You looked back at the glasses, then back at her, hesitantly taking the nearest glass in your hand. The other tapped against yours with a respectable *clink* before zooming across the room and tipping into the unicorn's mouth.
You smiled as you drained your own glass, thinking to yourself, Well, I wanted pasta, but now that I think of it, doughnuts sound pretty good too.
The song set finished in short order after that, and you quickly made your way out to avoid getting stuck in the inevitable exodus blob. Exiting the club amidst the still-present stares and a few murmurs (you almost responded to the one who'd dared to talk smack about your dance moves), you sauntered across the street to the aforementioned doughnut place, giving a polite nod to the leering stallion behind the counter before plopping down in a seat to await Miss Dub-hooves.
After over half-an-hour and several reasonably tasty doughnuts (Canterlot's are better), you were about ready to walk out, when at long last the mare you were waiting for came trotting through the door. She immediately noticed you, turning toward you with a million bit grin on her muzzle. She looked at the server as she walked over, saying, "Can I get an even dozen for my friend and I?" You don't know whose eyebrows climbed higher, yours or the stallion's. He asked what kind, to which she responded by throwing a very excessive looking bag of bits on the counter and replying, "I dunno. Surprise us with something good."
The server gave the bag a stunned look for several seconds before whipping into the kitchen with a quick, "Sure thing miss!" The unicorn gave a chuckle before sitting down across from you, giving you a carefree smile, and saying, "Sup monkey?! You are a monkey, right?"
You can only imagine the look of confusion you gave her, jaw moving spasmodically and one eyebrow likely on the top of your head. She just sat their expectantly, smile never wavering, until you finally managed to respond, "I'm a human."
"Huh," she replied, tilting her head a bit. "Never heard of a human before. Is a human a kind of monkey?"
You paused again, unsure if she was trying to insult you or just had no idea what she was saying. "I guess I'm technically related to monkeys, but I'd prefer you didn't call me one."
"Why not?"
"It's kind of insulting, especially where I'm from."
"Where are you from?"
"Long story."
"Well, I've got time." Her smile, which hadn't left her face the entire time, morphed into a bit of a smirk. "You got something better to do?"
You cocked an eyebrow again, and a smirk of your own slowly made its way onto your face. "I guess not."
And so the two of you talked. Or rather, she asked questions, and you answered. It didn't bother you. It was always nice to have a pony that was genuinely interested in learning about you, especially when they weren't acting nervous the whole time. Eventually the server showed up, not just with a dozen assorted donuts, but also a monument of fried deliciousness filled with sliced bananas, peanut butter, chocolate, almonds, and marshmallows. You took a single bite, closed your eyes, and whispered, "Awesome."
"Yeah, I usually come here when I have Las Pegasus gigs," your companion said through a mouthful of doughnut. "They're pretty great." She swallowed. "Canterlot's are better, though."
You gave her a look, and a wide smile spread across your face. "I think you and I are gonna get along just fine." A thought then occurred to you, and you blushed at missing such an obvious detail. "Although, if we're gonna be friends, I should probably know your name."
"Name's Vinyl," she said, holding out a hoof to shake. "Vinyl Scratch. You might know me by my stage name though. When I'm performing, it's DJ P0N3."
You froze halfway through shaking her hoof, a look of mild disbelief crossing your face. "Wait," you murmured, "you're the DJ P0N3? Like, seriously?"
She just smiled a bit wider. "Yup, that's me."
"Holy CRAP this is so cool!" you exclaimed, shaking her hoof so hard it almost pulled her out of her seat. "How did I not recognize you?! Heck, at the very least I should have recognized some your music. You're one of Luna's absolute favorites, and she and I have listened to every album you've put out, so I should have recognized something."
She paused mid-laugh, now giving an incredulous look of her own. "Luna? As in, Princess Luna? You know her?"
You weren't able to help smirking a bit. "Yup."
"Like, you actually, personally know her?"
"She's my best friend."
At that she slid her glasses down her muzzle, showing off some pretty spectacular red eyes in the process, scrutinizing you carefully as she mouthed 'best friend'. She remained that way for a couple seconds before a spark of realization appeared in her eyes and she shouted, "No way! Are you the Princess's pet alien? Did Princess Luna really bring you back from the moon?"
It was probably a solid forty seconds before your laughter died down enough for you to speak. "Yeah, that's probably me," you managed to wheeze, still chuckling and gasping for breath. "I mean, I'm nopony's pet, and I definitely didn't come from the moon, but I don't know of any other aliens who were living in the castle, so I suppose it's gotta be me." You took a final deep breath, smiling so hard it was starting to hurt, and asked, "Where did you hear I was from the moon?"
"Octy," she replied shortly.
"Was that your stage partner tonight?" you asked, to which she responded with a quick nod. "She was spectacular," you said seriously, earning a cocky smirk from the unicorn. "You both were." Your face grew a bit more quizzical. "That said, I gotta ask, where did she hear that I was from the moon?
She shrugged. "Dunno. I remember there was some big royal announcement about a 'strange visitor' that was friends with the Princesses getting permission to explore Equestria. A couple days later, Octy told me she read an article about the "Bald Alien of Canterlot Castle" being set loose, and wanted to know if it had anything to do with the announcement." She put a hoof to her chin thoughtfully. "Something about a creature that Nightmare Moon brought from the moon to help her conquer Equestria that the Princesses stopped once she turned good again. Hey!" she shouted suddenly. "Do you really have x-ray eyes?" You gave her an incredulous look, to which she responds, "Mind powers?" Your eyebrows climbed higher. "Super strength? Quick healing. . . Hyper reflexes?" By that point you were once again wondering if your eyebrows were even visible, whereas she looked thoroughly disappointed. "Awe, horseapples. That would've been so awesome!"
"Where in the hell did she read all of that?" you deadpanned.
"Eh, probably tabloids."
You continued to stare as your brain head-desked so hard that you could swear you smelled wood.
Seeing the look on your face, Vinyl snorted. "She'll never admit it, but she loves reading those things, even when she knows it's all crap." She gave you a quick once over. "I guess it's not all crap all the time though, huh?" She gave a quick, rueful chuckle. "I can't believe I'm actually talking to an alien. I mean, I always thought it would be cool to meet one, but I never thought it would be like this. Man. . ." She shot a look out the window. "DJ P0N3 and the Alien of Canterlot, sitting in a doughnut shop and shooting the breeze. I'm surprised the paparazzi haven't torn this place down trying to get an interview."
You snorted. "I've never really had to deal with the paparazzi. The Royal Guard is really strict about that kinda thing, and whenever I ask about it Celestia gets all quiet and Luna just laughs and never says anything. Why? You have to deal with the paparazzi a lot?"
She shook her head, a wry smirk adorning her muzzle. "Buddy, you have no idea. I remember this one time in Manehattan. . ."
The two of you continued swapping stories until the sun came up, and neither of you were showing any signs of stopping until Vinyl's horn abruptly started pulsing with a pinkish purple light. She rolled her eyes, giving you an apologetic look and saying, "Looks like Octy's paging me. She's probably wondering where the hay I've been all night."
You raised an eyebrow. "You two together?"
She shook her head. "Nah. We're just best friends who work together sometimes. Buuut," she intoned, a look of mischief on her face, "I'll probably still tell her I was up all night with a tall, mysterious stranger from a far off land. That should get a decent reaction out of her."
You chuckled as the two of you rose to leave, giving the server another nod and this time earning a hesitant smile in return. You held the door for Vinyl, earning a smirk and a small head-shake from the DJ, and as you both approached the street you said, "Well, this has been one of the better times I've had while traveling Equestria. I'm almost gonna be sad to leave this town." You crouched down and held out a fist. "It was awesome meeting you Vinyl. It really is nice to meet ponies who aren't nervous around me just because I'm different." She bumped a hoof against your fist, making you smile as you rose to leave. "Let's do this again someday."
You were turning away when she said, "Well are you free today?" You stopped in your tracks, caught off-guard by the question. You turned back to see Vinyl with her glasses up, wearing a quizzical look that seemed somehow out of place on her.
"Um, well. . . I was actually gonna catch a train north today," you not-quite-stuttered. "I hear that this is the best time of year to visit the Prism Cliffs, so I thought I'd go check that out for a couple days."
"Do you already have your ticket?"
". . . No."
"Then why don't you stay one more day?"
"Well. . . I mean I really wanted to get-, oh come on. Please don't do that!" you groaned as Vinyl immediately started pouting at you. Given your friendship with Luna, you really should've been used to this kinda thing by now, but for whatever reason you weren't. "Come on!" you pleaded, "Stop giving me that look. Please?"
"Will you stay?" she asked in a very transparent, annoyingly endearing whine.
With a heavy sigh and an epic eye-roll, you acquiesced. "Fine, fine, I'll stay another day, but only if you tell me why."
"Alright!" she exclaimed, pumping a forelimb in the air and starting off in the opposite direction. "This is gonna be awesome!"
"What's gonna be awesome?" you asked, jogging to catch up with her sudden brisk pace. "You gotta tell me or it's no dice."
She kept trotting, eyes practically glowing with mischief. "I'm gonna tell Octy all about the big, mysterious stranger that kept me up all night." She then looked up at you, and at once you understood her plan before she even said anything. "Then I'm gonna introduce you. It's pretty hard to get Octy to freak out, but this oughta do the trick."
In spite of yourself, you had to force down a chuckle as you stopped, trying your best to look serious. "Lemme get this straight," you faux-deadpanned. "You're asking me to cancel my plans to leave town, for no other reason than you want me to help you prank your friend?"
She met your gaze evenly. "Technically I'm just asking you to put off leaving til tomorrow, but other than that. . . yeah, pretty much." After that the two of you just stared at each other, ignoring the looks of the early birds on their way to work, until she finally said, "If I know Octy, you'll get another new friend out of it, at least once we get her to calm down."
Those words put a smile on your face that you hadn't worn since leaving Canterlot. "There's the silver lining I was looking for," you murmured, beginning to walk forward again. "So, is your place far from here?"
"Nope," she replied, already giggling in anticipation. "Maybe ten minutes. Just try to act casual once we get there, you know? Let me go in the room first and try not to make any noise til I come get you. Don't want anypony freaking out and tipping Octy off."
"Yeah, because it's not like I stand out or anything, right?" you said sarcastically. "Is there anything I should know about Octy before we do this? She's not gonna, like, attack me or something, is she?"
She looked you over again before shaking her head. "Nah, you're pretty big. She might take a swing at you with her cello, but you can block that, right?"
"Wait, WHAT?!"
***
You groaned, your head resting heavily against the icepack in your hand, as the gray mare in front of you apologized frantically for what felt like the fiftieth time. Behind her, Vinyl had finally managed to reduce her laughter to the occasional fit of giggling, although her expression told you that even that was a struggle. You snorted, wincing at the sharp thud that accompanied it, and thought, Prank my friend, she said. It'll be funny, she said. Now I feel like Ms. Symphony Pony just tested the cymbals on my freakin' head.
You had to admit, listening to Vinyl spin her tale about the previous night had been pretty funny. Though you hadn't been able to see any of it, you had literally heard the clash between courtesy and curiosity in Octy's voice as Vinyl talked about the incredible, mysterious, tall foreigner she'd met, how that stranger was like no other pony she'd ever been with before, and how Octy just had to meet them some time. Considering how thick Vinyl had laid it on, you'd been surprised how calmly Octy had taken it. Sure there had been a little admonishing, and a whole slew of questions to make sure that Vinyl had at least been safe and responsible (not to mention a couple that you kinda wish you hadn't heard), but apart from that she'd remained fairly low key. You imagined that was why Vinyl had huffed, opened the door with her magic, grabbed your hand with the same, and dragged you forcefully into the hotel room while saying, "Oh, by the way, say hello!"
Fortunately for you, Octy had not had a cello on hoof. Less fortunately for you, she had been using a rolling pin when she'd turned around to look, and her reaction had been both immediate and quite painful. Even in your current state, you had to admit that she had excellent reflexes. You winced again. And aim. . .
Vinyl had remained serious exactly long enough to keep Octy from throwing something else at you and make sure that you were okay. After that, she had devolved into a rolling, crying fit of laughter that she was only now coming down from. Octy, on the other hand, had looked absolutely mortified once Vinyl had explained the situation, immediately getting you an icepack and fussing over you as she'd led you to a chair. The parade of apologies that had followed, while well-intentioned, had quickly grown excessive, and at this point it was only making your headache worse. Alright, you mused dimly, I better say something or this is never gonna stop.
"It's fine," you said forcefully, putting your icepack-free hand the the mare's lips. "I get it, I startled you, I'm pretty intimidating, it was just reflex, yada yada yada." You took your hand away, Octy now looking at you in expectant silence. "Just. . . give me a minute or two to calm down. . . Octy, right?"
She tilted her head, giving you a questioning look. "Octy? I beg your pardon?"
You shot a weary glance at Vinyl, who proceeded to start cracking up once again. Sighing, you looked back at the mare before you. "Is that not actually your name?"
"Well yes, but. . ." she gave a sigh of her own, giving Vinyl an irritated look before saying, "It's Octavia. I hate to make a request from somepony that I nearly just concussed, but please, call me Octavia. And you!" she exclaimed as she made her way over to the unicorn before cutting off her cackles with a swift bop on the head. "I should take away your Octy privileges for a while after pulling a stunt like that!"
"Ow," Vinyl whined, rubbing her head with a hoof. "C'mon Octy, you can't tell me that wasn't funny! I mean, what are the odds that I was gonna meet the Alien of Canterlot? I couldn't waste a chance like that! I had to pull a prank! It would've been a crime not to!"
Octavia rolled her eyes, but you could tell by the look on her face that she was considering Vinyl's words. She then looked over at you, cleared her throat, and said, "Do you think that we could just start over?" You gave a slight nod, which she returned before approaching you and saying with a small bow, "Octavia Philharmonica." You returned the bow with a small smile, giving your own name and holding out a hand.
"Pleasure to meet you," you said.
She reached up with a hoof, which you gently grasped, her smile growing wider. "And you as well."
The next couple hours past much as the first part of your conversation with Vinyl had. Octavia asked you about your kind, your arrival, life in the castle, and your travels since you'd left. When you asked her about the tabloids Vinyl had mentioned, she immediately tensed up and blushed a bit, but didn't attempt to deny it or otherwise have some over the top reaction. In fact, over the course of the conversation, one thing you noticed about Octavia was how reserved she was. It wasn't to say that she was shy or cold; quite the opposite in fact. She was warm, polite, and quick to apologize if she strayed into uncomfortable territory, but all the while she maintained a subtle air of confident self-control. It impressed you in a way that you weren't sure you'd experienced before.
It also spoke volumes about how freaked she would have to be to throw a rolling pin at someone.
Having already told it within the past twenty-four hours, you quickly grew bored of telling your own life story, and so began asking about hers. She told you about her upbringing as a 'proper' Canterlot filly, how she'd been a mischievous nightmare to most of her high-strung family, how she'd first become interested in music when she'd snuck into an uncle's instrument museum. She told you how, as she'd matured, she'd come to resent the petty, often arbitrary strictures of high society, thus throwing herself into her budding performance and composition career. She regaled with stories of performing from one corner of Equestria to the other, even playing for the Gryphon Triumvirate on one occasion, and every one of them seemed to involve some element of trouble or danger that inevitably led to a familial talking to whenever she happened to make it home.
With every tale, that initial feeling of being impressed grew and grew. This was a mare who had seen and done a lot in a fairly young life, and it showed in all the best ways. There was however, one thing that was still puzzling you. "So how did you and Vinyl meet?"
The question brought about an immediate peal of laughter, which she attempted (rather adorably) to stifle with a hoof. "Oh, it was in the aftermath of another lecture, from my grandparents no less, about my habit of getting into trouble while abroad." She sighed a bit. "They didn't seem as concerned for what might happen to me as they were about my reputation affecting the family's. I'd been hearing such arguments for years by that point, and that one proved to be one too many. I'd grown tired of their high-snouted sense of propriety, so I decided I'd go enjoy something I knew was far from 'approved of' by society types in the hopes that it might shake them up a bit. That night I went to the most high profile night club in Canterlot, with as much fanfare as I could guarantee on short notice."
You gave her a quizzical look. "Well, I have to say, and forgive me for being familiar, that I wouldn't expect you to do something just to make them uncomfortable. That's not to say I think it was bad," you quickly added, seeing her expression morph into one of irritation, "just, based on my initial impression of you, unexpected. Right on." You gave her an easy smile, which she, after a few moments of deadpan which made you a bit nervous, returned. "I gotta ask though," you continued, pausing for emphasis, "a night club?"
She shrugged. "I'd always wanted to go to one. I had just enough respect for my family's wishes and just enough reservations that I hadn't been yet, but the idea intrigued me." Her gaze raised nostalgically. "A place meant for losing restraint. A place where the petty inhibitions of high society were not only unwelcome, but largely unheard of." She shot a glance back at Vinyl, who was wearing what seemed to be her trademark cocky grin. "The music also had a certain appeal."
"No kidding," you muttered. "Wow. I mean, I'm sorry I keep presuming, but again, I wouldn't have expected that from a classical musician."
She gave you an understanding smile. "It's quite alright. I actually get that one quite a lot. Most ponies find it odd that a mare who specializes in classical composition and string instruments would like electronic music, but to be honest, I don't know if there's any specific genre that I genuinely dislike. Certainly I prefer some over others, and there are individual songs that I'm. . . not fond of, but ultimately, music is an expression of the composer's feelings or vision. Different pieces of music are meant to evoke different kinds of emotion, and because every pony expresses their emotions differently, it follows that there must be many different kinds of music." She looked at the ground, smile still firmly upon her muzzle. "I find that rather beautiful, actually."
You only just managed to keep your jaw from dropping, which, judging by Vinyl's smirk, was not lost on her. Wow, you thought, that was almost philosophical. "I don't think I've ever heard it put that way before Octavia. That was deep. Thank you for sharing it with me." There was a brief pause wherein the two of you exchanged thoughtful smiles, broken when you cast another glance over to Vinyl and suddenly realized something.
"So, time out real quick," you said. "I wanna hear the full story of how you two actually met, but first," you turn to Vinyl, who grinned at you in an almost expectant sort of way. "What's your story Vinyl. Octavia's told hers, you've both heard mine, and you told a couple stories last night about dodging the paparazzi and crazy fans, but how you become the dub-step queen that you are today?"
Vinyl beamed behind her shades as she said, "Well, that's a pretty good story, so. . ." she cleared her throat before shouting in a voice that reminiscent of a sportscaster, "Stallions and gentlemares, fillies and colts of all ages, friends, neighbors, and ponies that I don't know at all, take a load off and open your ears as I regale you with the tale, nay, the legend of the rise of DJ P0N3!
While Octavia just rolled her eyes good-naturedly, you wore an expression of complete and utter bemusement. Vinyl looked at you for a few seconds before saying, "What? It's a really awesome story, full of struggle, drama, and most importantly, wubs!"
You kept staring for a few seconds before asking, "Do you by chance know a unicorn named Trixie? Blue, silver mane, wears a purple hat and cape with stars on them? Has kind of a smoke and mirrors type magic show?"
Vinyl's smile faltered as she gave you a puzzled look. "Who?"
You immediately started shaking your head. "Ehhh, never mind. Go ahead and tell your story."
She shrugged, her grin returning. "Don't mind if I do."
Vinyl's life, as it turned out, contained a lot more struggle, but was no less exciting. Hailing from Trotshire of all places, Vinyl had grown up in a supportive but extremely poor home. In fact, there had been several times when home meant the town shelter, and being that Trotshire was a fairly small hamlet, it's shelter hadn't exactly been well equipped. Still, Vinyl'd had big dreams, and her parents had done everything they could to feed and encourage those dreams. She'd loved music, but it was several years before she had decided how to pursue it ("You should hear her play the accordion," Octavia had interjected with a smirk, turning Vinyl's entire face crimson). She'd finally settled on electronic music in her teens, but even then had felt that the genres she knew of were somehow missing something. She'd eventually made it all the way to Canterlot through a combination of grueling work and one or two side gigs that were less savory (and less legal). There she'd worked by day and experimented with her music by night, sometimes going days without sleep, eventually creating and perfecting her own sub-genre of music; the dub-step. After that, the rest was history. Her career had taken off, and suddenly she'd had more gigs, money, and fame than she'd known what to do with.
"The first thing I did was hire a manager. The second was to put my parents in a nice house," she declared proudly. "Ever since then, it's just been experimenting, new mixes, tours, you know, all that awesome stuff."
This time you hadn't managed to keep your jaw from plummeting. You never would have guessed that this quirky, happy-go-lucky pony had overcome as much as she had. You shook your head, trying to get your focus back. Vinyl looked at you with that knowing smirk that you were coming to expect from her, and you didn't really have any response except, "okay, I gotta admit, that's a pretty AWESOME story Vinyl." You looked down, absorbing everything you'd just heard. "You two are incredible. Apart from the Princesses, I don't know any ponies who've done such amazing things with their lives. Given, I haven't met all that many ponies, but still." You looked back up at Vinyl meaningfully. "Thanks for going to the trouble of meeting me Vinyl. It really means a lot to me. Same to you, Octavia." you finished, turning your gaze back to her. She responded by inclining her head and giving you a small, gentle smile. The moment stretched on, and just before it could get awkward you said, "So, you went to a big-name night club to rattle your family's cage, and I'm guessing that you had a gig there, Vinyl." You shrugged questioningly. "How did you meet?"
Octavia chuckled and started off. "Well," she said, "although I had always wanted to go to a club, I admit that I was a little overwhelmed at first. I'm used to feeling the music when I play, but I'd never felt it vibrating my teeth before. It was enjoyable, of course, especially all the ponies on the dance floor, but I still couldn't help but feel out of my depth."
"I could tell she was out of place the moment I saw her," Vinyl butt in. She put a hoof to the side of her muzzle and stage whispered, "It was the bow tie!" before returning a normal voice. "So I decided I'd, you know, help her out. Make her feel more comfortable with the club scene."
Octavia snorted. "She tried to seduce me. It started out with a couple drinks between her sets, but escalated rather quickly when she realized I wasn't biting."
Vinyl shrugged. "How was I supposed to know that she actually had a good head on her shoulders? Most of the high class kids who show up there are either trying to rebel against their parents, have never been hit on like normal ponies, or both, which makes them pretty easy targets. Sure," she says, turning to Octavia, "you were doing the exact same thing, but typically they don't have the brains or experience to resist me. Besides," she smirked mock-seductively, "nothing's more fun than watching all those high and mighty walls of theirs come down when I really start laying it on."
"Anyway," Octavia continued emphatically, "she kept bringing up my cutie mark, hoping that she could use her knowledge of music as an in-road with me. Lucky for her, it was, but not in the way she planned."
"Pretty much," Vinyl responded, "but the more I talked to her, the more I realized that this mare really knew her stuff. Like, might know even more about music than me levels of knowing her stuff. The longer we hung out, it was less and less about taking another high-born kid home and more and more about finding out who this mare was that knew so much and loved so many different kinds of music. It was one of the coolest talks I've ever had." She then waggled her eyebrows. "And I did get her contact info by the end of the night."
Octavia shook her head. "You're terrible, you know that? And yes, I love you for it, so don't even bother." Vinyl, who'd opened her mouth, closed it with a pout. Octavia looked back at you, smirking ever so slightly. "We met over lunch a few days later. We've been best friends ever since."
You could only shake your head and say, "Nice. I gotta admit, that sounds like something I'd have liked to see."
"Well, duh," replied Vinyl with a crooked grin. "Who wouldn't?"
Still shaking your head, you gave an indulgent smile and took a deep breath. "So, you two became friends under hilarious circumstances. When did you start working together?"
"A little over two years into our friendship," Octavia responded. "Vinyl's never really had the pan-genre appreciation for music that I do, but she makes up for it by being very good at predicting the flow of trends and having a keen eye, or more precisely, ear, for 'the next big thing'.
"I am a mare of many talents," Vinyl replied. "Basically, I'd been trying to find inspiration for my next hit, but hadn't really been able to come up with anything. Octy and I were hanging out that day, and I happened to get to her place a bit earlier than usual."
"Vinyl had literally never arrived early in the past, so I'd been ironing the flaws out of a performance piece called "A Flight of Breezies". Vinyl walked in during my last run through and-"
"There it was!" Vinyl interrupted. "I could totally hear a dub-step remix of the song she was playing, and then it hit me. Nopony had done any dub-step versions of classical music. I asked around for a bit after that and found out most ponies hadn't thought of it, and those that had didn't think the classics were gonna translate well into electronic." She chuckled. "A couple classical musicians even threatened me for even bringing the idea up with them." She looked out the window, giving a devil-may-care grin. "They must hate my guts by now."
"They must hate both our guts by now," corrected Octavia. "I admit that even I was fairly skeptical when Vinyl brought the idea to me, but she was my best friend and I promised I'd help her. We spent the next several weeks re-working a few well-known classical remixes in our spare time." She smiled at the memory. "I was helping her convert one of my favorite pieces, a fairly popular adagio movement, and I made some off-hoof remark about wishing I could take part in the live performance."
"The moment she said that, I knew I had to make it happen," said Vinyl. "My mixes accompanied by a live string performance, especially one from Octavia Philharmonica? It had to be done. Don't get me wrong, between my system, my mixes, and my magic, I can do a lot with my songs, but no sound system can quite match the flexibility of a real instrumentalist, especially one as awesome as Octy."
"Thank you, Vinyl," piped Octavia, inclining her head, "although I took some serious convincing. Me, accompanying dub-step? The idea was so outlandish that I had trouble even imagining it. Vinyl was persistent though." She gave Vinyl a weary but affectionate look. "You may have already discovered it, but Vinyl can be very persuasive."
Oh, I know all about that, you thought wryly. Stupid adorable pouty ponies. . . "I take it that first performance went well?"
Vinyl nodded, looking strangely serious. "I can't speak for Octy, but it was the best performance I'd ever done. Best reviews, best crowd response, and most of all, best feeling." She gave Octavia a look of respect and admiration. "Sharing the stage with my best friend, making awesome music together and seeing ponies totally rock out to it? Best thing in the world, hooves down."
"I think I may have to agree," said Octavia, nodding sagely. "Performing with Vinyl is exhilarating in a way that no 'prim and proper' performance ever truly matches, and seeing ponies so openly enjoying themselves is every bit as satisfying as the subdued applause of a concert hall." She sighed. "Unfortunately, due to our other commitments, it isn't often that we get to put on a performance like we did last night, and even that was a bit of a fluke."
"What do you mean?" you asked.
"She means that originally, it was just gonna be me last night," replied Vinyl. "I'm halfway through a two week gig at that club we were at. I didn't even know Octy was in town until she surprised me a couple days ago. It was pure luck that she's free for a few days, so we decided to do one of our duet shows last night." She smirked. "The owner just about had a heart attack when we told her what we'd need, but she knew what one of our shows could do for the club. In the end, it all worked out perfectly." She sighed. "I'm just bummed we can't do it again tonight."
"Speaking of," said Octavia, suddenly growing serious, "don't you have to be there early to redo the sound system for your solo performance tonight?"
Vinyl seemed thoughtful for a moment before a look of realization crossed her face. "Oh, yeah," she said nonchalantly. "Totally forgot about that. Ah well. Shouldn't be too hard."
"Don't you think you should try to get some sleep?"
"What, and stop chatting with our new friend?" Nah, I'll be fine."
"Vinyl, please," murmured Octavia, turning to face Vinyl fully, "you barely slept at all yesterday because you were spending time with me, and you didn't get any sleep last night because you were too busy making friends with the Alien of Canterlot of all things. I know you feel like you're leaving your friends, but that's not true if you really need the sleep. Please," she said, putting the perfect combination of appreciation and concern into her voice, "try to get some rest. For me?"
A long moment passed as Vinyl opened and closed her mouth, obviously at a loss to say anything, before she finally sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "Alright Octy," she said, looking over at you and adding, "and she says that I'm persuasive."
"Seriously," you agreed, earning you an amused eye roll from Octavia. You walked over to her and reached out a hand. "This has been stellar, Vinyl. It's been awesome meeting both of you. Thank you for introducing me to Octavia, and thank you for taking the time to get to know me last night. I appreciate all of it more than I can say."
She lowered her glasses, giving you an all too familiar pout. "Can you stay one more day?"
You gave a deadpan to rival any professional poker player. "No, Vinyl, I'm not gonna stay another extra day. That said," you added, seeing the downcast expression on her face, "If I find out that you and I are gonna be in the same city while I'm traveling, I'll make it a point to come and see you, and when I eventually end up back in Canterlot, I promise that we'll hang out. That work?"
She grinned a slightly less cocky grin than usual, and nodded. "Yeah, I think that'll work just fine. Great meeting you!" She surprised you by rearing up on her hind legs and giving you an upright, crushingly strong hug. She held it just slightly past the point of being awkward before finally letting go and trotting towards a door near the back of the hotel room. Just before disappearing inside, she shot you once last smirk and said, "See you next time, Apes McGee!" before closing the door shut behind her.
You crossed your arms and shook your head, but somehow couldn't stop a grin from worming its way onto your face. You looked down at your remaining companion, who returned your gaze expectantly. You opened your mouth to speak when a yawn of epic proportions suddenly took control of your mouth and throat. By the time it past, Octavia was smiling at you understandingly. "It wouldn't be rude of you to try and get some sleep as well. Honestly, I'm surprised the two of you can do so well on so little rest. I hate to think of the state I'd be in if I'd been up so long."
"Much as I hate admitting it, I am pretty wiped," you acquiesced. "I should probably see if the front desk can get me a cab."
"You're more than welcome to stay here if you'd like. I know it'd be a bit strange, considering we all just met today, but I'd be comfortable with it, and I know Vinyl would be as well."
"No thanks Octavia. It wouldn't necessarily make me uncomfortable, but I'd feel like I was imposing, even if you didn't." You gave her an apologetic look. "I'd best just head back to my hotel."
"As you wish," she said gently, still wearing that gentle grin. "I had a splendid time meeting you, and very much look forward to speaking with you again." She reared up to hug you, just as Vinyl had, although her embrace was much gentler. "Safe and wonderful travels to you."
You smiled as the earth pony let you go. "Same to you Octavia. It's been a grand old time. Come and visit sometime when I'm back in Canterlot. I live in the big house at the top of the hill, you can't miss it." You smirked a little. "Just make sure to leave the rolling pin at home."
She blushed, but also chuckled, firing back, "I'll be sure to check it with the gate guards."
You let out a few chuckles of your own as you turned to head toward the door. "Sounds good." You turned the handle. "Until then, Octavia."
You were halfway out the door when you heard her say, "Wait." You turned back to see her wearing a slightly more serious, less certain expression than she'd worn at any point during your visit. You couldn't help but feel slightly concerned.
"Is everything alright?"
"Yes, yes," she responded, "everything's fine. I just had something I wanted to say earlier, but it kept slipping my mind, and now that I've remembered I can't help but worry that it might strike you the wrong way."
You gave her a curious look. "Well, I hope I'm not setting myself up, but I guess the only way to find out is for you to say it, huh?"
She smiled a bit nervously. "Yes, I suppose it is. I just wanted to tell you that. . . well, frankly, I'm quite jealous of you."
Your expression went from curious to baffled in a half-second flat. "Jealous? Of what? Is it me living with the Princesses? Is it me traveling for free? Does it have something to do with Vinyl, or-"
"No, it isn't anything like that. It's that, well, it's that you're from another world."
You were growing more confused every time Octavia opened her mouth. "Huh? Why in Equestria would that make you jealous?"
"Music," she replied simply. "You've experienced the music of a completely different world. Based on what you said earlier, you've even performed some of it from time to time, and I envy you for that. To have heard so many songs that this world never will. . ." She looked at you seriously. "Would you. . . would you be willing to share a piece that you remember with me? I mean, I'd understand if it's too painful to recall something like that, but if you're willing. . . I would very much like to hear one."
You found yourself a bit blindsided by the request. You'd never anticipated it, and it took you a few moments to process. I don't really see why not, you mused. Yeah, it's gonna hurt a bit, especially for songs that have memories attached to them, but it's been over a year and a half. If you haven't come far enough to sing a song from back home by now, then you're never gonna, and apart from that there's really no downside. You might as well. She is a friend now, after all.
You gave Octavia a gentle smile. "Yeah. I think I can do that."
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
Your smile also widened. "Sure thing."
Octavia closed her eyes, the the biggest smile she's worn so far slowly curling up the corners of her mouth. "Thank you. I was so worried that I was asking for something too personal or too painful, and I didn't want to sour our friendship before it even really started, but the question was eating away at me." She looked at you again, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
"Of course," you replied. "To be honest, it probably will be a bit painful. Depending on the song I choose, it might really cut me deep. I think it'd be good for me though. Besides," you said with a rueful grin, "it'd be awfully selfish to keep all the music from home locked up inside my mind."
As Octavia gave you a single, quiet laugh, you unexpectedly found yourself considering what you'd just said. Music from home. . . in my mind, you thought, those six words circling in your head as if they were trying to show you something just out of sight. You concentrated, your brow furrowing as you tried to find the meaning in the swirling words, until suddenly, in a moment of epiphanic clarity, you understood, at which point you could only think, how have I not thought of this before. . .
Your train of thought was broken as a firm, slightly fuzzy object poked you in the stomach. "Huh?" you said dumbly, suddenly aware of the grey mare nudging you.
"Are you alright?" asked Octavia, now wearing a look of concern.
You nodded distractedly, your mind still trying to shape its newly formed vision. "Yeah, I'm fine. . . and I may have just had an incredible idea." You shook your head, trying to focus on the task at hand, your wry smile returning. "I'm think I'm gonna have to sleep on it though."
She looked you over for another moment or so before offering you a gentle grin. "Well then I hope your sleep is restful so that you can focus when you wake."
You bowed your head a bit. "Thanks Octavia. And again, thanks to you and Vinyl both. For everything."
"Of course," she said softly. "If there's anything that either of us can do for you, let us know."
"I will, and thank you for that too. It really means a lot." You finally stepped out of the room, turning back one last time as the door slid shut. "Until next time, Octavia."
She bowed slightly. "Until then, my friend." With that, the door clicked shut, and you found yourself standing alone in the hotel hallway. Well, I guess I'd better get back to my room and catch some z's.
You started down the hallway toward the elevator as another colossal yawn made itself known all the way down to your toes. In spite of your fatigue, your mind was racing as it continued to analyze your new idea. It would be a lot of work, you think as you press the button to summon the elevator, and I'd have to learn a whole new skill set, but do I really have something better to do? It might even let me connect with home a bit in a way that never even occurred to me. Hmmm. . . You looked down thoughtfully, fighting back another yawn (and losing badly). I'd also need a few supplies. A sudden grin came to your face as you stepped into the car, holding fast as you pressed the lobby button and the doors closed.
I wonder if I could convince Tia and Luna that I got a piano as a souvenir. . .
