Chapter One
The bar just reeked of stale cider. That is, if cider went stale. Vinyl Scratch wasn’t at all sure. She did know, though, that the bar was providing pay. She just had to grin and bear it for a little while. She shuffled her records around the dirty, crooked wooden table, simultaneously looking up out of a small window - one of the few in the establishment - to peek at the close lights of Ponyville. While only a little residence, the small amount of flashing lights indicated at least a little nightlife. Probably should at least try to get something done over there. Less chance of breathing diseased air. Vinyl’s mind raced back to only half a year ago; she was playing gigs at the biggest clubs in Canterlot. She was big, at least among the fans of her work. She soon, however, started to find a lack of work - a new scene was sweeping Canterlot. Clubs and loud music was never Canterlot’s biggest attraction, but it had a good enough underground scene. Then suddenly, half of the clubs, all of the gigs, all of the money and tiny amounts of fame she had earned, kind of just disappeared. This was her first true gig since being in a small-town club last month - this would have to make her week.
“30 minutes!” The barpony of the joint shouted from the joint’s other room.
Vinyl shouted back, “Alright. Thanks!” The thank you was less than sincere - when she had first entered the bar, the barpony was rude, ragged and generally uncaring, just pointing her to the room she was in and said “Get busy.” Even worse were the patrons - all colts, dirty and drowning whatever sorrows. Vinyl was used to a little dirt and squalor, and wouldn't mind if somepony hadn’t showered for a few days, but even to her, these colts were just... disgusting. Vinyl had encountered these types before - and regrettably slightly more with some - and knew enough to know that they wouldn’t make for good company. The only reason she didn’t turn and leave right there and then was the money - she needed all she could get. She could still care for herself, sure, but with gigs drying up, the money she had earned in Canterlot was quickly draining down to zero. Taking her mind back to the present, the shuffled around in her bag, pulling out the last few of her own records. After laying them out, she checked out the stage to examine the turntable - a task that proved quite difficult, as there wasn’t one to be seen. What WAS there was a few old speakers and a microphone stand. Maybe it was in a different room... “Hey, barkeep!” Vinyl walked over to the door, poked her head out and beckoned the barpony over with her hoof. He grunted, spilling a bottle over the bar. He threw a cloth over it, to hardly any effect, before dragging himself over to Vinyl.
He looked just as filthy as he did as he entered, if not more so - now he had a massive stain on his patched coat. “Yep?” He grunted - Vinyl presumed it was an attempt at being friendly. It failed. “You all set up?”
“Yeah, about that. I’m pretty much ready to roll, but... a few biting questions... first,” Vinyl spoke, allowing the barpony to nod his head, indicating her to go on. “Just how many ponies’ll I be spinning for? This ain’t exactly... big.”
“About four or five.” The barpony said in a gruff, relatively inattentive tone.
Vinyl looked over the barpony, groaning. “Five? Really? That’s hardly a crowd at all! I was promised this place’d be lively!” She was ready to leave right there and then.
“Oh, trust me, these boys get lively when they’ve had a few.” The barpony chuckled. “You’ll see. You had another question?”
Vinyl looked upon the barpony with contempt, ignoring his request for her second question. “D’you seriously mean to say I’ll be playing for the freaks out there?”
“They ain’t freaks. Just keep yer distance from them.” The barpony stated.
Vinyl thought the situation over, of all the pros and cons. The money was definitely a pro, bigger than the cons. “Alright.” She sighed. “Sorry for calling out your... patrons.”
The barpony shrugged it off. “Whatever gets you paid, eh? If you have no other questions, I’ll just be goi-”
Vinyl interrupted him. “Where’s the turntable?”
The barpony gave Vinyl a confused gaze. “Turntable? Why would ya need one of those?”
Vinyl met his glare with an even more bewildered one. “To... do my job? Spinning the records?”
“Spinning... records? All ya need is a microphone and a few songs. Why in the hay would you need to spin records to sing a bit of karaoke?”
Vinyl didn’t treat the barpony to a final response. She shoved all her records in her bag, turned, brushed past him and walked out of the dirty watering hole. She caught a wolf-whistle on her way out, to her vehement discomfort and anger. Gazing out to the nearby Ponyville, she began to wonder if any hotels or BnB’s would be in the little town. It was better than the long walk home, that was for sure.
It took a solid half-hour to get from point A to B, and Vinyl wasn’t sure the results would be worth it. There were houses and shops all around, lights off. A sleeping town. However, there was a glowing aura of light around a few pine trees. Vinyl walked around and saw a signpost sticking out of the ground, in front of a grand block of apartments, three-stories high. The sign read ‘’Ponyville Inn - 24/7 Apartments for the Travelling Pony!” How she had missed this, Vinyl was not sure, but she was happy to get a place to sleep for the night.
The hotel was brilliantly clean - or maybe it was just the stark comparison to the bar. Whatever it was, it was homely. Vinyl approached the pony at reception. “Heya.” She began. “Got a room for the night?”
The receptionist nodded gleefully, a smile forming on her tired face.“Plenty! Would you like a room with a view? First, second or third floor?”
Vinyl smiled at his enthusiasm. “Must be exciting when something happens during the night shift, eh? Anyway... view probably won’t be spectacular when everything is pitch black, so I’ll pass on that... and the third floor sounds nice. I’ll take it. How much?” Vinyl began to reach inside her bag, pulling out a small sack filled with bits.
“Twenty-five bits, ma’am.” The receptionist responded, and Vinyl accordingly laid down the appropriate amount of money. “Perfect!” He pulled a key from under his desk. “Your room is number S24. Enjoy your stay!”
Vinyl picked up her key, nodded her head and gave a “thanks!”, before rushing herself upstairs. She was loving this little hotel so far - she could only hope the beds were as welcoming. Arriving at her room, she thrust the key into the lock, entering her room. She saw, and immediately threw herself on the bed.It was fluffy and so very, very welcoming. It even had a welcome mint! Vinyl used her horn to fly her glasses off onto the table, next to the keys, and threw her bag next to her bed. She went off to have a shower - with complimentary hair and body products - looking forward to a good night’s sleep after the disheartening events of the night.
“A wonderful night, Octavia.” Prance lifted a wine glass with her horn, lifting it to her mouth and lightly sampling it. “The ensemble shone out like no other, I’d like to think.”
Octavia, closing the carriage door, the ponies at the front of the carriage starting to move as quickly as they could. nodded in agreement. “Canterlot really is such a wonderful place. All the ponies in that audience were just as magnificent as... us.” She laughed very slightly, raising her own glassing and sipping at it. Octavia looked out of the private carriage, witnessing the wonderment of the surrounding area - streets paved with marble, expensive shops and grand statues poking out every corner of Octavia’s eyes. She continued taking sips of her wine, the grand spectacles of Canterlot slowly drying out into fields and dusty roads. “I do hope to get another opportunity to return soon. Not immediately, of course... all the travelling and shows we have been attending recently... it’s wearing me out. I could use a good break.”
Prance nodded in agreement, taking heavy sips from what Octavia believed to be Prance’s second glass. “You really need to lay off such heavy drinking, Prance. We’re a long way from Manehatten yet. Speaking of which...” Octavia opened a slot in the front of the carriage, revealing a small window of air between the ponies pulling the carriage and the ensemble members. “Excuse me, sirs, but just how far off Manehatten are we?”
One of the ponies swished his tail to the right. “We’ll be cutting through Ponyville there, which means we can’t be more than a few hours off.” Octavia nodded to show thanks, pulling her head back and closing the slot over. She carefully sat back down, complacently sipping wine and joking with her friend until the carriage entered Ponyville. As the carriage was carted across the road, the wine started flying and spilling out of the glasses, the ponies in the carriage themselves trying to keep themselves seated. After Prance’s wine had stained her own white coat, and Octavia’s had spilled across her seat. Octavia pulled herself towards the window. “Stop this instant, you imbeciles!” she screamed, refraining from reaching out and grabbing them by the neck.
The drivers stopped immediately. “We apologise, miss Octavia. The Ponyville roads seemed to have worsened since we last passed through.” The two bowed their heads.
Octavia rolled her eyes. “Obviously. Go slower this time.” The two nodded again, the window closing and the carriage continuing on. There were still bumps, but they were not as noticeable or disruptive as the previous incident. Octavia was forced to stand, and Prance’s coat was ruined, her attempts to wipe the drying wine off her coat failing. “Is it in my mane, Octavia? Please tell me it isn’t in my mane...” Prance worriedly tugged at her hairs.
Octavia both sighed and laughed a little. “Prance, dear, your mane is the same color as the wine. It wouldn’t matter. I’m sure you’d know if your hair was wet, regardless.” Prance opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a noticeable cracking sound. Concerned, Octavia opened the window. “Driver, what was that sound?”
The driver smiled. “Just a stick in the road, I’m sure.” They continued on for about twelve seconds before a second, louder crack occurred. The carriage began to slow down significantly more than it was already going at, until it was at a complete halt. This time it was Prance who moved to speak to the drivers.
“I have had quite enough this evening, sirs. What is wrong this time?” Prance stared intently at the drivers. One lifted his head from the floor and responded, “It, ah.. appears that one of the wheels has broken.”
Octavia immediately responded. “Broken?! No. I won’t have this. I have a mother waiting for me to appear in the morning, waiting for me to tell her about my trip. She’ll be gone to Fillydelphia by the afternoon. Hurry up and fix it.”
The drivers looked afraid to speak up, Octavia’s intent stare almost piercing them. “Fix. It. Now.”
“M-miss...” One began stammering. “The wheel is broken into pieces. We can hardly do anything. We’ll have to wait until morning to get it repaired.”
Octavia was very prepared to shout and squeal until the cart was fixed, but two reasons held her back - the major reason being that she was smart enough to see logic - the wheel was broken, and could not be fixed simply by mashing the bits together with hooves. The other reason, of course, was waking up and attracting the attention of the residents of Ponyville.
Prance, however, did not see these reasons. She began bellowing at the top of her voice.
“We MUST get back to Manehatten! Octavia has to see her mother, and I need to-” Startled, Octavia pushed her hoof into Prance’s mouth, silencing her. A few lights flickered on in the houses, and a couple of heads poked out.
“Can we... go now?” Octavia quietly asked the drivers. The two nodded.
“There’s a fairly nice local hotel, miss. It might not be to your fine tastes, but I’m sure you’ll agree it’s better than laying in the grass.” One of the drivers stated, as both of them turned to start a walk to the hotel, and Octavia nodded.
“Lead on, then.”
It took hardly any time at all to walk to the hotel. It looked far better than Octavia had expected, but that wasn’t saying much - she was expecting some sort of trailer park, so the three-story block came as a pleasant surprise. Entering the building, Octavia was once more taken aback. The reception was exquisite - gleaming floors, high-quality wooden furniture, all good signs. The quartet approached the smiling receptionist. “Hello, fine gentlecolts and mares. How are you doing this fine night?” The receptionist asked, face-wide smile.
“Rather dreadfully, I’m afraid.” Prance began running her mouth. “After performing at Canterlot with our ensemble, which, by the way, was a spectac-”
“Prance...” Octavia sighed. “There’s no need to go over every detail. What my good friend here was trying to say, sir, is that our carriage has broken down and we will require a room for the night until it can be repaired.”
The receptionist’s smile faded slightly. “Now that is a rather unfortunate turn of events. Do not fret, though - Ponyville Inn has plenty of rooms waiting for your welcome. Will you all be together, or be in separate rooms?”
Octavia was unsure, looking at her friend. “Prance?”
“Oh, I never share rooms, Octavia, dear. I prefer the solace of having my own room.” Prance replied.
“Separate rooms it is, then, sir.” Octavia looked over at the receptionist.
Pulling out a notepad, the receptionist turned to face the drivers. “Alright, then. Sirs, would you like to stay on the first, second or third floor?”
The reply was almost immediate. “Two rooms on the first floor, thank you, sir.” The receptionist jotted down the information. “That will be twenty bits each, thank you.” One of the drivers handed over forty for the both of them. “Thank you very much, sirs.” The drivers were handed their keys. “Your rooms are G14 and G17. Enjoy your stay! And, for the mares?” He faced Octavia and Prance.
Prance was the first to jump into an answer. “Second floor, with a view, thank you.”
More information was put on the notepad. “Twenty-five bits, thank you.”
Prance searched her person for a small while, looking increasingly worried. “Octavia...” Prance began. Octavia knew what was coming. “I... seem to have forgotten my purse... again.” She gave an awkward smile.
“I do swear, Prance, you intentionally do this to me...” This was a common trait of Prance. In restaurants, or shopping, wherever, whatever, forcing Octavia to help her friend out. “I, myself, would like a third floor room with a view. Nothing quite like waking up to a beautiful new day right in front of you.”
The receptionist quickly jotted Octavia’s room information down, dropping his pen. “I completely agree, ma’am. Fifty-five bits exactly, thank you.” Octavia had been impressed so far - she would hope the quality of the rooms would justify the price. She opened her own purse and handed out the money. “Thank you very much.” He gave Prance her key. “Your room is F3. Enjoy your stay, ma’am.” Prance nodded and went off, giving Octavia a quick “goodnight”. Octavia was given her key. “And your room is S25. Have a pleasant night.” He bowed his head, Octavia doing the same before walking up to her room. She opened it up, and, as she was expecting, was disappointed.
While it was all very clean and tidy, it was much smaller than Octavia would have hoped, and the furniture was clearly cheaper than the furniture in the foyer - in fact, reflecting back now, she wasn’t sure that that furniture was particularly pleasant either, simply made to look good with polish. She looked at the bed - no discernible sign of wear. Sitting on it, though, she wasn’t surprised to feel that it was much cheaper than her own home comforts. There was a little wrapped-up sweet that fell from the pillow down onto the floor as Octavia sat down. Cute. Octavia prepared herself for sleep, settling herself in after the stressful events of the night.
Octavia was woken early in the morning by a disturbingly loud noise - she looked at the clock at the other side of the room. 9:00AM. On a Saturday. Someone had the nerve to play... those noises at 9AM on a Saturday. It didn’t even sound like music, as much as she knew that this is what was getting increasingly, annoyingly popular as of recent. It just sounded like wave after wave of failing machinery. Octavia was awake, and she did not like to go back to sleep until the day is over - like she could over the irritatingly loud noise. She looked out the window to see her promised view. A few green fields, a red barn and a practical forest of apple trees. Not exactly what she wanted to see. She moved into the bathroom to brush her hair and take a shower, and did just that, all the while planning what stern words to give to the pony playing that music across the hall. Drying herself off, she exited her room and loudly knocked on room S24, the source of the music. There was no answer. Octavia knocked again, shouting “Will the pony playing the obnoxiously loud music please come out here?” After a few moments, the music cut off and the door swung open. A mare with wild blue hair, cyan streaks, wearing purple-tinted shades appeared at the door frame.
“That’d be me.” The unicorn exclaimed, seemingly proud. “Though, I’m not sure I’d use ‘obnoxious’ to describe it. ‘Amazing’ is the correct term, I think you’ll find.”
Octavia scoffed. “That, ma’am is not music. Those are... noises. You wouldn’t know real music if it ran through your ears.”
The white unicorn laughed at this. “And just what is this ‘real music’? Though, judging by the bowtie, I can maybe just guess it’s the classical stuff. Ugh. In fact...” The mare began, as Octavia adjusted her bowtie. “Were you in Canterlot six months ago? Performing, maybe?” The mare was sneering slightly.
Octavia cast her mind back, remembering performing at the disastrous Gala. “Indeed I was, yes. Why would that be relevant?”
“I knew you were familiar. I saw you around when I was still performing in Canterlot.” Octavia was a little bit shocked by this.
“Performing? Don’t try to tell me you of all ponies can perform music to the kind of calibre of myself and my ensemble.” The unicorn laughed.
“Ohh, dear Celestia, of course I’d never play music like that,” The emphasis on ‘that’ angering Octavia. “I’m a DJ.”
In combination with her anger, this made Octavia laugh. “You call that performing? It’s just switching disks and hitting buttons.”
The unicorn’s sneer faded into a scowl. “Oh, and I suppose the mighty Octy- Octa... uhh, what’s your name again? I don’t remember it...”
“Octavia. Equestria-renowned performed, Octavia.”
“Yeah, yeah, that one. I suppose you consider twirling a stick on some strings to be ’performing’”. Anger was forming in the mare’s voice.
“Of course.” Octavia started. “It’s incredibly complex, hard to learn, harder to master. I’ve only just gotten to the master stage.” Octavia proudly claimed.
“You’re really damned arrogant, y’know that?” Her anger was clearly rising now.
“Excuse me? I’m perfectly modest, thank you.” Octavia held her head high.
“Yeah. ‘’Equestria-renowned. Master’’. Real modest.” The mare took a step back, holding a hoof to the door, ready to close it. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna get back to listening to my music.” And with that, the door was slammed into Octavia’s face.
Arrogant! Who did she think she was? Octavia was austere in her mannerisms. She knew it. Once more fixing her bowtie, she went back to her room, lying in her bed, but not sleeping over the noise. She waited there for hours, even after the music stopped, until she heard a knock at the door. “Octavia! Get up, dear.” The voice of Prance was welcome. Octavia was afraid it would be the unicorn, come to complain about how silent her room was.
Octavia tipped out of bed, opening her door. “Already up, Prance. In fact, I’ve been up for quite a while.”
Prance looked over Octavia. “Clearly. There are bags under your eyes, darling. It’s not like you to be up early - what happened?”
As the pair began descending downstairs, Octavia looked at her faint reflection in the window. Prance was right - she was an absolute mess. “We’ll discuss it over breakfast.”
The hotel had a small restaurant within it, the menu shifting as the day progressed. Octavia simply ordered some tea, Prance getting herself the same and a small breakfast muffin. “Do tell me what happened, then.” Prance began, before taking the first bite of her muffin.
“I was trying to sleep, but I couldn’t - all I could hear were these horrible, beeping noises, coming from the opposite room,” Octavia took a second to sip her tea. “And as it turns out, there was an unruly mare in the room blasting out those infernal sounds, and calling them music - she even had the nerve to insult our refined tastes, and call me arrogant. Such rude manners I have never witnessed.”
“Reprehensible,” Prance replied, taking a gentle sip of her tea. “Inconsiderate ponies.”
There was an audible clunk behind the two, causing Prance to cough up a little of her food. A tray had been thrown on the table opposite, a pony sitting down and facing them. “She is arrogant, though, you’ll agree with me here?”
Octavia gasped at this pony’s rudeness. “Just who do you think you are, you opprobrious annoyance, to eavesdrop in our private conversations?”
“Vinyl Scratch, DJ and mare-with-ears, at your service.” She took a large bite of her own breakfast muffin. She began speaking mid-chew. “I could hardly not hear you - I’m sure the waiters can hear you from here.”
“I gather,” Prance said, “that this is the mare you were talking about?” Prance scanned her eyes across Vinyl. “You’re right. Unruly.”
Vinyl laughed a little, though her face seemed to indicate crossness. “Thought that’s what you said. Funny, because when I first saw you at my door it looked like something had crawled out of Tartarus.”
Octavia had reached her limit with Vinyl. She quickly finished off her tea, muttering something and grabbing Prance by the necklace, dragging her away. “O-Octavia! Let me go at once!” As soon as they turned the corner into the lobby, Octavia released her grip. Prance rubbed her neck. “That was a tad bit extreme, even for you, Octavia.”
Octavia looked at herself, unsure just what came over her. She gave Prance the best reasoning she could muster, “I’m not spending another minute around that pony. She is the lowest of the low. Can we please just... go? There are some places in this town that would meet my fancy, I’m sure.”
Prance nodded. “If only the exit sign. Though I must say, that restaurant felt... fairly impeccable.”
The first destination the duo arrived at was a boutique. Examining the window displays, the were both suitably impressed at the quality of the dresses. Craving to see more, they entered the shop. “H-hello, and welcome to... oh, I’m so sorry, please hold on a moment...” Octavia noticed a purple-maned pony in the room opposite, and what seemed to be a cat struggling to grip the pony’s tail. After almost a minute, the pony came through. “My apologies. As I was... attempting to say, welcome to Carousel Boutique. My name is Rarity, owner. Is there anything that you perhaps had your eye on?”
Prance beckoned Rarity over. “I quite like the look of this once, in fact.” She pointed to a dark-blue dress, frilled at the edges, dark lines forming a pattern across it.
“Very well.” Rarity used her magic to bring the dress across to her. “Let’s get you fitted!”
Prance walked past Octavia, whispering, “Don’t worry, this time I’ve remembered my purse.” Octavia smiled and waited until Prance returned, the dress now fitted, bagged and paid for.
The two left the shop, giving their thanks to Rarity. “This town is surprising me, Octavia.”
“I agree with you.” Octavia sighed. “Perhaps not in the same way, though.”
The next destination that caught their interest was a music shop - Prance was allured by the memorbilia lined in the window. “Ohh, Octavia. We must go in. Just look at all of them!”
Octavia sighed. “You do realize that anything that claims to be ‘real and authentic’ is likely, in fact, a fake.”
Prance gestured to a conductor’s baton placed on a velvet pillow. “Used by Simon Prattle himself!”
Octavia carefully examined the baton. “It’s quite clearly made of cheap pine. Really, Prance, you get much too over excited sometimes.” Octavia reached her hoof around Prance, pulling her enamoured face away from the window.
The two walked around Ponyville for hours, finding nothing both of them were particularly interested in. Octavia pointed to a small cafe nestled in between a few home buildings. “Can we please take a rest, Prance? My hooves are on fire.” Prance nodded in agreement, as they both went to sit down and order a few drinks. Octavia noticed a hitch, however - there was only one empty table left, and it was adjacent to Vinyl Scratch. “On second thought...” Octavia began.
Prance interrupted her. “Come now, Octavia. I’m sure she’s had enough of you as you have of her. Hopefully she’ll be civil enough not to engage in conversation.”
“I can only hope to imagine you’re right. Besides, I could use a good coffee.” The pair entered the cafe, ordering a few cheap cups of coffee. They exited and sat down at the table, both silent, waiting for one of them to dream up conversation. Octavia casually peeked behind herself, looking for a brief moment at the most impudent pony she had ever met. Vinyl had her headphones on, a boon to Octavia, though even with that the sound was still irritating. She turned back and consumed her drink.
A quarter of an hour passed without speech, before Prance returned from placing her cup in the trash. “Octavia, the sun has begun to set. Should we check on the carriage?”
Octavia nodded. “Better than here.” she remarked.
“Did you... mean for me to hear that?” The voice of Vinyl Scratch rang in Octavia’s ears. She turned to see the DJ staring at her. “Because if you did, damn, you aren’t subtle.”
“I assumed that you were enthralled in your... music.” replied Octavia, looking away and preparing to leave.
“Nope.” Vinyl poked a hoof at her headphones, now dangling around her neck. “I gotta say, congratulations on not breaking out in a snide comment - no talking at all, even. Surprising from such a snooty pony like yourself.”
Octavia glowered at Vinyl. “Snooty? I’m just very refined, ma’am.”
“Pfft! ‘Refined’”. Vinyl seemed to roll her eyes under the lenses of her eyewear. “Yeah, you wear a bowtie, talk fancy and twirl a stick. Very fancy.”
“I repeat,” Octavia cried out, “It is not ‘twirling a stick!’ It is an expert and difficult art form!”
“Ohh, I’m sure.” Vinyl was sneering now.
“Just what exactly does that mean?” Octavia was grimacing at Vinyl.
“It means that you really need to put your money where your mouth is. A ‘friendly’ little music competition. Right here, in Ponyville!” Vinyl’s headphones slanted off of her neck as she bellowed out her plan.
“Octavia, if I might make a suggestion-” Prance began, before being swiftly interrupted by her companion.
“And how exactly do you expect to arrange such a thing?” Octavia shot an unimpressed look at Vinyl.
“Ah, I dunno. Can’t be that hard to talk to the mayor and arrange something.” Vinyl smiled and looked upon the distant town hall.
Octavia practically smacked her forehooves onto her face. “That is the most absurd idea I’ve ever heard. Regardless, as much as I’d just love to spend another week in the same town as you, I have more pressing matters to attend to - such as leaving forever. Isn’t that right, Prance?” Octavia nudged her friend.
Prance took a moment to respond, patting her hoof against her chin. “Uh, if I’m perfectly honest, Octavia... I’d actually be quite content to stay here for another week. The small town atmosphere... the sense of unity... is quite wonderful. I’m sure it can be arranged with the drivers to stay.” She gave Octavia an awkward smile.
“I have a mother to visit before she leaves, Prance.” Octavia argued.
“As if you haven’t had other pressing matters before.” Prance pointed out. “You skipped out on going home early for an after-party just last week, if I recall. You’ve been wanting a holiday anyway, as I recall.”
Octavia juggled all the possibilities around in her heard. Whilst it was true she was contemplating a break, a small town was hardly what she had in mind, but she had to admit, the town, taking away regrettable instances, was rather nice and homely. She would, though, have to spend another week around Vinyl Scratch - and as satisfying as it would be to see her little plan crushed, she wasn’t sure that the week following would be worth it. She saw Prance looking upon her with desperate eyes.
Octavia sighed. “For you, Prance. I suppose I’ve dragged you away from enough opportunities in the past. However, you do owe me.”
Prance giggled and nodded. “I suppose that’s fair. I’ll go inform the drivers of our predicament. You should go back to the hotel - we’ll need to pay for another week.”
“And you’ll be off to meet the mayor, yes, miss Scratch?” Octavia said, smiling wryly.
“‘Course.” She trotted off with that, as Octavia returned to the hotel, waiting for Prance to return.
Minutes later, she came through. “The drivers are fine with staying - they say the wheel will require more time to fix, making this deal perfect.”
Octavia nodded to reply, approaching the stallion at the receptionist’s desk. “Good evening, ladies. Come to hand in your keys?”
“Actually,” Octavia began, “We’d like to arrange to stay in our rooms for another week.”
“Oh, certainly!” he smiled. “That comes to two-hundred and ten bits for you,” nodding towards Octavia, “and one-hundred and seventy-five bits for the mare with the red mane.” It took a short while for the money to be correctly arranged, but afterwards the pair climbed up the stairs, said their goodnights and went to their respective rooms.
Octavia spent a while lying in her bed and resting, tired from the day’s events. She reflected on everything, wondering just how much Vinyl Scratch’s comments about arrogance rang true. Deeply veiled in thought, she was surprised when her door was knocked loudly, making her jump and roll out of bed.
Octavia opened the door to see a smiling Vinyl Scratch shaking excitedly. “Well, it’s on now, Octavia!”
Merely blinking for a few seconds to take in what Vinyl had just told her, Octavia opened her mouth, letting it hang there before beginning. “You surely don’t mean...” She stopped herself mid sentence, unsure whether Vinyl was joking or not.
“Yup! The competition. Next week, on stage, all of Ponyville around us! It’s gonna be amazing!”
Octavia once more let the silence enhance her thoughts, sudden fears, anxiety and stress appearing. “Then... I, um, look forward to your challenge. I also, of course, look forward to my victory!” she said, trying to sound as confident as you could.
“I feel the exact same way.” Vinyl shot Octavia a sly smile, staring at her as she closed the door over.